by Stephen Krystek
Brandon Blackwood leaned closer to the store window’s reflection and winced as he pulled down his bottom lip to get a better look. He pressed his tongue against the back of the bloodstained tooth and it moved easily. His parents were going to pry and there was no way he could hide the puffy lip or the bruising that had already started to form. He replayed the events that led to Jason’s elbow smashing him in the mouth and he couldn’t figure out what he’d done to deserve that. In proper bully fashion, Jason had used his elbow for plausible deniability: You can accidentally elbow someone without consequence but trying to explain how you accidentally punched someone in the face was much more difficult to pull off. Jason was smarter than he looked and when given the choice to use his intelligence for good or evil, the latter always prevailed.
As he inched closer to his reflection, a hand violently slammed against the other side of the glass. The jolt sent him reeling back and he toppled to the unforgiving sidewalk. From inside the store, several classmates laughed and pointed. How long had they been there, just watching him? Humiliated, he scurried across the street to put some distance between himself and the embarrassing fall.
An avid comic book reader, Brandon dreamt of making his own when he got older, as long as it was far away from here. He wasn’t the type to be bullied but Jason had a vacancy in his usual group of victims after Kevin Miller moved away over the summer. It all came down to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and sharing a bus stop with Jason made him a convenient target.
Jason was larger than all the other kids in school, mainly because he’d been held back twice. He didn’t speak much but he paid attention; always watching, analyzing, sizing up the other kids. This year, the teachers had all assigned him barely-passing grades, even when he hadn’t earned them, probably in the hopes he’d finally graduate and become someone else’s problem. There was a very good chance his future involved a heavily-guarded building surrounded by razor wire.
Brandon cut through Haven Street and into a wooded shortcut that every kid knew of. It would buy back some time he’d lost from missing the bus that Jason was guaranteed to be on. Anything to lower the chances of running into the bully again was worth pursuing.
The path wound through thick undergrowth and finally opened up to a canopy of dead trees; branches intertwined like mummified fingers curling over themselves, dimming the sunlight and muffling the sounds of the forest. The air felt colder here too, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped, and Brandon could see his breath as he trudged along. He kicked aside a fallen branch and crunched his way through the leaves when something caught his eye – nearly hidden, its vibrant colors contrasted against the dull browns and yellows of the forest floor. He scraped away a thin layer of grime with the toe of his sneaker to reveal a magazine half-buried in the soil. He picked it up and brushed off the remaining dirt.
“Of Mayhem”
He read the magazine’s masthead aloud and examined the frayed cover. The layout showcased a selection of horror films he had never heard of before. The horror section at Vic’s Video Palace was sparse at best, so there was a good chance he’d missed most of these films, plus they all appeared to have been released decades before he was born. Rusted staples held the spine together, ink had faded into the paper’s pulp and the pages crinkled in his hands.
He browsed through the magazine, taking in movie reviews, articles, and blood-soaked still frames of forgotten flicks. As he turned another page, an index card slid out of the magazine and fluttered to the ground. Brandon picked it up and turned it over. It looked like a mail-in sweepstakes or some kind of contest entry form and contained a series of selections:
Limited Time Offer! Get Rid Of Your Bullies Once And For All! Options Include:
[ ] Vicious Attack by a Rabid Dog
[ ] Horrifying Car Accident
[ ] Lost in the Forest Forever
Return Immediately For Best Results. Act Now!
There was no way he’d let this discarded relic continue to rot in the forest, so he unzipped his backpack, rolled up the magazine, and stuffed it inside. With no need for an expired sweepstakes, he let go of the entry form and watched it drift lazily back to the ground. He turned to leave and discovered he couldn’t move his feet. He strained with all his might but his body would not comply. The tendons in his neck tightened as his head craned downward and his eyes ratcheted back to the card, unable to look away; unable to blink. Frozen in place, he stared as the words on the card beckoned him: Limited Time Offer! His focus narrowed, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a thought overtook all others: Fill me out and mail me in. Eyes anchored to the entry form, he found his body leaning down to pick it up.
A crow let out a harsh, menacing caw beyond the tree line, breaking his trance. Brandon snapped back to reality and took in his surroundings as he steadied himself. Confused, he pulled back his sleeve, noting the time on his wristwatch and thought, How long have I been standing here? If he ran as fast as he could, he’d beat the bus and avoid another encounter with Jason. He bolted through the forest, thoughts lingering on the mail-in card, as he weaved between the dead trees.
