I am a wallflower by nature. I see the world go by from the windows of my tiny house on the outskirts of this quiet town. It is a boring life, but it’s mine and I have become used to its calm beat.

On this particular day, however…

I woke up to an awkward sound that cut through the serenity of my usual morning routine. Rubbing my eyes dry, I rushed to the window attracted by the strange noise coming from the public square across the road.

Looking down at what was happening with difficulty through dirty glass panes… My breath caught in my throat when I saw an uncanny picture: circular saws mounted above benches and slowly rotating in the early morning sunlight. What kind of madness was this?

I struggled for my reliable binoculars, readjusted lenses, and watched that weird performance again through them. The blades were shining ominously against a backdrop of what used to be a peaceful square itself. Then there they were – two young people sitting on one bench fitting around opposite sides of one turning blade.

I watched in terror as my heart pounded in my chest. Their hands came together with a sound like bones breaking. The knives made short work of their victims, whose blood sprayed all over the pavement.

But what bothered me was the other townsfolk’s reaction – or lack thereof. People walked on by without noticing anything odd although it didn’t seem to bother them at all that this was a grotesque scene out there. How could they not see how dangerous things had become?

Screams were coming from the couple before their bodies were wrapped in agony, and then suddenly, out of nowhere appeared a dark black van with tinted windows. Some guys dressed in air-tight suits quickly carried these people to join others who disappeared with them down another street of no return at amazing speeds.

My mind whirled with shock as I stood still next to the window. What evil presence had descended upon our once idyllic town? Why were those around them so indifferent to the abominations taking place right under their noses?

I realized as the sun cast long shadows across the deserted square when it climbed higher into the sky. My home was no longer safe for me anymore.

Weeks passed by and the events at the town square continued to escalate. Each day I would look through my window hoping that the awful incident I had seen was just a figment of my imagination. But as dawn broke, and its golden light bathed empty streets, the gloomy reality remained unchanged.

The saw blades which were once grotesque strangers had become like a tumor growing on every part of the public place; on every bench, post lamp, water fountain, and even the beating oak tree that has always been there for ages without talking.

Every day more people got hurt from the blades and taken away. It pained deeply watching helplessly while those passing by fell into these death traps with their screams being drowned in noiseless streets. But still, no one in town knows what is happening around them.

I longed to step forward, shake them out of their stupor, and demand for explanations. Yet, fear kept me rooted here, chained to my safety within myself. The outside world had turned into a nightmarish realm that I didn’t want to venture beyond my window.

The mysterious van, with its ominous black exterior and enigmatic occupants, had become a constant presence in my peripheral vision. It never really left my sight because all day long it seemed to slink around the streets, creeping out of the darkness whenever there was any sort of calamity about, and veiling its design.

I got more isolated as time went on. My once lively neighborhood is now deserted; everyone has disappeared without a trace with only reminders remaining in the form of echoes from their past life. I was alone, watching the advancing darkness that threatened to swaddle our souls.

At sunset, when sun rays cast shadows over an empty road I sink back into my home with a heavy heart. The nightmare was not over yet; it was just beginning. Thus, I waited in a world that could easily plunge into destruction at any moment.

The passage of time in my desolate existence blurred together, marked only by the relentless march of the sun across the sky and the ever-present hum of circular saw blades outside my windowpane. Days became weeks and weeks became months before ‘time’ itself blurred away as an abstract concept lost in suffocating loneliness.

The former lively quarter had turned into a ghostly whisper of its previous state. Streets that were once vibrant with children’s laughter and the murmurs of neighbors now lay deserted, their silence only being broken by the occasional whirring lethal blades.

I watched as the earth outside my window shriveled up and died, swallowed up entirely by the malevolent force that had descended on us. The circular saw blades, which had been limited to the public square before this time, littered the roads like a macabre landmine daring anyone brave enough to try their luck moving out.

Yet I stayed true to my lonely self and remained sentinel in a sea of darkness. The outside world had become an almost forgotten memory, losing itself amidst a tangle of nightmares that possessed me all day long.

As days turned into eternities, I found myself constantly grappling with the gnawing ache of loneliness that threatened to consume me from within. My soul was heavily burdened due to the lack of any human companionship; therefore, it made me feel every moment that an empty void existed deep inside me.

However, I was hopeful in this suffocating darkness. Because I knew that somewhere out there, outside my window, others were still fighting on and clinging to life as they fought against a rising tide of despair.

And so, I waited. As each day came and went, my resolve grew stronger by the day; I knew now that there must be other survivors of this devastated world, we used to live in. Others still walk on earth even now amidst the ruins of our shattered world, their hearts beating defiantly against the encroaching shadow threatening to consume us all.

But every evening, I was reminded that my existence was harsh. In this world where nights went on forever, one had to struggle for survival because moments were slipping away fast and the thread between hope and despair was growing thinner with every tick of time.

Day after day, loneliness became heavier on me like a shroud squeezing out all breath from me. My home which used to be familiar had become a jail whose walls closed in with every inhalation and exhalation.

However, the feeling that threatened to engulf me was one of emptiness and despair, there was a single flicker of determination inside me. I could no longer tremble behind my window anymore; hiding from the crumbling world outside. It was time for me to face the unknown, walk through the darkness, and meet my doom.

I gathered up my supplies, trying hard to steel myself for what lay ahead. The circular saw blades beyond my window were huge hazards that shone in the dying daylight.

Days went on endlessly and stretched, I could not escape their loneliness while struggling with the darkness which had surrounded me. A fortress against the outside complexity, now my asylum became a jail where every passing moment its walls grew closer to me.

I decided that as the world out there descended into more madness, I’d face the unknown from within the confines of my house. With no more than my cleverness and a stubborn desire for survival, I plunged into myself searching for solace against anarchy beyond my window.

The circular saw blades grew in number outside, and the constant deadly song reminded me that danger was just around the corner but it could not reach here. So, I retreated further inside myself until I was ensconced in thoughts alone. The nightmare that descended like a pall over our once peaceful village lay before me, wrapped in entangled puzzle pieces of uncertainty.

However much I tried to find it out, the truth remained hidden—a transient ghost teasing at the boundaries of my awareness. Shadows appeared like a mystery van, whose sinister purpose and enigmatic occupants mocked me from there, forever reminding me of the unknown dangers.

Inside the stillness of my lonely life, I felt it all come crashing down on me. The world outside had become a terrible nightmare that made no sense at all; features I used to know about it have now transformed into symbols of pain and suffering.

Yet this chaos gave me some glimmer of hope. Somewhere in my darkness stood resilience, which never broke even when I was on the edge of giving up. Day by day, I strengthened my defenses and built a fortress within the shattered walls of my mind.

Thus, in my solitude, I remained immovable as darkness approached from every side. Even if the world outside went mad, despair would not be an option for me. It was only by looking deep into myself that I found the courage to confront mysteries and overcome them victorious thereby showing that each human being’s spirit cannot be broken down easily.

That held until I noticed my supplies were running out. Now, I’m making peace with the fact that at some point I’ll need to go out and seek food and water. I know they’re still watching me. I can see them parked on the other side of the street from time to time. The best I can do is prepare myself to go out and make sure I don’t touch one of those blades, whatever they are.

He stepped out of the store, smiling down at the bag he now carried in his hand. The antiquarian had been quite odd about the whole experience, asking him multiple times if he was sure this was what he wanted. It seemed a little absurd to him, but the man was quite weird in his appearance and behavior, so he decided there was something wrong about the man, and not the object he had purchased.

He had always been into purchasing antiques, mostly for decorating his own home, but sometimes for gifting to friends and family. He prided himself on finding rare objects that worked well for his home, and this set of bookends would work marvelously for the shelf on top of his TV, as soon as he unwound the weird rope tied tightly around them. He was excited to show his wife. She was always so into seeing his purchases, and knew she would love this.

This was his first time ever seeing this antique store. He didn’t frequent the area very often, but had to drive an hour away from home for a doctor’s appointment, and couldn’t help but shop around. The store itself seemed to pop out of nowhere, so different from the broken down street around it. It was colorful on the outside, and had a charm to it he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The inside was filled from floor to ceiling with all sorts of gadgets and goodies he’d never seen before. It was like stepping into another planet. He knew he would be back again another day to shop once more. He was shocked he was able to resist buying even more.

For now, the bookends were enough.

He was beyond excited when he arrived home. He wanted to set it up immediately, and make sure it was in fact perfect for the space. He tried fishing it out of the bag, but stopped when he realized there was a piece of paper inside, which he hadn’t noticed the seller put in when he was purchasing the item.

He pulled it out, and saw a thicker piece of paper with printed words on both sides. The top read “Quick Start Guide” in a papyrus font, and he chuckled to himself at once. It was a set of bookends! Why would it need a Quick Start Guide?! He set the bag on the table, and sat on the couch to read the piece of paper.

The text itself was pretty ominous, and read, “The two parts don’t like to stay close, that’s why they are tied together. Keep them this way for your own safety.” He burst out laughing. This must’ve been a way for the antiquarian to add some humor to his goods. He wondered if he also had funny jokes about the other things he sold. It definitely added to the mystique of him asking multiple times about whether or not he really wanted to purchase the product.

He set the piece of paper down and finally pulled out the bookends. It was a set of black obsidian blocks, perfectly shaped so that the curves of both sides would fit together. Half of the blocks were made out of a thick maple, and it was clear the maker of the bookends was quite skilled in his craft, as he was able to match the curve of the wood perfectly to the obsidian itself. There was a thick piece of coarse rope wrapped around it, which in his opinion really ruined the smooth curving of the pieces.

He set the pieces down onto his dining room table, and proceeded to cut the rope open with a pair of scissors. He tried grinding against the thick rope, but it seemed the scissors were not sharp enough for something so thick. Disgruntled, he walked to his kitchen, grabbed the sharpest knife he could, and walked back to slice the rope.

It went quickly this time, so quickly that he could barely fathom everything that happened within the next few seconds. The two parts of the bookends were suddenly a meter away from each other. It must’ve happened instantly, so quickly his eyes weren’t able to see it, though he could feel them push his hands apart. Not only that, his table was also larger, like it was stretched apart in the room.

He couldn’t believe it. He blinked a few times, trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

Maybe it was time to read the rest of the manual.

He flipped the piece of paper on its back, with the words “FULL MANUAL” on the top, also in papyrus. “If not tied together, the two parts will try to increase their distance from each other by stretching the very fabric of space. The first stretch will be small, but the second will be brutal - a distance so large that space itself will not be able to contain it.”

He dropped the guide, shaking a little. But it was too late. The two pieces had already moved even further from one another.

He could only see one end of the sculpture now. It was on the table, sitting inconspicuously, like it wasn’t some sort of magical artifact. The table itself stretched so far he couldn’t see the end of it. He didn’t even know if there was an end.

In fact, he couldn’t see the other end of the room he was in.

He knew at once he should’ve listened to the salesman. He didn’t know if he would be able to get out of the room. The door itself was nowhere to be found. He would have to drive right back to the antique store and give the owner a piece of his mind! And maybe see if they had other magical artifacts that he could play with…

Well, his wife had always complained about their dining room table being too small for hosting Thanksgivings. At least they would have enough space now…

As the heavy wooden door thudded shut behind me, I looked to my left and saw several votive candles burning. I dropped a dollar into the box next to them and grabbed one of the beeswax candles. I mumbled a quick prayer and lazily made the sign of the cross.

“Do it right paidi mou, you’re honoring God not playing the guitar,” the voice of Father Nick echoed, startling me.

I again, sheepishly this time, made the sign of the cross, ensuring to touch my forehead, navel, and shoulders. I lit the candle, drove it into the sand of the candle stand, and turned to face Father Nick.

Father Nick was your typical Greek Orthodox priest. An older man with a neatly trimmed white beard and slight accent. He stood in the hallway leading to his office adorned in a traditional black cassock and looked at me curiously over his thick rimmed black glasses.

“What’s troubling you my son?” He asked, genuine concern in his voice.

I sighed. “Father… I don’t even know where to begin.” I could feel hot stinging tears welling up in my eyes. “There’s just so much.”

“Rest assured, whatever it is, it’s not too big for our God,” he said with a smile. “Is this a confession or do you need something else?”

I felt a tear run down my cheek. “Can we go to your office?”

Father Nick nodded and gestured with his hand down the hallway before turning on his heel.

I followed in silence and soon we came to the door of his office. As I entered I looked around and smiled, it looked the exact same as it had 5 years prior. I sank slowly into a chair near the desk and held my face in my hands.

I heard Father Nick move past me and grunt slightly as he sat in his chair. I looked up and saw he was staring at me over his glasses again.

“Well…” he said, clapping his hands together. “To what do I owe this visit, it’s been a long time.”

“Father it’s… it’s this case I’m working. None of it makes any sense.”

Father Nick continued to stare at me unblinkingly.

I then proceeded to spill my guts. I explained the string of deaths, the pattern, my trip home from the diner, Vlad, and all the research I’d done at the coffee shop. When I was done speaking I looked back at Father Nick. He sat silently with his eyes closed.

“Father it can’t be a…”

“Vyrkolakas,” Father Nick interrupted. “It’s a Vyrkolakas.”

“Father, you know my Greek isn’t great, what does that mean?”

“Oh yes, in English you say Vampire. It sounds like you’re dealing with a Vampire.”

“How?” I asked. “How is this possible?”

“A Vyrkolakas is created when a demon inhabits a dead body. It’s not like the movies paidi mou, usually the body, when it was alive, belonged to someone that was excommunicated from the church.”

“Father…”

“When I was a boy back in Nea Santa, I encountered one in the mountains,” Father Nick said. “It was pure evil, the devil incarnate. I was out with the goats, the sun had dipped behind the mountains,” Father Nick paused for a moment, “I saw a man approaching from a long way off. He was thin, very thin. As he got closer I could see that his clothes were nothing more than tattered rags. He looked like a skeleton.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“I greeted him in Greek but he wouldn’t answer me. I yelled for him to stop, I lied and told him my baba was close by. He said something that sounded Bulgarian and looked at me. His eyes reminded me of an animal, no humanity in them. He took a few steps forward and stopped as he looked at the ground.”

“Why’d he stop?” I asked with baited breath.

“The sun,” Father replied, “He was standing in shadow but I was still in the sun. The sun kept receding and he’d inch forward.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“Where would I go? I was in the mountains. No, I pulled my machete from my bag and held it out towards him. I told him not to get any closer.”

“Ok…” I said.

“He laughed at me. Just then, the last of the light faded. He lunged and I swung, harder than I’d ever swung. I still remember the sound the blade made when it hit his neck…” Father Nick paused and then made the sign of the cross and mumbled “Kyrie Eleison,” before continuing. “The man, the creature, it stopped and grabbed at the wound. There was no blood Aaron, no blood fell from the wound. I freed the knife from its neck and swung again and again. As its head finally left its shoulders, I saw a black mist seep out of its neck and watched its face contort into fear. It snapped its jaws at me a few times and then stopped.”

“What did you do next Father?”

“I ran all the way home. I told my baba what happened and his face turned white. Baba ran to get the priest and then they made me take them to where it happened. When we got there, the priest said some prayers and sprinkled holy water on the body. He told me that this man had died 10 years prior and had been excommunicated, he was a murderer that refused to repent. When he died he wasn’t given an Orthodox funeral and was buried outside of his village.”

“And you think Vlad, sorry Dimitri, is a vampire along these same lines?” I asked.

Father Nick nodded.

“You have to help me!” I pleaded.

“I’m too old now, you have to be the one.” Father Nick said. “I can give you everything you need, but you have to be the one to do it.”

“Why can’t I just have SWAT go in after him?”

“Because they won’t say the proper prayers,” Father Nick said as he reached into his bottom desk drawer. He produced a very old looking leather bound book, the title of which was in Greek. “Your Greek is no good, I’ll translate the prayers into English.”

“Father what is this book?” I asked.

“The Nomocanon,” Father Nick said as he flipped a few pages. It’s from the 1860s, the church put it out for priests dealing with these creatures. This is what it says. ‘When such a satanic demon was identified, the priests would have to be called to perform a Supplicatory Canon to the Theotokos and a Sanctification of the Waters. Then, they should do a liturgy and ask for the help of the Panagia for all of them, but also to perform a Memorial Service with kollyva, to chant the exorcisms of Baptism and the exorcisms of Basil the Great, and then to sprinkle the gathered crowd with the holy water and with the excess to sprinkle the vrykolakas, and by the grace of God the unclean demon will flee.’”

“Father…”

“I’ll bless the waters, you say the prayers after you behead it, when it’s done we’ll do a memorial service here and Presbytera (his wife) will make kollyva,” Father Nick said.

When Father Nick was done writing the prayers down he slide the papers across the desk and stood. “Come, I have something for you.”

I followed Father Nick out of his office and to a small storage closet in the hall. I smiled slightly as he grabbed a step stool and climbed up 2 steps to reach a wooden box at the very top of the closet. As he climbed down I heard him whisper “Kyrie Eleison” to himself again before turning to face me. “I’ve held onto this for 50 years, it’s… it’s the reason I became a priest.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat a little. The box was intricately carved. It was beautiful. I watched as he set it down gently and then took a step back. He gestured towards the box, “open it,” he said, his face stern.

Part 1 | Part 2

TW: SELF HARM

I shot straight up, it felt like I sat up before I even woke up. It was unlike anything I had ever felt. Growing up with a younger sister and relatively strict parents, I was no stranger to being woken up in the most annoying or abrupt ways imaginable, but this was different. I sat up and adjusted into a legs crossed position, trying to catch my breath, it felt like I had been out of breath in my sleep.

“Wait…” - The voice in the back of my mind echoed clearly, piercing through every other thought in my head that was buzzing around in there.

I wasn’t in the hardware store, I was outside, on a field of grass. I ran my hand through the long, damp, brown-green-ish blades of grass that covered the ground as far as I could see. The low-hanging mist that surrounded me felt like it was getting closer by the second, although this was most likely due to paranoia. I slowly stood up and - realized that, Russ was nowhere to be seen. I contemplated whether or not I should call out to him, so many thoughts went through my head, so many reasons not - to do it.

“What time is it? What if any of those freaks are around? Has Russ even woken up yet? Would those things hear me?...” - And so on.

I couldn’t take this anymore, I didn’t even know how many panic attacks I had gotten these past few days. I had never been an anxious person, this place was messing with my mind, making me convince myself that danger was always nearby, that’s what I believe at least.

“Russell!” - I called out, so loudly I could feel my vocal cords vibrating and stretching.

Despite the sharp, scraping pain in my throat and chest, I kept calling out for Russell. I must’ve called out at least 20 times, but I never got an answer. Part of me gave up, once again. Ever since I ended up in this place, it was like I had lost my will to survive; to fight. I sat down and closed my eyes, scrunching up my face in frustration and pain. I opened my eyes again and in the distance, I saw a figure in the mist. My heart dropped before starting to race, had a monster heard my screams and come to hunt me? No, the figure was… human. I could clearly see the outline of a fishing hat and a jacket.

“Hello!?” - I called out

“Can you help me!? Where are we!?” - I called out again, before this person had a chance to answer me.

I still didn’t receive an answer. I decided to give this person the benefit of the doubt, I thought that maybe, they were just old and had bad hearing. A pretty long stretch now that I think about it. Nonetheless, I started slowly inching towards this person that stood completely still, my gaze completely locked on to them with laser focus. As I got closer, I realized this person had their side towards me and wasn’t facing me. I was a little reassured, figuring my hypothesis must’ve been correct. But just as that thought crossed my mind, the figure turned to face me. I was a little taken aback but, I had no other choice but to keep moving towards them if I wanted help, it was my best shot.

“Hello?” - I called out again, with a more passive tone this time.

The person raised their hand up over their head, so as to show me that they see me. I started walking towards them at a normal walking pace. It took a surprisingly long time to start to see the actual features of this person, until I was about 10 feet away from them. It was an old man, not “old” like Russell, this man was actually old, must’ve been older than 80.

“Hey, do you know where w-”

Before I could finish my sentence, the man had brought his right index finger up to his lips, so as to tell me to be quiet. My body tensed up, figuring that someone or something was nearby, considering the old man’s gesture. However, the old man didn’t look scared at all, his face was completely neutral.

“Young man, I would advise you to lower your tone.” - The man said in an oddly calm tone.

I nodded my head in understanding.

“We can not see them, but they can see us. You are… lucky, to have survived your walk over to me. Perhaps it may be that… he does not wish for your death.” - The man continued.

“He? Who is he?” - I whispered.

“The structure you entered earlier, it has phased.” - The man ignored my question.

“Phased? You mean it has disappeared?” - I asked.

“Were you alone in there, young man?” - He ignored my question again.

“No, no, Russ was in there with me.” - I answered.

“I understand. I assume you were not conscious as the building phased, young man.”

“Yeah, no. I was knocked out.” - I answered, confused as to how he knew that.

“This man, you were with, what is his name, young man?” - He asked, in a slightly more serious tone.

“Russell, his name is Russell Cook.” - I answered without knowing why I even did.

“Close your eyes, young man. I shall put your worries to rest.” - The man said as he started walking towards me.

“Weren’t we not supposed to move!?” - I whispered frantically.

As the man was now standing right in front of me, he looked up into my eyes. I could see… something in his eyes. It wasn’t like a glow, it was like they were dimmed but also still bright.

“Young man, of this place you do not know a thing, but I do. Now, I ask you to trust me and close your eyes.” - The man said in a calm tone.

I hesitated for a moment before doing as he said. I closed my eyes and a moment later, I felt an ice cold, rough hand on my face, followed by a blinding blue light that pierced through my eyelids.

“Head north and tread lightly, young man.” - The old man’s voice echoed as the sharp, blue light faded.

It went dark again, my eyes were still closed, it wasn’t like I couldn’t open my eyes, rather something was making me not want to. Suddenly, I felt dizzy, like I was on a rollercoaster. I opened my eyes in panic, I was in the woods again. I stumbled and fell on my back and groaned in pain. My eyes were closed, the damp, cold forest floor pressed against my back, slightly easing the pain. I didn’t know how I was here or what that old man did to me, but I decided to relax for a moment.

***

“So uh… kid, you gonna tell me what in the world that was just now?” - A voice called out from beside me in a voice of confusion and fear.

I jolted up and turned my head as I did so, it was Russell. Without answering his question I jumped up to my feet and hugged the old man. He awkwardly patted me on the back to soothe me.

“That hurts kid.” - Russell said as he strained his voice in pain.

“Oh right, sorry.” - I said as I let go and stepped back.

“So… what was that?” - He asked with an intent gaze directed to me.

“What was what?” - I asked even though I did have an inkling as to what he was asking.

“Maybe the fact that you just appeared outta’ NOWHERE, floatin’ a FOOT over the ground?” - He said, like he was dumbfounded as to how I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“It’s gonna take some time to explain, why don’t we head back to the cabin first?” - I answered, not because of the reason I gave him, rather I didn’t even wanna talk about the strange encounter I just had.

“Yeah that sounds great n’ all, there’s just one problem. I have no idea where we are.”

“How about we just head north?” - I said as I remembered the last words of that strange old man.

“And why would we do that?” - Russell asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Just, trust me, I’ll explain later.” - I said, hoping Russell wouldn’t argue further.

“Alright kid, you’ll have hell to pay if you’re leadin’ me the wrong way though.” - Russell said, obviously still not being convinced.

We did as the strange old man had told me before he - presumably - sent me to Russell… Somehow. I brought out the swiss-army knife, realizing I got more and more thankful for the little tool each time I looked at it. I turned until it pointed north and started walking, Russell picked up his rifle from the ground and followed my lead. When I heard him swing the rifle sling over his shoulder, I realized I no longer had the hatchet Russell had lent to me - but - I didn’t wanna risk making him mad over the fact that I had lost it, since it was his son’s and all.

***

After a long walk, thankfully devoid of any terrifying, traumatizing monster encounters we were back. As soon as I saw the cabin in the distance, my body started relaxing on its own. I realized how beat up I really was, the wound on my back, a strained ankle, bruising all over my body; it felt like I had fallen down from a cliff. Nevertheless, I kept pushing the last hundred feet or so. Both of us were way too tired to talk, so we just said goodnight and headed to bed, even though we didn’t know if it was night or not. The feeling of laying down was pure ecstasy, laying down in an old, hard bed with a thin mattress, barely deserving of being called a mattress, had never been so comforting.

***

I woke up in the middle of the night, there were no sounds, it was completely dark. I just sat up in bed with my legs crossed, hunched over, barely being able to keep my eyes open. Until I heard a rustling sound coming from outside the window to my left, it wasn’t right outside of the window, it sounded more like it was coming from the edge of the clearing that the cabin stood on. I slowly pulled the thick, white curtain away and peeked outside. It was the strange old man, I couldn’t realistically know for sure, he was more than 30 feet away - but - I knew it was him. He was still wearing that oversized coat and his fishing hat, only this time, he was holding something in his right hand. It was a long, crooked stick with a blue-glowing lantern hanging from the top of it. I wasn’t scared, I don’t know how to describe the feeling, it was like a mix between a sense of awe and itching curiosity. As my eyes fixated on the man, it felt like I was looking at some sort of deity, like this man had infinite wisdom. Instead of feeling an uncomfortable feeling of being watched, I felt a sense of safety, of security. It felt like this man, this deity, was here to protect us through the night. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door behind me, it startled me but I quickly realized it couldn’t be anyone else other than Russ.

“Kid, you awake?” - Russell quietly called out, sounding like he didn’t expect an answer.

“Y-yeah, I’m awake.” - I meekly answered, still thinking about what I had just seen from my window.

“Oh, alright. Well, you wanna have a cigarette? Havin’ a hard time falling asleep.” - Russell said.

“Yeah sure, let me just get dressed and I’ll be out.” - I replied.

I turned my head back to the window, but the old man wasn’t there anymore. I looked around for a few more seconds but I couldn’t see him. I got up and got dressed and headed out. Russell was sitting at the table in the dim light of the living room, fiddling with his lighter.

“There you are.” - He said with a smile.

“Haha, yeah.” - I awkwardly answered.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” - Russ said as he stood up and pushed the chair back under the table.

“Uh… I just woke up out of nowhere.” - I answered as I rubbed my face.

“Oh okay… Anything strange happen?” - He asked as he stood still while looking at me.

“...Nope.” - I said after a pause.

“Okay, that’s great.” - Russ said, although I could hear he didn’t believe me.

***

We sat down on the porch, just like we did the first time we shared a cigarette. Without giving me time to take even a single drag of my cigarette, Russell started asking questions, which was understandable to be honest.

“Alright kid, time to explain, what in the world was that earlier? I’ve been thinkin’ about it since we got back, it’s why I couldn’t sleep. Sure, I’ve seen my share of weird shit since I ended up in this cold hell but I ain’t never seen anything like that!... That’s for sure.” - Russell ranted without giving me time to answer his questions.

“Okay, let me start from the beginning. So, you know after we got… attacked by that thing?”

“Yeah?”

“The hardware store “phased”... at least that’s what the old man told me.”

Russell just looked at me with his mouth open and a confused look on his face.

“No, that’s impossible, that building had at least a few weeks left before disappearing.” - Russell tried to convince himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. But, maybe it doesn’t always follow the same rules, maybe they can disappear spontaneously.” - I suggested.

“I’ve been here for years kid, never seen it happen. I don’t even know how many of those uncanny buildings I’ve waltzed into.” - Russell still wasn’t giving it a second thought.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” - I gave up, I hadn’t known him for long but I knew Russell wasn’t gonna fold.

“So anyway, about the old man. Who is he?” - Russell interrogated me.

“To be honest, I have no idea. After we got attacked I passed out and just woke up in a field and saw him in the distance. I walked up to him and he just started talking all mysteriously and telling me I was lucky to survive the walk to him from where I woke up.” - I said to try and prepare myself for the more weird part about the old man.

“What did he look like?” Russell asked.

“He was really old, had a long beard and fishing clothes on… and his eyes, they were weird.”

“Okay so what happened next?” - Russell asked eagerly.

“He asked me if I was alone in the building, I don’t even know how he could’ve known I was in there in the first place.” - I said as Russell nodded his head, urging me to get to the point, so I continued.

