my buddy eric

By Jack Lennon

my buddy eric found some program on the deep web that plays your old COD chats. my buddy eric's buddy, kyle, who he used to play with, died in a car crash.

my buddy eric’s listening to all the crazy shit he used to talk about with his buddy kyle while gaming. their jokes. It's making him sad, he might be crying, i don't know. his bro fucking died bro. shut the fuck up.

there are hours of audio files to go through. he puts it on when he's sleeping. He listens to it while he's gaming. all the time. he just misses his bro. and how is that sus. how the fuck is that sus.

but after a few days he notices there's something wrong with the audio. It’s like it’s stuck. his buddy kyle, on the recording. he’s just repeating the same words over and over. he's saying help me. help me. help me. the game is playing out the same, team victories, scopeshots. but kyle is just saying help me, over and over. my buddy Eric is freaked, dude.

doesn't help that sometimes my buddy eric gets a little consumed by guilt over his buddy kyle’s death, due to the fact he died in the same car accident my buddy Eric was in. like my buddy eric could have saved him or some shit. idk. maybe his buddy kyle died in my buddy eric’s arms or some shit. I didn’t ask much about it.

my buddy eric wasn't driving the car or anything. there was nothing he could have done. but he told me once that it's all his fault. that his buddy kyle would still be here if he'd done something. idk. it doesn't make any sense but it does to my buddy eric.

my buddy eric doesn't listen to it again. but that night, while he’s trying to sleep, he hears it again bro. his buddy kyle. asking for help. the recording isn't playing, his laptop is off. but he hears it.

he told me all this, btw. my buddy eric. he asked for my help. and I want to help him. but i don't know how. when i go to his house, i can't hear the voice when he plays the audio for me.

all i can do is keep him company. so i sit with him. we game. order pizza. i sleep on the floor next to his bed. and in the middle of the night i hear it. help, help, help. it’s my buddy eric, speaking in the dark.

It’s like I want to talk about it but I just. can’t. idk what to say to him. didn't hear from him for a while after that. now every time i ask him if he wants to hang out all he says is help. help me bro. help me. and idk what to say.

What's that rustling in the bushes? You move closer. It's okay, don't worry. You reach out towards it and your hand is bitten, breaking the skin. Dangling by the teeth is Jack Lennon, short story writer and poet. You're elated, and you don't know why. The venom has reached your nervous system. They scuttle into the distance, and you stare after them. You go home and make love to your wife for the first time in twenty years.