The Conduit

Luca leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay,” he said, his voice heavy with skepticism. “How exactly are three teenagers supposed to stop a curse that involves supernatural murders? We’re not exactly Ghostbusters here.”

I sighed, leaning back against one of the support beams of the platform. “I’ve been reading up on this stuff,” I said. “I think I have a decent understanding of how it works—or at least the basics.”

Belle shifted slightly, her legs tucked beneath her. She hadn’t said much since I started talking, her usual energy replaced by a quiet stillness. Luca gestured for me to continue, his expression somewhere between frustration and curiosity.

“Alright,” I said, pulling the leather-bound book from my bag and holding it up. “First off, this book? I don’t think it’s just a book. It’s a conduit—or maybe even the source of the curse.”

“A conduit?” Luca raised an eyebrow. “You’re losing me already, man.”

I flipped the book open, pointing to one of the sections I’d marked earlier. “Look, it’s been in several towns before ours. Every single time, the pattern’s the same: the curse hits, people die, and somehow, the book ends up in the next town. It’s like... I don’t know, the survivor or someone involved gets rid of it by passing it on.”

Belle finally spoke, her voice soft but steady. “So... they’re trying to save themselves by making it someone else’s problem.”

“Pretty much,” I said, nodding. “And it always happens at Christmas, which is probably why no one thinks it’s real at first. People just brush it off as weird coincidences or bad timing. Until it’s too late.”

Luca leaned back, crossing his arms. “So, what? We just get rid of it? Drop it in the woods or burn it or something?”

I shook my head, my stomach knotting at the thought. “That’s what I thought too. But... the book says otherwise.”

Luca frowned. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, then flipped to another page and read aloud. “‘Once the curse begins, it will not end until all days are completed.’” Closing the book, I looked up at them. “We can’t just stop it. It’s already in motion.”

“Son of a—” Luca slammed a fist against the wooden floor, the thud echoing around us. “So we’re stuck watching people drop dead for twelve days? That’s it?”

“No,” I said firmly. “We’re not stuck. There has to be a way to stop it. We just... haven’t figured it out yet.”

Luca cursed under his breath, slumping back against the beam with his hand covering his face. His frustration was palpable, but I couldn’t focus on him right now. My attention shifted to Belle, who hadn’t said a word since I started explaining. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her eyes downcast.

“Belle,” I said softly, shifting closer to her. “None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”

She didn’t respond, but her shoulders tensed slightly.

“You couldn’t have known,” I continued. “You picked up a book at a random stall. That’s all. None of us could’ve guessed this would happen. We live in a world where things are supposed to make sense, where stuff like this isn’t supposed to be real.”

Her lip trembled, and I reached over, taking her hand in mine. “This isn’t your fault,” I said again, squeezing her hand tightly. “You didn’t cause this. You couldn’t have known.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she nodded. Her grip on my hand loosened, and she looked up at me, her eyes glassy but filled with determination. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Luca scooted closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, Belle. Wise is right. We’ll figure this out. We’ve already got half the mystery solved thanks to Sherlock over here.”

That earned him a faint smile, and I rolled my eyes. “Sherlock? Really?”

Luca smirked. “What? You’re the one throwing out philosophical analogies like you’re Socrates or something.”

“Oh, please,” I shot back. “You wouldn’t even know how to spell Socrates.”

Belle giggled softly, and the sound felt like a small victory. She sat up straighter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright, you two,” she said, her voice stronger now. “Don’t start fighting. I’m fine, okay? And you’re right—we’ll figure out a solution. No matter what.”

Luca gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling back. “That’s the spirit.”

I nodded, relieved to see the spark returning to her eyes. But as I glanced at the cursed book still sitting beside me, my chest tightened. Time was running out, and I didn’t have all the answers yet. But for now, at least, I wasn’t facing this alone.

Luca leaned back, arms crossed, his frustration evident. “Okay, fine. Let’s say we know how the curse works. But how do you even plan to stop it, Wise? What’s the big master plan?”

I exhaled, the weight of the question pressing down on me. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice low. “At least, not yet.”

Belle looked down, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. Luca shook his head, muttering something under his breath, but I caught the disappointment in his eyes. I hated not having an answer, but there was one thing I did know. One thing I was almost certain about.

“But...” I started, straightening up. “I’ve noticed something. About the curse. And I think it’s important.”