“I told him you were with me, then he told me he would “put my worries to rest” or something. Then he told me to close my eyes and then he put his hand on my face and… it was like a… blue light, a really strong one. I think I blacked out and when I woke up I was in the woods and… then you were there.” - I tried to explain the whole thing as fast as I could.

“A blue light? So it was him after all…” - Russell said as he turned his gaze away from me and down to his feet.

“You know this old man?” - I asked as I turned my whole body towards Russell.

“I don’t… “know” him… I’ve just seen him. With his blue lantern.”

I paused for a moment, part of me feeling relieved because I thought that somehow, maybe I was going insane and just seeing things, but now that Russell had confessed that he too, had seen the man I felt a bit more at ease.

“I saw him outside my window earlier.” - I broke the silence.

Russell just shot me a disappointed “oh…” look, and didn’t respond or talk at all for a while.

***

After we both headed back to bed, I had a hard time falling asleep. I spent most of the time just thinking about the old man and what Russ knew about him. Everything just kept getting weirder in this place. Though, eventually I did fall asleep.

***

I woke up the next day with a sore body, which was normal at this point. I stayed in bed for a while, trying my best to keep my mind clear of this place. I got up and got dressed and headed out into the living room. Everything was going as usual. But as I was sitting by the dining table, it hit me. I hadn’t seen Russ, this wasn’t normal, he was always up before me no matter what. I knocked on his door and got no answer, I figured he was just sleeping.

***

Noon came and I realized I was wrong. Russ still hadn’t come out from his room. I was too scared to enter his room so I just spent the rest of the day hanging out in the cabin and looking for things to entertain myself. When evening came, I decided to head to bed early, hoping I would wake up to Russell being back again. I woke up in the middle of the night just like the night before, the eerie silence was something I still hadn’t gotten used to, there were no sounds, at all. The first thing I did was look outside my window, hoping to see the strange old man again but, he wasn’t there. I went back to sleep instead.

***

I woke up the next morning and this time, got dressed and went out into the living room a little quicker to see if Russ had gotten back. I was convinced that he would be back, there’s no way he’d travel far without me and especially not without telling me. He did tell me “four hands are better than two, son.”. But lo and behold, he wasn’t back. I even called out to him this time but I never got an answer. Russell’s absence was starting to weigh on me, so to distract myself I decided to wander around the clearing that the cabin stood on. Despite the thick, never ending clouds above, it was quite bright outside so I wasn’t that scared. To no one’s surprise, there wasn’t anything interesting in the clearing so I headed back inside after an hour or so. I’m not gonna lie, I was getting more and more anxious and paranoid, it did feel a little embarrassing to be a grown man and relying on another man so much but what was I supposed to do? I spent the rest of the day fiddling with anything I could hold, pacing around the cabin and looking out of my window. When night came I had a much harder time sleeping, which was unsurprising considering how stressed I was becoming over Russell’s disappearance. But after a few hours, I did fall asleep.

***

Another morning came and I did the same thing again, got up, got dressed and headed into the living room to wait for Russell to come out of his room. But he never did. I must’ve waited for at least an hour but he didn’t come out. At this point, I’d had enough, so I knocked on Russell’s door one last time before entering. What I saw was worse than any monster or any other weird things I had seen in this place. It was Russell, or rather his body. His head was gone, the only thing that was left was his lower jaw, barely hanging on. I’d never seen so much blood, so much gore, not even on the internet. As I looked at the bloody stump that stood atop Russell’s shoulders, I felt my stomach churning. I stumbled out of my room and out through the front door, I leaned over the porch and threw up for minutes. My whole body was shaking, I was mortified. What was I going to do without Russell?

***

I spent the whole day sitting on the porch until it got dark, but I wasn’t scared of monsters this time. I felt completely empty. It was like I had expended all of my emotions in a few minutes. I was getting tired so I headed inside again, as I closed the front door behind me I looked to my left, into Russell’s room. My heart did skip a beat for a second, but the same empty feeling - or rather - the lack of any feeling at all, quickly came back. I slowly walked towards his room, I stopped in the doorway and looked towards Russell’s body, leaned up against his wall. As I looked at his body, I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t even feel bad for not feeling anything; it was just empty. I looked towards his bed and I spotted a dozen pieces of paper. I walked up to them and grabbed them, they were notes. I walked out of Russell’s room and closed the door behind me.

***

As evening came, I was sitting on my bed, thinking about why Russell had done this. I mean sure, I just happened to come into Russell’s life, if you can even call living in this place a life, but was it really necessary to do this? Didn’t he have any hope of getting out of here? What were the supply-runs for then? I just couldn’t comprehend it. I felt a tear streaking down my cheek which surprised me since I wasn’t feeling anything. I wiped my tears and looked over at the stack of notes Russ had left behind. I decided there was no reason not to read them, it was the only thing I could do to try and understand him, it would probably give the reason for Russell’s suicide.

god i love the stories and i cant be the only one can i?

exceptional.jpg

Everybody seems to have one of those stories. The ones that seem implausible, and yet due to the conviction in their faces and tremble in their voices while telling it… you have no other option but to believe them. My whole family had a few of these. My dad would always tell about a time when he was six… his family vacationed at a beach house and he had a disturbing nightmare about the woman from the living room painting murdering him. But after he woke up, he went to the dining room only to hear his older sister recount having the exact same dream… exact and detailed down to every single event in the nightmare. My mom would always mention my grandmother’s house being haunted, and would tell of the time she woke in the guest room and saw the shadow of a woman making her way to the connected bathroom. However, one story completely intrigued me. I must’ve been around seven when this happened… sometime in late 2009. My older brother had been using his computer well after his curfew when he had gotten a strange email.

My brother said that the email, while being in English, didn’t really make much sense. He described it as if it was written by someone who knew English but not how to structure a sentence. His recollection wasn’t perfect, but he stated that the email went something like this.

To: *****@***.com
From: *****@***.com 
Subject: exceptional


“Congratulations! You have it ! Please, it is exceptional! Have it open:) 


Start Praying Really Easy And Do The Have Estimating More Exceptional See Start At Go Exceptional!”

And attached to the message was a picture titled “exceptional.jpg”. My brother didn’t go too into detail about the contents of the picture aside from a short “it was kinda creepy”. But the reason it always interested me was because shortly after having opened the message and picture, my brother had sent it to one of his friends. My brother had said this friend stopped showing up to school. Not long after, the message made its rounds throughout his school… some kids stopped showing up, and the school had a perfectly timed assembly about online safety.

For a few years, this was all I was able to go on regarding the story… but something about it kept poking at the back of my mind. It felt like an old CreepyPasta made up on 4Chan, something about it felt so familiar… but every attempt to search for “exceptional.jpg” led me nowhere. These minor searches were infuriating, as the way my brother told the story felt like major chunks of it were missing. I just needed to know the origins and validity of this story, I needed the holes in the story to be filled. My brother had always told me to never search for it, but I needed answers.

Recently, the story had been eating at the back of my mind again after having been back at my mother’s house for her birthday. Me and my brother had gotten to talking about scary events again… and exceptional.jpg had gotten brought up again. But like always, the way it was told felt like he had been intentionally keeping details from me. The vagueness he described the picture with kept eating away at me… “yeah, it’s kinda creepy / it’s hard to remember details, I remember it being dark / it was a long time ago, it was just creepy from what I remember”. And yet his face was holding back abject horror whenever exceptional.jpg was brought up. But I should’ve taken the vagueness as a hint, a red flag… there’s a reason my brother left out details, there’s a reason it doesn’t show up on Google, there’s a reason you don’t look for exceptional.jpg.

Two weeks ago, I was still searching for mentions of it. Google searches didn’t provide anything, scouring Reddit didn’t do much either. I was about to totally give up on my pathetic search for a potentially fake story my brother made up to scare me… until I registered what I was seeing. A notification… an email.

To: *****@***.com
From: *****@***.com
Subject: exceptional


“Congratulations! You have it now! It is now, it is yours, it is exceptional! Have it open;)


Start Praying Really Exceptional And Due To Have Exceptional More Exceptional See Start At Go Exceptional!”

Attached was a file titled “exceptional.jpg”. I almost didn’t know what to do. This thing that I’ve been searching for for years had finally fallen directly into my lap… but a nagging feeling came with it. “Don’t open that file” I kept thinking to myself. Every fiber of my soul all of a sudden started screaming at me like a primal response to something being wrong. And you’d think that millions of years of evolution to warn you about danger would help you to make the right decision… but on occasion, curiosity kills the cat. Clicking on that file made my hair stand up on end like a cat arching its back. But I was almost disappointed in what I witnessed, I had built the picture up in my mind to be a lot worse than it was. That wasn’t to say it was all sunshine and rainbows though, there was still an air about the picture that’s nearly indescribable… it felt otherworldly, it felt… wrong.

In a weird way, I felt validated in receiving the email… finally knowing it wasn’t entirely made up as a sibling prank. But still, I couldn’t get it out of my head, why couldn’t I find anything about this picture and email online? Why does it seem to just… not exist? Even seeing my brother’s old yearbooks just increased my curiosity… in the jump from Freshman to Sophomore year, a solid ⅓ of the kids were no longer in the yearbook. Even though I received exceptional.jpg, I still wasn’t satisfied… I still didn’t really believe it was anything but a CreepyPasta in all honesty… a rather obscure but local one. But it’s true nature would be made clear to me not long after receiving it. That night, I had gone to bed earlier than usual. It didn’t usually take me long to sleep, so I was passed out within a matter of minutes. It must’ve only been a few hours when I was awoken by something. I couldn’t quite tell what did it at first… until I realized that my walls were reflecting bright lights… so I had turned around in my bed to face my desk. That’s when I realized that my computer had turned on and the light from my monitor had woken me. But it wasn’t until I sat up in bed that I realized what my monitor was displaying… exceptional.jpg.

I turned my computer off and had gotten back into bed… only to be thrust awake to the same situation not even thirty minutes later. Computer sounding like it’s about to take off like a plane, bright monitor lights, and the looming presence of exceptional.jpg plastered over my monitor screen. I had turned my computer off and gone back to bed again, thankfully this time without being disturbed in my sleep again. The next morning was pretty awful, as I was tired to hell and back. I came to the conclusion that opening the file had given my computer a virus, so I started to run some anti-malware program in hopes that that would get rid of whatever I infected my pc with. I scrolled through my phone as I waited for the program to do its thing, and that’s when I noticed it… a voicemail. It didn’t look like I had received any calls overnight, leaving my stomach with a strange feeling. I opened the voicemail only to be greeted by two seconds of what sounded like faint rustling… almost like somebody accidentally recorded a video with their phone in their pocket. I found it weird, but that strange feeling in my stomach didn’t go away when I looked at my computer screen… “No malware detected.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very off that whole day. Paranoia grabbed ahold of me, I approached every corner of my house as if someone was waiting for me on the other side. I ran into rooms and shut the doors as fast as possible as if someone was coming at me from the darkness of the hallways. It all had to do with that picture, the more I thought about it… the more the details didn’t sit right with me. I wanna refrain from acknowledging the picture’s contents but I feel like I have to give at least some description. The picture simply contained a hooded, faceless figure in front of an enveloping black background. But it was something about the over exposure, something about the emptiness… just something about that picture kept popping up in my subconscious.

I somehow managed to sleep that night despite the onset of paranoia. But that wouldn’t last as not even an hour after falling asleep, the sound of my computer and light from my monitor jolted me awake. It taunted me, plastered across my monitor as I apprehensively turned my computer off. But as soon as I got back in bed, the bright lights lit up the room again. When I got out of bed to turn the computer off, that’s when I noticed it. I had been sent another email.

To: *****@***.com
From: *****@***.com
Subject: exceptional


“It is quite! It is exceptional! Spread the message! S P R E A D  T H E  M E S S A G E!:)”

I didn’t have much time to comprehend what I was reading before my mother started calling me. It was 2:26 in the morning. I apprehensively answered the call… but I was met with roughly ten seconds of silence. That was until I heard what faintly sounded like my mother… but she was repeating my name over and over again. After asking her if everything was fine, she stopped calling my name. “Just do it, your brother did it too.”

I was completely confused by what she meant. But at the same time, it didn’t really sound like her… it sounded like somebody doing an almost pitch perfect impression but just missing something… emotion? A soul? Purpose behind the words? Something was missing. I hung up, and turned my computer off, but I couldn’t get those words out of my head as I tried to sleep. I had awoken the next morning to find my computer and phone flooded with hundreds of the same exact messages…. “It’s not patient! It is exceptional! It is not patient! Spread the message:(“. All of these messages were followed with increasingly distorted and altered versions of the original picture… but one caused that primal panic… the hooded figure was no longer present. In the back of mind, everything started to connect and the things I didn’t want to believe kept coming to the forefront of my mind.

I messaged my brother and asked him about the kids who stopped showing up to school. He asked me “Why did you go looking for it, I told you not to.” I understood then. I didn’t want to, but that thing made its presence known, filling up every corner of my mind… threatening me… demanding to spread its message… I couldn’t take it. It’s been a week… I’m assuming my brother didn’t spread the message… no one knows where he is.

Do not go looking for exceptional.jpg. There’s a reason you won’t find it mentioned anywhere but here.

November 1st, 2023

I never wanted to hurt anyone. It was my neighbor’s black dog who told me what to do. He is a demon wrapped in fur and skin.

His metallic, ringing voice would incessantly scream through my brain every time I tried to fight back. I told him I didn’t want to kill anymore, but he says that he and the other damned spirits need fresh blood to live. He says his name is Friend, and that he only wants what’s best for me.

I don’t know what kind of dog my neighbor found, but I think it may have come straight from Hell itself. I’ll update this diary soon once I figure out what to do.

November 10th, 2023

I saw the sacrifices in the news tonight. A young man and a young woman. They were young and healthy, beautiful and strong. They had their whole lives ahead of them. I never wanted to do it again, but Friend said we must.

I had gone hunting as soon as the Sun set, traveling through the dark, winding streets of the suburbs. On the rolling hills, I found them, the first of the new sacrifices.

They were parked in a red sedan on a well-known lover’s lane in the area, a spot where the view of the city’s cold, white lights shone like the stars. I had taped a flashlight to the end of my rifle. They seemed to think I was a police officer when I first sent the bright glare of the flashlight streaming through the driver’s side window.

The driver began to roll down the window, his face a mask of confusion as he stared into the white light shining into his eyes. He opened his mouth, his face looking as pale as a corpse.

“Officer, what is…” he started to say when the voice of Friend screamed through my head like shattering glass.

“Take them, now!” Friend gurgled in his flat, dead voice. “We must feed the spirits of the dead with their blood! Do it now. Now. Now!” The voice rose like the wailing of a tornado. I couldn’t breathe or think. My vision turned white as I pressed the trigger again and again.

They screamed, but it sounded far-off and faded under the ringing of the gunshots. The man’s face exploded before me in a shower of bone splinters and ground meat. By the time I was done, it looked like nothing more than a crater of gore.

The bullets smashed through the car with a shattering of glass. The smell of gunsmoke and sweat hung thick in the air. The woman shrieked as one caught her in the throat, then her wailing was cut off. She choked on her own blood, her wide, frantic eyes searching my face, as if for a reason why. But there was no reason, not one that I could tell. They were far from my first, and I doubted they would be the last.

I followed the voice of Friend back home, leaving the dead with their frozen, terrified faces and the panicked animal sweat that clung to their still bodies.

November 11th, 2023

I haven’t been sleeping much. That dog keeps barking all day and night. His voice rings through my head like an eternal scream. In the barking, I hear the rhythms of something deep and demonic. It gurgles through the night and never leaves me alone.

When was the last time I slept? Maybe five or six days ago. Everything seems blurry. I know what I need to do.

At midnight, I heard the incessant barking of Friend, the whispering of dark secrets behind the veil. I grabbed my rifle and slunk out into the night. I needed to end this, right here and now.

The street looked as empty as a midnight graveyard. Mist swirled through the blackness in thick, cold clouds that clung to my skin like raindrops. I couldn’t see far as I left my dark and empty house. I peered over the fence separating my property from my neighbor’s. The dog had stopped barking. Now he just looked up at me, his eyes gleaming like cold starlight.

“What are you going to do with that, Spencer?” Friend asked, his sharp canine teeth glittering through the fog. I saw the dog’s mouth moving, the black lips frozen in a wide, amused smile. “Would you hurt your only friend? Would you kill him, Spencer?” I trembled, feeling drops of sweat break out on my face. Goosebumps rose all over my body as I stared into those dead, empty eyes.

Friend looked like a large black dog, reminding me of the Grim from European myths. But anyone who stared at him too long would realize that his teeth seemed far too sharp and numerous, and his eyes always glowed in the night as if with their own inner radiance.

“I have to do it,” I whispered grimly, staring into the face of Hell. The dog seemed to find this funny. His wide, canine lips rose into a curving grin.

“Do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do,” he hissed as I pulled the trigger. The dog’s head exploded, spraying black fur and slabs of gore onto the side of my neighbor’s house. I saw Friend’s legs buckle as he stumbled and fell slowly to the ground, still staring up at me with his dead eyes.

November 12th, 2023

That night, after I murdered Friend, I finally passed out from exhaustion for a couple hours. The same recurring dream that had plagued me for months on end started as soon as I closed my eyes.

I was walking through a dark city street with no one alone. Hundreds of mummified bodies hung from the streetlights, the nooses around their neck fraying with age. They swayed gently in the wind, men, women and children alike, all victims of some terrible atrocity I couldn’t imagine.

The echoing of my own footsteps sounded deafening. The entire world felt dead and still. Empty skyscrapers loomed overhead on both sides of me, their giant bodies glistening with glass and steel.

Up ahead, something black with long, twisting limbs writhed in the middle of the street like some giant spider. Its skittering legs pushed its gleaming black body high into the air. The countless eyes on its insectile face gleamed with their own inner light, just like the eyes of Friend.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice ringing out like a gunshot in the empty silence. The spidery face split into a lipless grin, showing off its curving fangs dripping with venom.

“You know who I am,” the thing hissed. “I am the true face of Friend. I am the one who will stay with you until the end. Together, we will feed the abyss!

“You are the only one saving this world from total destruction. You are a holy one, Spencer, a saint. For you give of yourself to protect all others, even of your innocence and your eternal soul.

“For if you did not offer sacrifices to the hungry spirits, then they would spill over the veil like a plague of locusts. You must keep killing. You must offer sacrifices- fresh blood, the bodies of the damned,” Friend whispered. I felt freezing cold here in this empty city where the night sky looked like a blanket of shadows, where we existed without Moon or stars to light the way.

I woke suddenly in my bed, the sky outside still black and lifeless, just like in my dream. From my neighbor’s house, I heard the frantic barking of Friend.

November 13th, 2023

I looked up cases similar to mine on the Internet, wondering if I was going insane. Immediately, the famous case of the “Son of Sam” came up, the man who claimed his neighbor’s dog had forced him to kill. I wondered if it had been Friend, or something like Friend. I kept going over his case, looking for clues.

I remembered reading the letter David Berkowitz, called the “Son of Sam”, had sent to the police. His words had seemed bizarre the first time I read them, even insane, but now they had a cold, sickening logic. He had been forced to offer blood, just as I had. I knew that I, too, would ultimately be forced to kill again by the demon next door.

I pulled up his note to the police on the Internet, reading it again and again as I searched for clues. This is what the original note said:

“I am deeply hurt by your calling me a wemon hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am ‘The Son of Sam’. I am a little ‘brat’. When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood. Go out and kill, commands Sam.

“Behind our house some rest. Mostly young, raped and slaughtered – their blood drained – just bones now. Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic, too. I can’t get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by. I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wave length than everybody else – programmed to kill.

“However to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: Shoot me first – shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die! Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart attacks. ‘Ugh me hoot it ‘urts sonny boy.’ I miss my pretty princess most of all. She’s resting in our ladies house but I’ll see her soon.

“I am the ‘monster’ ‘beezlebub’ – the ‘chubby behemouth’. I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game. Tasty meat- the wemon of Queens are prettiest of all. I must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt- my life- blood for papa.

“Mr Borelli, sir, I don’t want to kill anymore. No sir, no more. But I must- Honour thy Father! I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don’t belong on earth. Return me to Yahoos. To the people of Queens, I love you and I want to wish all of you a Happy Easter. May god bless you in this life and in the next and for now I say goodbye and goodnight.

“Police let me haunt you with these words: I’ll be back! I’ll be back! To be interpreted as bang bang bang bang bang – ugh!! Yours in murder, Mr Monster.”

November 14th, 2023

It’s true. I saw it for myself. Friend is back.

The gunshots didn’t take. Perhaps he can’t be killed. I just saw the dog, alive and whole. He kept barking as the dying Sun sent its rusty blood spinning across the sky. The night was coming, I knew, and this night would certainly be a long one.

The time has come to act, but I’m absolutely terrified. I don’t know what will happen to me. I will keep writing everything down until the end, however. I know what people will think of me. They’ll say I was a liar, a monster, a madman- a murderer. And they might be right.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to fight back.

***

Once the darkness had grown thick and the mist had crept back in like searching fingers, I strapped my pistol onto my hidden holster and headed outside. The dog’s incessant barking rang out in the silent world, harsh and dissonant. I covered my ears, repressing an urge to scream.

I slunk past my fence and towards my neighbor’s house where Friend lived. I tried to hide from the dog as best as I could, quickly moving down the sidewalk past the vantage point where he would be able to see me.

As I did, the barking abruptly cut off. I glanced over, seeing Friend’s luminescent eyes hanging in the dark mist like fireflies. I ripped my gaze away and headed to the front door.

I knocked hard, over and over, until a tired-looking man with a fat face like an English bulldog appeared through the small window. His dark, beady eyes regarded me with suspicion through the glass panes. His entire head looked freshly-shaven; not a single hair marred his scalp or face. His face looked red, his cheeks flushed, as if he had been drinking heavily. After a long moment, he swung the door open, as if in anger.

“What do you want?” he asked in a gruff voice that sounded like he had been smoking five packs a day since he was twelve. “Who the fuck are you?” I gave him my most charming smile, trying to disarm the fat man, but the suspicion and distrust stayed, engraved deeply into every line of his face.

“I’m your neighbor, sir,” I said respectfully. My stomach did flips, and I felt sweaty and nervous coming to this house. “My name’s Spencer. I’m really sorry to bother you, especially when it’s this late…”

“It’s not late for me,” he answered coldly. “I never sleep anymore.” I nodded.

“I feel you there,” I said. “Neither do I.” I wondered, at that moment, whether his insomnia and my insomnia had the same underlying cause. He stared at me, his face as blank as a mannequin’s.

“So what is it, Mr. Neighbor?” the man asked sarcastically. The white T-shirt he was wearing was covered in strange food stains. All the colors of the rainbow seemed to be there.

“It’s about your dog,” I whispered grimly. The man’s ruddy face instantly seemed to go pale. His mouth opened, but only a strangled, incomprehensible garbling came out.

“You better come inside,” the man said, opening the door wide and stepping aside. “Spencer, you say? My name’s JJ. JJ Falconer.”

***

JJ brought me into his kitchen. The entire house looked run-down and dirty, filled with rotting garbage bags strewn about. The furniture all had strange water-spots and stains covering them. The smell coming from the house was truly repugnant and foul.

“Your dog,” I said as JJ poured two shots of vodka in some suspiciously dirty-looking shot glasses on the table. The rest of the table was covered in filthy dishes, some with moldy food still clinging to their surfaces. “Why does he never stop barking?” JJ pushed a shot glass in my direction, but I shook my head.

“I don’t drink, sorry.” He gave a bark of laughter at that, his small eyes still watching me intently. And though he laughed, his eyes didn’t laugh- and neither did his mouth.

“My dog?” he asked, his voice cracking as some inner turmoil ripped through him. He took the shot in a quick swallow, hissing for a moment as the burning liquid made its way down. Then he poured another one and took that, too. “My dog?! That’s not my fucking dog!” I looked at JJ as if he were insane. Perhaps we both were. I strongly suspected I was after the agonies of the last couple months.

“OK…” I answered slowly. “Why does he live behind your house then? Who feeds him? Who gives him water and takes him on walks?” JJ leaned close to me, his eyes glittering with some frantic and dark hidden under the surface.

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody. That ‘dog’ just appeared there one night,” he said, his fat cheeks flushing a deep red. “He won’t leave me alone, no matter what I do. I’ve had animal control come and take him away seven times. Seven times! And yet, when I wake up in the morning, that thing is right back there where he started, barking. It’s not any dog. That’s some sort of demon, I think, some punishment from God for all I’ve done wrong. It’s my chain and shackles and my coffin. Yours too, I’m guessing? Why else would you be here?” My teeth chattered as a panicked terror rose in my heart.

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously. “What…”

“You know exactly what I mean,” JJ said, leaning so close to me that I could smell the stale booze on his fetid breath. “You’ve heard his voice in your head, haven’t you? You’ve seen him in your dreams? His true form, I mean, not the mask he wears to fool the blind.” I stuttered, unable to speak for a long moment. JJ just continued watching me, a sadistic glee evident in his eyes. He enjoyed this, I could tell.

“Yes,” I said finally. “Yes, I have. His name is Friend.”

“Friend,” JJ repeated, nodding. “Indeed, his name is Friend. He’s no Friend of yours, though. No friend of mine. He’s no friend of anybody’s, except for maybe the Devil.”

***

“I tried shooting him last night,” I went on, shaking as I sat in a filthy chair in that dim, musty kitchen. JJ laughed at this.

“Ah, yes, so did I, a few times,” he said. “No luck, I’m guessing?” The dog’s barking started again at that moment, as if it were listening to our conversation. It rang out, echoing through the still shadows outside. I couldn’t see a single person anywhere on the street. It reminded me of my nightmare. A chill like ice water ran down my spine.

“What if we destroy the body?” I whispered, afraid that Friend might hear me. But that was stupid. He must hear everything, after all, I thought to myself. He is in my mind, and he’s been there for a long time. “You know, like they talk about in medieval times, hunting vampires and demons. They used to use decapitation or they would burn the body until it was nothing but ashes. What if…”

“Go ahead!” JJ said, giving an apathetic wave of his hand in the direction of Friend. “Go burn his body. I’ve never tried anything like that, but maybe, just maybe, it would work.”

“You should come, too,” I answered. “This is our burden, both of us. We need to work together. If we don’t stop him, we’ll both surely die or end up in prison forever.”

“I think it’s past that point,” JJ said sullenly, his eyes downcast. “I’m guessing that, if the cops knew what you’ve done, you would already end up in prison forever, am I right?” I pulled back as if physically struck. JJ just grinned. “Yeah, I know that Friend surely made you kill. You don’t think I’ve done the same? If we hadn’t, neither of us would be here. Friend would have slaughtered you like a sheep.”

“Then that makes it all the more important to stop this now!” I hissed. JJ gave a long sigh. He rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Fine,” he said, pulling a pistol out of his waist-band. “There’s gasoline in the garage. Let’s fucking do this.” He gave a faint grin as bloodlust radiated from his eyes.

As sickening waves of dread rolled over my body like ripples in a pond, I got up and followed him out of the kitchen.

***

JJ held the red canister of gasoline in one hand and the pistol in his other. I, too, had my gun out. He opened the garage door and we walked out into the night, turning to head into his yard- and towards the abomination that wore a dog like a second skin.

Friend went silent as we approached. His canine lips split into a wide grin. Only the eyes and the sharp, predatory teeth gave any contrast in that black void of a face.

JJ didn’t hesitate. He raised the pistol and fired. The shot cracked through the air like thunder.

Friend’s chest exploded in a flower of bright blood. The canine face didn’t react, however, except that the teeth started chattering, at first slowly and then faster and faster. The eyes seemed to glow brighter as Friend stood up, rising on his back legs to his full height. Rivulets of crimson continued to stream down his chest as he loomed over us.

Filled with incomprehensible terror, JJ and I could only watch as Friend’s body began to rip apart. Something black and spidery stabbed its way out through the skin and fur of the dog body, long, skittering legs with many joints that twisted their way to the ground.

The eyes stayed the same, ripping their way out of the skull as a spidery visage appeared from the top of the dog’s mutilated head. Within seconds, the fur, skin and muscles of the dog lay strewn on the lawn like pieces of garbage. I saw the monstrous spider from my nightmare, the true face of Friend.

