'I thought we were friends, Eduardo. It's been barely a year, and you're already forgetting about me. I also heard you're having a Halloween party, and you had the fucking gall to call it Fright Fest; the name I came up with.

And the worst part is you didn't even have the decency to invite me.

That's the shittiest way to find out we're not bros anymore. But that is not how we do things, so I'm inviting myself. That way, if you have the balls to do it, you can tell me to fuck off to my face. See you soon, Eddy.

Don't sleep tight,
Tyler.'

Every now and then, I see Tyler's car crashing through the barrier on the bridge and tumbling into the river. Muffled screams for help fill my ears, but fear freezes me into a helpless bystander and fucking hate myself for it.

I wish this was just one of his famous pranks. But I know he's really...

"I'm sorry, Babe," Amy says, interrupting my haunted thoughts. "But it's obvious that one of your dumb buddies is trying to mess with you. Who else would have gotten into your dorm to slip this under your door?"

"There's something else," I say grimly.

"What?" she asks with a hint of fear in her hazel eyes.

"When I opened the letter, there were damp spots on the paper."

She wrinkles her forehead. "What do you mean?"

I feel a lump in my throat. Taking a breath, I swallow and exhale.

"There were drops of water on the paper," I reply. "It looked like whoever wrote the letter had water dripping off them or something."

"Maybe it was sweat," Amy says. "Maybe—"

"No," I cut her off. "Look at it now—does it look like there was water on it?"

She shakes her head. "But Sam or Jake could have sprinkled—"

"That's Tyler's handwriting."

"What are you trying to say, Eduardo?" she throws her hands up. "That his ghost wrote it?"

Yes.

A chill creeps down my spine. "I don't know. I just have a bad feeling."

"Bad enough to cancel the party?" she asks.

I shrug. "Maybe."

"Give me your phone," Amy demands.

"For what?"

"I'm going to call your bros and make them apologise for that stupid letter."

"But they didn't—"

"Phone," she holds out her hand.

I sit in my desk chair as Amy calls around. But each time she talks to one of the guys, the tone of her voice changes. The calls are on speaker, and the boys swear they had nothing to do with the letter; I believe them.

My eyes drift over to the picture Tyler and I took on our last fishing trip after high school.

If someone had told me he'd be dead two months later, I probably would have punched them.

We were supposed to go on another trip after our first year to swap college stories.

I'm so sorry, bro.

***

I can't believe I let them talk me into this.

Amy and the guys think the letter was just a fucked up prank, but paper shouldn't do that. There should have been marks on it from the water. They say I just imagined them, but I know what I saw.

I should have cancelled the party.

There's another knock on my bedroom door.

"I'm still not ready!" I yell.

"It's me," Amy says.

Reluctantly, I walk over and unlock the door. Amy walks in and pushes the veil back on her death bride costume.

"Babe," she sighs. "People are starting to wonder if you're coming as the Invisible Man."

I exhale. "I don't wanna go downstairs."

"But this is your party, Ed."

I rub the back of my neck. "Something doesn't feel right."

Amy comes over and strokes my chin. "Can you come down for half-an-hour? You can come back up afterwards; I'll tell everyone you ate some bad Chinese food. But," she wraps her hands around my waist. "Keep that gladiator costume on, I have plans for it later."

A small grin creeps across my face.

"Is that a yes?" she smirks.

I nod. "Give me a minute."

Amy kisses me before sauntering away and closes the door, muting the sound of the blaring music from downstairs. I strip down to my boxers and sigh, looking at my costume lying on the bed.

Guess I'm doing this.

After hauling on my gladiator gear, I look in the mirror, admiring my appearance. But the momentary satisfaction quickly melts away as I hear dripping sounds behind me. I snap my head around, and a jolt rattles my body; wet footprints lead away from where I'm standing and towards my darkened closet.

A rotting, mossy smell pollutes the air; I can feel something watching me from the shadows.

"Hi, Eddy," croaks the voice.

A chill cuts through me, leaving my body feeling frozen.

"What's the matter, Eddy? Something stuck in your throat?"

"Ty...Tyler?" I stutter.

"Close."

The dripping becomes louder.

Everything inside me is shaking. "What...do...you...want?"

"You know why I'm here."

My heart jumps into my throat; the figure emerges from the closet with water dripping off its ragged black suit. Half of Tyler's face is rotting; an eyeball hangs out of its socket, swinging like a ball on a bloody string. The other half is all skull.

I blink, and he's inches from my face.

"Say it," his maggot-infested mouth demands.

His rank breath makes me gag. Before I respond, bony fingers grip my throat. Suddenly, the door swings open; it vanishes.

"Babe," Amy looks down. "Did you spill water on the floor?"

The door slams. Amy turns around, and her drink slips from her hand as the light begins to flicker.

Tyler looks down from the ceiling, flashing a sinister grin. He flies at me, knocking me on my back. My throat tightens as the room dissolves into darkness. Amy's bloodcurdling screams sound muffled and distant like she's fading...