Out There | He-s

“He’s out there, Sam. He’s always been out there. And he’s still calling.”

He grabbed the flashlight and got out.

Sam got to his feet. His hands were shaking. His heart was a trapped bird against his ribs. He looked at the thing—at the empty face wearing his father’s clothes—and then he looked at the woods. He-s Out There

But late at night, when the wind blows from the east and the honeysuckle is thick on the air, you can hear two voices in the woods. One old and rough. One young and afraid. Calling back and forth through the dark, getting closer, closer, never quite meeting. “He’s out there, Sam