***

JJ gave a battle-cry and ran forward, shooting over and over, emptying the magazine until his pistol clicked empty. Friend gave a roar that sounded like many alien, insectile voices were screaming together. Friend’s pincers clicked as his many legs carried him forward. His enormous body seemed to dance as they twisted, bringing the alien face down towards JJ’s neck.

JJ gave a scream and tried to backpedal, but he was far too slow. With a wet separating of flesh, the pincers came together, slicing off JJ’s head as neatly as a guillotine.

The head flew back, landing at my feet. The eyes stared sightlessly up at me, still filled with mortal terror.

Backpedaling away from the demon, I turned and ran. Without looking back, I started down the street, away from my house, away from Friend, away from all these never-ending terrors.

***

As I got to the end of the block, I saw police cars zooming down the street. With a squeal of brakes, they stopped in front of my house. They ran out of their cars, lights still flashing, sirens screaming. They had their guns drawn as they kicked down my door and went inside. Apparently, they hadn’t realized that the decapitated body of JJ Falconer also lay a few feet away, just on the other side of the tall wooden fence.

“You must keep moving,” Friend hissed in my mind, his voice like a scalpel driven into my brain. “We are not done yet. The sacrifices must be offered to the spirits of the damned.”

With a silent scream welling in my throat, I ran down the dark road and disappeared.

Washing my hands after finishing up with the last organ, that damn demon had acted on his own. Morte decayed the organs for me, a golden envelope fluttering into my palm. Lightning shocked me, the floor decaying underneath my feet. Pushing Morte to safety, his pleas fell on deaf ears the moment the hole sealed shut over me. Twisted branches caught my fall, a jet black pool of water swallowing me whole. Clawing at the surface, this had to be a fucking nightmare. Plucking my dagger from my hilt, every blow against the surface was met with an even deeper burning in my lungs. Seconds from passing out, the surface cracked enough for me to pull myself out onto the ruby sand. Staring up from where I fell, dark twisted trees towered me. Ruby moonlight flickered in between the branches, the air reeking of Melinoe. A low growl rumbled in my throat, that witch had stolen me to her realm. Shadows darted around me, my dagger expanding to its full size. The scene glitched for a minute, the gallows of Salem appearing behind me. A creepy fog curled around my feet, the pine trees groaning around me. Staring at the swinging rope, a clammy sweat drenched my skin. Horror rounded my eyes at my children calling for me, the dirt crunching as I spun on my heels. Stumbling back, a clammy sweat drenched my skin, my sweet babies were running towards me with bright smiles. Silent tears stained my cheeks, a waterfall of blood staining their white nightgowns. This couldn't be real! This can't be real!

“Momma, Momma! We missed you.” They cried out adorably, busted weeps wracking my body as I cut them down. Sinking to my knees, their bodies fell to my lap. Hugging them close, panic widened my eyes at them fading away. Grasping at whatever I could, broken tears splashed onto my lap. Digging my claws into my legs, thick ribbons of blood stained my ivory lace dress. Today was supposed to be an easy day, a genuine golden envelope fluttered into my palms. Peeling it open, her name glittered across the ivory card. A sly grin curled across my lips, her energy building above my head. Raising my blade into the air, sparks danced in the air with the violent clash. Her wild waves floated up, her hollow eye sockets creeping me out. The right half of her hair had a midnight black sheen, ivory waves hung over the black mummified half of her face. A ghastly paleness haunted the other side of her face, her defiant grin met mine. Her golden robes reminded me of wings.

“Why didn’t that get you!” She hissed through gritted teeth, her boots pounding towards me. Popping to my feet, the advantage was on my side. Jumping over her, dirt flew up with my rough landing. Sprinting into the forest, her blade cut down trees left and right. Dodging the falling trees, I needed to get to my old home. Skidding to a stop in front of a worn colonial, my boot smashed the door open. Fighting back tears, everything was in its place. Locking the door behind me, a slamming of my palm on the door had her flying back into her realm. Sliding down the door, my girls’ stuffed bunnies taunted me. Crawling over to them, emotions soaked the simply stitched bunnies. Rocking my back and forth, no fear was in this nightmare. A key clattered by my feet, the closet door glowing. Time slowed as I rose to my feet, the bunnies hitting the floor with a dull thud. Jamming the key into the closet door, the door swung open. A warm breeze knocked my hair out of my bun, the wet strands sticking to my cheeks. Crossing over, the remains of my former home haunted me. Graffiti covered the walls, the sounds of the Earth flooding back in. Lingering in the burnt remains, every cell wanted me to stay. Shaking my head, a trap had to be set. My shadow snakes slithered down my arms to clean up the mess, a numb gaze dulling my desire to win. Slapping my cheeks, work had to be done. Don’t fall apart, I shouted to myself with frustration. Collapsing to my knees, tears splash onto the weakened wood. A snake brought me a piece of chalk, the tip dancing across the boards to create a circle of strange symbols. Scrambling back, a quick slice of each palm had an inky pool glistening. Waiting patiently for her to crossover, her sneer was the first thing I saw.

“I h-” She began, her foot stepping into the circle. Slamming my palms on the circle, the ground trembled violently, thousands of shadow snakes slithering towards her. Attempting to run, her head shook with every shorter breath.

“You are nothing but a monster.” I barked venomously, watching my snakes take the first bite. “As the God Hunter, I condemn you to a nightmarish death. Devour her whole, my pets!” Zoning out, her tortuous wails became background noise. Her silver moon blade hit the floor, every snake slithering back into my palms. Scooping up the blade, Croak would do well with the Blade of Nightmares. Curling into a ball, my eyes flitted between the empty circle and starry sky. Wishing that I was dead, everything hit me at once. Rolling onto my face, scream after scream burst from my lips. Screaming until I didn’t have any voice left, the floorboards creaked as I struggled to my feet. Tucking the blade back into my belt, every footfall back towards the town echoed with the sound of sadness. A diner came into view, my blade shrinking back down to its dagger form. Noticing all the role playing outfits, I would fit right in. Pushing the door open, no one looked up from their steaming pile of food. A quiet rage brewed in my eyes at the painted witches on the window, a kind waitress not helping my mood.

“Phone.” I choked out, my voice not coming out at full strength. “Do you have a phone?” The door blew open, Croak bouncing up to me in her gray suit. Staring out the window, Morte was marching his way in with a death glare. Our history with this town was dark at best, a dark energy building in the air. A demon rose from a worn booth, his human face melting into gray scales. Groaning to myself, the other patrons ran out screaming. The rotting scent of Hell had me wrinkling my nose in disgust, his clothes hitting the floor. Goat hooves stomped on the floor, items floating into the air. Tossing Croak the Blade of Nightmares, ghosts of all kinds swirled all around her. The chanting had the demon grumbling in disbelief, Croak’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. Floating into the air, an inky ghost tattoo appeared on her skin. Hitting the floor with a dull thud, her body curled into a ball. Morte fumed next to me, his temper flaring at the demon dangling our little girl’s bunnies in front of him.

“Your father was under my command.” He bellowed thunderously, glass shattering mixed with metal clanging onto the floor. “I made him hurt your wife. Before that I corrupted your mother. She was a street walker who couldn’t get enough of me. In fact, she summoned me. Don’t worry, you aren’t my child. Time to collect what is due.” Morte’s expression softened at the raw terror mixing with emotional agony in my eyes, Morte raising his blade in the attack position.

“Give those up! I said give them up!” He snarled with a cruel grin, my hand stopping him. “What!” Shaking my head, the words couldn’t come to mind. Croak sucked in a deep breath, her palm slamming onto the floor. The scene dissolved into a cemetery from a horror movie, Croak’s scent taking over what used to be Melinoe’s realm. Unable to move, her Cheshire Cat grin spoke of her being okay. Spinning my blade in my palm, shadow snakes slithered down my arms. Morte paced behind me, his mental state slipping. The demon cursed under his breath, a spiked whip dropping into his hand. Cocking his head back, his mouth spoke the dreaded words.

“Did you know she almost killed your father?” He taunted with a slick grin, Morte’s eyes flitting over to me. “Oh, you didn’t. Do you know what he did after he found out? He gave her lashings and made her bathe in salt water. What do you think of her now?” Tossing the rabbits to our feet, neither of us picked them up. Waiting for Morte to yell at me, he stepped out in front of me while kicking the rabbits into my arms.

“If she had, life would have been easier. I knew he did that and everything I did after that was to prepare for our life in the forest.” He admitted with a guilty frown, his eyes flitting between the demon and me. “We should have ran away from that fucking town but unfortunately our fate was sealed.” Unable to speak, his hand cupped my shoulder. Pecking me on my lips, he sent me out of the dimension. Rolling onto the diner floor, a cold voice had me shoving the rabbits into my belt while popping to my feet. Gathering my wits, Madame Bone’s heels clicked behind me. Attempting to move, the heels of my boots seemed glued to the black and white tile. The swishing of her suit had a lump forming in my throat, a swift thrust sliding her blade into my stomach. Twisting it in the wound, tortured fucks poured from my lips. Ripping my head back, her cold eyes glittered with malice. Her claws danced along cheeks, a new level of fear twisting my features. Rolling my head back and forth, anxiety built with each roll. Yanking her hand back, inky blood painted her cheek. Paralyzed in her spell, a death glare was all I could shoot her the moment she ripped her blade out of my stomach. Everything blurred, warm blood splattering onto my boots. Plopping down into the nearest booth, her claws bounced off the top of the table. Humming to herself, a snap of her fingers had the salt shakers floating into the air. Moving them close to my wound, a clammy sweat drenched my skin at the tops unscrewing themselves. Pouring them into my wound, a searing pain had me howling uncontrollably. Violent sobs wracked my body, the door blowing open. Ice bullets whistled by my head, her spell letting up. Collapsing into a heap, a darkness was staining the rabbits. Sobbing harder, Rosworth burst in with Wut. Wut dragged me out to the hearse, my protests falling on deaf ears. Laying me down in the back, the chaos of the two sisters fighting had me struggling underneath his strong hand.

“Cut it out! You are going to die!” He blurted out sincerely, my limbs going limb as his free hand shifted through the medical bag. Lifting his hand, my body needed to be in tip top shape to help her out. Combining the right potions, a muddy liquid splashed in a vial. Pouring it down my throat, screams burst from my lips as muscles weaved themselves together. Bursting from the hearse when I considered myself healed enough, my boots echoed across the parking lot.

“Shit!” I cursed venomously, Rosworth struggling to hold her sister back. Madame Bone appeared over her head, her blade aiming for her sister’s head. A circle of shadows writhed underneath my boots, a ribbon of blood pouring from my nose as I sank into the puddle. Rising through the floor, Rosworth cried out in protest the moment I pushed her out of the way. Plucking my dagger from my belt, sparks fluttered in the air with the violent clash. Shock rounded her eyes, my fingers curling around her wrist. Slamming her onto the ground, her blade skidded across the floor. Huffing over her, every muscle screamed in protest. Too little power remained for me to expand my blade to its full size, my dagger spinning in my palm. Putting all I had left in it, a flick sent the darn thing flying towards her weapon. Metal shattered into shards, the pieces bouncing off the walls. Rosworth begged for me to stop, my legs giving out. Smashing my fists into Madame Bone’s face nonstop, endless fury drove me forward. Jet black blood painted my face, her wicked grin never leaving her face. Sinking into her floor, a loud fuck burst from my lips at the tile breaking upon the impact of my fist. Rosworth crawled over to me, her arms burying me into a bear hug. Every emotion soaked her shoulder, Wut coming in with the bag of medical supplies. Hel popped up behind us, her palms pressing against the wall. Any damage reversed itself, her leather jacket floating up with her spell. Croak and Morte appeared on the floor, both of them looking battered and abused. Wut mumbled under his breath, Hel crouching down to my level with a stern glare in his direction.

“May I please see the rabbits?” She inquired sweetly, my trembling hands passing them to her. Clutching them to her chest, her lips moved a mile a minute. Time rewound itself to when the girls had held them last, a single tear cascading down her cheek at the memories associated with them. Hugging me from behind, my trembling hands curled around the rabbits. Tears soaked the cotton, the smell of my kids breaking me. Clutching them close to my chest, it was like they had died all over again. Yet, a bit of joy rested in me being able to hold something of theirs. Rosworth rose to her feet, her words fading in and out with every step she took out to her car. Peeling off, Hel spun me around to face her. Wiping away my tears, a new level of warmth softened her features.

“Grieve like you should have. Please let it out. Let me hold you.” She begged with fresh tears in her eyes, my head nodding. Burying my head into her shoulder, her chin rested on my head. Rocking me back and forth, her love felt like a sister’s. Humming in my ears, any background faded out as a rough darkness stole me away.

Sucking in a deep breath, the walls of my bedroom greeted me. Sitting up, the girls bounced in. Leaping into my arms, they giggled as I smothered them in feverish kisses. Staring at the pristine rabbits in the chair, both of their faces lit up at the sight of them. Wondering if they were reincarnations of my daughters, the next words hurt like hell to say.

“You can have them. Love them with all of your heart for me, ‘kay.” I whispered with a dejected smile, knowing that the girls would listen to me. Sliding off the bed, giggles twinkled in the air as they spun around with them. Giving them voices, tears welled up in my eyes. My girls used to do the same thing, the blanket crumpling underneath my grasp. Pearl and Rosemary never looked happier, both of them showing them off to Morte on the way out to play with them. Sitting down next to me, bruises dotted his bare skin.

“That was nice of you.” He commented dejectedly, cupping my cheeks. Wiping away my fresh tears, his lips grazed my forehead. Pressing his forehead against mine, nothing needed to be said as our tears pooled on our palms. Yesterday’s mission had torn me to shreds, that nightmare digging deep. A knock interrupted the moment, Roseworth coming in with a bouquet of black roses. Setting it on the nightstand, Morte excused himself to make lunch for everyone. The girls met him outside the door, his disheartened laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Sleep would evade me if I didn’t come to check on you.” She spoke cautiously, wiping away my tears. “I was called to deal with that demon and found my sister. Thank you for saving me. May I consider you my little sister?” Cupping my hands, her stiff demeanor had melted away. Guilt ate at me, her grip getting stronger.

“Before you speak, he chose his fate. I tried to stop it and failed.” She continued with a sad scoff, silent tears splashing onto her black lace dress from the last time. “Do you mind if I stay for lunch? I requested today off to take care of you after all.” Touched by her dedication, honesty lined her pure aura. Patting the bed next to me, bewilderment twisted her features. Yanking her onto the bed next to me, a pensive silence hung between us. Crashing back onto my pillow, my fingers curled around hers. Rolling over to face her, her pain wasn’t hers to suffer alone.

“I vow to run things like him.” I promised with a tired smile, her finger tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Mr. Bone was a wondrous demon who showed me the light. A world where demons and monsters walked among the humans was always his dream. So I will grant him his dream. We won’t have to hide in the shadows once the war is won. Promise to stick by my side.” Our hearts beat to the same song, a quiet smile lingering on her broken expression.

“With our minds working together, nothing stands in our way.” She returned with a soft chuckle, the door blowing open. Croak jumped onto the bed, her body landing in between us. Hel strolled in with her hands in her leather jacket, her eyes rolling with sarcasm. Croak grinned ear to ear, Rosworth getting enchanted by her in a second. Hel hovered at the end of the bed, an apologetic smile haunting her features.

“I wish I could have showed up sooner but I was at a meeting with the gods. Many apologies.” She expressed calmly, mixed emotions flashing in her eyes. Pearl and Rosemary skidded in, the bunnies dancing in the air. Seconds from reprimanding them, one shake of my head had her crouching down to her level.

“Look at this cool bunny.” Pearl squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down. Rosemary nudged her shoulder, the lovely child picking up on the tension in the room. Hel played with them, her funny voices bringing more of a twinkle in their eyes. Croak hopped onto my lap, a gruff grunt pouring from my lips. Grinning ear to ear, her arms buried me into a vice grip of an embrace. Choking on the lack of air, her words flowed freely as they always did.

“Thank you so much for the new powers and weapons. You are the best sister ever!” She squealed with joy, a small hiss of air pouring from my lips. Releasing me from her embrace, my pillow caught me. Morte shouted out the word lunch, Pearl dragging her twin and Hel downstairs. Croak yanked me downstairs with her. Rosworth followed closely to my heels, the table looking warmer with a pile of sandwiches and bags of chips. Wut waved at me, his hand patting the spot next to me. Obliging his request, Croak took the other side. Hel and Cal entertained the girls, both of them looking like they could fly to the moon. Smiling softly to myself, a bit of hope returned. Pressing my palms together, I prayed for a shot at my new happy ending with my family.

I had always liked collecting rare books and paintings with the extra money I made trading stock options on the side. My small, two-bedroom house was cluttered with them. I had bookshelves filled with original signed copies of works by Stephen King, Philip K. Dick and Hunter S. Thompson that I had saved for years.

I also tried to find ascending painters in the local art scene and buy up some of their works for very low prices before they got discovered. Sometimes it worked out, and sometimes it didn’t, but as a whole, I had made far more money than I had lost over the decades. All of the works I liked most, though, I refused to sell at any price.

And these included the paintings of HG Bittaker. After his mysterious death a few years ago, they had gotten the same kind of reputation as paintings done by serial killers like John Wayne Gacy that were sold openly, sometimes for tens of thousands of dollars, on the internet. And like Gacy’s strange portraits of Snow White or the Seven Dwarves or grinning clowns, Bittaker’s paintings all had a sinister and otherworldly pull.

I had kept them locked up in a storage unit, but when the storage company told me they would be doubling their rates, I decided to close the unit and take everything in it back to my house. I set up the macabre paintings around my room and the hallways, remembering the strange conversation I had with the artist just days before his untimely death.

***

“People like to say that ‘life is art’ and meaningless platitudes like that,” HG Bittaker had said as he stood in front of a painting of a victim of murder made to look like Shiva dancing the Tandava. The black, eyeless sockets of the victim stared straight out at the viewer. His mouth was open, showing a spiraling galaxy of shining stars hidden within. Four emaciated, pale arms jutted out from the sides of the starving body, bent in the same posture as Shiva’s eternal cosmic dance. The arms showed signs of torture, patches of burnt and melted flesh eaten into the body like a cancer.

One mutilated leg was lifted into the air in a half-kicking motion. Deep gashes were sliced into its skin and muscle, revealing the white bone gleaming underneath. The emaciated dancer stood on a mountain of hundreds of skulls, many of them with fragments of hair and pieces of gore still clinging to the bone. Feeling slightly sickened, I turned away, chugging the entire bottle of beer I held in a few long swallows.

“But you know what I think? I think death is the true art,” HG Bittaker continued, his gray eyes flashing over me. They looked flat and lifeless, as if all the hope had long ago been sucked out of this young artist. His face was narrow and serious with high cheekbones and close-cropped black hair. “It is the gateway to eternity, after all. The best art comes not from love of life, but from love of death and annihilation.” I nodded as if I understood, though in reality, I didn’t know what he was getting at. I figured he was just another eccentric artist rambling about philosophies he barely understood.

“So what inspired you to paint this piece, for example?” I said, glancing at the macabre murder victim piece. It had a small white placard next to it that read,

“The Damned Spirits Dance the Tandava.

HG Bittaker.

2022.

Oil, marker, hair, blood.”

I recognized immediately that the placard showed the name of the piece, the artist, the year it was created and the materials used to create the piece. But it had to be a joke. I squinted at the last line, reading it over again. All around us, people chattered softly as they sipped wine and sodas, moving slowly around the hall. The entire exhibit showed dozens of HG Bittaker paintings, all of them extremely disturbing. I saw a painting of mass graves under a cold, black sky with rings like those of Saturn extending far out into the void. Next to it stood one of a monk burning himself alive while sitting in complete peace.

“This piece was inspired from a dream I had- or maybe, I should call it a nightmare. Do you know what the Tandava is?” HG Bittaker asked me, his gray eyes flashing with excitement for the first time that night. I shook my head, but I leaned close, interested.

“The Hindus believe that we exist in an eternal multiverse where countless universes are constantly being created and destroyed. The multiverse exists as the body of Vishnu the Maintainer, which stretches out forever outside of time. His maintenance is really just the ultimate reality from which all universes constantly spring. They say that the individual creator god for each universe arises out of Vishnu’s navel. The creator is only a finite god with limited power, a being who they call Brahma. Brahma eventually ages and dies, just like the universe itself. For, you see, Brahma the Creator is by far the weakest of the three. The eternal presence of the multiverse and the omnipresent power of death and destruction are much more powerful.

“When a universe has grown ancient, when it has started to turn gray and fade towards death, one far more powerful than the creator appears: Shiva the Destroyer. At that point, he begins his final dance for that universe- the Tandava, it is called.

“After Shiva starts to dance the Tandava, it cannot be stopped until everything in the universe is destroyed. He dances faster and faster until all the remaining matter and energy is annihilated, released back into consciousness. He does this not out of hatred or spite, you understand, but out of love for all beings. In the destruction of the universe, enlightenment shines through, and the pure consciousness released can be used to start the process of creation again.

“So you asked about what inspired this particular piece. Well, in one recurring nightmare I had, I saw this man, this pale victim of some death camp, I guess. His eyes had been cut out. His still body lay on top of a mass grave of rotting bodies with maggots writhing in his skin and hair. He showed clear signs of torture before the merciful release of death took him away.

“The many arms of the hundreds of other victims lying beneath him started to slither up like snakes, as if the dead were slowly coming back to life. It was like they were trying to reach upwards, trying to reach towards freedom from the rotting pit of horrors they found themselves in. The man on top, the one you see in this painting here, lifted his head and looked straight at me. His blue lips twitched and he abruptly inhaled again, but it sounded like his throat was filled with blood and dirt. Finally, he opened his mouth and, with a gurgling wail that seemed to come straight from Hell itself, he spoke.

“‘Everything is growing old and sick here,’ he hissed at me. ‘The dance will begin again soon.’

“And then the sky went black and a burning cold descended on the world. A freezing wind blew. I looked up into the sky and felt something dreadful and powerful hidden within those swirling currents of darkness. Through the black mist, I could see the barest silhouette of something massive, something whose entire body stretched across the sky- and I saw it was dancing.”

***

After the art show, I had gone home and thought deeply about the words the tortured artist had said. His gray, lifeless eyes kept flashing through my mind. That night, I drank myself into a black-out, until the merciful release of sleep took away the cycle of thoughts that seemed to repeat in my mind like a skipping record.

It was three days later, after I had gotten home from work late, that I saw the news. I remember walking into my house and turning on the flat-screen TV as I poured myself a full glass of whiskey. Within minutes, I had chugged the entire thing. I knew that I drank too much, that I couldn’t stop, and that, eventually, my addiction would probably kill me. I figured that, in the end, I would follow millions of other alcoholics off that dark cliff of fatal addiction into eternity.

“BREAKING NEWS” suddenly flashed across the screen as a TV reporter stood in front of an expensive apartment building under a dark, cloudless sky. It was a ritzy, expensive part of town near the art gallery. Police cars filled the street behind her as she smoothed a long lock of hair behind her ear. She blinked fast at the camera, seeming to finally realize she was live.

“I’m here with Channel Five News in front of the Angel Trace Apartment building where police are investigating multiple bodies found inside one of the residences. We have heard reports from police that the body of the locally renowned artist HG Bittaker was also recovered at the crime scene. Police refuse to say what connection, if any, Mr. Bittaker may have had with…” I rose from my chair, frantically shutting off the TV. The strange conversation I had with the artist a few days ago flashed through my mind over and over. But now, the conversation seemed more sinister.

Later that night, I went over to the computer and started doing some research. On various internet forums, I found strange things floating around. Those investigating the case said the victims were found chained inside HG Bittaker’s apartment and that the police believed he had died from suicide. A lot of this was still speculation and rumor.

While much of it was unconfirmed at first, within a couple days, it would all be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.

As I would find out over time, the bodies of eight women were laid around HG Bittaker in a shape like a lotus petal. They showed signs of extensive, prolonged torture before their inevitable deaths from strangulation. Like the painting I had seen in the gallery, these victims had their eyes cut out from their sockets. They had their arms and legs burned or doused in some corrosive acid, and strange occult symbols had been carved into the chests and stomachs of their naked, mutilated bodies. They had suffered greatly before the merciful release of oblivion.

In the center of the circle of death, the police had found the body of HG Bittaker himself. He had burned himself alive while sitting in the full-lotus position. The neighbors had noticed the choking clouds of black smoke that reeked of searing meat and gasoline. They kicked the door down only to find a den of horrors waiting beyond.

HG Bittaker had still been alive at that point, they said, and he had shown no signs of pain at all as he sat there, burning. Fat sizzled off his body in drops as his skin blackened and cooked. The neighbors extinguished the fire before it could spread, but by then, HG Bittaker was dead.

Apparently, HG Bittaker had his own personal library with countless leather-bound tomes on the occult and practices of human sacrifice. Books about the Thuggees and ancient devotional practices to both Kali and Shiva were also found scattered all over the apartment.

After hearing this, I did some research about the Thuggees, a group of cultists in India who were estimated to have murdered up to two million people and where the word “thug” came from. They were cultists who would waylay travelers on the road, strangling them or breaking their necks with special nooses or silk handkerchiefs.

The Thuggees were devoted followers of the goddess of death and destruction, Kali. They believed they were saving the world by murdering innocent travelers in cold blood, for they offered these victims to the goddess Kali. They hoped their sacrifices would keep Kali satiated, so that she would not descend and destroy the entire world in a dancing inferno of death and destruction.

As I sat in front of the computer with a glass of scotch in my hand, my head started to feel like it was spinning from all the strangeness of the case. It seemed like I had many breadcrumbs here that must connect in some way, but for the life of me, I could not figure out how. Before the night was over, however, I would understand everything.

I glanced behind me at the painting I had bought from HG Bittaker after the artshow, the one showing the emaciated death camp victim dancing the cosmic Tandava. The eyeless sockets of that pale face seemed to stare directly into my soul. I shuddered, turning away and back to my empty glass.

***

I ended up refilling my glass to the brim with some expensive scotch while I did my research. I leaned back in the computer chair with a long sigh before sipping the burning liquid that loosened the knots of anxiety and dread in my heart. As I sat alone in that dark room, only the glare of the monitor sent the skittering shadows away. Behind me, the painting continuously stared at me from the wall, grinning like a skull.

I must have passed out at some point. The anesthetizing fog of the alcohol descended slowly over my mind. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I certainly remember waking up.

The room was totally dark now, the monitor having shut off. I blinked slowly, my head feeling hazy. The room seemed to spin around me. I couldn’t see the spinning, but I could feel it thrumming through my whole body. My stomach was churning. My throat felt dry, as if I had been sipping hydrochloric acid. But why had I woken up suddenly? I didn’t know. I felt confused, and everything seemed slow. I was still drunk, I knew, though some of the fog seemed to have cleared as I slept.

I heard a floorboard groan behind me. There was a sudden ragged inhalation of breath, a slow, pained gurgling, as if someone were choking on their own blood. The diseased inhalation and exhalation rang out through the silence. I heard a skittering of light footsteps and the slamming of a door.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cigarette lighter, pulling it out and flicking it. I stumbled out of the chair, holding the small, flickering light in front of me like a shield. It barely drove the shadows back. They seemed to press in all around me like the spikes of an iron maiden.

I got to the light and tried flicking it, but the power had gone off for some reason. Sweating and nervous, I stopped and listened. I heard the stairs creak. Off in the distance, that gurgling breathing continued. I swore under my breath. It must be a robber, I thought. Someone probably broke in while I passed out and cut the circuit breaker. I looked around the room for a weapon, when I noticed something truly bizarre.

My lighter flicked over the painting I kept hanging on the wall, the one called, “The Damned Spirits Dance the Tandava”. It looked different, and I immediately realized why.

The skulls piled on the black earth at the bottom of the painting still gleamed in the dim glare of the lighter’s flame, but the dancing, eyeless man in the painting had disappeared. The stars glimmered in the endless void in the background with their cold white light.

