Falter Kingdom by Michael J Seidlinger

watching as Becca and Blaire make a scene. Everyone knows what’s going on.
    And here I am, freezing and stuck in my room.
    I get a call. When I look, it’s a number I don’t recognize.
    Well then, ignore.
    But the number keeps calling. I put my phone on silent. I go online and focus on something else.
    This is all getting so overwhelming.
    Becca messages me online, telling me that I’m not answering her texts.
    â€œYeah, getting overwhelmed by things.”
    â€œGotcha,” she types, “on my way. Father James is cutting us like a huge break. I think he’s going to be the one that sees you.”
    â€œGreat,” and then I add, “Yeah, that’s really great.”
    Becca asks, “Still locked in?”
    â€œYup,” I type back. Then I add, “Might have to leave via the window.”
    â€œThat’s like so fucked up,” she says.
    â€œIt is, yeah. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
    â€œBut we do know what’s going on though.”
    I try to make sense of it, put it in words that would make sense to her: “No, I know, I mean... well, it’s just like everything people said about being haunted but it’s also very different.”
    Becca doesn’t type anything.
    â€œLet me try to explain.” But the explanation doesn’t come. I type out something that doesn’t make sense so I delete it. I’m at a loss. Then I ask, “Who’s driving you?”
    Her reply: “Jon-Jon.”
    I should have known. I mean, it’s not a bad thing, I guess.
    I type back, “Cool.”
    She knows me well enough to know that when I reply “Cool” it means the opposite of cool. She knows my mannerisms but she doesn’t know how I’m really feeling. And that’s what makes me think of Nikki as the real reason I’m going to keep doing this. I’ll break up with Becca when this is all over and Nikki and I are together.
    Becca types back, “We’re heading out now. Be there soon, like ten minutes.”
    â€œOkay,” I reply.
    I lean back in bed, laptop on my stomach, hands in my pockets to keep them sort of warm.
    I wait—wait for something to happen.
    I look at my phone next to me; the screen’s lit up, people reacting. People are always reacting.
    If anyone’s confused by this, just think of how confusing it is for me. I’m full of mixed emotions. I want it gone but I also know that none of the attention would be there if it weren’t for the demon.
    I think, “You are the reason I’ll be remembered.”
    I expect something to happen, but nothing does.
    I stare at the screen, watching the social media feed scroll with the latest from hundreds of people I follow.
    Nothing happens.
    I start to count each breath I see.
    Then there’s the sound of someone messaging me.
    I blink, realizing I hadn’t blinked in a good minute. Hands out of the pockets, I lean forward and read the message.
    â€œThey are outside.”
    I look at the name of the sender but the name is mine. It’s my name.
    I don’t know what to say, so I say, “Thanks.”
    â€œThe door is open.”
    I read the message and then look at the door, wander over and give the doorknob a tap, then a slight jostle.
    It’s open.
    I look over at the laptop, breathing out a sigh that I see as a little plume, a cloud in front of my face.
    When I look back the sender appears as “offline.”
    I don’t have time to react though because whatever that was, it was right. They are outside. Jon-Jon’s car parked behind mine, Becca looking up at my bedroom window, waving.
    I look at the phone and see a few missed calls.
    Oh yeah, it’s on silent.
    I switch the ringer back on, notice over two dozen missed calls and more than a handful of text messages. I run downstairs, taking along my laptop and the power cord too, because, well, I’ve learned my lesson.
    At the front