Brendon spun to face the figure. He was familiar. It was as if he had seen the red eyed figure before. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure just continued to smirk. At the desks, the shadowy figures laughed. It was a noise that melded in perfect unison, almost becoming a drone.

"You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you?" The red eyed figure finally asked, stepping forward.

Brendon stepped back. "Who are you?" He repeated, trying to keep his voice from shaking despite his head beginning to spin. What the hell was going on? He blinked and the red eyes were just inches away from his own.

"Remember Ryan?"

Dizziness made the room tilt for Brendon. The drone of the shadow student's laughter got louder.

Ryan. He knew that name. He knew a Ryan here, at this school. The quiet boy that no one else seemed to talk to...

°

Brendon was on the playground. The sky was a light gray, but no one paid it any mind. The grassy area and play structure were alive with laughter and squeals of children playing. Brendon himself swung back and forth on the monkey bars. He grinned at Pete, who was attempting to grab hold of the bars just ahead of Brendon.

"Move your butt!" Brendon squeaked, his voice pitching with his last word.

Pete frowned at him. "I can't even reach!"

"Shorty." Brendon laughed. He released the bars, dropping to the ground. He hurried over to where Pete pouted and tapped his shoulders. "Stand on my shoulders and hold on."

Pete's eyes lit up. He enthusiastically nodded. He placed one foot on Brendon's shoulder before grabbing hold of one of the bars. He repeated the process with his other side and started forward. "I got it? I got it!"

Brendon laughed, looking up at his friend while holding his legs. "You just needed a boost." He said, bringing his eyes down to look ahead.

His eyes instantly locked with those of a boy across the field. He stood by himself, near the fence. His outfit was weird. He wore a light shirt under a dark vest. Around his neck he wore a bandana that was colored brightly orange or red, he couldn't tell. He had short, dark hair that was swooshed to one side allowing his eyes to be visible.

"Who is that?" Brendon asked. He didn't take his eyes off the boy, and the boy didn't take his eyes off of him.

"Who?" Pete asked, though his focus was clearly more on the money bars.

Brendon tilted his head. The boy tilted his head too. Why wasn't he playing with anyone?

"I'm gunna go talk to him." Brendon decided. He released Pete's legs and stepped out from under his feet.

Pete yelped as his legs dangled. "Brendon!? Brendon, help, I'm stuck!.. Brendon!!"

However, Brendon was already walking across the playground towards the boy. The boy stared back at him as he drew closer.

Kids ran around Brendon, paying him no mind as they went about their games. He walked through them, almost as if in a trance. He was just compelled to move forward towards this mystery boy. When he finally got close, he stopped and stared.

"Staring is rude." The boy said.

His voice seemed to snap Brendon out of whatever trance he had been in. "Sorry." He said, blinking and casting his gaze to the ground. The grass was thin here, fading into dirt.

"I didn't mean stop." The boy said, "Look up."

Brendon did. The boy had his head tilted curiously at him. His eyes were brown with speckles of what appeared to be red. Brendon didn't want to look away again. He introduced himself, rushing through his words as he continued to look into those strange eyes.

The boy smiled. "I'm Ryan." He replied, "You're the first person to come play with me."

"Ryan." Brendon repeated. He liked his name. "Why won't anyone play with you? What class are you in?"

Ryan tilted his head to the other side. "Why did you come to play with me?" He countered. The color in his eyes seemed to flicker, but Brendon couldn't be sure.

Brendon's eyes widened. Why had he? "I dunno." He shrugged. "Don't you want someone to play with?"

Ryan's smile turned into a grin. Brendon frowned at his expression. It gave him a weird feeling, and it wasn't a good one.

"Yes. I think you'll be perfect to play with, Brendon." He said, taking a step forward. He let out a soft laugh and Brendon felt suddenly at ease. His eyelids dropped just slightly and the weird feeling faded.

Thunder booked overhead. The squeals of laughter behind him turned to squeals of terror as the gray sky released the water it had been holding at bay.

Teachers yelled for children to go to shelter, but Brendon and Ryan didn't move. Brendon watched Ryan as his shirt began to soak from the rain.

"You're interesting." Ryan said, maintaining eye contact. "Your memory isn't the best, though."

Brendon huffed. "Uh huh! I get good grades. I have room in my memory to remember lots of things."

Ryan stared at him for a moment. Then he silently grinned, revealing knife sharp teeth. "You don't have room for things like me." He whispered, eyes glowing red.

°

The next thing Brendon knew, he was on the ground in blinding dark. He blinked rapidly, keeping still until his eyes adjusted. It was still dark, but the shadows of the desks stood out against the darkness of the room now. He looked at the chairs, which were now back on the desks. It was like they hadn't been disturbed. In fact, nothing looked disturbed. Nothing other than the dust on the ground where he had fallen.

Shakily, he rose to his feet. He gripped the desk and looked around the room again.

Nothing looked out of place.

Brendon gulped. He could feel his body resisting the urge to shake. The memory he had just relived was one he hadn't thought about in years, if he had ever remembered it at all. He remembered being scolded for not returning to the building when he was told, but it had always been fuzzy as to why he had stayed out in the rain.

Now it replayed clearly. Red eyes had held him in place.

Brendon covered his face with his hand. "What is happening?.." He muttered to himself before letting out a slow breath. Ryan. That kid had said his name was Ryan. That kid looked just like a younger version of the red eyed guy that had just been here...

"No." Brendon shook his head. It couldn't be the same person. Kids didn't have red eyes. Normal people didn't have red eyes. This storm had to be messing with him.

He removed the hand from his face and turned toward the back of the room. Papers clung to the wall, but the images on them were distorted from age and distance.

Brendon grabbed the lantern from the desk and made his way down a row of seats. He could almost hear the drone of laughter from the shadow figures, despite nothing being there.

Once at the back wall, he lifted his lantern to look at the board of old drawings. Though it had been years, the yellowing paper still held the scribbled crayon illustrations. Brendon dragged his gaze over each one, unsure of who drew them, until he stopped on one in particular.

The scribbles on this picture hit Brendon like a truck. The top part of the page was darkened completely with a black crayon. Below that was a rainbow colored playground, covered in stick figures of children playing. On the other edge of the paper, there were two lone stick figures. There was nothing around them. One had no face at all. The other had red eyes and a red smile.