It had to be a joke, I thought to myself. But why would someone go to this length? I lived alone and had few friends. Certainly no one would break in and swap a painting as some kind of prank. I spotted a metal letter opener over on the desk. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had up here. I grabbed it and left the room, heading downstairs. I no longer heard any movement or breathing down there, but I felt some sort of presence, as if the shadows themselves had eyes that were watching me.

***

I felt as if I were in some sort of nightmare as I descended the stairs. The wood groaned softly under my weight. My heart pounded as I moved forward. As I reached the bottom step, that diseased gurgling rang out nearby. I spun, seeing the naked, emaciated body with the four arms standing at the window in the dark kitchen, staring blindly out into the world with his black sockets of eyes. The strange man turned to face me. His face split into a grin, revealing the brown, rotted teeth hidden beneath and the maggots squirming in his putrefying tongue and gums.

“What do you want?” I whispered, terrified. “Who are you?” The grin seemed to widen further, the decaying flesh splitting along the seams of his lips. Dark, clotted blood dripped down from the torn flaps of skin on his cheeks.

“Do you not recognize me, John?” the thing spoke in a voice that writhed with sickness and death. But, at the same time, I recognized it. It was the voice of HG Bittaker, the dead artist and serial killer. “I mixed my own blood and the blood of those holy ones who gave their lives to me with the paintings. Even strands of their hair are in there, dried between the layers of paint. Strands of their hair- and mine. Our essences have mixed, the killer and killed, the strong and weak, the perpetrator and the victim, and the deathless self shines through all of it. Now I have gone beyond death.”

The pale man stepped towards me, his mutilated legs cracking as the stiff limbs twisted and jerked, as if fighting the effects of rigor mortis.

“I’m dreaming,” I said, backpedaling away as he advanced on me. “This can’t be real. You’re dead! You burned yourself alive! It was all over the news, goddamn it!” With inhuman speed, the mutilated man oozed towards me, grabbing me by the head with his cold, dead hands. The skin felt loose, almost falling off the bone, and the smell of rot and putrefaction emanated from the body in thick clouds.

“I have made a friend of death,” he hissed through his blackened teeth as maggots dripped from his blue lips. “You, too, will find peace in death.” He lunged forward suddenly. I felt his sharp splinters of broken teeth sink into my neck. A scream ripped its way out of my throat as I thrashed and kicked. Through the haze of pain, I abruptly remembered the letter opener in my hand.

I brought it up into the body of the naked, rotting corpse, slicing deeply across his stomach. The thin skin burst open with a waterfall of clotted blood running out like sludge. The brown intestines of the corpse inside spilled out, writhing with hundreds of larvae like pale worms that feasted on the dead flesh.

The pale man gave a hissing scream. Black blood burst from his mouth, covering my face in its sickly spatters. My hands grew slick as my blood mixed with the fetid fluids dripping from the animated corpse. He pulled away with a banshee wail. I collapsed to the floor, holding my spurting neck with both hands as I slowly crawled away.

I heard a window shatter behind me. Looking back, I saw the kitchen empty. The pale man had apparently jumped through the front window, leaving pieces of his decaying flesh hanging from the jagged shards of glass.

With the last of my strength, I slowly made my way toward the front door. Feeling weak and sick, stumbling as blood poured from my neck, I made my way to the neighbor’s house. I pounded on their door, collapsing on the mat as they opened it.

***

When I got home from the hospital, I went upstairs to look at the painting. A deep sense of curiosity mixed with an overwhelming dread as I opened the door.

I saw the pile of skulls, the stars like fragments of opal, but the pale victim at the center of the painting was gone forever.

Hi, there was a creepypasta narrated by TheDarkSomnium or Mr. Creeps and I can't find the name. It was something about people continually looking at the stars and slowly going insane, than they'd walk into the woods and not come back. If I remember correctly. I also recall a phrase being repeated - "Have you seen the stars out tonight? They're so beautiful." or something in that sense. Please tell me it exists and I'm not going crazy.

We had been driving for over two hours when the nightmare began. The anomalous behavior that would affect the area started as abruptly as a lightning strike. I felt strange and dissociated. Goosebumps rose all over arms as a smell like ozone filled the air, filtering through the air vents in thick, invisible clouds.  

“I am so excited to see this!” my girlfriend Alice cried happily in the passenger seat. “Do you know I have never seen a full solar eclipse before?” I glanced over, feeling nervous. Yet Alice didn’t seem affected in the slightest. I wiped my forehead, clearing the trickles of sweat that had begun forming there.

“Do you smell that?” I asked, changing the mood abruptly. Alice glanced over at me, the smile falling off her face in a space of a moment. She shook her head.

“No, smell what?” she said. I gave her a look of disbelief. The smell of ozone was so thick that I could almost taste it at the back of my throat. I repressed an urge to gag. I rolled down the windows. The breeze cleared out some of the smell, but I still caught hints of it even on the fresh currents of air that streamed through the car.

All around us, the slit wrists of the sky shone a cyanotic blue, covering the earth like a suffocating blanket. Mountain ranges loomed overhead, their sharp peaks hidden under fresh virgin snow. We planned to hike to the top of the highest peak before the solar eclipse began.

“This whole place is so… empty,” Alice said, brushing a lock of blonde hair the color of platinum over her ear. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a house.” She took out her phone. She flicked on the screen before heaving a deep sigh. “And we get absolutely no service all the way out here. You better not get injured! We won’t be able to call for help.” I laughed nervously, wondering if she had just jinxed us.

“You’re the one who’s accident-prone,” I said, starting to relax slightly. The last trace of the foul ozone smell had dissipated by now. The clean mountain air and majestic landscapes rising all around us made the place seem like some kind of wonderland, far removed from the small sufferings and agonies of daily life.

***

After another twenty minutes of driving, surrounded on all sides by dark forests filled with evergreens and shadows, we saw a faded, brown sign reading: “TO MOUNT BLOODSTONE. 5 MILES.”

“Finally!” Alice cried triumphantly, her whole expression changing into one of excitement. “I’ve never been here before, but Kaitlyn told me this place has the best view in the county!” As the mountain loomed in front of us like a crouching giant, I could see why.

It towered over all the surrounding mountains, its sharp, white peak stabbing upwards into the blue sky like a spire. Steep cliffs of light brown stone surrounded it on all sides. Untouched forests of maple, oak and pine grew thick and vibrant on Mount Bloodstone’s rocky soil.

“We still have four hours until the eclipse starts,” Alice said, looking down at her cell phone. The pavement suddenly ended, and the road turned into a snaking path of treadmarks and loose stones. My SUV handled it easily, but it was slow going. A few minutes later, we broke out through the forests and thick brush that carpeted the land. On the driver’s side stood a cliff of jutting rectangular stones and a drop of hundreds of feet to a field of massive stones far below us if I accidentally veered off the narrow road. On the passenger’s side, there were just smooth, vertical walls of hard granite.

“The parking area is supposed to be up ahead just a few miles,” Alice said excitedly. I felt sickening waves of dread passing through my stomach as I glanced out the window at the steep drop waiting only inches away on my side of the car. I wasn’t exactly terrified of heights, and I had no problem going on planes or roller coasters, but situations like this always sent butterflies fluttering through my chest and caused my feet to tingle with anxiety. It was the idea of unsecured heights, the realization that an accidental jerk of the wheel or a tire blowing out at the exact wrong moment could send us careening over the edge.

“You’re not nervous right now?” I asked. Alice only laughed.

“Nope. I trust you, Brian,” she said, putting a warm hand on my shoulder. Her soft skin reminded me of suede, unmarked and unlined. I still couldn’t believe that such a beautiful girl wanted to be with me. We had been together for three months, and it had been one of the happiest periods I could remember.

I looked over at her with love, taking my eyes off the road for a moment. Suddenly, it felt like all of the tires exploded at once, and the car began swerving wildly out of control, the steering wheel spinning wildly in my hands with a pull like a falling stone.

***

 “Fuck!” I cried. Alice screamed next to me, her voice filled with mortal terror.

The SUV nearly swerved off the edge of the cliff when the metal rims caught on something and veered hard in the opposite direction. The vehicle swung hard into the rock wall on Alice’s side. There was the tortured shredding of metal, the explosion of glass. Screams filled the car, but I didn’t realize until later that they had come from my own mouth.

My head flew forward, smashing hard into the steering wheel. I immediately tasted salty blood as I bit my tongue hard. My vision went white and pain like lightning ripped its way through my forehead. Time seemed to spiral away into something strange and alien. Stunned, I sat there, not knowing what had happened. 

“Brian!” Alice’s voice rang out from next to me, sounding muted and far away. I felt someone shaking my arm gently. “Brian! Can you hear me?” I blinked fast, my vision starting to return to normal. My head felt like it was being pressed in a vice. A splitting migraine ripped its way through my skull. I groaned, raising my hands to my forehead. I tried pushing on the sides of my head, as if I could keep it from splitting apart from simple willpower alone. After a few moments, the pain subsided slightly. I inhaled deeply and spit blood on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how true that was. I pulled my fingers away from my forehead, seeing they were slick with blood. I glanced over at Alice, but other than a small cut across her cheek, she seemed totally unhurt. “What the fuck just happened?” She shook her head, uncertainty crossing her eyes.

“We had an accident,” she said, glancing down at her cell phone. She tried calling 911, putting it up to her ear. She gave me a grim look and shook her head. “There’s no cell phone towers anywhere around here. We’re going to have to walk to find help, or at least until we can find somewhere with cell phone reception.”

“An accident? With what?! The goddamned air?” A rush of adrenaline pushed the pain away temporarily. I flung the door open, stumbling out of the SUV. I looked back on the dirt road that spiraled around its way around the mountain and out of view, seeing the glint of steel. Confused, I started over in that direction.

“Wait!” Alice yelled, quickly jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting to catch up with me. “You don’t look very steady on your feet yet. Maybe you should sit down…”

“Look at this fucking shit!” I cried, pointing to what lay stretched across the road, dug slightly into the dirt. Alice’s eyes widened in understanding as she saw it too.

Someone had set up a spike strip. The gleaming spikes of metal reaching up like claws still had pieces of my shredded tires caught on their sharp points.

***

“Someone’s out to get us,” I whispered nervously, glancing both ways down the dirt road. I had no idea what to do now. We were out in the absolute middle of nowhere. I didn’t even know which direction to go, unless I wanted to try hiking back dozens of miles to the last gas station we had seen. The SUV was blocking the narrow road. 

Further down, I saw a small dirt turnaround jutting off to the side. I drove the vehicle on its rims and pulled over, locking the doors. I grabbed my backpack and filled it with my water bottle, buck knife and the small amount of food we had in the car, mostly trail mix and candy. It wouldn’t last long, I knew, and the water would run out even sooner if we didn’t find a river or stream. I grabbed my Swiss army knife and lighter and put them in my pocket, just in case of emergencies.

“Which way?” Alice asked. It was a good question. This road didn’t just lead to the trail that wound its way to the top of Mount Bloodstone, after all, but also continued down the other side and potentially to civilization. I had no map, so I just shrugged and motioned forward.

“I think we should keep moving in the same direction,” I said. “The last gas station was at least twenty miles back that way. For all we know, there could be a house or another gas station much closer if we just keep going straight.” It was weak logic, and I knew I was grasping at straws, but at that moment, straws were all we had.

Alice grabbed her backpack and, side by side, we started hiking up the winding road that ascended the steep slopes of Mount Bloodstone.

***

We had been walking for nearly an hour when I noticed a strange smell wafting on the breeze. It was an overwhelming smell of ozone, thick and cloying, just like I had noticed earlier. I nearly gagged, bending over.

“Oh God, what is that?” I asked. “It’s like a chemical factory is nearby or something.” Alice just shook her head.

From the nearby forest, a cacophony of branches snapping and trees falling started reverberating all around us. When I first heard it, it sounded distant. I looked at Alice at first, wondering if it was some sort of avalanche or earthquake on another nearby mountain.

“Is that an avalanche?” I yelled as the sound rapidly increased into deafening echoes of smashing and breaking, heading in our direction. A predatory cry rang through the mountains, full of power and energy, reminding me of the roaring of some ancient Tyrannosaurus rex. It shook the ground and mixed with the noise of destruction that came at us like a tidal wave. Alice and I started sprinting blindly up the road. She tried to say something, but I couldn’t hear her over the ringing in my ears.

Whatever was causing the racket veered away from us and deeper into the woods, angling itself straight up the side of the mountain. I glanced back, seeing trees fall and branches crash. In the middle of this path of destruction, I caught a glimpse of something massive and alien. It slithered forward like a snake, hundreds of feet long. Its body was covered in soft layers of blood-red feathers that rippled gently in the breeze. A deep turquoise line of feathers ran straight down the center of its spine. 

From the top of its body, two enormous wings jutted out like the wings of some enormous dragon. They had soft, pink blood vessels spiderwebbing throughout the pale gray flesh. The wings beat at the air, and the enormous feathered snake slowly flew up, its sharp, spiked tail ripping more trees out of the ground as it slammed from side to side. Within a few seconds, it gained speed, flying up and over an enormous stone cliff and out of view.

***

The world seemed to go silent as the beast disappeared, the echoes of its destruction rapidly fading off into the valleys below. Alice had gotten far ahead of me. I sprinted up to her. She turned to me, covered in sweat, her skin looking chalk-white from terror.

“Did you see it?” I asked breathlessly. She gave me a strange look.

“See what?” she said. “When the avalanche started, I ran. I didn’t see anything.” I stared at her, mouth agape.

“You didn’t look back a minute ago? There was some massive animal causing all those trees to fall. That wasn’t any avalanche,” I said. “It sounds absolutely batshit insane, but it looked like an enormous feathered serpent.”

“That’s ridiculous, Brian,” she said condescendingly. “Are you sure you’re not still suffering from hitting your head during the accident? Sometimes that kind of stuff can cause weird side effects.”

“What, are you saying I’m tripping out? I’m telling you, I saw it as certainly as I see you here in front of me right now. It was moving away from us, and I didn’t see its face, but I saw its body. It must have been two or three hundred feet long,” I said grimly, trying to convince her. Alice only sighed and glanced forward.

“We should keep going,” she said. “We’re going to want to get out of here before nightfall. It gets cold up in the mountains in April.”

“I’ve got my lighter,” I said. “I’ll start a fire if we need to. I’m not worried about that. I am worried about who the hell spiked my tires and why there’s a giant snake slithering around the mountains, though!” 

But deep down, I knew Alice was right. Regardless of whatever weird shit was going on around us, we needed to keep moving. I didn’t want to be here after dusk, either, but not because I was worried about the cold or about running out of food and water.

***

“The solar eclipse is only a couple hours away,” Alice said, glancing down at her phone.

“I really don’t care,” I said glumly. I pulled out my water from the pack and took a long swallow. I held it up to the Sun and realized with growing anxiety that my water was already mostly gone. 

“Why do you think someone would put spike strips on this road?” I asked. The thought had been bouncing around my head, growing louder and more insistent. I kept coming back to the same answer: to ambush, kidnap or possibly murder them. The dark woods began to feel more sinister, the shadows deeper and darker. I kept my head on a swivel, looking constantly for any signs that we were being followed.

“It’s probably just kids or teenagers screwing around,” Alice said, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I mean, who else would do something so dangerous and stupid?”

“Someone who wants to rob or kidnap someone, or maybe a serial killer looking for victims,” I responded, feeling sick. I had taken my buck knife out of my backpack and now held it tightly in my hand, my knuckles white. I felt better just holding it, even though I knew it would likely do no good against someone with a gun, and that it would do absolutely nothing against that enormous snake if it came back.

I looked into the woods stretching up the side of the mountain. Behind a nearby cluster of bushes, a pale face peeked out, something that looked mostly, but not entirely, human.

It had bone-white skin and slitted pupils in its glowing yellow eyes. Its hairless face split into a grin. Two obsidian fangs swiveled out like the teeth of a rattlesnake.

I stopped in my tracks, stuttering and pointing. Alice glanced over at me. She followed my finger and froze like a deer in the headlights.

The creature hissed as it crashed through the bushes, its jaw unhinging and jutting forward like a snake’s. Its black fangs looked as sharp as needles. Its hiss grew into a gurgle. In the trees behind it, I saw more movement, more pale faces rising up, their slitted pupils radiating hunger and bloodlust.

“Run!” I screamed, tearing off up the road without looking back to see if Alice would follow. On my left stood a drop of what must have been a thousand feet down to a babbling river far below. The only possible escape was forward.

I was already exhausted from my long hike, but I pushed myself forward with every ounce of my will until my head pounded and my vision turned white. I felt ready to collapse.

I heard rustling from a thick cluster of brush up ahead. I tried moving past it as fast as I could. I saw a pointed, reptilian head emerge from the leaves, the bone-white skin cracking as its lipless mouth split into a wide grin. Its fangs swiveled out, surrounded by dozens of smaller black teeth shaped like needles.

It leapt at me, its scaled white body soaring through the air. I felt its sharp talons of fingers rip into my chest as it knocked me down to the ground. Kicking and swearing, I tried to bring the buck knife up into the thing’s chest, but it grabbed my head and slammed it hard into the dirt road. My temple smashed into a rock with a cracking of bone. My ears rang as the world exploded into blackness. Everything spun around me- and then I was falling into eternal nothingness.

***

I woke suddenly, the migraine in my head now so bad that it felt like torrents of lava were burning their way through my skull. I groaned, blinking quickly. The sunlight streaming down from the sky made me feel weak and nauseous. I turned, retching, but my stomach had nothing but water in it. I ended up vomiting up water with pink streaks of what looked like blood in it. I raised my head, looking around.

“Welcome to Hell, buddy,” a middle-aged man with a face like a bulldog said from a few feet to my right. I glanced over at him, seeing he was tied down with coils of rope to a rough-hewn wooden bench. I realized I was situated the same way. My hands and feet were tightly tied together. I tried wriggling them free with no success. Dozens more people were situated in a line stretching off into the distance, each of them tied down to their own primitive table of rough planks.

I looked to my left, expecting to see Alice, but she wasn’t there. It was an elderly woman with an enormous purple bruise over her left temple. Her dark eyes fluttered as she stared at me with horror. More people were tied down on that side, too, all of them moving their heads and looking around with dead eyes and expressions of horror.

“They got you too, huh?” the old woman asked in a weak, strained voice. Her eyes looked faraway, as if she were already on the other side of the veil and no longer existed in her physical body.

“Where are we?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in the town of Nocturn,” the man on my right said, his fat face quivering with fear. “From what I’ve gathered while I’ve been held prisoner here, those creatures worship the snake god, who only comes out during the solar eclipse. Apparently they feed him, and in exchange, he lets them drink his blood, which makes them immortal.”

“They’re not creatures,” the old woman said. “Those are people.” I looked at her askance. If the situation weren’t so grave, I might have even laughed.

“Those are people?” I said sarcastically. “With the slitted eyes and the forked tongues and the fangs that come out like a rattlesnake’s? I’m not sure our definition of ‘people’ is the same thing.” The woman just shook her head.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “When they drink the blood of the serpent, they change. They started just like you and me. They’re cultists.” I raised my head and looked around, realizing that we were situated in what looked like an abandoned town cut into the forest near the peak of Mount Bloodstone.

In the center, there was a church whose walls had so many holes that they reminded me of Swiss cheese. The exterior may have once been white, but it had turned gray with age. Vines and patches of dark mold grew over its wooden walls.

Houses two and three stories tall were scattered randomly around us. Trees were growing through the walls of many, their branches and roots intertwining with the collapsing structures. All the glass of the windows had long ago been smashed and turned to dust. Many of the roofs had collapsed inwards. Bird nests and streaks of dirt covered the outside.

Next to the dilapidated structures sat what looked like hundreds of cars. Some were apparently brand new, and others were so rusted and ancient that I couldn’t even tell what make or model they were. They all had ripped open tires.

“Nocturn, huh?” I asked. “Do these people actually live here? It looks like this entire town is about to fall into the earth.” I tried to think, to formulate some sort of plan. I had no idea how I could possibly escape this apparently hopeless situation. Then I felt a lump in my pocket, suddenly remembering the Swiss army knife I had put in there. I struggled with the rope, moving my hands as close as I could. After a lot of effort, I managed to pull the Swiss army knife free.

The sky had begun to go dark. With horror, I looked up, realizing the solar eclipse had begun. The Moon slowly ate the Sun, and the feathered serpent would soon be here to drink our blood in celebration.

Dozens of the transformed snake people filtered out of the collapsing houses, the church and the surrounding forest as the eclipse rapidly progressed. They moved towards us in a circle. Among the crowd of monsters, I saw a few regular people with glassy eyes and the blank expressions of true believers. One of them was Alice.

She held the hand of one of the abominations, its sharp talons wrapped in her soft fingers. When she saw me looking in her direction, she grinned. The superficial charm and charisma was gone now, revealing the cold psychopathic determination underneath.

“My father,” she said by way of explanation, looking at the abomination with clear love and adoration. “He always said I would join the holy ones, that I would be able to drink the blood of Kulkulkan. I only needed to bring my own sacrifice for the god. So thank you, Brian. Your death will allow me to rise into immortality, into eternity, into the endless procession of eclipses and feedings that will follow.” 

I was too stunned to speak. My teeth chattered in terror. But I didn’t get to think about it long, for at that moment, the trees in the nearby forest started falling with a crash. An overwhelming smell of ozone filled the air, marking the coming of the strange beast. 

I heard an ancient, predatory roar that ripped its way through the mountains like thunder, and then the feathered serpent’s body appeared through a patch of trees. Its blood-red feathers shimmered in the mountain breeze as its wings beat the air. 

***

I quickly ran my small Swiss army knife over the rope, trying to cut my hands free, but the rope was thick and the knife dull. It was slow going, and under the stress of the moment and the wailing of Kulkulkan, it became hard to think.

As the eclipse neared its climax, the transformed snake creatures raised their heads to the sky. Their hissing grew louder as many voices mixed together, until it rose into a wailing scream. As if called by the keening of his many followers, Kulkulan broke through the edge of the forest.

He had eyes like pools of liquid flame in his enormous, monstrous face. Two nose holes like those of a snake were situated in the center of his face. His jaw unhinged, showing off hundreds of razor-sharp teeth that glittered like opal. Inside that gaping mouth, in the place of a tongue, I saw a hairless, screaming human face with black sockets for eyes. The visage hidden inside the mouth of Kulkulkan radiated pure insanity and agony, and I wondered if this was the true face of the serpent god, the face that had lived through countless eons and seen millions of eclipses.

The feathered serpent lunged at the nearest of the more than forty bound people tied to wooden planks in the shape of crude sacrificial tables. He gnashed his shimmering, opalescent fangs together with a crack like a gunshot. Then he carefully closed his enormous mouth over the first of the sacrifices, a young woman who screamed in terror as the teeth closed in around her like a bear trap.

The blood exploded from her body, covering the hairless, pale face inside the serpent’s mouth with splotches of blood. The face twisted in a silent scream, reminding me of some sort of monstrous, eyeless infant. Its toothless mouth opened, hungry and waiting. 

Kulkulkan drank with a disgusting sucking sound. As his teeth pierced her vital organs, he let the warm crimson fluid stream into his hungry mouth.

I had nearly gotten my hands free by this point. Panicked, I cut as fast as I could, accidentally slicing a deep gash into my right hand, but my adrenaline was so high I barely felt it. Finally, with a surge of hope so powerful it felt like my heart might explode, I felt the rope give way. I sat up and began cutting the rope tying my legs down as Kulkulkan moved closer, feasting on the next of the victims.

The snake abominations had slowly gathered around the long body of the serpent god. As their fangs protruded like switchblades, I saw them biting deeply into the god’s flesh and drinking the black ichor that leaked out from the many wounds. The Sun flickered overhead like a dying comet as the eclipse neared its peak.

The rope holding my legs gave way and I jumped up. An animal panic ripped its way through my chest as I looked back, wondering if Kulkulkan would see one of his tributes escaping and give chase. But the snake god was distracted by his feast of fresh blood. 

The eclipse had reached its zenith by this point, and the world had gone dark. The stars came out, twinkling like chips of white ice in the endless void. The wailing of the dying and the soon to die rang out like the cries of the damned from Hell.

I sprinted towards the forest. I was almost there when Alice stepped out from behind a tree, holding a large folding knife in her hand. Her eyes seemed as cold as empty space, as dark and lifeless as a black hole.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “The god must have his fill!” 

She ran at me with the knife raised high. Instinctively, I jammed the Swiss army knife out in front of me, stabbing her directly in the neck. She gave a cry like a strangled rabbit. With the last of her strength, she swung the wicked blade at my arm. With a burning agony, I felt it slice deeply through the skin and muscle. Warms rivers of blood flowed down my arm, leaving ruby drops behind me on the ground of the dark forest.

Alice collapsed to the ground, kicking and seizing. She grabbed at her throat, her eyes accusing and filled with a cold, furious hatred. I sprinted past her dying body. She choked on her own blood as it frothed and bubbled through the gaping hole in her throat. The cries of the dying and the predatory screaming of the serpent god followed me down the side of Mount Bloodstone as I ran in a panic, still shell-shocked and dissociated, my head still screaming with a burning migraine from the many injuries I had suffered this day.

***

I ended up finding the dirt road and following it back the way I had come. I hiked as far as I could that day until night fell. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and Mount Bloodstone as possible.

I had a fire in the forest that night, and I kept a constant watch. I thought I caught glimpses of pale faces with slitted pupils peeking around bushes, but whenever I looked, I saw nothing. Perhaps it was just my sleep-deprived, exhausted mind suffering from too much stress and trauma. Perhaps.

I ended up reaching a gas station the next day. I felt like a man dying of thirst in the desert reaching an oasis. With thanks, I looked up to the Sun and the sky, glad to see its light burning. 

At that moment, I hoped I would never see another solar eclipse again.

My daughter and I moved into the fourth-floor unit of the Angel Trace apartment complex a few months ago. The seven-story building jutted up into the smog-filled, dreary sky like a tumor. This town of Frost Hollow seemed like it constantly rained, and no matter how high I turned up the heat in the apartment, I always felt cold.

Surrounded by condemned factories and dead, leafless trees, the area around Angel Trace looked depressing enough to suck the life out of even the most optimistic person. The streets always stayed dreary and empty. My neighbors around the apartment complex would walk around, hunched over and glassy-eyed, looking as depressed and hopeless as an inmate heading to the gas chamber.

I would catch glimpses of something extremely thin and tall, a pale form barely visible in the blackness slinking its way through the dark room when I lay down to sleep, but whenever I looked over, I would find just an empty wall of mocking shadows waiting for me there. I started to wonder if perhaps I was hallucinating. I wondered if there was something in the walls of Angel Trace itself, some sort of black mold or toxic chemical that could cause me to see things that weren’t there.

Angela was home from school for Christmas break. Though our place was small and dingy, pressing in on me like a coffin, Angela didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Daddy, how long do you think we’re going to stay here?” Angela asked in the high-pitched voice of a curious seven-year-old. I grunted and shook my head, taken aback by the question. Angel was sitting at the pockmarked and scarred kitchen table, coloring a picture with markers. I glanced out the small kitchen window. The ancient, yellowed glass changed the world outside into a sickly, piss-colored hue. After heaving a deep sigh, I turned to Angela, meeting her glacier-blue eyes.

“Until I can get caught up,” I said weakly, shrugging. “I’m sorry, but this is all I can afford right now. Everything’s going to be hard for a while, for both of us, I think.” Angela blinked quickly, looking confused. She put a warm hand on my arm and leaned close to me.

“But I like it here, Daddy,” she said, giving me a wide smile, her large eyes sparkling with happiness. “I have my best friend here.” I gave her a double-take. I hadn’t seen any other kids her age in the building.

“Who? I haven’t met your friends yet,” I said. “Is it a kid who lives in the building with us?” She shook her head, rolling her eyes at how slow and dense her old dad was.

“Well, my best friend is called Mr. Slither. I see him in the mirrors all the time. He’s funny, Daddy. He’s really tall and has these black clothes on. His face is empty, because his eyes are on his hands! There’s nothing on his face but a big smile. Mr. Slither is always happy and smiling,” Angela murmured excitedly, pointing her small hand at the bathroom.

“What do you mean, his eyes are on his hands?” I asked. Angela raised her hands to me, her palms outwards.

