He sat hunched over and twisted in the dimly lit basement, twisted not in body but in his mind that was filled with twisted and incoherent ramblings. He pecked away at the keyboard illuminated by only the light of the monitor, and old black and white TV sat in a corner flickering as it strained to bring in a local channel from its bent rabbit ears.
The basement was unfinished with a dirt floor and a few old chairs and other things scattered about, and old beat-up couch sat against the wall and in the middle was his computer table fished from the lawn of a resident who had discarded it.
Rommel or as the local kids call him The Spaz stared intently at the screen, his hooded sweater up over his head painting a sinister picture from anyone who approached him from the back. The only sound besides the clicking of the keyboard was the electronic beeps and notifications from the many windows he had open on the screen. The chat rooms, the instant messengers, Facebook, Instagram and even the long thought dead MySpace.
He was a loner an outcast with few in any friends, often teased and bullied by the others boys so he retreated to this lonely decrypt basement and started to live in the online world a world where he could be anyone he chooses to be a world where he can reach out and punish the world for the mistreatment he faced on a daily basis.
Suddenly his Facebook chat sprung to live and on the other end was 10 years old Justin Goodman, who thought he was speaking to Julian another ten-year-old located in Omaha, Nebraska but unknown to him his world was about to change in a horrific and drastic was because on the other end of that chat was The Spaz and he was out to create mayhem.
TO BE CONTINUED
No Stickers to Show