#
“What happened to your mouth, honey?” his mom asked with some concern as he slid into his seat, mismatched plates scattered about the dinner table. Brandon avoided the question and focused on his spaghetti, leftovers from last night. He pushed the noodles around on his plate before testing a small, cautious bite to see how it affected his wounded mouth.
“It’s nothing Mom,” he relented.
His dad pointed a noodle-wrapped fork at his lip. “That Jason kid give you that? Did the teachers call his parents this time? They didn’t call us.”
“I’m okay, Dad. I’ve got it under control.” Brandon tried to hide his swelling lip and wiggly tooth as he spoke. “It didn’t happen at school anyways. It was on the bus ride there.”
“That’s still their responsibility. If the teachers aren’t going to do anything–”
“Dad, I said I’ve got it. Can we please talk about something else?”
The table fell silent for a brief moment, save for the scraping of metal forks on porcelain plates, muffled slightly by noodles and sauce.
Slow and methodic, his father twirled spaghetti noodles around his fork. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he swung the utensil toward the living room, pointing it at an old television set with a VHS player precariously balanced on top. Meat sauce and a few stray noodles launched into oblivion as he proposed, “How about, if you finish your homework early enough, we watch one of those movies of yours.”
Brandon’s entire face lit up at this suggestion and he beamed. “Awesome! I’ll be super quick, Dad. Don’t start without me!” He scooted back excitedly, his chair legs grating across the linoleum floor, and raced upstairs, his dinner barely touched.
#
Brandon sat at his desk in the corner of his bedroom; walls decorated with obscure movie posters, pages torn from magazines of his favorite monsters, and a few drawings he had made himself. It was a light load of homework tonight – just some algebra, and he liked numbers so this assignment wasn’t a big deal to him. He double-checked that he’d shown his work for every single problem, even though he could have solved most of them in his head. Mr. Hall was adamant about this: Show your work or the answer is wrong, even if it’s right.
After a quick once-over, he slid the completed assignment back into the pocket of his Trapper Keeper, let out a satisfied sigh and turned his attention to the magazine on top of his dresser. Somehow it had unrolled itself, and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Brandon could swear it looked newer: The edges of the cover were less damaged, and the rust on the staples had disappeared. As he picked it up for a closer look, another mail-in card slid out and fell to the floor.
“Geez, how many contests does this thing have?” Brandon absent-mindedly picked up the card and his eyes immediately lost focus and clouded over. A human-sized puppet, mind and body disconnected, he retrieved a pencil from his backpack and marked an X beside Horrifying Car Accident. His hand effortlessly filled out the rest of the form before his feet guided his body, card in tow, downstairs and out to the front yard. He opened the mailbox, inserted the card, and closed the lid. Finally, he raised the red flag to indicate outgoing mail.
The metal-on-metal screech of the flag against the side of the mailbox jarred him from his daze and lifted the fog from his mind, his eyes returning to normal. How did I get outside? He tried to recall anything since he’d finished his homework and picked up the magazine, but the last couple of minutes were a complete blur and he shuddered as a chill ran down his spine.
#
The bell for first period chimed just as Brandon passed through the door, narrowly avoiding a tardy slip. He slid his backpack underneath his desk and plopped down on the chair, out of breath. He’d taken the shortcut through the woods this morning, avoiding the bus stop and bully altogether, and had to sprint to make it to class on time. He figured it didn’t matter much since they shared half their classes together, including this one.
It was then that Brandon noticed the empty seat. He glanced around to see if other kids were late too. Maybe the bus hadn’t made it to school yet, he thought, but everyone else was accounted for. The teacher ran through roll call and finished by marking Jason absent.
Second period English came and went with Jason still a no-show. Brandon tried dismissing it as coincidence but he couldn’t help thinking about the mail-in sweepstakes and its offer of “getting rid of bullies”.
Third period began with the collective groans of students as they shuffled into the room. Restless, Brandon slid into his desk and pulled out his homework.
“Hey Bran, help me out. I didn’t finish,” Nick Adams whispered as he nervously glanced at Mr. Hall’s empty desk. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet.
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Did you even start?”
“Come on, Best Friend Code demands it,” Nick flashed a mischievous smile.
Brandon reluctantly handed over his paper and Nick jotted down the answers in an almost illegible handwriting, surely destined to become a doctor with such terrible penmanship.
Nick had one of those enviable personalities. Back when he was the new kid several grades ago, he’d strolled in like he owned the place. His abundance of confidence evaded bullies and bought him a level of respect that Brandon could never attain. On his first day, he spotted Brandon through the crowd of students and decided they’d be best friends. An ordinary first day at a new school for Nick, became Brandon’s best day ever.
