The Midnight Game, page 12
What do I get out of all this?
Epic bragging rights? I’m afraid this looks like another thrill-seeker special, but I think the real draw is the essence of the game. A gang of you can play like kids but with very adult consequences.
Though be warned, by playing this game, you have opened yourself up to an adversary who might want to play again…
…whether you like it or not.
Have fun!
Sunday, July 3, 1:20 a.m.
HUGO
Hugo tried to think of anything else as he desperately put some space between himself and Toni. Football, the first time he got kicked out of school, his grandfather’s funeral. Anything to stop what felt like all the blood in his body rushing to all the places it shouldn’t be.
“I’m checking the library.” Toni’s voice was petulant, and Hugo took a deep, grounding breath through his nose before twisting his head to face her. “That’s what we were supposed to do, right? I suppose you’d prefer it if I was a good girl who did as I was told.” Toni pouted at him before disappearing into the dark hallway. Hugo didn’t even have time to answer.
Great.
He stood on the steps for a few seconds, his weight all on one foot while the other rested on the step above. He should keep climbing, go and check on Ellie—he pushed aside Toni’s earlier words—and Mei, of course.
He didn’t move.
“Great,” he said, out loud this time. He didn’t really have a choice, did he? At least the girls upstairs were together, but Toni was on her own now. She was so stubborn. If something happened to her, if she got into an accident, or fell or something, then none of them would know. Not until they found her, anyway, and that could be hours from now. He clenched his jaw and stared into the depths of his flame. He would make sure he did the right thing this time.
She just needed to quit the over-the-top flirting. It made him nervous.
Hugo turned and faced down the stairs, shuffling heavily to the bottom, his dull thuds swallowed up by the shadows. He gave the staircase one last wistful glance before stepping into the hallway where Toni had disappeared. It was darker than he remembered. Much darker. He could barely see the end of it, thanks to the thickening shadows. He checked his candle once more and took a deep breath, pushing his shoulders back like the therapist had shown him before he began to walk forward. Very slowly. Very carefully.
He wished he could remember all the rules. Where had he put the list Mei had given him?
“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice came from behind Hugo, to his left, and he automatically swung an arm around, his fist clenched as his body followed the punch. “Jesus!” Toni took a step back in the nick of time, Hugo’s knuckles grazing the air where her face had been. “Calm your tits. I was just playing.”
“Playing?” Hugo spat, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast, his thoughts could barely keep up. “You…you’re not funny. You keep acting like this is all one big joke.”
“Isn’t it?” Toni shrugged as he looked at her in disbelief. “OK, whatever.” She nodded at his candle. “Looks like you need to fix that.”
“What?” Hugo looked at the tapered wax baton in his left hand, a small wisp of smoke dancing up from the still-glowing tip. His heart skipped a beat. “No.”
“Tick-tock!” Toni chirped brightly.
Hugo looked at her in dismay, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t remember how long he had. He wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing the hair off his face. It had been boiling in here a second ago, but there was a sudden and definite chill in the air. Shadows slunk on the edge of his peripheral vision, moving and twisting just out of sight. He flicked his eyes around the hallway but couldn’t quite catch them in the act. They just crept in when he wasn’t looking.
“Hugo? Hugo!” A pair of snapping fingers under his nose pulled him around a little. “Don’t have a panic attack. Here.” The crackle of a match pulled him fully back to the present, and he realized his breathing was fast and shallow, verging on being out of control. He tried to focus on regulating his breaths while Toni relit his candle. He watched the orange flare with relief. She held up the match.
“Stick out your tongue.”
“What?”
“You heard,” she said.
Hugo was still partly on autopilot, so he obeyed, immediately regretting it as Toni pushed the flaming match onto the soft pink flesh of his tongue. He pushed her hand away with a gasp.
“Hey!” He rolled his tongue around, his mouth filling with saliva to soothe the searing heat. “What the hell?” He took a step back and glared at her. “You’re sick.”
“And you’re not on the verge of a meltdown anymore.” She actually had the audacity to look smug. She dropped the match onto the floor and sauntered ahead of him, one foot directly in front of the other, twisting her hips with each step so he could see every curve of her body.
Hugo stuck his tongue out and poked it with his finger, realizing it wasn’t that sore anymore. He sighed. She was completely out of control, but she was right, it had brought him back from the brink of an anxiety attack that would have helped precisely no one. Should she have done it? No. Was he glad she had? Yeah—kind of.
He wished she would stop walking like that, though.
“Library,” Toni announced when she reached the end of the corridor. She leaned against the doorframe, one hand behind her so that her chest was pushed out, the other holding her small candle up to illuminate it. Hugo hadn’t noticed how low-cut her top was before. “This is where Mei said she’d left her bag, right?”
“Yeah, well, she seemed to think so, anyway,” Hugo said. He hesitated, waiting for Toni to go into the room, but it was clear she wanted him to squeeze past her. “Er, excuse me,” he tried. She just grinned widely and held her candle out of the way.
