The Deadline

Death wasn’t supposed to come in this explicit of a form.

As Delilah held the letter through crested fingertips, her heart began to incessantly pound as her eyes darted around the medieval-seeming material.

You have 24-hours to decide. No address. No other words. She opened her mailbox and checked again, but there was nothing there but pitless darkness.

“Good day, Delilah!” Her neighbor, Mr. Garth waves, from across the street. The man with liver-spotted skin, a wild, Albert-Einstein replicated white mustache and eyes covered by a sun-hat, smiled widely at the woman before continuing his daunting task of mowing his lawn. Delilah smiled back, the hand not holding her imminent death, waving weakly in return before traveling into her back pocket and dialing people she never thought she’d talk to again.

Three hours had passed until witnesses saw the once inseparable five (who had been separated for years) return to the town of Diary Cove, residing in their usual booth at Martin’s diner, like they never left. Delilah looked around the table of people who were once her friends, now older, rejuvenated in a sense (probably from their lack of recent adventures) and a version she wasn’t familiar with. A version she never got a chance to know.

They had all passed around her letter, scrutinizing it as if she was an idiot and missed other large, bold letters that would conveniently appear when they held it. Then before she knew it, Jensen, Viola, and Michigan, three-halves of the group, each pulled up similar letters as well. No other words but a threatening deadline.

Her eyes widened, the air from her chest feeling like it had been pulled out. “You each got letters too?”

“Mine came three weeks ago. January 9th,” Viola started.

“Mine came two weeks ago. January 16th,” Jensen added.

“Mine came a week ago. January 23rd,” Michigan finished.

“But mine came two weeks after yours. Which means…”

“They gave Maddison hers last week, making you the last one.” As always, Delilah bitterly thought before her eyes snapped to each of them in anger.

“You each got a threatening letter with huge deadly connotations and you're just mentioning it now?”

“Well it said twenty-four hours,” Viola defended. “At first I thought it was a joke played by the neighborhood kids–they love their pranks. But then when nothing happened, I just wrote it off,” she shrugged before dragging a hand over her face. “Between the deadlines and the anchoring, my mind doesn’t really go to that type of place anymore. I’m too tired.” Delilah rolled her eyes before Jensen cut in.

“Then I called her. Actually called Michigan but as you know, he never picks up his cell–” Mich scoffed, sipping his coffee in denial. “--it took about five minutes before Vi realized what I was talking about and we both freaked. Of course our mind went there, but if they said twenty-four hours, why weren’t we dead? Or poisoned? Or really anything. And then well Mich gave me a call and we were trying to decide how to tell you and Mads.”

“Well I’ll give you a hint–you tell us. Now we’re significantly unprepared, Mads is not answering her phone and-”

“We have no idea who sent us this letter,” Michigan mocked.

“No we do,” Delilah retorted. The atmosphere in the diner somehow became colder, deadlier, lethal. Viola's eyes squinted into a glare, her brown eyes staring daggers in the face of her old friend.

“You better stop while you're ahead.”

“We all know what we all did fifteen years ago. And we all know what was said.”

“Delilah,” Jensen cut in. “Stop it.”

“You know who's coming for us,” her eyes flicked to the analog clock hung on top of the staff’s break room before flicking back to the group. “He said it himself. Fifteen years, on the day you least expect it, you all will taste the pain you tried to conjure from hell-”

“La, la, la-shut up!” Michigan fiercely whispered, eyes skittishly looking around. “We said we would never mention it.”

“But has that kept it dead?” Delilah retorted back, her fingers itching for the cigarette in her back pocket but instead, she had to focus. Jensen watched Delilah quietly. His eyes scanned over her face as she thoughtfully analyzed each letter.

She's changed, he thought before thinking about how stupid that comment was. Of course she’s changed! Fifteen years had passed after all. But it was weird not seeing her gray-eyes blocked by the high density of her glasses. Her brown-hair pulled into a bun or her donning one of the many cardigans she wouldn’t leave home without.

Now her hair was shorn short and she was wearing black from the tips of her feet to the new color on her head. Delilah’s slim, unmanicured fingers, arranged the letters from oldest to most recent. Vertical. Horizontal. Even tried the color of the near identical paper.