“He’s gonna want to see your work. He always does,” he warned.
Nick scribbled away, filling in the answers as fast as his hand could move. “A right answer is a right answer. I’ll take the hit for not showing my work.”
Nick finished the last problem and slid Brandon’s paper back, just as Mr. Hall entered the classroom. He scanned the rows of students and his eyes stopped on Jason’s empty desk. His shoulders sagged. He picked up the attendance list, looked it over and then set it back down with a sigh.
“Class, we’re going to skip roll-call today but I need your attention up front. One of our students, Jason Parker, was involved in an automobile accident last night.”
Brandon sat up straight, eyes wide.
“He was with his parents at the time and they were all taken to the ICU at Trinity Medical Center in Arcadia,” Mr. Hall cleared the frog in his throat before adding, “Jay… Jason did not survive.”
Several students gasped quietly while the rest remained in stunned silence. Brandon’s throat went dry.
“Our counselors are making themselves available to each and every student and they’ll be providing additional support outside of normal school hours. I strongly encourage anyone who knew Jason or were friends with him, to schedule an appointment.”
Brandon’s thoughts drifted back to the magazine and he muttered to himself, “The sweepstakes.”
“The what?” Nick’s voice echoed throughout the silent classroom.
Did I say that out loud? The mail-in card had taken center stage in Brandon’s mind. His palms began to sweat.
“Brandon?” Nick pushed.
“After school,” was all he could muster as other students had begun to gawk.
Mr. Hall cleared his throat once more, pulling the class’s attention back to the front of the room. “I’ll try to keep today’s assignment as light and straightforward as possible. Please turn to page 78. We’re going to learn about simplifying expressions and working with variables.”
The students unzipped their backpacks and pulled out their books; the rustling of papers and squeaking chairs filled the air as they settled in for today’s lesson.
#
The rest of the day was loaded with whispers, theories and unfounded speculation, the facts being secondary to a compelling story. James Bradford from fourth period was convinced that Jason’s dad had been driving drunk and wrapped the car around a tree. Jessica Highland from sixth period heard they were making a left turn at 59th and Oxley when someone ran a red light and t-boned their car. Before final period, Brandon overheard some kid say that they were pretty sure a herd of buffalo had gone rogue and stampeded through Main Street with Jason’s family falling victim to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one knew any actual details of the accident and no one but Brandon knew about the magazine and the suspicious card within it.
The bus ride home was filled with an unsettling silence, broken only by Nick’s frustrated rambling. “He has it out for me, I swear it. Always has. ‘You didn’t show your work Nicholas, so you didn’t do the work’,” he said, imitating Mr. Hall. “I’m gonna fail this stupid class and get held back, I just know it.”
After Nick’s rant subsided, the bus ride continued in silence, everyone seemingly affected by the terrible news. In a small town, fender benders were commonplace. An accident that sent its victims to the city with better hospital staff and equipment was rare although it sometimes happened. But a death? That was absolutely unthinkable, especially someone so young. Brandon never knew someone who had died before. Even his grandparents were still alive and very active with their bowling league, two towns over. A wave of remorse flooded over him as the bus began to slow, break pads squealing in protest.
The boys exited their usual stop and plodded into Brandon’s house, dropping their backpacks near the front door. Brandon led the way upstairs to his bedroom.
“That,” he pointed at the magazine still lying on the dresser. “That’s what I was telling you about.”
Nick picked up the ancient artifact and gently paged through it. “Come on Brandon, where’d you really get this from?”
“I told you, I found it in the woods when I took the shortcut.” He fidgeted with his hands while he waited for Nick to finish the examination.
“It looks like it came from a museum or something. This was really just lying on the ground in the woods? Are you messing with me?” Nick had a hint of skepticism in his inquiry that Brandon ignored. Brandon leaned forward and scrutinized the magazine. Something about it was different; newer.
“That’s really weird. That thing was pretty beat up last time I saw it.” Brandon’s mind began to drift back to the murky events of last night and he quickly shook the thoughts out of his head before adding “It had a sweepstakes card inside when I first found it. Another one fell out when I got home, and they both listed ways to ‘get rid of bullies’. It’s hard to explain what happened but I saw myself check the car accident box, and now Jason is dead and his folks are in the hospital; from a freakin’ car accident!”
“It could just be that—“
A card slid out of the magazine and landed on the floor. Nick raised an eyebrow and feigned a dramatic “oh no” expression. He carefully placed the magazine back on the dresser and picked up the card.