“After you,” she said. Her smile sliced through the dark. He eased past as chastely as he could manage, though he couldn’t avoid brushing her chest with his arm. He cast his eyes around the room desperately, hoping he’d see the bag and they could get out of there before he did something he might regret. Toni pointed into the room. “There it is.”
Hugo followed her finger and saw the little satchel half-hidden under the computer desk they’d been near when they drank his whisky. How he wished he had some left right now. He went to retrieve the bag and saw that the flap that should have covered the top had fallen open, so he peered inside, his free hand moving around the contents.
“What are you doing?” Toni appeared behind him, so close he could smell the sweet, malty chocolate on her breath.
“Making sure there are actually candles in here.” Hugo lowered his own light. It barely illuminated the edges of the jumble of contents, but he could see enough. “Yep, and not just one. She has six in here.”
“A spare for each of us,” Toni mused.
“Yeah.” Poor Mei. He picked the satchel up. “Come on, let’s get this back to her. Even if none of this is for real, it’ll help her out, right?”
“That’s really kind.” Toni placed a hand on his arm and looked up from beneath her lashes, suddenly shy. “You’re really kind.” She looked different now, her face softer than it had been all night.
“I’m just doing the right thing,” he said gruffly. “I’d do it for any of you.”
Toni straightened up and tugged on his arm, pulling him around to face her. He swallowed as she pushed him back a little, just far enough so that he bumped the computer table with the backs of his legs, forcing him to sit down.
“We should go,” he said weakly, but he didn’t move. Toni stepped even closer, nudging one of his knees open with her leg and moving to stand in between them.
“In a minute,” she murmured. She wasn’t particularly short, but Hugo was pretty tall, so they were almost at eye level in this position. She carefully set her candle just out of reach, leaning over him as she did, then took his and did the same with it. He closed his eyes as she snaked her arms around his neck, goose bumps exploding down his back. “Just one minute,” she promised. The little bag slid from his fingers, forgotten, as she pressed her lips to his.
Hugo gave into it then, her hot kisses trailing down his neck and toward his collarbone. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her slightly, spinning her around until she was the one sitting on the desk. He leaned his weight on her, easing her backward, so she was almost lying on the table, her legs wrapped around him, when there was the sound of a forced cough from the doorway.
They froze.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Ellie snarled. “I’ll just take Mei’s bag and leave you to it.”
10/26/2021 19:58
BANdit: Hey, guys. Is @WitchesBrew_2007 around tonight? I think I’ve found the perfect game for her get-together.
Miss_contrary06: Oh great—I sent her one before, but I’ve just realized you’re meant to play outside…so not ideal for her party.
Grimilim: Was it Dead Man’s Tag?
Miss_contrary06: Ha, yeah, how’d you know?
Grimilim: Read it today. Looks sick, but yeah, I think it has to be outdoors. Everything else seems to be indoor, though.
20:08
WitchesBrew_2007: Hey guys! Sorry, I’ve just got back from a driving lesson. Getting close to booking my test now! I keep sitting in my car and just imagining the freedom…
BANdit: Awesome! That’s so exciting.
WitchesBrew_2007: Thanks, it really is! So, you think you’ve found me a game? I’m all ears.
WitchesBrew_2007: Btw @Miss_contrary06, if we hadn’t already started smuggling party stuff into the theater, I’d be playing Dead Man’s Tag in a graveyard FOR SURE. It’s already on the list for next year!
Miss_contrary06: Happy to help :)
BANdit: Yeah, it’s this one: www.gamesyoushouldntplay.com/them…
20:22
WitchesBrew_2007: Oh my life.
WitchesBrew_2007: This is the one.
WitchesBrew_2007: It’s PERFECT.
The Midnight Game
This is a game that hits a little bit different. Again, it seems to be one for the adrenaline junkies out there, but rumor has it this ritual is ancient. As in, pre-Christianity ancient.
Tell me more….
The Midnight Game is classed as a pagan ritual. (Remember, I’m only talking about Western traditions here. As much as I wish I was an expert in other cultures too, I can only comment on my own knowledge.) Old-timey people didn’t really play this as a game. Oh, no. This was serious business: a punishment for wrongdoers in the village. It was sort of a trial, if you will. If the “player” survived, they were innocent. If they didn’t…well, they got their comeuppance.
So what do I need?
If you want to play, you’ll need a few things:
One red candle.
One other candle per player, plus at least one spare each. There is NO limit on players.
Matches—NOT a lighter.
Paper and a pencil/pen.
A needle or other sharp object.
Thumbtacks.
Salt (as much as you can carry).
Water and snacks (optional, but you’ll be there for a while).
A wooden door.
Are there any rules?
Naturally. The rules are there to keep you safe, so make sure you follow them religiously.
DO NOT turn on the lights.
DO NOT leave the building.
DO NOT go to sleep.
DO NOT carry a weapon.
If your candle goes out, relight it within ten seconds.