“No morse code?”

“It said twenty-four hours. But nothing happened to us separately.”

A woman holding three, wailing kids by the arm, sighed exhaustedly as she trudged by. “I thought you guys would be easier together. If I would’ve known it would be this hard, I would have only brought one of you.”

Delilah’s heart stopped cold. She raised slowly from the booth, her face contorted in fear. Her ears became attuned to everything but the sound of three voices, who were all trying to reach her. The sizzling of burgers singed in her ears, her eyes shifting towards the two exits. The hair began to prickle on the outside of her arms and the instinct to flee overcame her legs.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa-” Jensen tried to coax, holding onto her forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“Separate. We have to separate,” Delilah tried to get out of his hold. He stared worriedly, pulling her close. “Did you see something?”

“Jensen, you have to get away! We all do!” The four of them looked around, the eyes of the others in the diner looking on concernedly.

Viola, the actress herself, lets out a carefree snort. “I guess she drank too much after all. Let’s all get some fresh air.” She glanced back at Michigan who was collecting the letters, before they all went to the parking lot. The sun was now mixed with hues of orange and yellow, and the air had picked up a bit of a chill.

“Now what is going on?” The smile left Viola’s face as fast as it came.

“Yeah, mind filling us in?”

“It’s easier when we’re together then to try and get us apart. The twenty-four hours was never for us separately! It starts when we’re all together.” Michigan instantly got his phone from his pocket and dialed Maddison, fear creased into his forehead. “Think about it Jensen,” she swiveled towards him, clutching onto his arms, hoping he’d believe her. “When we-” Viola cut her off.

“Watch what you’re going to say, Delilah.” She paid no heed. They had hidden what they did for so long, there was no point to ignore it anymore. They were going to die of denial, if they didn't admit their actions.

“On that night, we talked to Satan.” Pain spread across Viola’s face as she anxiously held her chest. “When we were all drunk and found that ouija board in Vi’s grandmother’s attic.” Her hands tightened. She didn’t need to say anymore.

The five teens were drunk and young and were entrusted to house sit Viola’s dear grandmother’s lakehouse property. After finding the culprit who was graffitiing the school, the old woman had decided they were responsible enough to stay on the lower floors and watch over her most prized possession. Michigan was the first to disobey, of course. Being Viola’s boyfriend somehow made him feel that snooping around was familially acceptable. He sauntered onto the third floor, followed by Viola whose blood was infused with more beer than water. Jensen and Delilah followed out of duty. Meanwhile, Maddison, the scaredy cat, didn’t want to be left alone.

Yet, it was she who found it. Hidden in a chest filled with puppet clothes (a hobby Viola’s family loved), was a ouija board. Except it was painted a stark red and the words were upside down. Delilah opted out, finding it hypocritical that her and her family attended church every Sunday, only for her to be as idiotic as this. But Jensen erased her troubles as he always did and told them God would forgive them both because he’d make it his objective to make sure she’d never go where she didn’t belong.

So the teens sat in a circle in the living room, illuminated by the crackling fireplace that caused a dent in Delilah’s stomach. Michigan threw open the box and picked up a piece of paper.

“This has to be like a thousand years old,” he laughed, flipping it back to front.

“This game has rules?” Jensen quirked up his left eyebrow as Viola leaned towards Michigan and read it bubbly

“This is the, “The Deadline”, Satan’s only access to the remaining world. But be warned, once you play, and everyone agrees, the game can’t end until it’s finished. But fear not jolly stranger-”

“Jolly stranger,” Mads snorted, her and Delilah glancing at each other amusedly. Viola laughed before continuing on.

“-you will not meet Satan today unless there’s a sacrifice and you are deemed a sinner. Communicate well and respectfully to those you wish to reach, and to those you have not yet met-” Michigan shook his head and tossed the instructions to the side. “Hey! I didn’t finish reading it.”

“Who cares? This is all hocus-pocus anyway. Let’s play!”

They all placed their fingers on the planchette. Michigan, whose face looked devilishly lit by the fire, grinned mischievously, his sharp teeth on display. “Hear ye, hear ye, passengers of hell, I call onto…Caleb Blackhood-”

Jensen’s hand was the first to leave the planchette, taking Delilah’s finger’s along. “What is wrong with you, Michigan?”