Limited Time Offer! Tormented By Troublesome Teachers? Options Include:
[ ] Poisoned at Favorite Restaurant
[ ] Deadly Snake Bite
[ ] Impaled by Tree Branch
Return Immediately For Best Results. Act Now!
“Teacher? That’s weird,” Nick muttered to himself as he studied the card.
“It said something else last night, I swear it.” Doubt began to creep into Brandon’s mind. Had he misread the entry form or even worse, imagined the whole thing?
Nick’s voice drifted farther away as he continued reading the sweepstakes’ fine print. “Why did you put it… in the mailbox?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t feel like I was the one doing it, but it was me doing it. Like, I was hypnotized or something. That doesn’t make any sense but I don’t know how else to explain what happened.”
“Could… just be… a coincidence.” Nick sputtered, barely audible.
“My sweepstakes was for a bully. Yours is for a teacher. Whatever it is, I think this magazine is causing it. I can’t prove it yet, but I just know it. Do you think I caused — Dude, are you okay?”
Nick, eyes glazed over, drew an X next to Poisoned at Favorite Restaurant. He stumbled past Brandon without any acknowledgment and left the room. Confused, Brandon’s eyes drifted from the magazine to the door his friend had just left through. This all felt too familiar, like a bad bout of deja vu. A sudden realization washed over Brandon like a wave of ice water, and he leapt to his feet.
“Nick!” he screamed as he raced after his friend. He caught up to him just as Nick raised the red flag of the mailbox.
“Take it out!” Brandon shouldered past his catatonic friend to reach the mailbox.
Nick’s eyes snapped back to reality. Bewildered, he asked, “How did we get outside?”
Brandon pried open the mailbox. “Where is it, Nick?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where’s the stupid sweepstakes thing?!” Brandon demanded.
“I don’t understand. What’s going on, Bran?”
The mailbox was empty.
Brandon spun around and frantically searched the lawn for the missing card. Disoriented, Nick rubbed at his temples and set his jaw. “What the hell just happened? Where did it go?”
“It can’t just disappear. We’ve gotta find it” The two boys scanned the area, eyes darting from one corner of the yard to another, but the sweepstakes card was gone.
“Did this happen to your card too?”
“I never checked the mailbox afterward.”
For the briefest of moments, they simply stared at one another, shocked into silence. None of it felt real.
“We have to call him. We have to warn him,” Nicked urged. “We can fix this!”
“Mr. Hall? What would we say? ‘Hi sir, an evil magazine put a curse on you so please don’t go to any restaurants this week, especially your favorite one’ Come on, that sounds crazy.”
“Crazy is better than guilty.” Nick sprinted back into the house. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon and Brandon’s parents would be home soon.
Nick flipped through the White Pages and ran his index finger down the list of names until he landed on Hall, Edward. Nick yanked the receiver off the hook and punched in the number. He fiddled with the tangle of coiled cord while he waited for the call to connect. The ringtone transitioned to a recording of Mr. Hall’s voice: “I can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!” As the answering machine beeped, Nick hung up the phone.
Brandon shrugged. “Well?”
“I’m not leaving a message. That’d make me sound even crazier than whatever all of this is!” He spread his arms wide, gesturing at their predicament.
Brandon’s stomach had tied itself into balloon animal shapes and he nervously paced the room. “I can’t believe this is happening. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. He’s either not at home or he’s not answering the phone. What else can we do though? This still could be nothing, right? Just a big, stupid coincidence?” Nick tried to sound convincing and failed miserably.
Brandon glanced at the large clock on the wall. “My parents will be home soon.” He paused before adding, “I don’t know, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Nick mumbled, doubtful.
Seconds ticked by, neither able to make eye contact with the other. Finally, Nick grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I gotta get home. See you at class tomorrow.”
#
The tardy bell rang for third period. Brandon surveyed the room. All the seats were filled, except for the one that used to belong to Jason. Then he noticed that Mr. Hall’s desk was empty as well. Nick’s eyes were welded in place, fixed on the teacher’s empty desk. His heart was racing, anxiety bleeding through his pores.
“He’ll be here any minute,” Brandon tried to reassure his friend. “He’s probably—“
An older woman entered the classroom, closed the door behind her, and walked to Mr. Hall’s desk. She set down her bag and picked up the attendance sheet. She gave it a once over and addressed the class.
“Hello students, my name is Miss Anderson and I’ll be your substitute teacher for the time being. Let’s begin with roll call. Please raise your hand when I call your name.”
#
Between classes, the hallways once again resounded with a cacophony of rumors, no one knowing anything firsthand but having heard something from a friend of a friend, or gossip from the faculty. On his way to final period, Brandon overheard the Vice Principal talking to Coach Rodriguez in hushed tones, and he knelt down, pretending to tie his shoe while he listened in on their conversation.
