Indigo Rock Page #3

Is it possible to grieve someone before they're gone?

• Fiction
• Horror
• Mystery
• Science fiction
• Anthology

								


"They are," he replied. "But there's still some meaning behind them." 

I chuckled. "And what profound meaning does 'play for the world, you play for fools' have?" I belted in a gritty tone, the way he sung it at the talent show. 

He always rolled his eyes whenever I mocked him, but tonight, a smile greeted me. "When I first wrote it, I wanted it to be about me breaking out of the mold. You know... the twin mold that everybody puts us in. With the band, I could finally have my own thing. Be Cyrus." 

"That's not exactly revolutionary, Cy. There's plenty of songs about breaking out of the mold." 

"But that's the thing," Cyrus said, his tone equal parts genuine and vulnerable. "I realized there's nothing wrong with the mold. 'Play for the world, you play for fools' means I don't have to prove shit to anyone. I'm playing 'cause I want to. You know?" 

"Is this your roundabout way of saying you love being my twin?" 

I already knew the answer to that, even though the way he expressed it was often as cryptic as his lyrics. 

"Interpret it how way you want, Tadpole." 

The purple glow from up the hill cut our conversation short -- pulsing with more intensity. Whatever secrets Indigo Rock held beckoned us, so we stood up and continued up the trail. 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

On. Off. 

We squinted our eyes from the pulsing, a slit of indigo hammering our vision. On. Off. As we huffed and puffed up the embankment, two silhouettes stood in front of a tree. It was Reece and Jonesy, standing. Just standing, and staring. 

"Guys?" I shielded my eyes, the purple shining past the outline of their bodies. "What is that?" 

Beyond their bodies, I could see a blinding, purple stone lodged inside the trunk of a juniper tree, its gnarled limbs snaking in awkward angles. But that stone--with its bright, iridescent film undulating with each pulse--was unlike any object I had ever seen. 

"That... that must be where the meteorite landed," I tried making sense of the phenomenon. 

Cyrus scrunched his nose skeptically. "That's supposed to be a meteorite?" 

The other boys were still unresponsive. We approached them with cautious steps, and realized they weren't staring at the stone -- but down at their phones. Reece was on Instagram, Jonesy a random article on Google. 

I tapped Reece on the shoulder, expecting a deadpan clone to stare into my soul, and snap at me aggressively. Invasion of the Body Snatchers scarred me as a child. 

But all Reece did was glare up at us and said, "You have to try this." He jutted his phone out toward the stone. A purple mist reached out like tentacles of an octopus and absorbed into his screen. "Well, what are you waiting for?"



2. DEPRESSION


Cyrus stood adjacent to them and took out his Android. He had an air of apprehension to him, while the other boys were glued to their screens like moths to a purple flame. The same, peculiar mist materialized and transfered into his phone. 

"Okay, now what?" he asked, fingers at a slight tremble. 

"Go to any of your social media," answered Jonesy. "Insta, TikTok, doesn't matter. Look at your top post, and scroll down." 

There's that paranoia again, prodding the back of my neck. Be it my mother's warnings or the town urban legends, I reflexively shot my hand up and said, "Cyrus, don't. We don't know what this thing is." The stone glowed fervently, as if irritated by my doubts. 

But it was a stone. Something lifeless, inanimate. It couldn't show emotions. 

Could it? 

"It's all chill," Jonesy said with all the calm in the world. His pupils were dilated, with roads of red blood vessels branching out. "Everything's nice and groovy. Just try it!" 

Cyrus tipped a shrug. "Come on, Jess. We hiked all the way up here, didn't we?" 

With a sigh of unease, I grabbed my phone and followed suit. After the purple mist diffused, I flicked my thumb to my Instagram. "What the hell?" I scrolled down, my brows scrunched in confusion. "Whose pictures are these?" 

"Check the dates," said Reece, the wonderment of a giddy toddler in his voice. "They're your pictures... posted three years from now." 

I caught his response, but the words rang like underwater warbles. "That's--that's impossible."
My thumb swiped furiously. A photo of me in a cap and gown, wearing Cum Laude honor cords, at a university I hadn't yet attended. Me at a music festival I had never been to, with friends I had never met. A selfie of mom and me; my hair dyed red, no---burgundy?---and mom sporting the gray locks she had always dreaded. 

I dug around for the right words, but all my lips could muster were, "This is impossible." 

Jonesy stood there, laughing at our slack-jawed bewilderment. "Like I told you earlier. Minds will be blown!" 

"Check this out," Reece flashed a picture of him in a blue and gold football jersey. "I made the FBS in Notre Dame -- my number one pick! I... I can't believe this." 

"Jonesy?" I said, magnetized to the small, bite-sized glimpses of my future. "You're trolling us, right? There's no way this is real." 

"It's real, brochacho. I was trying to find a prime smoking spot a few weeks ago, far outside of town. That's when I found it," he peered at the stone, "That's when I found Indigo Rock." 

"But how?" asked Reece. "How'd you know it'd be a social-media-time-machine... thing?" 

"You could say it was pure accident. I'd like to think the universe wanted me to find out," he said. "You can look three years into the future. It works with social media and the internet, but I'm still discovering new ways to use it." 

Reece rubbed his chin. "Say you wanted to find out the winning Powerball numbers..." 

"What do you think I'm doing now?" said Jonesy with a sly smirk. Reece gasped and lurched in his direction, wrestling him for his phone. 

"No offense, but you guys sound higher than a giraffe's pussy right now," Cyrus said, breaking up their tussle. "I don't see anything," he studied his phone closely, "my Instagram is exactly the same. Facebook, Twitter, nothing's changed." 

"What? That's impossible." Jonesy pushed Reece aside, snatching his phone. He thumbed through his socials. Nothing. Nada. "It's worked for everyone I've taken up here! Unless..." 

Our bated breaths echoed in the still forest. 

"...unless what?" Cyrus asked. There was something in Jonesy's eyes. A thought. Quick, fleeting. But I've seen it before; in the doctor's office during Cyrus’ appointment. 

Before he could respond, strobes of flashlights shined in the woods -- and voices, deep and heavy, repeating codes we couldn't decipher. Military, perhaps? The boys and I didn't stick around to find out. 

"Shit, let's get out of here!" Reece grabbed my hand and led me away, with Cyrus and Jonesy not far behind. We ran as fast we could, down the embankment, away from the stomping of army boots. The glow of Indigo Rock fizzled in our peripheral, further and further, until the bleakness of the forest enveloped us. 

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