“Yeah that’s not funny!” Delilah snarled, Mads nodding in agreement.

“You all chill out.” Viola rolled her eyes, defending him once again. “This is fake.”

“The people Blackhood murdered were very much real, thank you very much.”

“Do you always have to be so stuck up, Lils?”

“Do you always have to defend Michigan’s stupid decisions?” The former growled, and Mads, not wanting to get in between another fight, interrupted them.

“How about we all calm down and restart-”

“I’m tired of you always thinking you're better than everyone else Delilah, when you're not. You wouldn’t even be relevant if you weren’t dating Jensen.”

“I’m sorry if me not making a mockery of the women and men who have died due to Blackhood indicates to you that I believe I’m superior, maybe there’s just something wrong with you, Vi.” Sucking her teeth, Viola rocketed to her feet and strutted to the door.

“Vi, babe!” Michigan followed behind her, and the three behind him. Outside, Viola strutted to her vintage Chevrolet and unlocked the doors.

“Viola, you're drunk!” Mads screamed from behind her as Vi entered the driver's seat, strapping on her seatbelt.

“Come on, babe-”

She started the car, ignoring him entirely. He pulled on the door but when that didn’t work, he sighed and entered the passenger seat. Jensen entered the back seat with Mads and Delilah behind him. Not the best way to stop a car, but Viola was clearly about to do something she would regret if they didn’t stop her. While Delilah tried to reach for the keys, Viola suddenly accelerated off the property and towards the road. The three in the back fall over as Michigan smashes to the side.

“Viola, stop now!” The girl continued to drive faster, entering the freeway that would lead them back to Dairy. The meter was pushing close to 100mph when Delilah saw a figure too late.

“PERSON!” She shrieked. Viola’s eyes focused too late on the silhouette that was waiting for help that very late night. A sickening crack could be heard as the person’s body rolled over the once flawless blue Chevrolet before falling onto the road behind them. As the car stopped to a skid, the five teens in the car, panted heavily at the event just occurred. The heroes that had saved their Highschool prom we're now murderers. Maddison clutched the side of her car door, her eyes screwed tight before she felt a sudden burst of heat warm her eyelids.

Appearing in a burst of fire, the head of satan, similar to the outside of the box, roared with rage. “You sinners have chosen a path you can not return from. A sacrifice has been made. The one you communicated with, failed to be put back to sleep. Your punishment will come, fifteen years when you least expect it. The years this man had been married to his wife. The years you took from him spending fifteen more.” The ball of fire evaporated into the night sky and the teens had been given a deadline on their life.

“We can not be here when Maddison comes.” Tears filtered through Delilah’s eyes, the flashback of that night heating her very soul. Visions of the five of them dumping the body into Viola’s grandmother’s lake. Packing the box up like it would reverse the very sin they had committed.

“She’s not answering-” Michigan was interrupted by a beep. Turning slowly, the four saw a cherry red jeep approaching, its windows tinted black and its wheel coming to a stop in front of Mich. Stepping out of the car, a girl with once mousy eyes, was a woman whose hair cascaded down her back in red waves and lips that was pouted down apologetically.

“Sorry I was late. The bluetooth wasn’t working.”

“Maddison.” The girl looked at her friend questioningly, mistaking her tone of voice.

“I haven’t changed that much have I?”

“Maddison, you need to leave-” The swish of a knife entered Delilah’s ears as it flew past her and into the tire of Mads car. The group turned on, their backs set straight and fear entangled in their limbs as they all backed away. There, ten feet in front of them, dressed in the same clothes he was shot in, Caleb Blackhood smiled menacingly at the five, a knife in his hands and demon blood in his veins. His sclera was pitch black, his blue eyes the only thing that stood out making him look even more devilish.

“Sorry I’m late to the call,” he smirked. “I’m sad we never had a proper conversation. After all, there’s a reason you called specifically for me right?”

“Listen man, we don’t want any problems-”

“Your twenty-four hours start now.” He flipped the knife in his hand, holding it at its hilt. “Let the fun begin.”