“We have a sub for this week but we’ll need to fill the position permanently.” Vice Principle Johnson uttered. The sweat on his forehead had soaked through his combover, highlighting his bald patch.
Anxiously eyeing the students as they walked by, Coach Rodriguez added, “The News said they arrested the chef. I heard it was rat poisoning or something. Got mixed into the food somehow.” His paranoia was infectious.
“We’re leaving now.” Brandon grabbed Nick by the loop on his backpack and dragged him along as they strode past the doorway to their final class and slid out through a nearby exit. They climbed over the chainlink fence encircling the school and sprinted toward the shortcut in the woods. Trudging through the thicket, the boys paused at an ancient, decaying tree stump to catch their collective breath and regroup.
“Okay that’s it, your magazine is haunted!”
“It’s not mine, Nick. I just found it,” he defended.
“We need to get rid of it, Brandon. Before anyone else gets killed.”
“It was old and worn when I found it in the woods but it’s not anymore. I think it’s healing itself, Nick. I think it’s alive.”
“If it’s alive, that means we can kill it.” Nick took the lead, and the boys sped through the forest toward Brandon’s house.
They rushed to the front door and Brandon fumbled with his key, nearly dropping it. He swung open the door, shrugged out of his backpack and sprinted upstairs to his room. The magazine was still on the dresser. It looked brand new, fully restored. He rolled it up, bolted down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, slamming the magazine down on the counter. He rummaged through the junk drawer until he found what he was searching for: an old box of kitchen matches, Strike Anywhere printed on the sides.
“Did you find it?” Brandon called out.
Nick entered the kitchen from the garage and held up a red gasoline canister. “Got it.”
Brandon shoved the box of matches into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, snatched up the magazine and followed Nick toward the backyard. As they crossed over the threshold, a small piece of cardstock descended to the linoleum floor.
Nick pried open a metal trash can near the side of the house and Brandon threw the magazine on top of some rubble inside it. Nick unscrewed the cap on the canister and poured gasoline over the magazine, shaking out the entire container. He tossed it aside as Brandon struck a match against the box. The stick snapped, sending the match head careening into the air.
“Come on, Bran! We need to end this now!”
Brandon fumbled with the next match and dropped it. He searched the grass, grabbed it, and ran the match head along the side of the box. The match caught fire and then quickly snuffed out, claimed by a gentle breeze.
“Damnit!”
“Let me try,” Nick wrenched the box from Brandon. His hands were shaking, breath caught in his throat. Brandon picked up the gas can and shook out the last few drops of accelerant onto the magazine. Nick pulled out a match, struck it and held up the tiny flame, victorious.
“Third time’s the charm.”
“Do it!” Brandon commanded, eyes wild.
Without a second thought, Nick dropped the lit match into the trash can.
#
The front door swung open and Brandon’s mother placed her keys into a porcelain catch-all on the entryway table. She noticed Brandon’s bag on the floor, alongside another. His friend Nicholas must be over. The kitchen was in complete disarray, drawers pulled out and cabinets opened, all rummaged through in haste. She huffed as she closed several drawers nearest her and then noticed a small index card on the linoleum floor. She picked it up and turned it over. A sweepstakes mailer, pre-filled in what looked like Brandon’s handwriting:
Limited Time Offer! Play With Matches And You’ll Get:
[X] Burned Alive
[X] Charred Beyond Recognition
[X] Scorched to the Bone
Return Immediately For Best Results. Act Now!
Her eyes grew vacant, pupils opaque. Spellbound, she added the sweepstakes card to a small stack of outgoing mail and glided outside to the mailbox. She opened the metal container, slid in the items, closed the lid and raised the flag.
A piercing, guttural scream fractured her hypnotic state and she regained control of her mind and body. She glanced skyward as a murder of crows scattered from the tree line in all directions, jolted from the sudden shriek. Perplexed, she glanced around the front yard to orient herself and then down at the closed mailbox. She sighed, rubbed her tired eyes and took in the afternoon air, noting a smokey aroma. One of the neighbors must be having a barbecue. She drew in heaping lungful and exhaled slowly. A smile spread across her face and she made a mental note to pick up steaks for the coming weekend as she walked back inside the house.
© Stephen Krystek 2026
Stephen Krystek is an Arizona native who transplanted to California for work in the film industry making title sequences. He loves the ‘80s, comics and the great outdoors, all of which influenced the short story, “Limited Time Offer.”