Monsters Underneath

Writing and drawing has always been my passion, and rightfully so. I'm only 16 years old, yet I have millions of dollars to my name. And not to mention how many people love me and my comics. 

I am currently standing atop a stage getting my award for the best comics of 2046. The people down below are shouting my name.

Kris!

Kris!

Kris!

"Kris!" This shout is all too familiar. The shout is coming from my best friend, Mitch, a 17-year-old teenager who has the looks and the bulk of a football player: being tall and having large biceps. Even though he has the body of a weightlifter, he has the heart of a nerd; he spends a large amount of time on school subjects such as math and science. He has dirty blonde Caesar-cut hair and grey eyes with a hint of blue in them. Mitch is far more successful than me even though he is only one year older.

The shout wakes me from my dream. I slowly lift my head from my, now drool-soaked, piece of paper. I must have fallen asleep while trying to come up with a comic title the night before.

"Kris, I have been waiting in the car for half an hour. Are you coming?"

I look around the room and realize that I haven't even packed for the camping trip. I laugh nervously. "I must have fallen asleep last night, and never got around to packing."

Mitch sighs and says, "Well you better start right away, we're going to be late." 

"Right, right," I say as I rush to stuff a bunch of sweatshirts, T-shirts, and many varieties of hoodies into a bag.

"It's going to be pretty hot at camp, dude," Mitch says even though he knows damn well that never stops me from wearing hoodies. I ignore him and continue to pack.

I load my stuff into the trunk of Mitch's car.

"What's with all the bags?" He asks as I stuff three bags into the trunk.

"Well," I start, "I have my clothes in one, my bedding in another and the third is filled with snacks. I'm not paying for overpriced chips this year!" Mitch laughs and starts to drive.

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Mitch's POV

I arrive at Kris's house. I texted him that I was on my way not too long ago, so he should be coming out shortly. I have been friends with him for about 14 years now, so I feel legally obligated to take care of him like a brother, although sometimes it feels like I'm his dad. The kid is pretty skinny for his age. He is also somewhat tall, although he is nowhere near as tall as me. He has straight long brown hair, with a beanie to top it off. Also, his voice is very squeaky, so he gets picked on quite often. If I'm there, I make sure that the people picking on him back off.

People are scared of me just because of my looks, but I'm super nice and caring. If people just got to know me first, I would have more friends. Kris is all I have for now, but that's enough for me.

After waiting for about 30 minutes, I decide to go check on him. I knock on the door and no one answers. Every time I call him it just goes to voicemail. We have known each other so long that we consider ourselves brothers. If I were his brother, I would be able to enter his house without permission, so I open the door and walk inside. I call his name; no one answers. "His car is here, so he must be home," I say to myself. I walk upstairs and knock on his door. Again, no response. I then gently open the door. There he is, asleep on his desk, drooling. 

_____________

Kris's POV

The car ride is excruciatingly boring due to the deafening silence, so I try starting a conversation with Mitch. 

"So . . . "

"So?"

"I finished volume two of my comic"

"Sweet! Have you come up with a name for it yet?"

"No"

"Ah."

" . . . "

" . . . "

Awkward silence is coming over us, which is weird because me and Mitch are usually very chatty. It seems like he has something on his mind, but I don't know what it is.

"You ok?" I question him.

"Yeah. Why do you ask."

"Oh no reason, it just seems like you're upset. Is it because I slept in?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He paused for a moment.

"It's . . . umm . . . " He clears his throat and sighs, "it's nothing."

Mitch leans over and turns on some music. His choice of music was EDM, which I like, but it gets annoying pretty quickly. I won't tell him to change it though because it would be rude. 

After about an hour we arrive at the campsite. As we're pulling in I see all the cabins. There are at least fourteen, which may seem overkill, but it's needed. the camp usually has about 700-800 kids. The camp costs about 200 dollars for each person so that would be . . . 

"Hey, Mitch."

"Yeah?"

"What's 800 times 200?"

He looks at me, puzzled. "You don't know?"

"No, I'm not the math guy."

"It's very simple math!"