If you cannot do that, surround yourself with a salt circle immediately.
DO NOT leave the salt circle without a lit candle.
MOVE. Staying in one place is dangerous.
There is a bit more, but it’s more advice than rules in my opinion. Ignore any noises you hear. Do not follow whispers. Try to stick together, because you are more vulnerable on your own. Watch your flame—if it flickers, or you feel a cold breeze, it means the Midnight Man is near. Move. If you can’t because you have to stay in a salt circle, he will try to trick you into coming out of it.
Say I still want to—how do I play?
First of all, you need to find a place to play. This ritual used to be conducted in the home of the wrongdoer, but most houses are pretty small now, so any building with at least one wooden door will work. (Unless you live in a mansion, in which case, just have a pool party, why don’t you?)
When you have decided on a location, you need to gather your kit and your troops and sit in front of the wooden door. You don’t necessarily have to walk through the doorway, but I like the symbolism, so use an internal door if you can. Take your paper, pen, needle, and a thumbtack. Write your name and prick your finger, then smear a bloody fingerprint next to your signature.
The Midnight Man will need to know whose blood he’s tasting.
Stick the papers to the door with a tack, or tape in a pinch. On a separate piece of paper, everyone writes down the reason they’re playing. It doesn’t have to be a wrongdoing, but it does have to be something you’d rather other people didn’t know. (Don’t worry, if all goes well, you’ll burn it and your secret will remain hidden.) Fold it up and put it somewhere safe, preferably on your person, in a zipped pocket or something.
What happens now?
Once each player has stuck their name to the door and hidden their “secret” paper, someone lights the red candle. Then they knock on the door twenty-two times—the final knock MUST happen on the stroke of midnight. If it doesn’t, DO NOT play. Burn the papers and leave IMMEDIATELY.
If all goes well, blow out the red candle after the last knock and relight it right away. Light your candle from this one and commence playing. If you can safely light all candles, all you have to do is move around the building and avoid the murderous entity for three and a half hours. Easy, right? Once 3:33 a.m. has passed, you close out the ritual by burning all the papers and shutting the wooden door. Then you’re done.
What do I get out of all this?
Your life. Oh, wait, I didn’t tell you what would happen if the Midnight Man catches you, did I?
He rips your organs out and you die.
Have fun!
Sunday, July 3, 1:27 a.m.
REECE
Where was everyone?
Reece paced around the assembly hall. The circle of salt was still there, but the girls were nowhere to be seen. He’d thought about going to look for the hot one but had decided against it. He’d wait for the rest of them to show up here and finish his candy instead. That way, he wouldn’t have to share.
He walked the perimeter of the hall slowly, watching his candle and chewing on the last few gummy cola bottles, which were warm from his pocket. You could tell it had been crazy nice in here once, but the paint was scuffed and needed a touch-up, plus there were Jesus selfies everywhere. The walls were paneled with wood until about hip height, but that was mostly hidden by hulking old radiators that stood sentry every few paces. Reece knew just by looking at them that they were probably turned off in the winter and boiling in the summer. A large white projector screen dangled from the ceiling at one end of the room, practically glowing now that he was close to it, and Reece made his way over. A string with a metal loop tied to the end dangled from it.
He couldn’t help himself.
Reece leaned forward and hooked a finger through the loop, tugging at the string. It didn’t budge, so he let go and was almost whipped in the face as the screen was sucked back into the ceiling.
“Whoa.” He said it louder than he wanted to, his heart pounding as his voice bounced around the wood paneling. An acrid smell tickled his nostrils. Something was burning. No, not burning.
Smoking.
“Aw, man.” The gust of the wind from the screen had taken out his candle flame. The candle was a short, fat one he’d found at home, one of several his mom kept in a weird little alcove where a fireplace had once been. She hardly ever lit them, and the whole thing seemed pointless to Reece, but they had come in handy tonight. He headed toward a podium he’d spotted next to the projector screen, the only place he could rest his candle, with the exception of the floor. The stand was full of clutter, along with an ancient laptop and a cold, half-full mug of tea, but there was just enough room to rest his candle. He placed it carefully in a space next to the milky—and, he noticed, slightly moldy—brew. He resisted the urge to push the edges of the candle so it would let the molten wax run free down the sides. Instead, he grabbed the matches from his pocket and lit the wick with seconds to spare. He was pretty sure none of this Midnight Man stuff was real, but it didn’t hurt to keep it lit, did it? Look what had happened to Mei when her candle wouldn’t relight.
He started pacing again. This side of the hall was lined with curtains, and he ran his hand along the scratchy fabric, looking for an edge to hold on to. When his fingers closed around a hem, he kept walking, dragging it along behind him, the track at the top squeaking slightly. It was heavy and soon caught, sticking in place. Reece started to let go, but before he did, he glanced back and was faced with his warped reflection in the darkened window. It didn’t quite look like him—his eye sockets were a little too dark, his skin a little too gray.