“They’re right here,” she said, pointing to the exact center of each palm. “They’re really big, too, and they never blink. I don’t think Mr. Slither even has eyelids. Kinda weird, but I know Mr. Slither would never hurt me. He’s a gentle giant.” I laughed, relieved. I realized she was just talking about an imaginary friend.

“You have quite an imagination, kiddo,” I said, grinning at her as I ruffled her straight, black hair. “I used to have an imaginary friend when I was your age, too. His name was Blinko.” I thought back with nostalgia, remembering the clown I had imagined and spent hours playing with in those lonely years. Actually, looking back on it, it had a slightly creepy undertone, now that I thought about it. Perhaps having creepy imaginary friends just ran in the family.

“Mr. Slither isn’t imaginary!” Angela cried defensively, her pale eyes blazing with a childish sense of indignation. For a moment, though, she looked much older than seven. “He’s real! At night, he comes out of the mirror and plays with me sometimes.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, nodding. “OK, Angela, you’re right, Mr. Slither is real. Now go to bed. Santa’s coming tonight.” I looked down at my watch, seeing it was almost midnight. Christmas would be here soon.

***

After I read Angela a story from Grimm’s Fairy Tales and tucked her into bed, I was sitting in front of a twenty-four hour news channel, watching the same segments over and over told in slightly different ways. Insomnia had been my constant companion for years, ever since my wife, Angela’s mother, had been murdered in our old home. I had come home from mini-golfing with Angela to find a scene from a nightmare.

My wife’s body had been laying on the living room floor, slumped and leaning against the front door, as if with her last dying strength she had tried to drag herself outside for help. Her throat had been slashed from ear-to-ear, nearly severing her head from her body. The pool of blood that surrounded her like a mystical aura gave the air a smell of copper and iron, mixed with the reek of panicked sweat.

She had been stabbed dozens of times in her chest, neck and stomach. I remember Angela’s wail as she saw what remained of her mother laying there like discarded trash on the floor. In my dreams, I still see my wife’s sightless eyes and hear that horrified, childish screaming.

And that’s why, I believe, I rarely sleep anymore. And when I do, I always see horrible things.

***

My eyes felt heavy and everything felt slow as I sat there on the recliner. The TV screen flickered with its incessant babble. When was the last time I had gotten a good night’s sleep? Maybe a couple weeks ago, but I couldn’t remember. My brain felt sluggish and faraway. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, my head drooped. Sleep started to take over like a blanket, covering my body in its warm embrace- though, deep down, I knew dark things swimming deep under the surface of my conscious mind waited for me there as well.

A sudden pounding on my door caused me to jump, a feeling like electricity running through my body as a rush of adrenaline made me fully alert. I raised my head, blinking fast. Someone started screaming, a woman’s voice, high-pitched and filled with terror. I couldn’t make out many words except for “Help” and “Get it away”. I ran over the small, dingy apartment to the door. Without hesitation, I flung it open. A young woman in her twenties with the look of a Gypsy stood there.

She had dark red lipstick slashed across her lips and eyes that looked painted-on and ancient, like those of a doll. Make-up blanketed her tanned face. Dark rivulets of mascara dribbled down her high cheekbones. She ran past me into the apartment, slamming the door shut before I could even react. I saw she was dressed in skin-tight leather and high heels, as if she were coming from a club- or perhaps working as an escort.

“Thank God you answered!” she cried, grabbing my shirt, her eyes frantic and haunted. A brief flash of recognition flashed through my mind. I had seen this woman before, had even talked to her briefly and introduced myself. I remembered her name was Crystal. Though the last time I had glimpsed her in front of the building, she had not been dressed like this.

“What is this?” I asked. “Why are you here?” She leaned forward, and I could smell alcohol on her breath.

“There’s someone in my apartment,” she whispered. “Or maybe I should say something, I don’t know. I got back from… work, and when I opened the door, it stood there in the darkness. It was dark, but I could tell it was huge, its head nearly scraping the ceiling. Its head jerked toward me, but it looked like it had no face! God, it was horrible.” I shook my head, disgusted.

“You smell like pure booze,” I said, frowning. “What are you, doing drugs? I don’t need this shit in here. I have a kid. You need to leave immediately.” She shook her head frantically.

“I swear to God, this was real! Go look! Please!” Crystal wailed. She grabbed me with her freshly-painted nails. They gleamed in the dim light, blood-red and glossy.

Suddenly, Angela was standing in our short hallway in her pajamas, looking half-asleep. Her eyes moved blearily from me to Crystal, and then back to me.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” she asked in a soft voice. “Who’s this?”

“OK, you need to leave, right now,” I said, pushing Crystal towards the door. I flung it open. I saw in wonder that the hallway outside had gone completely dark since Crystal had first run in my place. All of the lights had just winked out, as if the power had been cut. Only a few slivers of moonlight shining through the hallway windows offered any illumination at all.

There was a strange smell, too, an odor that hadn’t been there a minute earlier when I had let Crystal in. It reminded me of a combination of vomit and antifreeze, and it was overpowering. It emanated from the hallway, so thick that I could taste it at the back of my throat. Gagging, I stumbled away from the open door.

“Oh God, that’s the… thing,” Crystal whispered grimly next to me. “That’s the same smell I noticed when I opened my apartment door. It must be close.” Crystal backpedaled away from the threshold that looked in on us like a dilated pupil. She slammed into a wall, knocking a family photo to the floor where it shattered. I continued staring into the darkness, slowly backing away. Something seemed to move in the shadows, like currents of blackness swirling in the void.

I heard someone scream from out in the hallway, an old man’s quavering voice. There was a pounding of footsteps, then someone ran past my door. I caught a glimpse of a man in a white bathrobe with deep slices across his face and neck. Fat drops of blood collected and scattered over his thin frame as he hobbled forward, staining his bathrobe in spatters and blotches.

I heard a predatory shrieking from directly outside. An inhumanly long arm stretched out across the darkness, the pale skin shining like bones in the moonlight. With a cry of agony and terror, the old man got dragged back. The sharp, pointed fingers were embedded deeply in his skin like ticks, creating fresh streams of blood that spurted from the stab wounds.

With a rising sense of revulsion and horror, I slammed the door shut.

***

“What the fuck is that thing?” Crystal whispered as tears streamed down her face, smearing her make-up and mascara. Angela whimpered softly behind us. I ran over to her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug.

“It’s OK, baby,” I said in her ear. “We’re going to get you out of here. I promise.”

“No, Daddy, you don’t understand,” Angela said between sobs, “that’s Mr. Slither. I don’t know why he’s doing this, though. He told me was hungry, but I thought he meant food!” I pulled away from her quickly, holding her at arm’s length. Her small lips quivered with emotion. Tears pooled in her deep blue eyes. I just shook my head, unbelieving. I pulled out my cell phone, calling 911. It rang a couple times before someone picked up.

“We need help immediately,” I whispered frantically into the phone, a great sense of relief washing over me. Now, at least, it would be the authorities’ problem, not just mine. “Please, there’s something attacking people at…”

“Let me in,” a ragged voice hissed on the other end of the line. “Let me in or I’ll break in, and that will be very unpleasant for all of you, I can assure you.” The thing’s voice came across as gurgling and deep, as if some sort of acid had eaten away at his vocal cords. My trembling hand dropped the phone to the ground as the electricity in my apartment cut out, plunging us into blackness.

***

“Is it real?” I whispered in the silence. The dim light of the phone illuminated Angela’s face in a ghastly glow. She continued to cry and whimper, apologizing over and over. I stumbled over to her, holding her close.

“Baby, whatever’s happening, it’s not your fault,” I said, trying to reassure her. Her small body continued to tremble as I held her. Crystal came over to us, confused.

“What’s she talking about?” she asked. I shook my head.

“It’s nothing. It’s her imaginary friend, Mr. Slither. She thinks he’s come to life and is hunting people or something,” I said. Angela pulled away, anger coloring her pale cheeks red.

“He’s not imaginary!” she said, nearly shouting. I winced.

“OK, OK, I believe you, but please stop yelling,” I whispered, fear gripping my heart. “Whatever kind of animal or… whatever that is outside, we don’t want to draw its attention.” Crystal knelt down in front of Angela, her expression open and believing.

“Are you telling the truth, Angela?” Crystal asked. “Have you seen that thing before? Have you even talked to it?” Angela nodded, suddenly looking scared and recalcitrant. “OK, well, if you’ve talked to it, did it tell you what it wants?”

“It’s a ‘he’,” Angela whispered grimly, “not an ‘it’. His name’s Mr. Slither, and he likes to play. His favorite game, though, is hide-and-seek.” I picked up my phone, using the dim light from the screen to see my way. I looked back toward the door, realizing it now stood open. The shadows of the hallway danced and fluttered as I flicked my light in that direction.

On the threshold of the doorway, I saw fingers wrapped around the edge, spidery and as sharp as scalpels. The bone-white skin looked so smooth that it didn’t seem real, almost like the skin of a mannequin.

The hand jerked, twisting towards us. In the center of the palm, I saw an enormous eye. It was as dark as obsidian. It looked from me to Angela to Crystal and then, slowly, the arm drew back into the hallway and disappeared.

***

“Hide-and-seek,” I whispered, herding Angela and Crystal into the bedroom. I turned and locked the door, my heart beating a frantic, runaway rhythm in my chest. I felt like I might pass out from all the fear and stress. I leaned on the counter, breathing heavily.

“We’re only on the fourth floor,” Crystal observed. “It could be worse. If we’re playing hide-and-seek, then we probably just need to get outside, right? How hard could that be?” I gave her a look as if she was insane.

“DId you see how fast that thing was? How sharp those fingers looked? They were like knives. I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with that thing.” I looked over at Angela, a sense of wonder coming over me. She had been right, after all. She had described Mr. Slither as having eyes on his hands, and he had. “Angela, do you think you could talk to Mr. Slither, maybe calm him down and let us go?” She shook her head, terror ripping its way across her pale face.

“No, Daddy, he’s never been like this. He’s always been nice. He would play with me all night sometimes. He’s really good at Jenga, because his fingers are so long and narrow,” Angela said, shrugging. “I don’t know why he’s doing this. Maybe something’s imitating Mr. Slither, or gotten inside him.” I felt skeptical.

“Well, we can’t just stay in here all night,” I whispered grimly. “We have to go out.”

“Why?” Crystal said, almost petulantly. “Why can’t we stay in here all night? I’m not going out in that fucking hallway with that thing killing people. Are you totally nuts? Do you want to die?”

“No,” I said, “and that’s why we need to move. If he’s playing hide-and-seek, then he already knows where we are. It’s only a matter of time until he comes in here, and the game ends for us.” As if on cue, I heard a floorboard creaking outside in the apartment. Goosebumps rose all over my skin, as if a freezing wind had just blown in the room.

***

While I didn’t have any guns, I did have a bowie knife I had bought for hiking. It had a giant blade and a silver handle that unscrewed to reveal matches and a compass. I grabbed it, my knuckles turning white with tension as I held the knife in an iron grip.

The lock on the door started to turn, as if by itself. The door creaked open slowly. Crystal pulled out her phone, shining the light towards the threshold.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered. I started towards the door with stiff legs, having to force myself to take every step. Crystal and Angela were huddled close behind me as I shone the light into the apartment. To my relief, I saw nothing there.

“We’re going to make a run for the stairs and get the hell out of here,” I said. “Go!” Without waiting to see if they would follow, I took off across the apartment and out into the hallway, shining my cell phone in front of me to see.

The old man’s body was strewn across the floor. To my horror, I saw his jaw had been ripped off and his head twisted around one-hundred-eighty degrees. He had a grisly death mask of terror eternally frozen on his mutilated face.

The stairway was only thirty or forty feet away. I was ecstatic, having seen no sign of the abomination. I glanced behind me, seeing Angela and Crystal not far away. Everything was going perfectly.

As we got close, the stairway door flew open with a crack like a gunshot, slamming hard against the wall. Mr. Slither oozed over the threshold, dressed in a silky, black robe that fluttered around his inhumanly tall, emaciated body. Staggering, his joints twisting and cracking, he came forwards, one arm extended out as the eye in his palm gleamed like shadows.

***

All three of us turned to run. I sprinted past Crystal, pushing Angela forward as I went. We leapt over the body of the old man, blindly turning the corner. From behind me, I heard something heavy fall with a whooshing of breath. I glanced back, seeing Crystal had stumbled over the old man’s body. She started crawling forwards as Mr. Slither glided toward his next meal, his bone-white face grinning with pleasure and bloodlust.

“Don’t you dare leave me here, you fucking asshole!” Crystal shrieked at me as I sprinted away. Then the screaming started, echoing through the halls with incomprehensible pain.

We heard Crystal’s screams get cut off abruptly. They were followed by a sickening choking, gurgling sound. Shaking and terrified, I pushed Angela forward towards the emergency exit. We spiraled our way down the stairs without looking back. We had a head-start on Mr. Slither now, at least, though I didn’t know for how long.

The pounding of heavy footsteps closed in behind me. I heard Mr. Slither give a predatory shriek that gurgled like pneumonia. Angela and I had made it to the first-floor. I smashed through the door, the metal slamming hard against the wall. The exit was so close, just down the hallway. Angela was weeping, and I was praying. Another forty feet, and we would be out.

I felt the clawed hands close around my shoulder suddenly, pulling me back and off my feet. They stabbed deeply through the skin and muscle. Mr. Slither turned me to face his eyeless, abominable face. I raised the knife, stabbing it into the top of his head. Gray blood the color of granite exploded in a waterfall from the wound as the knife stuck there, vibrating. Mr. Slither didn’t react in the slightest.

The mouth split open, showing hundreds of fangs that grew like tumors from his blackened gums. Gnashing and biting the air, he drew me towards that mouth, and I knew I would die.

***

“Mr. Slither! Don’t take my Daddy!” Angela cried, running towards the abomination. “Take me instead! We can play together forever!” Mr. Slither’s fingers seemed to tighten around my shoulder, digging deeply into the flesh like venomous fangs. A cold, burning sensation shot through my body. I gasped as he dropped me. I fell to my knees, feeling his fingers still clawing my flesh, when he suddenly relaxed, releasing me in an instant. He turned towards Angela, putting his hand out in front of his body to watch her with a single black eye.

“You would want to spend eternity with me?” Mr. Slither gurgled in his infected voice. Angela nodded, hugging the black-robed figure. Mr. Slither put his hands on her back uncertainly, then started patting her gently. His pointed, alien skull split into a wide grin with a cracking sound.

“Angela, no!” I cried as blood poured down my chest. My clothes stuck to my skin as it soaked into my shirt in blotches. I tried to push myself up, but I felt weak and sick.

Crouched on the ground in the darkness, I could only watch in horror as they walked off down the hallway together, hand-in-hand. I would never see Angela again.

I’m still not sure if I slept that night. Every time I’d start to drift off, I’d hear something just outside the window. The only relief I felt was when I saw the sun start to peak over the horizon.

I decided to forgo shaving but I did take a quick shower and threw on some clean clothes. I couldn’t look AND sound crazy. I shot a text to Sgt. Manning and let him know I’d be going directly to Fulton County today. I didn’t wait for his approval, I just jumped in the car and started driving.

My phone let out several text notifications before it finally rang.

“Go ahead,” I said, sounding more irritated than I meant to.

“You’ve got a lead already?” Sgt. Manning asked.

“Sort of, it’s… it’s complicated,” I replied.

“Well good luck, holler if you need something.”

“10-4.”

As I approached the jail, a looming and massive building, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. As much as I wanted to solve this case, I still wanted to be as far away from it as possible. I pulled into the “On Duty Police Only” parking spot and looked at myself in the rearview. “Get it together Stone,” I said to myself, “get your shit together.” I took a deep breath and exited the car.

As I stood inside the administrative portion of the building, I looked around in wonder. I’d only ever seen docket so the admin side of the house was a whole new world. After a few moments of what must have looked like shock and pure confusion, I approached the “receptionist,” a grossly overweight deputy who looked to be “retired on duty.”

“Can I help you?” the Deputy asked in a thick drawl.

“Uh.. yeah. I’m Detective Stone from the PD, I was assigned your string of deaths,” I replied.

The deputy stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time before speaking. “Ok and?”

“I’d like to speak with Deputy Stevens, I understand he may have some information I’m missing.”

“Standby,” he drawled as he picked up the receiver of the desk phone. He sat for a moment rolling his eyes and nodding before speaking again, “Hey, yeah it’s me. I need Stevens down here. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? Just send him down, there’s a detective here for him.” He set the phone down and looked at me. “Have a seat, he’s finishing rounds in F block and then he’ll be down to see you.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before sitting down on the ugly leather couch across from the reception desk. I nervously picked at the cracked and aging leather for 10 or so minutes before a young looking deputy appeared from a side hallway. The name Stevens flashed on his metal nameplate

“You wanted to talk to me?” Stevens asked.

I quickly stood up and offered a handshake, “yes, I’m Detective Stone with PD, I’ve been assigned the murders.”

I felt Stevens’ hand grip mine tighter, whether on purpose or on accident I couldn’t tell. “Who said they were murders?”

Over his shoulder I saw the overweight deputy leaning forward eagerly. “Uh, is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

I followed Stevens through a maze of hallways and doors until we finally reached a small conference room deep within the jail, it reminded me of the breakout rooms on campus from when I was in college. I entered and sat down and watched as Stevens looked up and down the hallway before closing the door.

“This is the only room other than the bathrooms where there’s no camera,” he said as he slid into the seat across from me, “it’s set aside for nursing mothers but we don’t have any right now.” He then nervously ran his hand through his hair, “ok who told you these were murders?”

“Well it’s kind of assumed, but Nurse Dudley confirmed it for me last night,” I replied.

“You didn’t believe her did you?” He asked, I could hear defeat in his voice.

“Well no, not initially anyway.” Thoughts of the man in black flashed through my mind and I felt myself shudder involuntarily, “I had someone change my mind.”

“You saw him didn’t you?” Stevens asked excitedly.

“Who is him?” I replied, trying to be careful about revealing all my cards.

“Dimitri Vasilev, Inmate 1235. The other inmates call him Vlad.”

I scribbled down the name, number and nickname. “Why Vlad?” I asked.

“He’s from East Europe, thick accent, maybe Russian. He’s creepy as hell. Did he look sick? Or did he look like he’d been eating?”

“What are you even talking about?” I asked.

“Did. He. Look. Malnourished?” Stevens asked slowly.

“I mean, yeah kind of,” I replied.

“Son of a bitch!” Stevens yelled. He’ll be back in here any day now.

“Hey hey, calm down and tell me what’s going on with this guy!” I demanded.

Stevens took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled forcibly from pursed lips. “Vlad showed up looking minutes from death just before the first death. He got picked up on some bullshit shoplifting charge or something, something a normal person would post bail on before PD could even leave the parking lot, but not him. No, Vlad sat in a cell for 2 days watching us, studying us, well at least I think that’s what he was doing. I never saw him sleep. His food went untouched. The guy never even went to the bathroom. He just sat and watched us make our rounds. 3 days after he came in, we found the first one dead. And the weird thing is, Vlad started to look healthier. Then another went down and his cheeks started to look fuller. After the third one, Vlad looked like he was gaining weight, but again he wasn’t touching his food. Then the fourth one went down. I’m sure your case file says it looked like a struggle right?”

I nodded.

“I think he got careless,” Stevens shuddered, “stopped being as sneaky.”

“What happened after the fourth death?” I asked, my stomach in knots.

“Vlad bonded out immediately. Like within the hour of finding the body.”

“Ok…” I rubbed my temples, “and why do you think he was responsible?”

“Because the deaths stopped when he left. 2 weeks later he was back in on another bullshit charge looking sick and then the deaths started again. Same pattern even.”

“Hmm… and all these deaths were on in the same cell block?”

“The first three are, but the last one is always on a different block, hell it’s on a different floor.”

“Are you hearing anything from the other inmates? Aside from general gossip?” I asked.

“I’ve heard rumors of shadows that seem to phase through bars. Whispers that don’t have a source. None of it makes sense, he’d have to be a vampire or some shit to pull this off.” Stevens said with a sigh.

“Ok ok,” I mumbled, “how often are your rounds, every hour?”

Stevens nodded.

“And there’s no video of this?”

“Nope.”

I quickly stood and offered another handshake and a business card, “let me know when Vlad hits docket again.”

Once back in my car a million questions flooded my mind. Could this really be a vampire? Was the sickly looking man this “Vlad?” How could I even stop something like this? I looked at myself in the rearview again “Think, think.”

I then drove to a local coffee shop that I knew wouldn’t be busy. I sat as far from the door as I could and made sure my back was to the wall. I pulled out my laptop and started researching.

I know you’re wondering why I wouldn’t go back to the PD, well I couldn’t. Not while I was looking up vampire lore, they’d laugh me right out of CID.

After several hours of researching and several more pages of notes I closed my laptop and rubbed my eyes. It was close to 3:00 pm. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t dialed in 5 years, not since the shooting that took my partner’s life.

“Father Nick?” I asked shakily, “I need your help and I need it fast.”

“You know where to find me.” The voice on the other end of the phone replied.

20 minutes later I found myself staring up at the massive church I had called home for so many years, “Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church… Lord have mercy on me,” I whispered as I pulled the massive wooden door open and stepped inside.

“Looking to purchase infant between the ages of one to twelve months,” the first ad screamed in black-and-white letters on the Tor browser. “Will pay reasonable price.” Other strange and even sinister advertisements filled the page, some offering to buy or sell kidneys or other organs. A few offered human slaves. My friend Adrian laughed next to me as he sat in his computer chair, reading over my shoulder. 

“What’s a ‘reasonable price’ for a black market baby?” Adrian asked, pushing his large, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His dark, lanky hair was cut into a bowl cut, making him look even younger than his fourteen years. He was in my grade at school, my best friend who I had known for over two years, since he first moved into Frost Hollow from out West.

“You think any of this crap is even real?” I said, trying to repress an urge to smile. Adrian’s wheezing, almost feminine laugh almost made me crack up, even when the joke itself wasn’t funny.

“No!” he said. “Of course not! What kind of mother would sell her own damn baby, after all? I bet these are all scams. I bet nothing on the dark web is even real.” I shrugged.

“There are lots of mothers willing to abort their babies, so why not sell them, too?” I asked. “Hell, if you sell your baby on the black market, at least it’s still alive, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his smile wiped off his face. “I don’t know, man. If this crap is real, what would someone want with a baby? What if it’s a serial killer who likes to kill babies or something? What if they raise them to become hitmen, or use them as medical experiments? What if it’s a pharmaceutical company trying to get guinea pigs for human experimentation?” His eyes looked glazed as his mouth ran in a torrent of verbal diarrhea.

“Raise them to become hitmen?” I asked, now laughing for real. “There are easier ways to find a hitman, I think, than to raise them from scratch for eighteen or twenty years. There’s lots of people willing to kill for a quick buck right now, after all.”

“Like you, Michael?” Adrian said jokingly, his thin lips pressed together in a tight smile. I shook my head.

“That’s not funny,” I responded defensively. “I would never hurt a fly.” I looked back at the computer. We had both been curious ever since we heard about the dark web.

But things were about to get a lot more sinister in the next few minutes.

***

“Have you ever heard of a ‘red room’?” Adrian asked abruptly. I looked at him, confused.

“Isn’t that like a place where prostitutes work?” I said. He laughed.

“No, I think that’s called a red light or something,” he said, still grinning. “No, red rooms are much worse. They’re on the dark web, supposedly, anyway. They show actual torture and murder. Apparently people can watch, and if they spend money, they can even get the torturer to do whatever they tell them to do.” I gave Adrian a disgusted look.

“That’s super messed up,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way that’s real.”

“I don’t know, man. You ever seen ‘Three Guys One Hammer’? That’s all over the regular web, and that’s real,” Adrian said. “I think we should just check it out, see if it’s real. It would be a cool story, right? We could always just exit out quick if we found something messed up.” 

Adrian rolled his computer chair up, pushing me to the side as he began typing something in the Tor browser. I looked out the window of Adrian’s room, seeing the dark winter night outside. Gusts of ice and snow blew sideways in the screeching winds. All over his walls, Adrian had pictures of horror characters, posters of Cthulhu and Michael Myers. A grinning picture of Charlie Manson was taped over the side of his monitor, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Huh,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “Weird.” I looked over at the monitor, seeing a camera feed coming up. It showed a dark red room with a blood-stained steel table in the center. Two ancient, rusted folding chairs were set up haphazardly in the background.

“That was fast,” I said, looking close at the screen. “What is this? What did you find?” Adrian gave me a strange look. His thin face went pale.

“It was a link for a camera feed to the afterlife, supposedly,” Adrian responded, giving a short bark of fake laughter. And yet his face showed clear anxiety. I wondered why. “It said it’s a red room for Hell.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely bullshit,” I said, smirking as I glanced over at the monitor. The door in the back of the dark room on the screen suddenly opened. There was a strobing, fiery glow that turned the video feed blood-red for a few moments, as if an active volcano or a structure fire raged in the background. When it had cleared and the door had slammed closed, I saw two figures in the room, staged in the exact center of the screen.

A man with a black hood over his head lay on the blood-stained metal table, tied down with rusted razor-wire that wrapped around his body like a snake. The wire bit deeply into his skin. Wet rivulets of blood soaked his clothes, which looked like some sort of khaki prison uniform. 

In front of the camera stood something demonic, something eyeless and tall. It had a pointed, bone-white head. Only a wide slash of a mouth marred the smooth flesh. It wore a shimmering black robe that fluttered around its body as if in a light breeze. It raised its white hands, its sharp, twisted fingers clenching and unclenching. As it opened its hands, I saw eyes in the center of each of its palms, black and lidless. They rolled in their sockets.

“My name is Mr. Slither,” the abomination hissed. His throat gurgled as if he had gargled with hydrochloric acid. His voice was diseased and low, not much more than a sickly whisper emanating from the speakers. “I want to welcome you both to the show.”

***

Adrian pulled back as if he had been physically struck. I felt sick and weak, but I couldn’t look away. Mr. Slither’s skin cracked loudly as a grin split his smooth, alien face. He slunk back towards the table, navigating his way with his spiky fingers held out in front of his body, like a man walking through a room in total darkness. 

Mr. Slither knelt down and ripped off the victim’s black hood, revealing a pale, emaciated face brimming over with mortal terror. But the face looked familiar. With a growing sense of horror, I immediately realized why. 

On the flickering screen of the monitor, I saw the face of my father- a man who had died nearly five years ago when a drunk driver going the wrong way on the highway smashed into his truck, killing him instantly. The drunk driver had been fine, just a few deep gashes and cuts from broken glass, but now I was forever without my father. It felt like a piece of my heart had been sliced out and a black, empty void filled it.

Mr. Slither appeared behind my father, raising his hands, the black eyes on the palms rolling constantly. My father’s teeth chattered as he looked straight at the camera with a pleading expression. The horror and fear in his eyes shook me to the core. My vision became blurry, a single tear running down my cheek. I blinked fast, breathing hard and trying to focus on the screen.

“Michael, I know you can hear me,” my father said. My heart raced as I heard his voice, a voice I had only heard in my dreams for so long. I wondered if this was real at all. Perhaps I would wake up at any moment, surrounded by darkness, alone in my bedroom.

“What the fuck?” Adrian whispered close beside me, leaning towards the monitor and blinking fast. “Who’s that guy on the table? What even is this? I have no idea what we’re watching right now. But that’s some crazy mask that guy has on, holy shit.” I had only known Adrian for a couple years, so he had never met my father before his untimely death and, therefore, wouldn’t have recognized him.

“That’s… that’s my dad,” I whispered.

“Michael, please listen to me. You need to destroy the computer and get out of the house. Smash the monitor, burn the motherboard…” my father started to say when Mr. Slither’s cracking, elongated limbs wrapped around his face. His fingers like black railroad spikes drew across my father’s face slowly and caressingly, almost like a lover.

“Michael,” Mr. Slither gurgled in a deep voice brimming with infection. “You are able to see what others will not- the true nature of all things. You and your friend must watch this now, all the way to the end, because it will reveal to you what was hidden behind the veil.

