Self Para
Where: Chicago, IL
When: 2023
After Marcus had died the world had started to itch more.
It had been two weeks since Everett had watched the boy he loved grow cold in his arms when the first outburst had happened.
The world was vastly more irritating when Marcus wasn’t there to help him stand it.
And it had also been like his death had granted everyone permission to touch him. Hugs from classmates he had never talked to, hands on his shoulder from teachers trying to comfort him, a few Instagram followers who had taken the news of the death of his rumoured lover as an invitation to show up on his doorstep.
He had never told his family or Cait about his witch. Someone with so much magic at their finger tips who touched him with the same care they brewed potions. Everyone in Chicago had started looking at him like poor lost Everett Roy again.
The final straw had come when the package had arrived in the mail.
A knife covered in blood accompanied by a letter from a ‘fan’ who supposedly had used the instrument to stab themselves.
To make themselves ‘just like Marcus’.
Everett thought he was going to throw up.
But instead the next thing he knew his hands were covered in red. And he was standing in front of a black hole.
A wall covered in angry smeared chalk and running black erratic circles on paint. And thrown into the middle of splatter that looked like a moth. A red moth that welcomed being swallowed whole by the black whirling mess.
He wasn’t going to throw up. He was going mad.
As Everett looked upon his creation he felt the first smile crack his lips in weeks. The laughter came just as tears started to stream down his face.
The itching had stopped. For the moment.
And the next day in class no one had looked at Everett.
No.
All they could talk about was the new vandal on campus.
Theorize about who the artist who had painted the black hole moth was? And if they would strike again?
