(I know it's more gross-out horror than regular horror, but here you go!)

It all started with a dare. It wasn’t even a particularly stupid one. One stupid game changed our lives in a way that we can never forget. None of us could have predicted that it would be the last thing that Jackson would ever do.

It was back in the hottest summer any of us could remember. Over a hundred and five degree heat, one hundred percent humidity, and to top it all off, none of us had any air conditioning. Of course, we had already tried everything we could to stay cool. Out of our friend group (Jackson, Caleb, Owen, and myself), my house was the coolest, because we had about six standing fans on at any given time. We were doing the usual, just lounging around at my house, when Owen suggested a game of Truth or Dare. We went around in a circle, only Jackson being brave enough to pick dare. Caleb, trying to think of something entertaining to do, dared him to climb down the quarry and jump in the “lake” - a small pool of shaded, stagnant water that never seemed to dry up in the heat. While the water probably wouldn’t be pleasant, warm at best, the shade would be a nice reprieve from the unwavering heat. Honestly, it would be the coolest place in miles, so this wasn’t too bad of an idea. Since I’ve never seen him turn down a dare before, it was no surprise when he asked when we would leave. Since we’ve been bored out of our minds for days, we decided to head out first thing the next morning.

The next morning, we all met up as planned, and set off on the long, hot, fifteen minute trek to the quarry. As we neared the edge, we passed multiple warning signs, warding off climbers and thrill seekers. We payed no attention to those, as we knew that no one would be around today to get us in trouble. While we climbed down the steep cliff face, one of us would occasionally lose our footing, earning laughs and jokes from the others. Around halfway down, we were able to find an edge jutting out, just wide enough for us to walk to the bottom, one-by-one, in a single file line. By now, an hour had passed of us tirelessly climbing and hiking down, so when we finally hit the bottom, we were whooping and hollering as if we’d accomplished something amazing. It was easily fifteen degrees cooler down there, and it was in the shade. We sat there for a little while, enjoying the small reprieve from the extreme heat. Jackson picked up a stick, and sank it down into the creek, checking the depth. Apparently, he deemed it deep enough to jump into, because he climbed up onto the tall rock that resided beside the creek. He flashed us a smile, took a step back, and jumped in, splashing a small bit of water over us in the process.

When he resurfaced, we immediately realized that something had gone wrong. We were expecting a smile, a laugh, or an invitation to jump in next. What we actually saw was terrifying. Jackson was never a prankster. He would never fake anything like this. His face was contorted into an expression of shock, terror, and pain. He walked into shallower water, making his way out slowly. We collectively gasped, as we saw what had really caused him to act this way. All over his arms, neck, head, and torso were dark brown spots, getting bigger and more numerous by the second. Caleb was the only one not frozen in fear, and he yelled that he was going to run and get help. The sheer volume of this yell was enough to shake me and Owen out of our trance, and we rushed over to help Jackson. He was at the shore now, and as we started to move towards him, he collapsed backwards, his face still showing the true pain and terror that he was experiencing. We grabbed towels and started to try and help, some leeches brushing off, and others merely bursting under our fingertips. They were still getting bigger, and we knew we only had minutes to save his live, if not less. He was turning blue now, and still unconcious. Then I hit a sudden realization. We had only cleared his front of the parasites. Carefully, we rolled him onto his stomach, and we were shocked. There were three on his back, pulsating, the size of bowling balls, and yet still getting bigger by the second. His breathing stopped then, just as we heard the sound of sirens in the distance. We still tried to get those last few leeches off of him, but they were latched on much stronger than the other ones. We struggled with them for around ten minutes, the same amount of time it took for the paramedics to get down to the bottom. He was pronounced dead on arrival.