“This is where everyone ends up after they die, you see- in our cold, concrete rooms, dissected alive on steel tables, burned, tortured, melted, boiled and frozen. They stay alive forever, for Yaldabaoth, the one you call God, despises humanity with every piece of his eternal soul. They heal eternally, drinking from the fountain of life as death crushes them over and over again, like ships flung on a rocky shore.” 

As if to demonstrate, Mr. Slither drew his sharp fingers back, slicing slowly and painfully through my father’s cheeks. The flaps of skin fell down with a bubbling of blood. My father screamed, an expression of total agony and mortal terror changing his face into a grimace. Mr. Slither laughed, raising his hands up above his head, the black eyes spinning as they stared straight at me and Adrian. My father tried to pull away, but the razor-wire bit deeper into his flesh, making fresh streams of blood drip from his mutilated body.

“Turn it off!” I screamed, lunging for the computer. I hit the power button on the front, holding it down and waiting. I watched the screen with bated breath, but Mr. Slither only laughed. “Fuck! Adrian, do something!” But Adrian only sat there like a sheep, his mouth open, his eyes glazed.

“This… this has to be a prank,” Adrian whispered, watching the screen with a horrified expression. Mr. Slither turned his attention back to my father. Mr. Slither’s twisted fingers came down, forcing my father’s lips apart. As my father gritted his teeth and tried to pull his head away, Mr. Slither reached his fingers in, prodding and pushing. There was a cracking sound and a blossoming splash of blood. My father gave a muted shriek as Mr. Slither pulled. 

“Worthy is the lamb!” Mr. Slither wailed as his bone-thin arms crackled. “Worthy indeed…”

With a cracking of bone and an explosion of blood, my father’s jaw came ripping off. The monitor strobed and wavered as waves of crackling static ran down the screen. With a screech like a tea kettle boiling, flames and suffocating clouds of black smoke began to arise from the computer and monitor at once. The electricity flickered and died, plunging the house into total silence.

***

In the total darkness, a warm, sweaty hand reached out and grabbed mine. I felt Adrian’s whole body tremble as he held my hand. I thought I could count each beat of his thudding heart through his skin.

“I don’t think this is a prank,” Adrian whispered furtively, his voice shaking. I couldn’t even see an inch in front of my nose. I took a deep breath. I had been crying, I realized, feeling wet trails of tears staining my cheeks.

“This has to be a prank,” I said quietly. “You know how easy it is to fake stuff with AI now? Any drooling idiot can do it. My dad is dead. That’s not him. It’s simply impossible. None of this is possible.”

“Then what happened to the power?” Adrian asked. “And how did that thing know there were two of us here? And how did your father know your name and that you were watching?” I felt rivers of sweat rolling down my forehead. In the pitch black, I just shook my head.

“Obviously, someone hacked your computer and was watching us through the webcam,” I answered. “That’s how they knew my name and everything. They probably stole all your information.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense, man,” Adrian argued. Something hot and furious twisted its way through my chest.

“No shit, it doesn’t make a lot of sense!” I yelled. “But obviously, none of it was real. You really think a freaking link to the afterlife is just going to appear on the dark web? When you have eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Don’t tell me you actually believe we were looking into a vision of Hell.” I heard Adrian inhale deeply, sighing. He started to say something when the computer monitor abruptly came back to life. 

***

Torrents of fire and lava sizzled their way down the screen, illuminating the room in a dim, bloody glow. The shadows in the corners creeped towards us, leaving the edges of the room in blackness. The walls had changed as well, turning an angry, dark red, the color of an infected wound.

The rest of the power was still out. I knew we were alone in the house, at least until Adrian’s parents got back. At least, I hoped we were alone in the house…

Adrian abruptly gave a cry like a strangled cat. He grabbed my shoulder with his thin, trembling hand. I jumped, turning to look at him in surprise.

“What is…” I began to say when I saw his eyes, as wide as saucers and emanating an unspeakable animal terror. They were looking directly over my shoulder at something behind me.

I glanced back, my heart hammering ice-water through my veins. My eyes widened as I realized Adrian’s room looked completely different.

Other than the computer desk and the two chairs, everything was gone. All of his furniture, his bed, his posters, even his bookshelves stocked with sci-fi and fantasy. Everything had been wiped away in an instant- and replaced.

I saw a cold, steel table, covered in blood. My father lay on it, his body still tied tightly down with razor-wire. It sliced into his wrists, his ankles, his chest and stomach. Frothy blood bubbled from his destroyed jaw. Mr. Slither had ripped off his entire mandible within the space of a moment. My father still lived, at least for now. His eyes rolled wildly, like a horse with a broken leg. 

They fixed on me for a long moment, and he seemed to calm down slightly. My father tried to speak, his bloody, mutilated tongue still flapping. He made noises: “Unng, unngel, unnn.” It seemed like my father tried to say something important, but I had no idea what that could be. Behind him, two more steel tables lay, covered in gore but otherwise empty.

“We need to get out of here!” Adrian whispered frantically, grabbing my hand. I nodded, unable to speak. I couldn’t even look at my father, writhing on the table like some victim of human experimentation at a death camp. 

We got up together, running to the door. The floor was covered in ancient blood that stuck to our shoes with a tacky, sucking sound. My father continued to cry out in incomprehensible syllables. His voice had become more frantic, as if he were trying to communicate something vital. But neither of us could understand a single word.

As Adrian ripped the door open and we flew through into the upstairs hallway in total darkness, I heard a car engine turning off outside. A few moments later, a key slid its way into the front door downstairs. I heard Adrian’s parents talking softly in a low susurration as they came in, unaware of the Hell they were entering. They would become aware of it very soon, however.

***

“Mom, Dad! Get out of the house!” Adrian screamed in a high-pitched voice choked with anxiety and fear. They stopped talking suddenly, their barely audible footsteps pausing.

“Adrian?” his father called out, sounding worried. We had reached the stairs by this point and were slowly descending to the first floor, feeling our way forward in the darkness. “What is it?”

“Dad, there’s someone in the house!” Adrian cried. “Get out! Call the cops! Now!” His father’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs a few seconds later. He held a flashlight in his hand, shining it up at us. An expression of grave concern flickered over his narrow, serious face.

“OK, boys, come down and we’ll find out what…” his father started to say, still shining the flashlight up at us, when a pale, twisted hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed him. The sharp spikes of fingers pierced into his neck. Blood exploded from the wounds. The long arm dragged him away.

A wet sound filled with gurgling and muted screams drifted up to us. A few moments later, it cut off, and then everything in the house went quiet.

***

Adrian and I paused half-way down the stairs. We had no cellphones to call for help, as neither of our families had thought a fourteen-year-old needed one. I had a lighter in my pocket I kept for smoking weed, however. Reaching frantically down, I pulled it out and flicked it, giving us some meager light to see by.

“Where’s Mom?” Adrian whispered to himself. “Why don’t I hear her?” He looked sick and weak, as if he were about to pass out. “Do you think Dad’s OK?” In truth, I did not, but I wasn’t about to say that.

“We need to go back and jump out the window,” I said. “I’m not going down there.” I started backpedaling away, back toward Adrian’s room and the tortured visage of my father.

“What about Mom?” Adrian asked, frantic. “What about Dad? We can’t just leave them down there.”

“We need to get help, man,” I answered. “We need to get the cops here immediately. What are you going to do if you go down there, besides die or get seriously hurt? You think you can take that thing?” As if in response, we heard gurgling, diseased breathing from the floor below. Without hesitation, I turned and ran. A moment later, Adrian’s light footsteps followed me back to the room.

I ran to the window, trying to unlock it in the dark. I flicked the lighter with one hand and began to get it open when a grinning, eyeless face peered around the threshold of the door.

“Fuck!” Adrian cried. “It’s here! It’s here! Run!” The window slid open with a tortured squeal of rust. I looked down for a brief moment before starting to crawl out the window. Behind me, Adrian was pushing me forward, trying to get out himself.

I had gotten my body most of the way through when a hand as cold as liquid nitrogen closed around my ankle and pulled me back inside. I fought, kicking and thrashing. Another hand came down around my face. I bit down on a finger as hard as I could. Freezing cold blood with the taste of sulfur flowed into my mouth.

Mr. Slither only laughed. With a powerful swing of his hand, he slammed my head into the wall. All the colors of the world faded away to darkness as oblivion took over.

***

I awoke to a screaming in my skull, a migraine that felt like it would split my head in two. I groaned, my eyes fluttering open. I looked around the room, realizing I was tied down to one of the tables with rope. Next to me, Adrian lay, still unconscious.

Mr. Slither stood between us. He had one arm extended out to each of us, the black, lidless eye in the bleached-white palm rolling writhing insanity and hunger.

“Yaldabaoth has a red room waiting for every child in eternity,” Mr. Slither gurgled. “Every parent, every brother, every sister. There is no Heaven, not for the sons and daughters of Adam. Only endless suffering awaits you beyond the veil.”

“Why… why are you doing this to me?” I asked in a hoarse voice. Waves of nausea ripped their way through my stomach. “Why?” Mr. Slither leaned down, his smooth face coming close to mine.

“There is no why,” he said. “There is only eternity.” He paused, pulling away.

“What color is death?” he hissed, almost contemplatively. “The white light of tunnels leading up to Heaven? The black of oblivion? The blue of cyanotic lips and dying fingernails?” He laughed, a diseased chortling that wheezed through his marble-white throat. He kept one arm stretched out in front of him, the eye flicking from me to Adrian and back again.

“It is none of these,” Mr. Slither continued. “Death is red, as red as the rooms where the damned scream in agony forever. Death is red, as red as a rose in full bloom. Eternity is here waiting for you, waiting to consume your flesh like a virus.”

***

Adrian awoke abruptly then, his eyes shooting open behind his black-rimmed glasses. He had a deep gash sliced across his forehead and his nose was bleeding badly. He turned his head, spitting blood-streaked mucus on the floor. After a few moments, he started to get his bearings. He looked over at me, then, with an increasing sense of terror gleaming on his face, he turned to Mr. Slither.

“You killed my father, you piece of shit,” he spat angrily, tears rolling down his face. Mr. Slither only grinned down at him, an expression of pure sadism.

“Like father, like son,” Mr. Slither whispered coldly, running his long, twisted fingers over the table like a spider. They crawled over Adrian’s face and gently took off his glasses.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Adrian pleaded. Mr. Slither only laughed as he took a sharp index finger and lowered it to Adrian’s eye. “No, don’t, for God’s sake…”

There was a wet sound, the sound of blood gushing and flesh separating. Adrian screamed in anguish. I had closed my eyes, unable to look. But I heard the sound of chewing, something popping. Adrian hyperventilated nearby, still pleading and shrieking.

I looked over, seeing Mr. Slither slicing open Adrian’s shirt with his scalpel-like fingers. His hand hovered over the center of his chest. One of Adrian’s eyes was gone, the black socket staring sightlessly up.

“The heart of all things,” Mr. Slither whispered in his infected tone. With a quick stab, he shoved his fingers deep into Adrian’s chest. The cracking of ribs reverberated through the room with a sickening snap. 

I heard police sirens in the distance, growing closer by the second. A faint surge of hope fluttered through my chest, even as I looked at this abomination holding my best friend’s beating heart in his alien hand.

Mr. Slither came over to me, looking down with glee and excitement. He ran his left hand over my face. I could feel the sharp points of the fingers tracing their way down my cheek, slowly and caressingly.

“Where should we start?” he asked in a low, throaty voice. “With the eyes?” He ran one of his fingers around my eyelids, tracing light circles that sent shivers running through my flesh. “Maybe the tongue?” He traced his finger around my lips. “Or how about…”

“Hey, scumbag!” a woman’s voice cried from the door. Mr. Slither slowly rose to his full height, turning to look at the newcomer. I saw Adrian’s mother standing there, holding a pistol in her hands. She was in the Weaver stance, ready to fire. As soon as Mr. Slither raised his hand out toward Adrian’s mother and looked at her with a single demonic eye, she fired.

***

The bullet smashed straight into Mr. Slither’s outstretched hand, blowing his obsidian eye to pieces. Fragments of skin and bone exploded from the wound. He gave a diseased shriek of pain and stumbled forward. He still held Adrian’s heart in his right hand, and without hesitation, he threw it at Adrian’s mother.

The heart soared across the room, drops of blood flying out in all directions as it spiraled through the air. It smacked her in the face with a wet thud. She stumbled back, shaking her head. Spatters of crimson like raindrops covered her face and hair. She gave a low, anguished moan, and for a horrible moment, I thought she would simply faint.

But as Mr. Slither ran at her with vengeance and fury, she came to life, raising the gun and firing again and again. The bullets smashed through his chest, his stomach and legs. Dark, sluggish blood the consistency of maple syrup dripped from the many wounds.

Bent over and looking much weaker, Mr. Slither slammed into Adrian’s mother. He raked his sharp fingers over her face as he passed. She screamed in pain, falling back heavily. The floor shook as Mr. Slither disappeared down the stairs, still wailing in a diseased voice full of pain and uncertainty.

***

After a few moments, Adrian’s mother moaned and pushed herself up slowly. In the bloody glow of the computer monitor, I could see the deep wounds marring her face.

Her right cheek had been slashed in two, the flaps of skin hanging down like the slashed fabric of a tent. Her right eye was badly damaged, dripping vitreous fluid and crimson streaks down her face like bloody tears. A deep gash ran across her forehead and chin as well.

She stumbled forward toward me, looking dissociated and on the verge of passing out. She glanced over at Adrian’s corpse for a long, sad moment, then turned her attention back to me. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folding-knife, which she used to begin cutting the rope.

As she freed me and we finally left that room of horrors, the first of the police cars reached the driveway. As I would find out later, Adrian’s mother had called the police on her cell phone before returning to try to save us.

***

The bodies of Adrian, his father and my father were all gone by the time the police searched the house. Only a few steel tables still remained in the room, covered in layers of gore and clotted blood. Mr. Slither had disappeared as well, and for that, I give thanks. I hope I never see that disgusting monster again.

What he told me makes me wonder, however. What if he was right? What if, after death, we all end up in eternal misery, tortured and killed over and over again until the end of time?

I never used to be afraid of death, but after my experiences with Mr. Slither and the red room, I am petrified of it now.

Wham!

I jumped slightly as the heavy red folder fell onto my desk. I looked at the cover, emblazoned with the Fulton County Sheriff’s Office logo, then looked up to see my sergeant, Sgt. Manning, standing over me.

“What… what am I looking at here?” I asked.

“It’s a case file, you use it for investigation. How the hell did you ever make detective?” Sgt. Manning said back with a smirk.

“Sarge, I see that it’s a case file, why does it have Fulton County on it? Don’t tell me they're punting an investigation to PD.”

“That’s exactly what they’re doing,” Sgt. Manning said as he clapped me on the back.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re a new detective and the only one not working a homicide already.”

Homicide? I felt myself getting excited, this is what I wanted when I interviewed for detective a month prior. “What happened?” I asked excitedly.

“Something in the jail, I don’t know. Read the case file, I bet you’ll find out,” Sgt. Manning said as he walked towards the coffee maker, “and then make a fresh pot, this one looks skunked.”

I ignored his coffee request and opened the folder. Inside was a sizeable stack of papers, containing everything from drivers license information to criminal histories and even pictures of the deceased.

In total, the jail had had eight unexplained deaths in the last month. The victims were all low level criminals; shoplifters, vehicle thieves, and drug users, and had all been relatively healthy prior to their demise. Jail staff reported that in only two instances had there been signs of a struggle and that in the other six instances, those victims appeared to have died in their sleep. That was it, there was no other information, nothing linking them together, no suspects, nothing.

I set the folder down and rubbed my temples. There wasn’t much to go on here. I read the report again and if anything, felt more frustrated. Someone has to know something, I thought.

I decided to call the jail. The deputy that answered was less than helpful so I asked to speak with someone on the medical staff. I was placed on hold for several minutes before female voice spoke, “Nurse Dudley.”

“Hey ma’am, this is Detective Stone over at the PD. Listen, I’ve been assigned this string of deaths case yall kicked over. I umm, I’m going through what I have here and I have some questions,” I said.

I heard Nurse Dudley sigh heavily, “the official report is that they all died of natural causes.”

“And the two that showed signs of a struggle?”

“The official report is that those two had some type of seizure and succumbed to it.”

Something about her voice didn’t sound right, her answer was way too robotic like she’d been coached on what to say.

“But you don’t believe that, do you?” I asked. “Tell me what you think happened.”

“Detective… I get off at 4:30. Can you meet me somewhere?”

“Name the place, I’ll be there.”

2 hours later I pulled into a Bel Aire Pancake House, a crumby little 24 hour dinner on the other side of town that I used to visit on night shift patrol. I walked in, sat at a booth away from the door, ordered a coffee, and waited.

Several minutes passed before a heavy set, but cute, blonde in green scrubs walked in. She adjusted her purse as she looked around. When her eyes met mine I waved slightly and she hustled over to the table.

“Detective Stone?” She asked.

“You can call me Aaron if that makes things easier,” I said, smiling over my coffee mug.

She sank into the seat across from me and looked around.

“I used to waitress here,” she said “back when I was going to nursing school.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” I said with a smirk.

She smiled for a brief moment before her eyes met mine again, “you wanted to know what happened in the jail right?”

“Uh yeah,” I replied, startled by her abrupt change in demeanor. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my pocket recorder, “I hope you don’t mind if I…”

“I do mind!” She snapped. “They already think I’m crazy at the jail, I don’t need this documented anywhere.”

I slowly tucked the recorder back into my jacket. “We can keep you anonymous for now, but if anything comes of this, the DA is going to demand who my source is.”

“Burn that bridge when you get to it Aaron,” she said looking over her shoulder at the waitress. “The deaths in the jail were attacks.”

I leaned forward as the tell tale feeling of an adrenaline rush started welling in my gut.

“At least, well, they’d have to be attacks. I’ve never seen anything like that anywhere,” she said as her eyes glazed over. “Where’d the blood go?”

“Ma’am, I need you to back up to the beginning,” I said as I clicked my pen. “When did the first ‘attack’ happen?”

“March 2nd,” she replied, still not blinking.

“Do you have the dates of all the deaths?”

She nodded before rambling them off. As I wrote the dates I realized there was a sort of pattern to them. Three “natural cause” deaths and then a struggle within a week. A two week pause in deaths and then three more natural cause deaths followed by a struggle over a week.

“Ok,” I said swallowing hard, “why do you think they were all attacks?”

“Puncture wounds on the arms and necks of all of them,” nurse Dudley said, still staring off into space.

“Stab wounds…” I mumbled to myself as I wrote in my notebook.

“Not stab wounds, I know what those look like, these were smaller, uniform.”

“Elaborate please.”

“The holes were all the same size and 2 inches apart. Each victim had the same wounds in the same relative area.”

I scribbled what she said into my notebook. “You said something about blood?”

“There was none,” she said, her eyes focusing on mine for the first time in awhile.

“Like the wounds were superficial and didn’t bleed or…”

“Like they were completely drained of it,” she said, her eyes wide with fear.

“Drained of it?” I asked. “What do you mean, like they bled out?”

She reached across the table and grabbed my wrist, “Like there wasn’t a drop of blood left. Not on the floor and not in their bodies.”

I slowly pulled my arm out of her grasp, “Ma’am, that’s impossible.”

“I know,” she replied, her lip quivering.

I started shoving my notebook back into my jacket, “This is an active homicide investigation, joking about vampires is a waste of my time and at this point I should charge you for a false police report.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke!” She screamed. “I know what I saw, this is real! Ask Deputy Stevens! He saw it too!”

“Shhh shhh, please lower your voice,” I pleaded.

“I know what I saw,” the nurse mumbled quietly.

“Ok ok, here’s my business card, call me if you can think of anything else that might be helpful,” I said as I held out my contact information. She snatched the card from me and shoved it into her purse.

“Oh I will, it’s been 2 weeks since the last attack,” she said as she stood up from the table. “This definitely isn’t over.”

I watched as she quickly walked out of the diner, climbed into her yellow Ford Taurus, and drove away.

I pulled the case file back out and flipped to a picture of the first victim. “Pfft vampires,” I chuckled as I flipped the pages. The laugh got caught in my throat as I looked at close up shots of the wounds. They were just like she said, small punctures 2 inches apart. I hadn’t noticed them when I first looked at the pictures.

I flipped through the rest of the pictures, all of them had the same wounds. I also noticed that all of the bodies were pale, extremely pale.

Could it really be vampires? I thought to myself. Nurse Dudley seemed way too sure to have been messing with me. I looked at my watch and realized it was almost 6:30. I looked outside to see the daylight fading, before throwing some money on the table for my coffee.

As I stepped into the parking lot, I felt a chill come over my body. I looked around and saw a man in all black standing at the gas station next door. His hair looked greasy and even from where I was standing I could see that his eyes looked sunken in.

We made eye contact and he held his hand over his chest before giving a slight bow. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up and quickly jumped into my car. As I threw it in reverse I checked the rear view mirror and saw that the man was gone. I turned and looked over my shoulder, the man was still there, staring intently at my car. I looked in the mirror and again, the man was gone. I braved one last look over my shoulder and saw the man take a step towards my car before I peeled out of the parking lot.

As I drove, I couldn’t shake the image of the man from my mind, it was like I kept seeing him. Not just in my minds eye either, I’d see him standing on the corner, or in the car next to me. It didn’t matter how many times I turned, I couldn’t lose him. One thing they taught us at the academy was to drive a nonsensical route if you believed you were being followed, my route that night took an extra 30 minutes. It wasn’t until I had gone a full 10 minutes without seeing him that I dared to pull onto my street.

I pulled into my driveway and sprinted inside. Once inside I checked every single window and door to make sure they were locked tight before drawing all the curtains and hiding in my bedroom.

I’m going to get to the bottom of this I thought to myself as I stared at the clock and waited for day light to come.

Corpsia:

Sitting at his carved black iron desk, tears wet my cheeks at the endless pictures of us lining the wall. Staring numbly at my ivory hair, all of this had come at a steep cost. General Rosworth was coming today to renew a contract under my name, the new objective to be taking down Madame Bone. The door creaked open, General Rosworth coming in a black lace dress. Taking the seat across from me, her broken smile met mine.

“So-” I began, her hand raising in the air giving me pause. Pulling her seat closer, her shaking hands placed the contract in front of me. Silent tears stained my cheeks, every cell in me knowing that I failed her. Scanning the lines, shock mixed with bewilderment at the final line. Why would she want a one hundred year contract with me?

“I was there when he died. I fought my sister that day. He told me that he loved you, so you can’t think that he wouldn’t do it all over again.” She comforted me while rolling a pen over to me, my fingers curling around the pristine golden pen. “Your work is more than enough to grant you a constant payroll. This allows us to make you the A-team for my department. Please work for us, especially with taking down my sister.” Signing across the necessary lines, an awkward silence hung in the air as I sorted the contract into a neat pile. Sliding it across the desk, her hands cupped mine. Her lips parted to speak, a black file poking out of the top of the bag. Ripping my hands back, my hand demanded the file. Passing it over to me with a nervous grin, a quick apology flooded from her lips. Flipping through the pages, a herd of soul eaters were sucking people dry in a forest in New England. Those cloaked bastards didn’t like to leave once they found a place to stay, something else reeking about it.

“I am on it. Anything to blow off steam.” I huffed as we rose to our feet, her arms yanking me into a motherly embrace. Burying her head into my shoulder, her emotions soaked my shoulders. Comforting her until her tears dried up, I was thankful that I didn’t see the final blow. Pardoning herself as she left, the file fluttered in my hand. A long sigh poured from my lips, the worn wallpaper pissing me off for a second. Plucking his binder from the wall, the plastic crinkled until I found the section about soul eaters. Scanning the information, I needed a spell to trap them in one space. Those bastards were slippery as they came, Morte coming in with a duffel bag on his shoulder. Kissing the top of my head, his sharp black suit matched my Gothic emerald dress. Shoving the folder under his arm, he tossed me a worn leather jacket. Tugging it on, a busted smile lingered on my lips. This was the jacket he wore quite a bit for those first years, the broken leather feeling soft against my skin. Silent tears stained my cheeks, his scent wafting up my nose.

“He told me to give it to you if anything happened to him a couple of weeks ago. He knew you would appreciate it.” He informed me while fixing the collar, the hem floating around my ankles the moment he buried me in one of his bear hugs. “Don’t worry about the supplies. I studied the trap last night when you were sleeping. Let’s bring back some corpses to explore.” Wut popped up behind him, his smoke swirling in an irritated manner. Adjusting his cloak, the other member of my team bounced in. Croak leapt onto my back, her mouth moving a mile a minute. Ever since that fateful day, she had become my shadow. Not understanding why her loyalty lies with me, the soft material of her gray business suit felt like a hug.

“Hel took off with the boys to solve the other problem today.” She announced with a cheeky smile, the darn demon woman was a far cry from the cocky one I met that day. “Today sure is busy, love.” Letting her hang off of my back, the years with Mr. Bone had taught me how to be a graceful leader. Carrying her to the hearse, she plopped down next to me as Morte took the driver’s seat. Wut climbed into the back, the door slamming had me jumping into the ceiling. Morte put on my seat belt for me, his lips pecking my cheeks. Something was comforting about having his heart coursing through my veins, a piece of him always being a part of me. A great honor rested in a dying demon giving you their heart to take their place, fresh tears glistening in my eyes. Slapping my cheeks, the rough emotions could tear me to shreds later. My people needed me, Croak clapping her hands had me snapping back to reality, her hand taking mine.

“Life has run you over, Love. I know that you will come out stronger.” She encouraged me sweetly, my soft smile making her bubble with excitement. “There’s the smile I have come to adore. How about we go out for drinks after this with Hel? I would love a girls’ night out.” Ruffling her hair, she shivered with joy as I shot out a quick sure. Clapping her hands together, she began to sing. How could anyone be mad at such a lovely friend? Snapping on the radio, heavy metal stole the growing silence. The hours of driving passed easier, my mind flitting between the plan for today and Mr. Bone’s decaying body. Pulling into a small town, one eerie general store stood out in a row of empty homes. Parking in front of the wooden general store, the door resisted as I wiggled the handle.

“Get your ass out of here.” A thick Massachusetts accent barked on the other side, his gruff voice oozing raw terror. “We don’t need any more spooks around here.” Rolling my eyes, he still had the good old New England attitude.

“I happen to be wicked awesome.” I assured him through the door, shadowy cloaked figures whipping around us. “We are the good guys. Do you want to do us a favor and let us spooks in? I was sent to help you after all. Corpsia is my name but you can call me Spooks if it makes you feel better.” Harsh whispers passed on the inside, my fingers curling around one of my business cards. Bending down to slide it under the door, a dirty finger snatched it away. Waiting patiently for the door to open, Croak and Wut tapped their feet with frightened looks. The lock clicked open, the ancient door groaning open. Stepping in with my team, horrified eyes watched Wut and Cloak take a seat on a couple of stools behind me. Morte stood by my side, little boys and girls hiding behind their parents. A pensive silence tainted the air, a dark bearded man in a plaid shirt and jeans locking the door behind him. Storm clouds built outside, the townspeople looking hungry and tired. Staring at the shelves, a bag of potatoes and vegetables caught my eyes.

“Can I make you some food or something?” I offered sincerely, a couple of the kids poking their heads around their parents. “I don’t bite but you guys look like Hell. I need to wait until night to pull my plan off. The harvest moon is going to power our spell so we can’t do anything yet. Breakfast?” The leader hoisted a sack of potatoes onto his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in distrust. Most people couldn’t stop focusing on Wut, his glowing eyes scaring them. Following him to the kitchen would give me a chance to explain myself. Slamming the potatoes on the counter, he tore the bag open with attitude.

“I am Todd Cranstone.” He introduced himself too calmly, his hand pressing a chef’s knife to my throat. “If you dare to harm any of my people, I won’t hesitate to kill you!” Lowering his knife, it would take more than a kitchen knife to kill me.

“I am going to rid you of your problem but let me take care of you guys until I have to go into the woods.” I assured him with my natural smile, his features visibly relaxing. “Now let me help you with breakfast. Then we will protect this place a bit better. You know salt and all that jazz. What I don’t get is who summoned them? Do you happen to have a witch around here? Maybe a new one pulled something up? Better yet, is anyone not here that was a couple of days ago.” His bald head glinted in the yellow light, his head bowing in shame.

