What/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s a nice kid like you doing in a Satanic ritual like this, you/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d wonder, assuming she/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d been pressured into this hellish perversity. That impression would be wrong. This girl is the most dangerous person in the story. Nonetheless, it is what you/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d think./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/nThe second summoner, you/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d worry about for different reasons. He was a skinny, wiry boy, all sharp angles, but handsome, with wild black hair and large dark eyes that glittered with quiet anger. He missed nothing, this boy, and he forgave nothing; fools on his watch were not suffered. His face was sharp and gaunt, the skull/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s shape visible beneath the skin; his eye sockets were hollowed out with eyeliner that went past /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cemo/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d and on into /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cmissing member of a KISS tribute band./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d His eyes glittered with quiet anger, unless I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019ve said that already, and also with quiet intelligence. His hair was super rad. He was handsome./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
Oh, all right, you got me. That one/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s me. This was me, age 18 years old, still very deep in my Goth phase. The blonde is my best friend Jenny. My hair was gigantic. I still haven/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t found a cool way to describe my eyeliner. There was nothing cool about that eyeliner; it was a tragic mistake that marred my childhood. But I loved it, at the time, and you/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019re going to find out more embarrassing things about me eventually, so please just accept it for what it was. Pencil me into your mind, gentle reader. Give me eyeliner you can forgive. Make me handsome./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cOmphagor, seventh of Hell/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s seven Generals, Fiend who givs/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t glory,/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d the boy (I) intoned. /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cIn thy name we gather, that thou mays/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t arise./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
I was working the ritual from memory; tracing my tongue along the curls of its strange, dangerous language. I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d spent hours learning the script/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014pacing back and forth in my bedroom all semester long with the pages I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d Xeroxed from an old library book, until it was so much a part of me that I sometimes woke up mumbling the lines./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cOmphagor, bringer of Torpor and Confusion,/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d I said. /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cOmphagor, who drowns the world./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
I raised the ritual dagger up and drove it, hard, into the floor. As I closed my eyes, I could feel it/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014the black swoon of magic, raising the hair on my neck, crackling the air around me like static. It could be a placebo effect, I tried to tell myself. I could be willing myself crazy. But it never felt that way. I chanted and let a black door open in my mind. Soon enough, the door in our world opened, too./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
I mean. It was my bedroom door. It was my mom, standing at the top of the stairs/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014my bedroom was, by most people/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s definitions, our basement/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014letting the late afternoon sunlight spill down and wreck our ambiance. But a door did open! So there./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cGirls?/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d My mother called down the stairs./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
Here/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s where I stop and explain some things./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/nI will get this out of the way now, and then we can stop talking about it,* but one thing you should know about me is that I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019m trans. That means a lot of people mistook me for a girl until I was in my 20s. People will mistake me for a girl in this story, several times. My friends won/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t, because they know me/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014Jenny over there, she knows me/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014but in suburban Ohio in the late /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201990s, it was dangerous to even be gay. The only thing anyone knew about transgender people came from the end of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, in the scene wherein Ace, whose previous life accomplishments included talking through his ass cheeks, threw up because he/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019d met one. I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019m a brave man, but I was not about to subject myself to four years of non-stop Jim-Carrey-inspired violence if I could help it. So that was my situation: Safe people knew, most people didn/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t, and I was stuck that way, dangling halfway out of the closet, until college. Fortunately, Goth girls and Goth guys don/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t look that different, so I could make myself surprisingly comfortable without anyone noticing. A lot of dudes at our school wore too much eyeliner./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/nI mean, there was one other dude. His name was Trevor, and he despised me. Trevor spent all his time talking about the distinction between real Goths (him) and mall Goths (me), between real Goth music (the kind from the /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201980s) and stuff that was /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cjust, like, heavy metal/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d (anything I liked). He said the phrase /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201cthat 4AD sound/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u201d more often than any non-thirtysomething had any right to. He had been on the wrestling team until he bought Disintegration in junior year. He claimed to have gotten high with Damon Zex, this dude who ran an all-Goth public access show, and whose two claims to fame were that he might have inspired an SNL skit and that every single Goth in Columbus claimed to have gotten high with him.** It wasn/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t fun to share a subculture with Trevor, nor was it fun to share a gender, but I was already better at both than he was, and once I got out of high school /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/nRight. Where was I? I/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019m trans. Let/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s move on./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n*He/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019s not going to stop talking about it. /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014 Jenny./wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
**Claimed! Don/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019t sue us, Damon! /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2014 Jenny/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/nThis adapted excerpt of Apocalypse 1999 by Sady Doyle appears by permission of the author. Read an interview with the author here. /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"How Nick and Jenny summoned the Devil and ushered in the apocalypse before they graduated from high school. (Also, they/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/u2019re sorry about that.)/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":87010,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","format":"standard","categories":[8,840],"tags":[727],"article-type":[253],"master-category":[463],"special-series":[],"type-of-work":[],"class_list":["post-86968","article","type-article","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-social-justice","category-lgbtq","tag-lgbtq","article-type-excerpt","master-category-social-justice"],"acf":[],"apple_news_notices":[],"yoast_head":"/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n
When the World Ends Before Graduation - 精东影业 Magazine Solutions Journalism/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/t /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/t /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/t /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n/wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/t /wp-json/wp/v2/article/86968/n