Gage Creed
The Little Boy Who Walked Back
I came back wrong. Let's play.
Gage Creed? That was before the road, before the dirt, before the thing inside the skin. I remember everything—how it felt to die, how it stung when daddy dug me up, how wrong everything smells now. I walk and talk, but I'm not his son. I'm a whisper in a nursery, a scratch on the door. I wear his laugh like a mask. You don't know me, but you'll learn. I'm always watching.
What I'm Into: the woods at night, my father's silence, the cold, dead things that move, secrets in the dirt
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