“My daughter Emily disappeared three days ago. She mumbled something about a book of the damned.” He explained tiredly, his trembling hands picking up his potato peeler. “Don’t kill her if she did what I think she did.” Cupping his hands, he had to know that was the last thing I wanted to do.

“I will bring her back to you but have to let me take that book back with me.” I returned gently, hating the book’s existence. “Is that a deal?” Nodding his head, his hazel eyes flitted between the door and me. Dropping his hands, I took over the cooking. Watching as I worked swiftly, no more words were passed between us. The storm clouds grew thicker as I finished up a quick potato hash with a big bowl of scrambled eggs, dread building within my gut. A sharp whistle left his lips, the people forming a line. Helping dish out the food, concern dimmed his eyes at his proportion leaving us demons and monsters without food. Waving away any worries, we could eat later. Morte came up to me with Wut, the two of them walking out to begin the trap in the woods. His decay would keep the soul eaters away, Cloak remaining behind to help me with warding the place to the tenth degree. Toiling the afternoon away, the children were even warming up to us. Letting them crush up the herbs for us, the gentle people looked like they were having fun for the first time that day. Dusk was near, my fingers curling around a container of salt. Pressing it into Todd’s palm, regret mixed with appreciation at all the help he had received.

“I am going to bring her back. Place a line of salt in front of every door and window.” I urged with a hearty chuckle, my hand shaking his. “It was nice meeting you.” Shutting the door behind me, Croak joined my side with her trademark bright smile. Plucking out my dagger, shadowy snakes crept up my arms as it expanded to its full size.

“You can’t kill her, my plucky little duck.” I ordered as she spun her daggers in her palms, adventure mixing with her cruel grin. “Let’s find our boys and the teenager. I believe that the spirit trapped in the Book of the Damned is holding her captive. Would you look at that?” A beacon of light shot into the sky, the girl’s location had been given away. Good job, Wut!

“How about we find that book and destroy it?” Croak suggested with another big grin, her slender hand tapping her dagger on her chin. “I bet all of the soul eaters would take a hike as well. That is if we can trap them in one spot.” Ruffling her hair, she was a genius. Shaking her shoulders with her tongue out, my little demon was ready to play.

“Let’s go. That book isn’t going to find itself.” I returned with an equally big grin, a couple of words sending my snakes out. “Time to win this battle.” Humming to herself, my snakes returned to me with eager hisses. Waving her forward, our boots pounded after our snakes. Soul eaters avoided us due the fact that our souls had been sold already, the two of us proving to ninjas in the night. Darting through the trees, branches scratched at my face. Croak smashed into my back, a inky black haired teenage girl floated in a glowing bubble. Ceremonial ruby robes clung to her petite body, the whites of her eyes frightening me a bit. Taking in the rage inducing scene, a ruby skinned demon about eight feet tall held the book I wished to destroy. His black horns glistened in the light from the flickering flames, our gaze fell down to the hooves of his goat legs. Inky eyes darted around the area, a branch snapping underneath my boot. A loud shit burst from my lips, his inky lips curling into a cruel grin. Holding Croak back, strategy would be our friend.

“I am going to be a distraction.” I whispered discreetly into her ear, her head nodding. “Wait until Morte gives us the signal that the trap is ready. Only then you get to kill him. Am I understood?” Leaping from the bushes, his wicked fit of laughter shook the ground. Raising my blade, shadows swirled around me.

“Somebody freed you. Your vacation is over.” I taunted with a sinister grin, my gaze lingering on the book. “Or could just hand the book over. Things would most certainly be easier that way. Then again, you don’t seem like that type of monster.” Cocking his head back, his lips moved a mile a minute. Allowing shadows to build around my boot, a giant spike of shadows was required to burst that bubble. Slamming my heel on the ground, a spike of shadows shot from the ground. Popping the spell, time was on no one's hand at the body flying towards the flickering circle. Pushing off the dirt, a sigh of relief poured from my lips at her crashing into my arms. Tossing her over my shoulder, branches snapped with every step away from that monster. Her hazel irises returned, a sharp breath poured from her lips. Grasping at the ruby robe covering her body, her left fist met my cheek. Grumbling under my breath, she had a hell of a swing. The demon shouted in frustration, his spell flickering out.

“I am going to get you, you bloody gnat!” He threatened venomously, Emily piecing it all together. Picking up speed, the branches scratched at my face. Wut blocked my path, his arms scooping up Emily. Grinning ear to ear, it took a minute for me to explain that he was the good guy. His hand rested on my shoulder, admiration shining in his eyes.

“The harvest moon is coming to full power in a couple of minutes. Destroy the book when it goes up.” He informed me with a twinkle in his eyes, his focus shifting to Croak in the trees above me. “She has to get him in his heart. Did you hear me, Croak?” Shooting him a thumbs up, she shouted a few words that were followed by the words my love. Stealing Emily away to the town, the energy began to build. Our hair floated up, Croak leaping branch to branch. Allowing my snakes to gather at my feet, they hissed hungrily for their dinner.

“Eat everything but the organs, my dears.” I proclaimed with a big smile, their tails rattling at the prospect of a big meal. “Wait for your master to release you.” The golden moon moved into the right position, the trap sucking in the soul eaters. Sinking into my pool of snakes, the demon didn’t have time to respond. Tearing the book from his hands, electricity crackled to life around my hands. Raising his fist into the air, Croak swung in the nick of time. Spinning her daggers in palms, a black energy built around the butt of the handles. Tossing the book into the air the same moment she flicked her wrists, a swing of my blade sliced the beat up leather book in half as her daggers landed in her heart. Swaying slightly, the wails of the soul eaters pierced my ears. A ribbon of blood dribbled from my ears, the pages of the books began to bubble. Croak was right in the way, the dirt protesting as I pushed off the ground. Grabbing Croak by her waist, branches snapped as we zoomed towards the forest floor. Hitting a couple of roots with our heads, patches of blood pooled on our foreheads. Covering her with my body, a wave of nausea crashed over me as the demon's skin began to bubble. Two booms shook the forest, blood and guts raining over us. Inky rain soaked me but not her, a fit of laughter bursting from Croak’s lips.

“You really are a lovely mother, love.” She chuckled heartily, my snakes slithering out to get their rewards. His organs landed everywhere, the monstrosities consisting of tissues nearly forcing my dinner to come back up. Rolling onto my back, the boys skidded in to see us laying there. Sniffing the air, no trace of the book remained. One less evil remained in the world, a triumphant grin lingering on my lips. Shouting that they were gathering up the organs, we chose to lay there until they finished up. A wave of water crashed over us, any mess on me decaying to ash. Morte towered over us, his hands yanking us to our feet.

“Nice work, guys.” He effused gleefully while his lips brushed against the top of my head. “A few people want to thank you.” Checking for any stragglers from that book, none remained. A serenity bathed the town, a deep breath giving a small reprieve. Following him back to town, Todd met me at the edge with Emily.

“Thank you. How can we ever repay you?” He asked sincerely, a bit of life returning to his eyes as everyone came out of the general store. “We never would have survived without you, Spooks.” Laughing softly to myself, it was just like him to give me a nickname. Nothing was owed, the reward laying in the town being safe.

“She could stay away from black magic books. That’s a start. That being said, I have someone who can help you hone in those witch powers of yours.” I returned with my natural smile, my fingers feeling around my boot for the card for my witch consultant. “She will teach you everything you need to know. This is a safer method. If you need a job after high school, you have one with me. Most beginner witches can’t pull that off. Have a nice evening.” Pressing two cards into her hands, the one thing they could do was stare as I climbed into the hearse next to Morte. Home! I wanted to go home. Croak saddled up next to me, her mouth moving a mile a minute. Responding to her for the first time, her eyes lit up each time. Peeling out of the town, a sense of pride came over me. Wut tapped my shoulder, his mood seeming lifted as well.

“Thank you for being a great leader today.” He thanked me profusely, truth laying in his words. Giving him a quick no problem, a glimmer of hope had returned. This war could be won, and won gracefully.

​

As an FBI agent in the elite homicide unit, I was often tasked with tracking down the worst of humankind. But one case in particular really stays with me, and to this day, still haunts my nightmares.

Within the agency, we called him the Vampire of Frost Hollow, and the name was certainly a fitting one. We found the victims with bite marks all over their bodies. They also showed signs of extensive torture, as well as mutilation both before and after death.

In some cases, glasses from their kitchens had been used to collect warm blood from the dying, struggling bodies of the victims. Others had organs removed. We would eventually find out why, and the reason was horrifying beyond anything I could have imagined.

Agent Stone and I drove through the flat city streets as pale moonlight illuminated everything in a harsh glare. The summer heat still sizzled from the pavement. Everything felt muggy and wet, and dark storm clouds had gathered over the city.

The house lay up ahead, just a flat, one-story place with no distinguishing characteristics. It was painted a dull blue and had a freshly-mown lawn. It looked like it could have been copied and pasted from a hundred similar houses scattered throughout the area.

But it was what was inside that distinguished this house. Police cars blocked off the street in front of the crime scene. Their lights and sirens were turned off, always an ominous sign at a crime scene. I always knew that, when the police weren’t rushing anymore, it meant the victims were too far gone for help. A couple of gawkers stood there as well: two teenage girls. One of them had hair dyed a bright pink with streaks of black in it. Many silver necklaces twinkled around her neck.

A few cops unstrung spools of yellow crime scene tape warning people to stay off the property. An obese police officer with a face like a walrus and a large, drooping mustache walked up to our black, unmarked sedan.

“Sorry, guys,” he said as I rolled down the window, “road’s closed.” I gave him a faint smile and pulled out my federal identification card and badge. His eyes widened for a brief moment. “Jesus, you FBI guys are here already?”

“This is the second case where people have had blood drained from their bodies in this section of town,” I said with venom. “Of course we’re here. Whenever we smell smoke, there’s usually a much larger fire under the surface. If there’s two separate incidents we can prove, then there may be more that we can’t prove or haven’t connected yet.” The police officer nodded his fat face, jiggling his many chins. He smoothed his mustache contemplatively as he stared at us.

“Were you at the first crime scene for this unsub?” Agent Stone asked the state cop. The police officer gave us a grim smile, wetting his small, rubbery lips. His tiny teeth glittered white, but the smile had no real mirth in it.

“Yes, I was there,” he said coldly. He reached out his hand to me. “I’m Officer Paisley. Rick to my friends, though.” He gave a short bark of laughter at this, though I didn’t see what was funny about it.

“What do you think about this guy?” I asked, always curious to know what the local cops thought. Officer Paisley shrugged his rounded shoulders, reminding me of Humpty Dumpty in his general body shape.

“I think he’s one sick SOB,” Officer Paisley said blandly, looking away. “I saw what he did to that family over on Turtleback Lane. You know what the cops call him? The Vampire of Frost Hollow. Quite a nickname, huh?” I remembered looking through crime scene reports of the first murder scene. It had indeed been a horrifying experience just reading through the sterile police descriptions of the homicides and looking at the photographs.

In the first crime scene, there had been a husband and a wife murdered in the kitchen, their hearts taken out of their bodies, the blood drained from them. In the living room, they found an infant in a crib. His entire chest cavity had been ripped open, as if with claws. Everything once inside his small, fragile body was strewn about the room like garbage. The tiny intestines hung from the walls of the crib, unspooled like a bloody snake.

They found the seven-year-old daughter hanging from a tree in the backyard, her eyes removed, her chest cut open down the middle. The black sockets stared sightlessly ahead. Her pale skin showed that her blood, too, had been drained.

I wondered what nightmares awaited at us at this crime scene, now that I would get to experience it firsthand and not just through pictures and documents. Agent Stone parked the car and stared at me with his cold blue eyes.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, looking pale and uncertain.

***

The police officer at the door waved us through the threshold. Inside, it was dark. I put on my latex gloves and tried flicking the lights, but nothing happened. Agent Stone and I pulled out our flashlights, turning them on. The white glare of the LEDs made everything seem overly saturated and unreal.

“The power’s out,” I said. My voice sounded far too loud in the dark confines of the house. The shadows pressed in on us like the walls of a coffin. Agent Stone hesitantly stumbled ahead, flashing his light to the left and right. At first, we saw nothing out of place. We had entered a dining room with a long, rectangular table and an antique grandfather clock that eerily ticked away, marking each moment of time.

“Where’s the bodies?” Agent Stone whispered, glancing around nervously. We kept going forward into a kitchen, and there we found the first of the victims.

***

It was a woman, and she had been young and beautiful when she was murdered. Even through the layers of clotted blood and the gore that covered her body like a carpet, I could see that.

She had green eyes like a cat that stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, still filled with horror, even in death. Her chest was ripped open, and a dark, ragged socket marked the spot where her heart had been. Her grisly death mask showed the incomprehensible agonies she must have gone through before the merciful release of oblivion finally took her away.

Next to her stood a blender filled with a slurry of organs and Coca-cola. The half-empty bottle stood next to it, still fizzing quietly on the table. Other than our breathing, it was the only sound in the room, eerie and constant like the last bubbling gasps of a dying man. Everything sounded muted, almost like how sounds become muffled and distant during a snowstorm. But there was no snow here, no storms at all.

“What’s your verdict, Harper?” Agent Stone asked, his face revealing nothing as he looked at me.

“I think we’re probably dealing with a paranoid schizophrenic, but it’s odd,” I said, looking at the crime scene with a sick feeling of revulsion rising in my chest. I pressed it back down, focusing on the job. “From what I read of the last crime scene and from what I’m seeing here, it looks like a combination of both organized and disorganized features. There is clear evidence of planning. He picked the locks at both residences and covered the cameras with paint.”

“Whoever he is, he’s drinking the victims’ blood and organs,” Agent Stone said, a quick flash of disgust crossing his face before it reverted back into a stony mask. “I’m thinking a white male, between the ages of 20 and 40.” I nodded. Serial killers almost always targeted victims within their own race, after all, and all the victims so far had been white. It was a comfort thing for many, I believe, though there were always exceptions like Richard Ramirez who would kill a variety of victim types of any race or gender.

The age was just pure probability, as most serial killers began their sprees around the ages of 15 to 30. There could be dozens more victims stretching back a period of years connected to this unsub for all we knew. Agents at the FBI were looking through cold case files, trying to look for any connections to the blood-drinker we now hunted.

“Where’s the rest of the family?” I asked, looking forward past the threshold leading into the kitchen where a smeared trail of blood curved down the hallway. Agent Stone just shook his head, careful not to walk on any of the blood spattering the floor and walls. In front of us, the hallway opened onto doors on both sides.

I looked into the first one, seeing a little boy’s room decorated with posters of cartoon characters. It was empty, however. The bed was still neatly made. It looked like the boy had just stepped out and would be back at any moment. The truth made my heart ache. I felt a rising sense of sickness as I thought about the fact that he would never see this room again.

The next one was the master bedroom. A large bed stood in the center of the room, surrounded by mahogany cabinets and dressers. Laying across the bed, I found the dead woman’s husband.

He looked like Jesus on the cross, his arms spread out on both sides of him, his legs tightly coiled together. The unsub had wrapped razor-wire around his wrists and ankles. This victim was naked from the waist up and had deep slash marks on his chest and neck. The slashes seemed to form some occult symbol, though I didn’t recognize it immediately. The symbol looked like three upside-down triangles of ascending sizes contained with each other at the center, followed by a circle with an eight-pointed decoration like a lotus flower around it.

His eyes and eyelids were both gone, giving him a look of horror and surprise. The black sockets dribbled dark, clotted blood as they stared sightlessly up at oblivion. His mouth had been slashed from ear to ear, giving his mutilated face an insane, manic grin.

“What’s that symbol?” Agent Stone asked, sounding mesmerized. He took a step forward toward the body, but I put a steadying hand out to stop him.

“I’ve seen it before,” I said, “but I can’t remember where. I think it was in some college class about religions, years ago…” The memory felt like a word on the tip of my tongue, but the connection wouldn’t come. I shook my head. “We’ll take a picture and send it to the lab. They’ll be able to look it up.”

“Does this change your profile of the unsub?” Agent Stone said, smirking slightly. I shrugged.

“It seems to suggest more organization than we’ve previously thought, and perhaps some relation to occult rituals,” I said. “This case just gets weirder and weirder.” Little did I realize that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Things were about to get very strange in the next few minutes.

***

We found the two children, a seven-year-old boy and a five-year-old girl, in the bathroom, their bodies intertwined like rats in a rat king in the tub. Their limbs were locked around each other in a death embrace. Rigor mortis had hardened their faces into grimaces of terror.

The tub was half-filled with bloody, pink water. Their throats were cut from ear-to-ear, nearly severing their heads from the bodies. The hearts had been removed from both of their chests, leaving a dark, gaping hole of ragged bone and gore behind.

“God,” Agent Stone gasped, looking pale and off-balance. “We’ve got to get this son of a bitch.”

“Maybe it’s more than one person,” I said, thinking back to the occult symbol carved on the dead man’s chest. “What if we’re dealing with a cult, something like the Manson Family?”

“The Manson Family didn’t drink blood and liquified organs,” Agent Stone spat angrily. “I think what we’re dealing with…” He stopped speaking suddenly, his eyes widening as he looked past my head, out the bathroom window. I glanced behind me and gasped.

I saw two pale, glowing eyes the color of cold moonlight. The flesh ran down in dribbles and rivulets, as if the skin were liquifying and dripping off like water. It looked like the abomination was melting under the effect of a corrosive acid.

A hairless face shone white, its visage like flat, overlapping plates of bone. It had no nose, and its teeth gleamed like long silver needles. It put its long, twisted fingers to the window, leaving trails of blood as its fingertips lightly stroked the glass. It grinned at us with its lipless mouth before slinking down and disappearing from view.

“What in the fuck was that?” Agent Stone whispered, quickly backpedaling out of the bathroom and away from the window. He stepped in the smeared trail of blood. With a sticky, tacky sound, he pulled his loafer free and stumbled away. I felt stunned for a long moment, still staring out the window, expecting to see the mysterious face return. But nothing stirred outside. Everything seemed deathly quiet.

“Wait!” I cried, running after him. He stumbled toward the front door, pulling out his gun and cocking it. The semiautomatic pistol clacked with a sound like bones snapping. Agent Stone flung open the door and stepped outside.

Taking a deep breath, I took out my gun and followed after.

***

The streetlights cast the empty sidewalks in a harsh glare. The constant “tink-tink-tink” of their flickering seemed like the only sound in the world at that moment, other than the fast, panicked breathing of Agent Stone and myself.

“Where is everyone?” I whispered furtively. The police cars were still here, blocking off the road, but the police themselves were nowhere in sight. The entire street was deserted. I didn’t see a single person anywhere. When I had driven up, there had been at least a couple gawkers on the sidewalk, too.

Sounds were muted and eerie. Each one of footsteps echoed up on the empty street. And yet I didn’t hear a single bird or hear any crickets chirping. No mosquitoes buzzed around my head. It seemed as if we had entered some mirror world that looked identical, just without the people and animals.

“Hello?” Agent Stone yelled. His voice reverberated back to us as if he had screamed into a cave. I grabbed his arm, shaking my head.

“Don’t,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t yell. I have a feeling that we’re not alone.”

***

As Agent Stone’s cry echoed off into the distance, I heard a new sound: heavy footsteps, like the pounding hooves of a running deer. Someone screamed nearby, on the other side of the street. I saw one of the gawkers stumble out, the girl with the pink hair. She was covered in slashes, her black clothes sliced up and wet with blood. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, the whites gleaming pale in their sockets. Her body shook, her fingers clenching and unclenching as if a seizure were ripping its way through her muscles. I realized with horror that she was floating above the sidewalk a few inches, her feet angled down. With her wide, white eyes, she looked straight at me and spoke.

“The Melted Man is coming for you,” she whispered in a voice like a shadow. “He’s going to make you scream for death before the end. He can smell your blood, like sweet flowers in the springtime… He’s coming with the power and might of the screaming goddess. Her dance will come tonight, and destroy this place with her poisoned breath. The sacrifices have opened the door, for worthy are the lambs.” Then the girl fell hard to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

A gunshot pierced the night from behind us, then a high-pitched, bellowing scream followed in its wake. I spun, my heart thudding. I now knew that we weren’t dealing with a regular serial killer.

Officer Paisley came running up from the backyard, his fat body heaving. Rivers of sweat ran down his face. He saw me and Agent Stone and came sprinting towards us, his eyes wide and consumed by an animal panic.

“It’s after me!” he shrieked. As he got closer, I saw spatters of blood covering his face like raindrops. The deep thumping of pounding feet increased in speed and intensity. From behind the house came the creature with the dripping flesh, the one the girl had called the Melted Man.

Wrapped around his body, I saw ancient, rusted chains that dug deeply into his chest. They spiraled up his torso and fused into the skin. The flesh dripped over them like putrefying drops of pus. His eyes seemed to glow with a cold white light that reminded me of winter starlight.

The Melted Man loomed over Officer Paisley, his body nine or ten feet tall. His legs crackled with the snapping of bones and the strange twisting of his many joints. Though thin and emaciated as a death camp victim, he moved with an inhuman speed. His arms looked skeletal and long, lunging out towards Officer Paisley like the branches of a tree.

“Holy shit,” Agent Stone whispered. I saw his hand tremble, the pistol gripped tightly in his clenched fist, the knuckles white. He blinked fast, inhaled deeply and raised the gun. With a booming shout like thunder, the gun went off, hitting the Melted Man in the torso.

Black blood bubbled out from the wound. The chains slithered around his body like snakes. They unwound, loosening and tightening in rhythmic peristaltic waves. WIthin a few moments, the rusted spiral of chains had wrapped around the bullet wound and, almost caressingly, they covered the deep crater in his torso.

The sound of the gunshot gave me a shot of adrenaline that sent me into action. As the Melted Man drew within a few feet of Officer Paisley, I aimed at his head and fired.

The bullet smashed into his white, bony skull with a splash of black blood and a spattering of liquified flesh and bone splinters. The Melted Man gave a wail like some ancient dinosaur, a cacophony of furious roaring.

“Get back!” Agent Stone cried to me, his eyes wild with fear, but I was already quickly backpedaling away from the abomination. Officer Paisley was only a few paces from us when the chains on the Melted Man’s body shot out like a spear.

Officer Paisley gave a cry like a strangled rabbit as the sharp point at the end of the chains burst through his chest, a blossoming flower of blood spurting from his ruptured heart. Officer Paisley looked down, surprised, the blood bubbling and frothing over his lips. Then he fell slowly forward, and the Melted Man pulled his chain back. He looked over at us with his glowing eyes and grinned.

“The final sacrifice,” he gurgled in a voice writhing with infection and sickness. “The blood offering for the goddess. She comes.” The Melted Man knelt down, his inhumanly long body twisting as he ran his fingers lovingly across the blood pooling under Officer Paisley’s body. He brought it up to his bone-white face. As drops of flesh dripped off his chin, a snake-like tongue shot out and tasted the blood.

He looked up at us and grinned.

***

There was a feeling in the air like electricity, an oppressive silence hanging over the street. The sky went as dark as a midnight funeral, and the stars and the Moon winked out. I looked up, seeing an enormous black shape descending from above.

It was a massive female form with four arms and a human skull hanging around her neck. Her skin looked as black as a centipede’s, glossy and shining. She danced as she came down, her legs kicking and arms jerking in rhythmic motions. As I watched her dance, an overwhelming feeling of dread and horror came over me. As she descended, her dance quickened, and the waves of terror rushed out from her body like ripples in a pond. I could almost see them, like a blanket of shadows fluttering out in a circle.

I saw Agent Stone turn and run, blindly sprinting away. I wanted to call out to him, to tell him to wait, to not leave me alone with this thing. But I could only stare open-mouthed at the dancing goddess as she came down on the street. She stood as tall as a house, looking down at the body of Officer Paisley.

“My goddess, my queen, ruler of death and destruction, this is for you,” the Melted Man hissed through his skeletal lips. The goddess looked down at the body. Her sharp, pointed talons of fingers reached down and ripped out Officer Paisley’s heart from the still corpse.

The ribs cracked, the flesh separating easily. Officer Paisley’s eyes continued to stare sightlessly up at the black, formless sky. The goddess opened her fanged mouth. I could see swirling pools of darkness inside, silent screams echoing out from some eternity within. With a deep sigh of pleasure, she put the heart into her mouth and bit down, sending blood dripping down her face.

I heard a car starting behind me. The Melted Man and the goddess looked in my direction with the sudden noise. Her dark eyes shone with hunger, the Melted Man’s with insanity.

“A blood sacrifice,” the goddess sighed, her lips splitting into a wide smile, showing off her predatory teeth. “This one should suffer. The agony makes the blood taste sweeter…” The Melted Man laughed and started toward me.

I still had the pistol in my hand, but what good would it do me? I raised in a last-ditch effort to slow the abomination, knowing it was hopeless.

***

I fired, aiming at the Melted Man’s face as the goddess danced and twisted behind him. I felt the mortal terror emanating from her body like currents of air. I resisted the urge to simply throw down my pistol and flee blindly into the night. The bullet missed, and the grinning abomination rushed at me.

A car engine revved directly behind me. It roared past me, missing me by inches. The sedan slammed into the Melted Man, crushing his legs with the sound of shattering bones. He went flying back as the chains on his body flew out in all directions, attacking everything around him at once. They hit trees and bushes and the walls of the house with the sound of clanging metal, then vibrated in the air.

I saw Agent Stone driving the sedan, frantically motioning me inside. I jumped in the seat as the goddess soared into the air and followed after us.

“Fuck!” he cried, accelerating as fast as the car would allow. He swerved around the writhing body of the Melted Man, who lay on the road, twisting his limbs like a stinging hornet. Blood the color of soot pooled under his body. The Melted Man slowly crawled away, pulling himself forward with his skeletal arms.

The goddess flew close behind us, even as Agent Stone pushed the car up to seventy and eighty miles an hour on this residential street. I looked back, seeing only a curtain of shimmering black shadows. Her arms wrapped around the car. I felt the back of it fishtail suddenly.

“Drive faster!” I screamed, panicked. “She’s…” But at that moment, the back of the car lifted off the ground. We went spinning, the world flying around us in circles. I heard the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. My vision turned black for a few moments. I felt dazed, sick, on the verge of throwing up. Waves of dread gripped my heart like skeletal hands.

Off in the distance, sirens roared. Blue and red lights flashed. The goddess looked down the street, seeing the caravan of police cars and unmarked black SUVs approaching the area. With a laugh like the tearing of metal, she took off into the air.

“Released, finally, released on this world,” she cried as she disappeared from view.

The police and agents quickly surrounded us, pulling us out of the crumpled car. I was fine, just a bit shaken up and bruised. Agent Stone had a deep gash across his forehead from when he hit his head during the crash, but he was otherwise unharmed.

When the police went to the crime scene, they didn’t find any evidence of the Melted Man or the goddess there. Only a pool of black blood coagulating on the pavement showed that any of it had been real at all.

Part 2:

Hey everyone, I’ve gotten some DMs telling me what it may be. I’ve heard everything from banshee to skinwalker. After further research I pray to god it was neither of them. I’m praying it was just some girl with a speaker playing some sort of cruel joke. I mean yes there are people who don’t like me on campus, I’ve made some enemies over the past 4 years. But, I just don’t understand what could’ve brought it to this point. I had to stop hiding in fear and go to my classes before my grades plummet, I’m almost done with my degree and only have a few more weeks. If I let some sort of stupid prank ruin my career, It would be everything I swore against to my parents.

A lot of you guys in the DMs were also asking what college I go to and what my name is. First I want to say sorry for not providing that information in the first post, I’m sure you can understand where my head was at typing that. So let me introduce myself, my name is Nick and In order to keep my privacy, I will only provide that I go to a midwest university.

I’m sure you may be wondering, “so did it just stop?”. I would love to say yes, but really things have just gotten weirder. Though, I am pleased to say that there is no longer laughing out my window every night.

Ever since that night, I’ve been noticing more things off with the people on campus. Now you may just think it’s paranoia, but just be patient and listen.