Belle and Luca both perked up, their attention snapping back to me. “What is it?” Belle asked, her tone filled with anticipation.

“Check your waists,” I said, watching them carefully.

They exchanged confused looks, but each reached for their sides. The second their hands landed on the objects hanging there, their expressions shifted to shock. Belle’s mouth fell open as she pulled her keychain free—a Mrs. Claus figure, now larger and far heavier than before. Luca did the same, holding up his elf keychain, its eyes eerily lifelike.

I didn’t need to check my own. I could feel the weight of it against my side, the heft of the Santa Claus keychain that had grown into the size of a big action figure or doll. When I pulled it out and held it in my palm, I saw it had become grotesquely detailed—each strand of Santa’s beard and every wrinkle on his face unnervingly realistic.

“These things,” Luca muttered, turning the elf over in his hands. “They’re getting bigger.”

“Not just bigger,” Belle added, her voice trembling. “They’re more... real. Like... alive.”

I nodded grimly. “Exactly. I think they grow with each murder.”

Belle clutched her keychain tightly, her knuckles white. “How did they even get on us? I don’t remember carrying this around.”

“They didn’t get on us. They’ve always been on us. Ever since the ritual,” I said, my voice steady despite the dread twisting in my gut. “That’s why burning the book won’t work. The book might’ve been the original conduit, but now it’s these.” I held up my Santa keychain. “We’ve been marked.”

“Marked?” Luca scoffed. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means we’re part of the curse now,” I said, glancing between the two of them. “These keychains—they’re the conduits now. And they grow with each day of the curse. With each death.”

Luca stared at the elf in his hand, his lips pressing into a thin line. “If they’re this big now, how big do you think they’ll get by the twelfth day?”

“They won’t,” Belle said suddenly, her voice sharp and filled with determination. We both turned to her, surprised. She looked up, fire in her eyes. “It won’t get that far. We’ll stop it before then.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But the weight of everything I’d read, everything I’d seen—it all pressed down on me like a heavy stone. Still, I nodded, not wanting to crush the spark of hope she’d found. “Yeah,” I said, forcing conviction into my voice. “We’ll figure it out.”

Luca’s eyes flicked between us before he sat up straighter. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s start with the obvious. We destroy these things. Smash them, burn them—whatever it takes.”

“Agreed,” I said. “It’s worth a shot.”

Belle nodded, her grip tightening on Mrs. Claus. “I’ll do it tonight.”

With that, we climbed down from the platform, each of us determined in our own way to get rid of the keychains. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be that easy.

▪▪▪

When I got home, the house was quiet. Mom still wasn’t back, which was fine by me. I headed to the garage, grabbing Dad’s old toolbox from the shelf. Inside, I found exactly what I needed—a hefty hammer.

Back in my room, I placed the Santa Claus keychain on my desk and gripped the hammer tightly. “Alright,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s see if this works.”

I raised the hammer high and swung it down with all my strength. The keychain crunched under the blow, splintering apart. But instead of the sound of breaking plastic or metal, there was a sickening squelch. Something wet splattered across my face, and I froze, the hammer still in my hand.

Slowly, I lifted the hammer, my heart pounding. The keychain was split open, but inside... inside were organs. Real, human organs. They throbbed and pulsed, blood pumping through arteries and veins. A half-mushed heart twitched weakly in the mess, its beat slowing.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, stumbling back as bile rose in my throat. I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up, heaving into the toilet until my stomach was empty. My legs shook as I leaned against the sink, trying to catch my breath.

When I finally managed to calm down, I returned to my room. Blood splattered the walls, the desk, even my clothes. The smell was metallic and nauseating, and my head swam as I tried to make sense of it all.

But when I reached my desk, I froze.

The blood was gone.

So were the organs. The hammer was clean, and the Santa Claus keychain... it was whole again, sitting on my desk as if nothing had happened.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “No, no, no.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out with shaking hands. It was the group chat.

Belle: I burned mine. It... it screamed. And then it came back.
Luca: Same here. I smashed mine to pieces, but it’s like nothing happened.
Wise: There were... organs inside mine.

A long pause followed before Luca replied.

Luca: What do we do now?

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. The keychains couldn’t be destroyed. They couldn’t be burned or smashed or thrown away. No matter what we did, they came back.

What were we supposed to do now?