I think for a moment before realizing the obvious answer. I just smile and chuckle nervously. "It's $16,000"

Mitch then laughs so hard that he starts wheezing.

"Bro . . . " Mitch starts, still laughing, "What is eight times two?"

"Sixteen . . . ?" I say, confused.

"Yeah . . . and how many zeroes are in 800 and 200?"

"Four . . . ?"

"Those combine to be . . . ?"

"Oh . . . shit . . . $160,000?"

"There you go, dumbass." He chuckles softly.

We pull into a parking spot near the auditorium, where we have to go to listen to the rules and what we are going to be doing for the week. I get out and see a face right in front of me. It is Gustavo, my other good friend. He is a 16-year-old Mexican boy, who has semi-long bushy brown hair. He is short, and always wears oversized clothing and a signature green backpack. Today, he is wearing a dark green, oversized, long-sleeve shirt with jeans. I didn't think he was coming to the camp this year.

"Hey! What's up, dude!" I said

"Hola Kris. It's good to see you!"

"I didn't think you were coming"

"I didn't either, but my parents made me go. Something about needing alone time."

Alone time could mean two things: a fun time, or a yelling match. And knowing that his parents are not in the best relationship at the moment, I went with the second option. "Well, I'm happy you came," I say with a smile.

We unload the car and grab our luggage. I leave it next to the door to the auditorium because I don't want to haul much luggage inside. While inside, I try to spot anybody else I might know. Unfortunately, it is like trying to find a needle in a haystack due to how many others there are in there. The cacophony of voices, which is all too familiar, is something I do not miss about camp.

I sit down next to Mitch and Gustavo. Mitch grabs his sketchbook and pencil out of his bag to distract himself from the noise. I look at Gustavo and he is still smiling. "How are you fine with all this noise?" I ask. He just replies with, "I'm used to it." I felt so bad for this man, but he just doesn't seem fazed about what's going on with his parents. He must think it's normal.

I shake it off and keep myself entertained by imagining scenarios, which is something I often do. I love imagining my own stories. I often get with Mitch and we both act like we are two characters from the story. Most of the time we tell a story about two teens with cool powers, and we usually make these stories last for weeks or months. Some might call it role play, but we don't take it as seriously as many role players do. This is why I make comics, to try to tell these stories to other people using words and pictures; unfortunately, despite my great imagination, I'm not very good at telling my stories through paper. 

Before I know it, the orientation is over. We grab our luggage and head to our cabin. Fortunately, we are all in the same cabin room.

Once inside, we all claim beds. I take the top bunk in the corner, which is my favorite spot because I get to be by myself for the most part. Mitch claims the top bunk next to me, and Gustavo claims the one under me. 

"Wait," Gustavo started, "where's the bedding?" 

"We were supposed to bring our own," I respond

"Oh, shoot."

"Damn, dude. Did your parents not tell you to pack it?"

"No, they were busy."

"Ah, I see. Here, you can have my blanket, I'll just use my throw-over" I say as I hand him the blanket.

"You don't have to do that for me."

"Sure I do. You're my friend, you need a blanket, and I have a spare."

"You brought a blanket and a throw-over?" Mitch asks.

"Of course. You know how cold the cabins get. I like the cold, but not that much cold."

"Fair enough."

As we finish settling in, the cabin chaperone comes in and tells us to get ready for lunch. So, I grab some stuff to keep me busy like my sketchbook, some pencils, and my brain, which is optional. I put all of the stuff into Gustavo's backpack. And so does Mitch.

"Damn bro, how much stuff can that backpack carry," Mitch asks, staring at the backpack.

"You'd be surprised, my friend."

I laugh and say, "We should probably start heading towards the cafeteria before the line gets too long."

It was already too late. By the time we got there, the line was already stretched halfway around the building. I sigh and wait for the doors to open so that the line can start moving.

As I am staring in the distance, my brain is making scenarios. Suddenly, something that looks like a man in a lab coat walks near the gym building. Unfortunately, as I try to get a better look, someone walks in front of my view and the coated figure is gone. I guess it was just my imagination. 

