The Spiral Tightens

I settled into my chair upstairs, spinning lazily as I thought about the conversation I’d just had with Mom. She’d been unusually stern, her voice laced with worry as she brought up the murders again.

“Wise,” she’d said, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, “I’m serious. I don’t want you staying out late anymore. With everything that’s happening... it’s not safe.”

I had nodded, trying to reassure her. “I know, Mom. I’ll be home before dark. Promise.”

Her frown deepened as she studied me, but eventually, she sighed and let it go. “Alright. But don’t take any risks, okay?”

“Got it,” I’d said, offering a small smile before heading upstairs.

Now, sitting at my desk, I stared blankly at the glowing monitor. My homework was done, my bag was unpacked, and for once, there was nothing urgent looming over me—at least nothing academic. I booted up one of my favorite gacha games, the kind that always sucked me in for hours. It was a good distraction, mindless enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling.

Two hours later, I stretched in my chair, my fingers stiff from tapping and swiping. The rare character I’d been chasing still hadn’t dropped, and I groaned in frustration. Tossing my phone onto the desk, my eyes wandered to the leather-bound book I’d borrowed from the library earlier.

I yawned, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up with me. Reading seemed like a good idea before bed. Grabbing the book, I trudged over to my bed and flopped onto the bouncy foam mattress, pulling the covers up as I reached for the book. My head hit something hard, and I winced, sitting up to see what it was.

The other book—the one we’d picked up from the festival. The cursed one.

For a moment, I stared at it, my breath hitching. The faded cover, the brittle pages—it looked completely ordinary, but I knew better. I picked it up, holding it side by side with the library book, and my curiosity got the better of me. I opened them both, flipping between the pages and comparing every detail. If there was a way to stop this curse, I was going to find it. Even if no one else had ever managed to before.

▪▪▪

I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but I knew when I woke up—or at least I thought I did. The darkness around me was absolute, thick and suffocating, until a single bulb flickered on, illuminating a small spot ahead of me.

I squinted, trying to make out what was there. It was far, but something was lying on the ground beneath the light. My ears picked up a sound—a low, steady rhythm. A beat. It was faint at first, but as I moved closer, it grew louder, more distinct.

I jogged toward the illuminated spot, my pulse quickening. The beat... it was familiar. I’d heard it before. In my last dream.

The realization hit me just as I reached the object under the light. My stomach churned, and I stumbled back. It was a heart—a human heart, still beating, the rhythm echoing in my ears. My knees buckled, and I almost threw up. The sound was deafening now, matching the drumbeat from my dream.

“This is a dream,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “This has to be a dream.”

As the words left my lips, the world around me cracked and splintered. The ground beneath me gave way, and I plummeted into an endless abyss. The light above grew smaller and smaller, but just before it disappeared, I saw a figure standing on the crumbling platform where I’d been.

It was a woman. Her silhouette was faint, blurred by the falling debris, but something about her felt familiar. Belle? Was it Belle? Or someone else? I couldn’t tell.

The ground rushed up to meet me, and I screamed—but instead of impact, I jolted awake, my face pressed against one of the books on my bed. My heart pounded in my chest as I sat up, gasping for air. The memory of the dream clung to me, vivid and horrifying.

“Who was that?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “And what the hell was that dream?”

I glanced at my phone on the nightstand and my stomach dropped. 10:06 a.m. School had already started—two hours ago.

“How the hell did I oversleep?” I groaned, jumping out of bed. My mom hadn’t even woken me up.

I ran downstairs, calling for her, but the house was silent. The kitchen was empty, save for a note on the counter. I picked it up, scanning the neat handwriting.

Wise, stay home today. There’s been another murder. I’ve gone to the town hall meeting about closing the schools. Be safe. Love, Mom.

The paper crinkled in my hand as I clenched my fist. Another murder. Someone else was dead. For a moment, relief bubbled in my chest—I didn’t have to go to school—but it was quickly replaced by guilt and anger. Another person had died. Another life taken.

I rushed back upstairs, my mind racing as I threw myself into my chair and booted up my laptop. If the curse was real, if it was following some pattern, I had to figure out what was going on before it was too late.

I re-entered my room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. My eyes landed on my laptop, its screen dark and lifeless. It had gone into sleep mode, probably because I’d left it on all night. With a sigh, I flopped into my chair and spammed the spacebar, watching as the screen blinked back to life. The gentle glow illuminated my face, the familiar wallpaper—a picture of some random cityscape I’d downloaded months ago—filling the screen.

“Man, I really need to change that,” I muttered to myself. It’d been ages, and I was starting to get sick of looking at it.

The lock screen scanned my face, and a second later, I was in. My first instinct was to check my messages, and sure enough, Belle and Luca had been blowing up the group chat. Their messages from earlier in the morning scrolled up as I skimmed through them.

Belle: Did you go to school today?
Luca: Same, I stayed home. Did you go?
Belle: @Wise where are you?
Luca: He’s probably still asleep.
Belle: @Wise WAKE UP.
Luca: Okay, he’s dead. RIP Wise.
Belle: Come on, it’s not funny.

They must’ve gotten tired of waiting because both of them eventually went offline. I winced, realizing how late I’d slept in. Quickly, I typed out a reply:

Wise: Just woke up. Didn’t go to school either. What’s up?

Satisfied, I alt-tabbed to my browser and started typing. If there’d been another murder, the news would definitely have something on it by now. I didn’t have to search long; the headline was plastered across multiple sites.