I sat in my chair, staring at the screen, my leg bouncing restlessly under the desk. Luca’s last message was bold and accusatory, practically burning into my retinas.

Luca: What’s the plan, Wise? Or do we just sit around waiting for the next murder?

My hands hovered over the keyboard, my chest tightening with frustration. Plan A had been a long shot, and deep down, I’d known that. But I wanted it to work so badly—to have some kind of tangible solution—that I hadn’t thought far enough ahead. And now, with no plan B, I was stuck.

Wise: I’m thinking about it.

I hit send, the words feeling hollow even as they appeared in the chat. The reply wasn’t enough for Luca—of course, it wasn’t. His response came almost immediately.

Luca: "Thinking about it"? Great. Meanwhile, people are dying. The longer you take, the worse it gets.

My fingers tightened around the edge of my desk, and I felt the heat rising in my chest.

Wise: You think I don’t know that? I fucking KNOW, Luca! But I don’t have all the answers, alright?

My hands trembled as I hit send again. The tension simmered in my veins, a combination of my own frustration and the way Luca’s words grated against my nerves. Belle’s message popped up next, her tone clearly meant to mediate.

Belle: Guys, please. Fighting isn’t going to solve anything.

But Luca wasn’t backing down.

Luca: No, Belle. Wise can’t act like he knows everything if he doesn’t. We can’t afford to screw this up any worse than it already is.

I started typing again, my jaw clenching so tightly it hurt. Just as I was about to hit send, my laptop started ringing. Belle had started a voice call.

I groaned, grabbing my headphones and sliding them on. The device connected with a soft beep, and when I clicked into the call, I saw Luca was already in there with her. His voice hit my ears immediately.

“—doesn’t know shit, Belle! What if his ideas make it worse?”

“Then come up with your own fucking plans, Luca!” I snapped, cutting him off.

There was a moment of silence, then Luca scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not crazy enough to go poking around in some supernatural death curse, so excuse me if I rely on the ‘smart guy’ who clearly doesn’t know anything either.”

“Guys, STOP!” Belle’s voice rang out loud and sharp, silencing both of us. “This isn’t helping! We can’t fight like this right now. If we don’t work together, we’re screwed. All of us!”

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of my desk. “Fine,” I muttered. “You’re right.”

“Yeah,” Luca added, his tone quieter now. “Sorry. I just—”

I narrowed my eyes at the screen. That apology had come a little too quickly for my liking, but I bit my tongue. “Whatever. Let’s just focus.”

Belle sighed, clearly relieved that the shouting match was over. “Good. Now... does anyone have any actual ideas?”

Luca jumped on the question immediately. “What about you, Wise? Got anything now?”

I clenched my fists, the irritation bubbling back up. “Why don’t you come up with something, genius?”

Before Luca could snap back, Belle cut in again. “You two need to stop. Seriously. Just—stop.”

Her tone shifted, quieter and more thoughtful. “Maybe... maybe it’s because we tried destroying the keychains separately,” she said, almost to herself.

Her words hit me like a freight train. My eyes widened, and I leaned back in my chair as the pieces fell into place. Together. We hadn’t destroyed them together.

“That’s it,” I murmured, my mind racing.

“What’s it?” Luca asked.

I straightened, gripping the edge of my desk. “What if... what if we destroy them all at once? The book, the keychains—everything. We burn it all in one big pile.”

Belle sat up straighter in her frame. “You think that would work?”

I shrugged, though I knew they couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. But nothing else has worked, and it’s the only thing we haven’t tried.”

Luca was silent for a moment. “It’s risky,” he said finally.

“It’s all risky,” I shot back. “But unless you have a better idea—”

“Alright,” Belle cut in, her tone firm. “Let’s do it. When?”

I hesitated. That was the tricky part. “Our parents won’t let us out this late,” I said. “Not with all the murders happening.”

“But if we wait too long, someone else dies,” Belle added, her voice tight.

“Then we meet after midnight,” Luca said suddenly. “At the park. The one we went to after the festival. It’s far enough from everything, and no one will bother us.”

Belle and I exchanged hesitant looks.

“What time?” I asked.

“2 a.m.,” Luca replied.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t ideal. Hell, it was a terrible idea. But what choice did we have?

“Fine,” I said.

“Same,” Belle added.

“Good,” Luca said. “See you there.”

As the call ended, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The plan was set. Now we just had to hope it worked.