We finally get our food and sit down. The cafeteria is almost as noisy as the auditorium. It is too hard to think of scenarios, so I just get out my sketchbook from Gustavo's green backpack and start to draw. I like drawing random characters to add to my stories. This time I am going to draw Gustavo in the style of my comics. 

After lunch, we go back to the cabins for a bit. While I walk through the cabin lounge to get to my room, I see another one of my friends, Sky. He is built the same as Mitch although lacking the muscles. He has short black hair and always seems to be wearing uncomfortable clothes. Today he is wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt with tiny black flowers on it.

"Hey, Sky!"

"Yo! Wassup!"

"Good to see that you came and that we are in the same cabin. What room are you in?"

"Room C. What about you?"

"Room A"

"Ah damn, that sucks."

"Yeah, but I still got Mitch and Gustavo to hang out with in there."

"Oh sweet. Well if you ever want to play cards or hang out any other way just give room C a good ol' knock."

"Ight will do. Cya Sky."

"Cya."

I head back to my room and ask the chaperone, Mr. Jenkins, what's next on the schedule. he says that we have free time until dinner. So in my free time, I play cards with Sky and Mitch.

 After dinner, we have even more free time so I decide to go for a walk with Mitch. We were told to walk only on the paths that are lit up, but I don't want to do that so I tell Mitch that we should go to the forest and look around. He's a bit hesitant, but I talk him into it.

I walk in and instantly get a shiver down my spine like something bad is about to happen; I turn to tell Mitch that we should turn back, but he is gone. That bitch left me. I turn fully around to go back and yell at him, but all there is is more forest. It looks like miles of it too. As confused as I am, I fully spin around checking all sides making sure I didn't get turned around or anything, but all there is is more forest.

I felt terrified. It feels like someone is watching me, studying me. I don't see anyone though. The fact that it is extremely dark does not comfort me in the least.

I take a step forward, I don't know why, but I feel that maybe forward is the best option. I feel more fear with each step I take. "One step at a time," I keep telling myself. The darkness keeps getting darker somehow, the sounds of the forest get quieter, and the wind stops. I accidentally step on a stick, and it surprises me with a large crack due to my shattered nerves. "One step at a ti–"

I stop. I can't move. I can't speak. I can't hear. It is like my whole body stopped working. Right before me is a tall hooded figure holding a long staff with a sharp curved blade at the top. A spine-chilling voice that sounds like hissing comes out of the form. "Kris…" I can't speak, "The 'writer' as they call you . . . " How does he know my name and that I like to write? "I-" is all that came out. "What? Cat got your tongue? It's funny, I get this reaction a lot, but this time is special… Kris, you are special . . . "

"H-How?" This time I can form a single word.

"Because Kris. You cheated."

"Cheated?"

"Yes Kris, you cheated death."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know?"

"No." He chuckles, but not the friendly chuckle you get from your dad. It is a blood-curdling chuckle. "On April 9th, 2046, you, Kris Kampos, were supposed to get in a car accident on your way to Comicon, but you didn't. How?"

"I- I don't know. I don't understand"

"Hmm. Clueless. Interesting. It doesn't matter, you cheated death, so that means you have to go, but don't worry once I take you it will be like you did die on that day so your friends won't be confused."

"What? No. This doesn't make sense. Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious Kris?" There's a long pause as he lifts his hood to reveal his bleached skull.

"I'm Death."

____________

Mitch's POV

I turn to tell Kris that this is a bad idea, but he is gone. "Bro don't run through so fast! You might hurt yourself, idiot" I yell out to him. I look behind me to see if he ran back that way, but all I see is the green grass and the cabins in the distance. So, I walk forward to go find him. "Yo Kris! Come back, dude!" No response. As I am about to turn back and leave, I hear a whooshing sound. "Kris?" No response. Another whoosh. This time, I see a black figure in the trees above me move. "Kris, how the f##k did you get up there?" No response. "This isn't funny." No response. "Ight, I'm leaving." No response. Another whoosh. The next thing I know, the figure rushes towards me. My vision goes black.