March 6, 2006- Port Huron, 8:30 pm
As Nick traveled down Brandywine lane he coughed a cloud of white mist from his soar throat. Nick was a Fourteen-year-old teenager who was at his graduating year of Holland Woods Middle School. His short, dirty blonde hairs along with his soft blue eyes were crisp due to cold temperature. Nick slowly, but surely made his way down to the boat launch to hang out with some of his friends. An utter chill crept down Nick's spine as a gust of harsh wind whipped through the air, he knew that something wasn't going to go the way he planned. He stopped at the local Jimmy D's to buy a bottle of the only pop he would drink, Mountain Dew. As the sweet, sweet liquid spilled down his aching throat it were almost as if he were being revived. As he tightly shut the cap in the distance he could faintly see the boat launch over the horizon despite the cluttering darkness, and as he grew closer the darkness grew stronger. By the time Nick was at the boat launch at was pitch black outside; Nick could barely see the hand in front of his, almost frostbitten face. Nick who was always one step ahead of danger packed a flashlight in his front coat pocket along with a pocketknife, and a book of matches. He looked around, and none of his friends were there, Nick was worried along with extremely pissed. He then heard a loud eerie laugh that sounded like it might have been one of his fellow peers, and Nick always being curious went to investigate.
As he looked under the vandalized bridge he caught the smell of booze as well as he realized that there was nobody around.
Nick then again heard the frightening laugher, and it was coming from a pothole in the ground. Nick found it difficult to examine from afar, so he started to walk closer. "I hate my damn friends," muttered Nick under his breath while the distance grew smaller between Nick and the pothole. "AAAHAUHAUAHAAAA", the laugher struck the air again, this time making Nick jump. Nick with a mixture of anger, and fear struck open his pocket knife and peeked into the hole illuminated by some sort of contained fire. It was some sort of mine with lanterns on the packed mud walls; Nick realized that he was staring down into an entrance of the Port Huron salt mines. One of his friends was talking about meeting here instead, relieved Nick jumped down the hole and scoped around. His friend Zach was staring at the ground with a horrified frail look. "What is the matter with you, and why in the hell didn't you tell me that we were meeting down here!"
"We gotta help them, they're still in there with that thing."
"What are you talking about, I should kick your ass right here and now for ever even be dumb enough to come down here, and now your babbling."
"If you don't believe it f ... f .... follow me." With his pocketknife still clenched tightly in his hand Nick walked with Zach through several tunnels, and after every step he tensed his arms more.
". . . . . . Help . . . . . . Please." pleaded a mysterious voice from the dark ominous cave.
Nick smiled at the thought of this being one of his friend's practical pranks, which it probably would have been, but then he realized none of his friends were that clever.