"Man Found Dead in Home: Connection to Recent Christmas Murders?"

I clicked the link, my stomach twisting as I skimmed through the article. It was grotesque. A man had been found dead in his living room, his mouth stuffed with feathers. The autopsy revealed something even worse: his stomach had been filled with raw, seemingly alive chickens. Three of them.

“That’s not possible,” I muttered, leaning closer to the screen. The report speculated that they’d been forced down his throat somehow, but the size alone made that sound impossible. Then came the chilling theory—that they’d spawned there.

I slapped my forehead, chuckling bitterly at the absurdity of it all. “Three French hens,” I whispered, shaking my head. The pieces fit too perfectly. The song. The curse. It was all connected. Each day brought another murder, another twisted interpretation of the gifts from the song. And this time, the victim had been killed when three French hens appeared in his stomach, suffocating him from the inside out. The feathers regurgitated in his final moments were just the icing on the nightmare cake.

“Damn it,” I muttered, sitting back in my chair. “This is insane.”

I rubbed my temples, the weight of it all pressing down on me. The more time I wasted, the more people died. People I didn’t know, yes—but how long would that last? How long until it was someone I actually cared about? Someone I couldn’t bear to lose?

As if on cue, a notification popped up on my screen. The group chat.

Belle: Let’s meet at the spot. You know, the one in the woods where we built the platform.
Luca: I’m down. Been a while since we hung out there.
Wise: I’ll be there.

I hit send, grabbing my phone and tossing it into my pocket. If there was any place we could talk freely without worrying about being overheard, it was the platform. But this wasn’t just a meetup. I had to tell them everything I’d learned so far—and figure out how the hell we were going to stop this.

The trees were heavy with snow, their branches drooping under the weight. Every so often, a clump would fall, landing with a muffled thud against the already-blanketed forest floor. I trudged along the narrow path, my breath forming small clouds in the cold air. The spot wasn’t far now, and with each step, memories flickered through my mind.

Most of them were of Dez chasing me through these woods, his laughter taunting me as I dodged branches and roots. But not all the memories were bad. I smiled to myself, recalling the day we built the platform up in the trees, or all the times the three of us would play hide-and-seek here until the sun dipped below the horizon. Good times. Simpler times.

The platform came into view, its sturdy wooden frame hidden high among the branches. And there, halfway up the ladder, was Belle. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her focus on climbing as the snow crunched beneath her boots. An idea popped into my head, and a mischievous grin tugged at my lips.

Quietly, I moved closer, stepping lightly to avoid giving myself away. When she was nearly at the top, I stopped directly beneath her and, in the deepest voice I could muster, called out, “Hey there, beautiful.”

The reaction was immediate—and a little more dramatic than I’d anticipated. Belle yelped, her grip slipping as she lost her balance. My eyes widened as she toppled backward, and I barely had time to step into position before she crashed into me. The force of the impact sent us both tumbling to the ground, landing hard on the snow-covered floor.

I groaned, snow clinging to my hoodie as I blinked up at the canopy of trees. When I turned my head, Belle’s face was right there, hovering above mine—and she did not look happy.

“Wise,” she said, her voice tight with annoyance. “What the hell was that?”

I forced a loose smile, brushing snow off my face. “Just saying hi.”

“‘Hi’?!” she exclaimed, sitting up and crossing her arms. “I could’ve died, you idiot!”

I sat up too, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay, that’s a little dramatic. I caught you, didn’t I?”

She pointed at the snow-covered ground. “Yeah, and then we both fell. Great job.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Belle’s glare softened slightly, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. “Dinner. You pay.”

I groaned, my head tilting back. “Seriously?”

“Take it or leave it,” she said with a shrug, her mood already brightening.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Dinner it is.”

Her smile was instantaneous, and for a second, the cold didn’t seem so bad. But before I could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of us scrambled away from each other, suddenly realizing just how close our faces had been. I glanced over my shoulder to see Luca standing at the edge of the clearing, his arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Relax, Romeo,” he said, walking closer. “Didn’t mean to ruin your moment.”

Belle shot him a glare as she stood, brushing the snow off her jacket. “You’re such a pain,” she muttered, heading toward the ladder again.

I dusted myself off and followed, shaking my head. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Yeah, well,” Luca said, starting to climb after Belle. “Not all of us are early birds.”

The three of us made it up to the platform, settling in as the wind rustled softly through the trees. The structure was wide and sturdy, big enough for all of us to stretch out comfortably if we wanted to. Belle leaned back against one of the beams, her legs crossed, while Luca sat with his legs dangling off the edge.

For a moment, the only sound was the distant chirping of birds and the occasional creak of the wooden planks beneath us. Then I cleared my throat.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said, glancing between them. My tone must’ve given me away, because their smiles faded almost instantly.

“What is it?” Belle asked, leaning forward slightly.

I hesitated, but there was no use sugarcoating it. “There was another murder.”

Belle’s breath hitched, her expression crumpling as she brought a hand to her mouth. Luca cursed under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

“What happened?” Luca asked, his voice tight.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for their reactions. “It was a man this time. He was found dead in his house. They said his mouth was stuffed with feathers—and his stomach was full of chickens. Alive when he ate them. Three of them.”

“Three French hens,” Belle whispered, her voice trembling. “The song…”

I nodded. “It’s happening again. And it’s not going to stop unless we do something about it.”