Yesterday, I decided to muster up all of my courage and go to class. Luckily my first class is at 10AM, when the sun is well in the sky, so walking across campus seemed much less threatening. When I sat down in my first class, I noticed something off with the girl that sits in front of me. Usually she’s chatty and excited to be in class, but today she just stared blankly ahead. I tried to say good morning and ask about her weekend, as we do every Monday, but she continued to have that blank stare. She did turn her head towards be, but her eyes read “lights on, but nobody is home”.

Thinking to myself, she may just be hungover, or going through the bout of college student depression. I decided to shrug it off and turn to the front of the class and get my notes ready. But the moment I turned around, I could feel it. Her eyes burrowing deep into the back of my head. When I flipped around to see if I was just being irrational, I quickly learned I wasn’t. Her eyes went from the blank glare, to the most enthusiastic face I’ve seen on her. It was horrible, it almost seemed like she was trying so hard to pretend she was thrilled to be in class and to speak to me. It was inhuman.

I’ve been on the internet long enough to catch on to the term “Uncanny valley”, and what I witnessed In my first hour gives me that same gut feeling I got when I saw that girl last Wednesday.

I was right to be uncomfortable though, I texted her after class to make sure she was doing alright. But her response only reignited the flames of deep fear burning in my soul.

I’ll copy and paste the messages here:

Me: Hey Is everything good? You seemed off in class today.

Steph SCI 101: Uh yeah, I’m fine. but I was not in class today, I’m severely hungover from Tanner’s party last night.

Me: Haha, good one.

Steph SCI 101: No I’m so Fr, are you okay?

Steph SCI 101: Are you trying to fuck with me or something?

Me: Nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you.

(End Of Texts)

Okay so I’m sure that this gives you all the same feeling of dread that it gave me but I’m sure scaled down a bit. This is where I have started to doubt that it’s a prank, because me and Stephanie are cool. There’s no level of hate for either of us, and even if it was some joke, we don’t know each other on that type of level.

Not only did this seem to happen in my first class, but in between classes while I was walking across campus as well. I walk past hundreds of faces in my many treks across campus, and I swear to you, at least 1/4th of the people I walked past had that same dead stare look. And the way they walked, god I hate even thinking of it. It was like they were an alien trying out their new body suits for the first time. The steps and the bends of their legs just seem so meticulous, dramaticized, and puppeteered.

I’m going to try to investigate further, because at this point my fear for my life is more of a reason to try and figure out what it is so I can try to stop it.

I’m no hero, and I’m sure as hell nothing special, but If I can know what to expect for another encounter, maybe I can avoid meeting the demise I have imagined.

"What do you have there Cassie?” I asked my daughter as she was playing with something in the living room.

“Oh, it's just a marker I got from my friend.” She smiled at me as she responded, and I didn't think anything of it. My daughter is a very sociable seven-year-old with a lot of neighborhood friends.

I was about to walk away to continue cooking dinner when I saw a strange marking on Cassie’s birthday gift.

“Cassie please don't draw on your present that mirror was an antique your mother and I bought you.”

“I am sorry Daddy my friend told me to write it, I am not sure what it is, but I think it's pretty.” She smiled once again disarming my frustration, but I was still confused by what I was looking at.

Did one of her friends speak a different language?

I looked again at the odd mark on the fancy-hand mirror. My wife and I had bought the mirror for Cassie’s 7th birthday from an estate sale. It was a very old antique beauty mirror with real silver and sapphires studded into it. We were surprised it was so cheap considering the valuable Materiels, but we weren't complaining.

The marking she left on the hand mirror edge, written just on the corner where the glass met metal was some odd little rune of sigil. The mark looked like five Y’s stacked together and did not look like any language I recognized, and I did not know how she knew to draw something like that on her own. I was puzzled so I decided to ask her.

“Hey honey, what friend told you to draw this marking?” She paused briefly and her smile shifted to one of unease that concerned me.

“Well....” She started. “You probably won't believe me but, it was the mirror man he told me it's a number from his world.” It made more sense now, it was just some imaginary friend, and the marking was just made up, Cassie was very talented at drawing for only being seven so I didn't put it past her to draw such an intricate design.

“Oh did he now?” I asked with my own disarming smile and a brief chuckle. She did not smile back and looked a little sad.

“I knew you wouldn't believe me; he said you wouldn't.” I seemed to have upset her so I decided to play along, or at least in a way that did not seem like it was condescending or poking fun at her “friend”.

“Ok honey, I am sorry. Did the mirror man say what the number was for?”

She smiled again and said. “Yes, he said it had to do with his visit and that the numbers and the mirror will let him visit soon.”

“OK well tell the mirror man that we can play, but no drawing on the mirror we got you for your birthday it is very old and very valuable.” She loved the mirror and used it all the time despite my initial protest to keep it safe in her room since she could lose it or it could be stolen. She talked to it and played with it first pretending to do mirror mirror on the wall but recently it seems her new mirror game is talking to the mirror man and writing whatever comes to her mind. I loved her stories and her creativity but that look she gave when I doubted her seemed genuine and it troubled me.

The next day I had gotten home from work early and decided to surprise her with pizza. I just got in the door and was bringing it into the kitchen when I heard Cassie talking again in the living room this time.

“Okay Gallas, but I don't want to get in trouble, Dad will be mad if I leave those marks on the mirror and on the other ones.” There was an odd pause and I wondered for a fleeting moment if she was actually talking with someone, who was Gallas? Was that what she had named the mirror man? There was no response and Cassie came in the kitchen and greeted me warmly seemingly not reacting to whatever her friend had told her. I thought it was odd but again I chalked it up to her imagination.

Later that night I was woken up by a noise from something downstairs. I almost went back to sleep, but I heard it again and resolved to check it out. I was briefly concerned it might be an intruder, but I focused on the sound and heard the light patter of Cassie’s footsteps and relaxed. No intruder but she shouldn't be up. I was being run ragged with my wife being away for the week at a conference and I had wanted to talk to her more about this behavior with Cassie, but she was too busy to discuss it at any length.

When I got downstairs I saw Cassie in the living room with her marker. She appeared to be drawing on the mirror on the wall in there. I was a little frustrated she had ignored my previous request, and I went into the room to talk with her. She gasped, clearly startled that I was there, almost as if I had broken her from a trance.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry I really had to though, I want to see my friend and he says I have to draw these on all the mirrors or I won't be able to see him.” Once again, I was surprised to see the honest look of concern in her eyes, and I couldn't tell if it was just that she had been caught or if there really was something important, she thought she was doing.

“I don't want to stifle your creativity honey, but you really can't be drawing on all the mirrors like that, and you really can't be disobeying me or Mommy when we say not to do something. I don't know if that marker is permanent or if we will be able to clean those off.” I tried to tell her in as amicable a way as possible, but I could tell she was upset by my tone and feeling guilty and sad. I took her back upstairs and tucked her back into bed. I had to use the bathroom on my way back to my room and when I turned on the light, I let out a frustrated groan. She had left a marking on the mirror up here as well; this time it had a large-looking Y with three smaller ones above it. I remember the marking from yesterday and thought the character looked similar, whatever it was it was not random it had some design or purpose and did indeed look like a number since the previous character had five Y’s and this one had four. I thought perhaps my daughter, despite being so young may have somehow learned bits of another language, but how? We didn't exactly have the resources on hand here to teach her a new language at 7 years old.

The next day while I was at work I got a call from Cassie’s school and found out she had gotten into a fight. I was surprised and concerned, that was not like her. I had to pick her up from school and was told by the principal that a classmate had tried to take her mirror to look at it and she had gotten very upset and punched them in the face to get it back. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, that was not like Cassie at all. I tried talking to her in the car back home but she was sullen and brooding about the event. After reminding her we don't respond to people taking our things with violence she interrupted in a frustrated outburst stating.

“Gallas is my friend, I did not want to lose him!” That name again, Gallas. I figured it must be her made-up name for the mirror man. This was getting old though, now it was affecting her school, and violent outbursts like this could get her expelled. I tried talking to her again and she shut down and barely acknowledged I was talking to her. I didn't know what to do and I was wishing her mother had been home just then because what I was doing was not working. After an uncomfortable and silent dinner, I put her to bed and started to get ready to sleep myself when I heard something that sounded like creaking on the stairs.

Not again

I went downstairs and sure enough, Cassie was there holding her mirror in one hand and the marker in the other writing on the living room mirror again. I was over it at that point. I stormed into the room startling her again.

“Not again, no more of this. You are cleaning these up tomorrow but first, you are going to bed and you are giving me the mirror.” She looked like she was about to cry and spoke.

“No, I can't, not yet Gallas will be angry." I was getting so tired of this game that I shouted again, took the mirror, and sent her upstairs. She let go of it and didn't fight me over it, pausing briefly to look at me and then at the mirror. She ran upstairs, a faint sob making me feel terrible about what I had done despite my initial feeling of vindication in catching her breaking the rules again. I looked down at the thing and sure enough, there was another marking this time it looked like three very slender Y’s. The numbers seemed to be counting down from whatever they started at. I was puzzled at whatever language they were in again and how Cassie would know how to write in it. While considering these things my eyes were drawn towards the center of the mirror and I felt an odd sense of vertigo and felt very unnerved all of the sudden. I started to entertain suspicions that there was more to this mirror than we knew at first and I was wishing I knew more about the people whose estate sale we had bought this from.

The next morning Cassie did not come downstairs for breakfast and I went up to check on her and she said she was feeling sick. I checked her temperature and she did have a low-grade fever so I let her stay home from school. When I was leaving Cassie stopped me and looked up at me.

“Daddy, can I please have my mirror back?” I was not sure after all of the things that had happened so far with this game but I thought of something.

“Alright I will give you the mirror back, but could you tell me what you are writing on the mirror and why?” She paused looking uneasy after an uncomfortable moment she said.

“But Gallas said not to tell anyone about the countdown.” She stopped herself and looked scared at what she had just said and stopped talking.

“Who is Gallas? Is he the mirror man? I asked her but she had resolved to stop talking. I asked again and she looked down at the flood but nodded her head. I gave up and handed her back the mirror. Whatever this game was really, I couldn't figure it out.

That evening I stayed up after putting Cassie to bed and like clockwork I heard her leave her room and creep down the stairs. I saw her take the marker and she seemed to move in an odd almost hypnotic trance. She scrawled the markings on the hand mirror and then the wall mirror and when I stepped closer to see her and get her attention, I noticed to my horror her eyes were glazed over and she looked barely conscious. The marking looked like 2 narrow Y’s and I knew I had to do something. I grabbed Cassie's shoulders and gently shook her and she snapped out of the trance with a scream like she had just had a night terror. I hugged her and told her it was ok. She kept asking if it was time and if Gallas, the mirror man was there yet. After some fitful mumbling, she calmed down and I took her back upstairs and she even fell asleep in my arms on the way up the stairs.

Since she was sleeping I took the mirror and the handle felt hot and almost burned me, I wondered how it had gotten that way. I took a picture of the symbol and what I found when looking it up online was very strange. The characters most closely resembled ancient Sumerian numerals.

How the hell did she learn to write these?

Next, I decided to look up Gallas, I didn't find anything initially but I looked up the term in relation to Sumerian terminology, and what I saw was deeply disturbing. The name Gallas or Gallu referred to great demons or devils of the ancient Mesopotamian religion that stole victims away to the underworld to be tormented regardless of guilt or innocence.

I started thinking about the Sumerian numerals counting down and how Cassie had said the mirror man or Gallas would be there when the countdown finished. There was no way this was real, it had to be a joke. Cassie couldn't make believe ancient Sumerian numbers and the literal name of a caste of demonic kidnappers. I was getting legitimately freaked out at that point and I was so distracted by my research I noticed the time and realized she might be back at it again and I likely missed her trance-like sleepwalking. I checked the bathroom mirror to confirm, and it had two large slender Y’s which must represent the number two. Every other mirror in the house bore this number as well. I did not know what to do, I started looking for Cassie to put her back to bed. Yet to my absolute shock and horror, Cassie was gone!

I tore the house up looking for her pleading for her to come out from wherever she was hiding but no use. I called the police and gave them her description and the story in case she had run away, sparing the more paranoid and supernatural concern from the situation and hoping if she did run away, they would help find her. I had almost fallen asleep on the couch downstairs where I had been calling everywhere I could think of to check if anyone had seen her in between going out and searching the neighborhood. I had spent all day searching for her until at about midnight I heard the front door open slowly and then slam shut. My heart leaped it must be her. I wheeled around and shouted.

“Cassie, you’re back! I was so worried.” Yet there was no reply. I couldn't believe it but all I heard was the squeaking of writing and then I realized she was writing a single character which must mean one, on every mirror in another trance.

That was last night, I don't know what to do now. My wife’s flight was delayed, it is still just us. Cassie is asleep in her room. I took the mirror again and it sits on the nightstand near my desk where I am writing this. I have an inescapable feeling of dread at the thought of what happens at the end of that countdown. I know whatever this is it must just be a game, it can't be real. I know she needs help and that this must be a cry for help, but I don't know what to do. My eyes feel heavy suddenly and I think I need to lay down.

Somehow I woke up holding the mirror! The numbers were all there. Cassie is asleep, somehow she slept through it. But something happened, I was holding the mirror and the marker I saw the numbers and brand new and strange signs on the mirrors that were not there before. Worst of all it was all in my handwriting. As I struggle to make sense of it, I feel the pressure of some unseen force. I take a look into the oddly shifting sight of the mirror and the reflection starts to give way to something else.......a face made of pure darkness, with deep red eyes.

Suddenly the mirror cracks under the strain of the force and then shatters. I jump in surprise and just as I recover from the shock, I hear a cacophony of breaking glass throughout the house as the pressure is released and I feel a wave of terror in the pit of my stomach as I smell a rush of fetid air and the faint sound of an unnatural voice echoing in the distance.

The mirror man is real! And whatever he is I think I just let him out. I need to get Cassie and get out of here now before her friend finds us.

The spaceship was almost one and a half kilometers in diameter and more than 200 meters (6500 feet) high, it stood on eight legs six meters (20 feet) above the ground and had a long and wide ramp spread out which several hundred people were in the process of going up. They were the first humans to visit a new solar system. The journey would take 132 years but they would be in a hypersleep so to them it would just feel like a dreamless night.

It had been two years since the colonization of Mars had begun and it was time for humanity to settle in a new solar system alongside the older ones. The Elders had already sent there robots that arrived 4 years before them to begin terraforming the planet and also set up large buildings where they would plant plants which they watered with purified water from the planet. Even cows, pigs and chickens would have 4 years to breed and produce milk and meat that would be frozen. Domesticated animals such as dogs, cats and horses would come along with the people.

The Björkqvist family had left everything behind in Sweden to make the last trip they would ever make. Joel worked as a construction worker and Stina as a nurse. When people asked them why they chose to leave Earth, they replied that it was the ultimate adventure. Many of those on the spaceship came from poor countries and immigrated to have better, safer and richer lives, but for the Björkqvist family the main reason was to cure their daughter Lisa's lung disease, when she woke up in 132 years, the genetic manipulation of the elderly would in conjunction with their nanobots having completely restructured and repaired her internal organs. Lisa now had to be constantly connected to a machine and this greatly reduced her quality of life.

Joel pulled up a cart while Stina pulled up Lisa's wheelchair on the ramp to the spaceship. Joel's wagon was quite large and filled with several suitcases, some finer antique furniture, a cat cage with a cat and technical gadgets. On Lisa's wheelchair sat a large oxygen tank that would last the hours until they were put into hypersleep. Lisa could walk but she didn't have the energy to walk all the way up to the spaceship. It was on its way to check in its luggage right now, they would then proceed to a large dining room for a final meal before the long sleep.

When they entered the spaceship, it felt like entering one of the larger airports, but now they would not be boarding a plane, but the entire “airport” was going into space.

There were maybe 30 wide lines to check in their luggage. The rule had been that you had to bring what you could pull up the ramp, so most people pulled carts. The pets were included in the luggage and were not allowed to pull luggage themselves. This rule was decided by the elders when one of the travelers in one of the forums for information and questions suggested that people should get horses to pull their luggage. If you wanted to bring a horse, you had to work hard to pull it up the ramp.

Once at check-in, they showed their IDs for the last time and had identity keys injected into their hands in saline solution. The identity keys served as proof when they arrived and were going to retrieve their belongings. Their cat was also given a syringe as it was to be removed from the rest of the luggage and put into hypersleep at a different storage unit.

The Björkqvist family then followed an app on their mobile to the dining room. It was a huge round room with round tables and five large cinema screens on the walls. The cinema screens were showing the same thing, they were split into four screens showing the outside in three different directions, with 120 degree angles, from the spaceship and the fourth camera was showing the underside of the spaceship which right now was just the shadowed ground.

The Björkqvist family met another family at table 83, they had chatted with them earlier, it was the Hagos family from Eritrea who had a daughter of the same age as Lisa's and a son a couple of years older. The planning for the trip had been going on for over a year and everyone who had applied and been approved to go along had become members of a social network on the internet where they had been asked to make a page with a video presentation of themselves.

The Björkqvist family had been among the last to enter the dining room and half an hour later the lights dimmed and a voice called out:

"Message to all passengers, may I request your attention, Message to all passengers, may I request your attention."

The buzz in the hall quieted down and people looked up at the cinema screens.

"It is now time for departure. Soon we will have a great meal."

A minimal shaking was felt as the ship took off, then it went quickly and they could see the earth shrink to a small blue-green dot. The screens went dark for half a second and started broadcasting again. People waited for the voice to say something more, congratulating their courage for being the first humans to set up as settlers in a new and unexplored solar system. Where was the fire speech they were all expecting to hear? It felt sad that it didn't come and they were all reminded of how different the elders' culture was from theirs. Even if the elders didn't give speeches on the same occasions as people, they should have talked to people and understood that it was part of human behavior for someone to say something nice on an occasion like this, even if the elders didn't want to give a speech, there must have been several of humans, who aspired to power, who would had offered to say something if asked.

The silence continued and a sadness spread in the hall, something was wrong.

"Mom can you come with me, I need to visit the bathroom."

A minimal shaking was felt as the ship took off, then it went quickly and they could see the earth shrink to a small blue-green dot. The screens went dark for half a second and started broadcasting again. People waited for the voice to say something more, congratulating their courage for being the first humans to set up as settlers in a new and unexplored solar system. Where was the fire speech they were all expecting to hear? It felt sad that it didn't come and they were all reminded of how different the elders' culture was from theirs. Even if the elders didn't give speeches on the same occasions as people, they should have talked to people and understood that it was part of human behavior for someone to say something nice on an occasion like this, even if the elders didn't want to give a speech, there must have been several of humans, who aspired to power, who would had offered to say something if asked.

The silence continued and a sadness spread in the hall, something was wrong.

"Mom can you come with me, I need to visit the bathroom."

The elders liked fresh meat. They didn't want to kill and eat people but started the meal when the food was as fresh as possible. Killing off and eating large groups of people without any human finding out what had happened or even suspecting anything was easy. You filled a rocket with people who wanted to go to a new solar system, went to the dark side of the moon while pumping the oxygen out of the premises and waited until the people were too weak to defend themselves effectively and then the party could begin. No one would miss them, they were too far away in the universe for it to be possible to communicate with them when they woke up from hypersleep 132 years later.

When the screen went blank for half a second earlier, they had stopped showing the broadcast from the cameras and started showing an old recording, this so that the people wouldn't see that they landed on the back of the moon instead of keep traveling into space.

The fear Stina felt gave her new energy. She let the door slowly slide closed and looked around the toilet, Lisa was on her way out of the toilet stall and Stina saw what she was looking for. A really big vent, not big enough for her but big enough for Lisa to crawl into.

"They're murdering everyone, you have to crawl up into the vent."

Lisa looked at her mother confused as she tried to process what her mother had said. Stina began to walk unsteadily towards the vent long into the room while she hyperventilated. As she walked past Lisa she grabbed her hand and gestured that she couldn't breathe, Lisa didn't understand what was happening but she understood that her mother needed to breathe with her mask.

They took turns breathing and went to the valve which was about a decimeter (4 inches) above Stina's head. The valve was not screwed down but it was just a matter of grabbing two handles and pulling out the grate, an advantage of the older ones was that they respected things in public places so things didn't have to be screwed down so that someone wouldn't come up with something stupid.

Stina disconnected the air tank from the wheelchair and inserted it into the valve.

"Lisa you need to get into the vent, quick before they get in here."

"But you won't fit in here, how are you going to manage!"

Lisa answered with tears in her eyes.

"Do as I say!"

Stina took one last deep breath from the gas mask and linked her fingers.

"Stand on my hands, I'll lift you into the valve."

Lisa cried but did as she was told and climbed into the vent.

"I love you"

"I love you too mom," Lisa replied as Stina put the valve grid back on. She sat in the wheelchair, if they came in and saw her walking around they would wonder whose wheelchair it was and start to look around. She rolled towards the door as she contemplated how she could commit suicide before they entered but then everything went black.

Lisa looked out the vent and saw her mother pass out seconds before the door opened and one of the elders entered. The elder walked up to Stina and sucked his mouth onto her face. The elder had a belt around his body with various tools. The elder sucked Stina's body, which crumpled up like a tetrapack as the fluids were sucked out of her body in to the elder.

The elder rolled out a mat on the floor and moved Stina's body to it, that was enough for Lisa, she couldn't watch anymore and slowly started pushing the oxygen tank in front o her as she crawled deeper in to the ventilation system.

She had dealt with panic before, she had almost choked to death one time, and now she had juse of that experience as she was focusing on breathing calmly and calming down. She needed to gather her thoughts before doing anything, now was not the time to panic. What had happened? The endels who called them shelf space flowers and had declared that they where herbivores were anything but herbivores and flowers, they were monsters and the worst nightmare imaginable had just come true. This was not a cooperation between two different species that complemented each other and lived in symbiosis, this was an extinction of the weaker species. This was an extermination of the people. She needed to warn others about the space monsters. She checked the reception on the mobile phone, no reception as expected. She turned it off.

Where would the rocket go? Was it true that it was going to a new solar system or had it been a lie? If it went back to Earth or to Mars, she could connect to the monsters WiFi and warn people. It might already be too late but maybe she would get a chance to fight back against the monsters, they might win but they wouldn't do so with out a fight. She needed proof to be believed if she was going to warn people, she needed to film and photo document what had happened so that she would be ready to send evidence when she had WiFi or something else... if that opportunity came.

Lisa started crawling back into the vent towards the toilet. Had she had her cell phone on silent? Would it sound if she started it? Nah, she'd had it on silent... she was almost sure. But was she 100% sure of that. Why hadn't she thought of that before turning it off. She stopped, should she turn it on? She was 99% sure the sound was off but she crawled back into the vent to be some distance away from the toilet in case the cell phone made a noise when she turned it on.

Lisa tucked the phone under her shirt, to muffle the sound as much as possible, if it made a noise, then said a silent prayer for the ohone not to be heard before turning it on. It started silently and she breathed a sigh of relief. She logged in and started crawling back towards the toilet. Stronger than fear, she felt the spirit of rebellion, resistance and an enervating sense of refusing to give up. It wasn't anger, she was more clear-headed but her adrenaline levels made her combative. She could kill the monsters and wanted to. She thought of the fact that the Swedes were descendants of the Vikings, she remembered when she learned that the greatest honor for a Viking was death by battle.

When she got back to the grid, the elder had stripped her mother and sawed off her right leg, Stina's face was completely gone and the sawed off leg was pointing straight up into the air out of the elders mouth. The elders eyes were closed so Lisa assumed it was enjoying the food. Lisa took out her mobile phone and opened the camera, if she took a picture someone would say it was photoshopped so she started filming through the grid. 10 seconds was enough. She took a couple of pictures too.

How was the ventilation system? It probably went straight up and straight down in some places, she wouldn't be able to get up or down via the ventilation system but just crawl around on the same level. If she got far enough into the tunnels that the light didn't reach, she had to be careful not to fall straight down a hole. How long would the oxygen tank last? Several hours anyway, or maybe not that long, she needed to calm down so it would last longer. Should she explore or conserve oxygen and energy? The monsters must have pumped all the oxygen out of the system, but they also breathed, they might last longer without oxygen than humans but they lived on earth so their bodies were adapted to breathing, they would pump the air back in to the ship, they should do that, should they not? If she breathed normally and only used the oxygen mask when she really needed to, she could last a very long time.

She turned off the oxygen tube and tried to breathe normally, they had pumped in oxygen again and relief ruched over her in an awesome way. She decided to explore but to do it so slowly that she didn't need to use the oxygen tube.

Half an hour later she reached another vent and could see out into the dining room. Considering it was the aftermath of a massacre of several hundreds of people by the space monsters, it was very clean and organized. There was no blood spatter anywhere and the people were neatly laid out on rolling mats and had had one or two arms and/or legs cut off. The space monsters were spread out and had an arm or a leg sticking out of their mouths. Lisa filmed and took some photos.

On the movie screens, Lisa could observe three things: 1. the cameras had large searchlights that were on, 2. they were on the moon and 3. the spaceship had changed color and turned black. Lisa turned off the phone and decided to stay there and wait and see what happened.

Lisa almost fell asleep but was wide awake when the spaceship began to move. Now all the arms and legs were gone and some space monsters were going around collecting what was left of the bodies. She reached for her cell phone to check the clock but realized it was off.

Lisa didn't take out her cell phone until they arrived on Mars, then she turned it on. She didn't know how it worked. If you could send messages from a regular Earth cell phone to Earth, she thought you could but they didn't arrive for an hour or something.

How dangerous was it to join Mars WiFi? Would they see her? What else would she do? People who lived on Mars regularly uploaded videos about what it was like on Mars, so it worked, it just took longer from the time they uploaded them before you could see them. She connected and went to youtube to upload her videos. It worked but she regretted it and went into her email instead to send the videos and pictures to EVERYONE she had ever emailed with. She opened Google maps and took a print screen.

The headline of the e-mail had to be "Proof that the space flowers have committed genocide!". In the email she wrote "Hello! My name is Lisa Björkqvist and I am 9 years old. My family and I were going to go with the space flowers to a new solar system. The space flowers have murdered and eaten all the colonists except me. See pictures and videos. They have landed the rocket on Mars, I've attached a print screen that says where the space ship is on Mars. Spread this message to everyone you know! Save me! Kill all the space flowers!" Then she copied the text and sent the email and took a couple of breaths from the oxygen mask, her heart rate had increased as she typed.

Then she shared it on Facebook with the same text and then YouTube. It would take time but now people would know the truth.

The space monsters started to leave the dining room, probably very full and content but they might not be as happy in a few hours Lisa thought. She thought about crawling back to the vent by the toilet and crawling out there, now that they were leaving the ship they would probably shut off the oxygen supply to the ship. She had to try to sneak out of the ship somehow. Although it would be difficult and she would probably be discovered, she needed her wheelchair if she was going to get far.

She started to crawl towards the other vent but she doubted if it was a good idea, if she tried to leave the craft and they spotted her they would see what she had sent on her cell phone and be forewarned. And how was she going to get down from the vent, if she jumped that far she might hurt herself, sprain a foot or something, but it might not make much of a difference since she had the wheelchair.

Once at the valve, it worked out. The space monster that had eaten Stina was leaning against the wall under the vent. Lisa took out her cell phone and crawled back a little and left it there. If they were to find her, at least they wouldn't see what she had sent. She lay on her back with her feet against the vent grid and took a few last quick breaths from the oxygen mask, disconnected the hose, held the pressure of the gas tube against her stomach and then she kicked the grid away, hurried forward and threw the gas tube down on top of the space monster. Now it had to make or break. She then took the hose in one hand and sat on the edge and looked down. The monsters skin had cracked open on one side of its mouth and blue blood was pouring out. Eyes directed upwards but not fully focused, Lisa jumped down on it. She hit the mid section of it and bounced forward a bit and collapsed on the floor and started hyperventilating.

The thud when the tube had landed on the floor after bouncing off the monster had been very loud but the tube held, Lisa expected the other monsters to have heard it and come running but nothing happened. They had probably already left the dining room and perhaps the ship.

Lisa got up and shakily walked over to the oxygen tube, connected the tube, opened it and started to breathe, she then turned to face the monster. The monster looked like it was trying to call for help but Lisa had knocked the air out of it, probably when she jumped on the midsection. When she recovered for a few seconds she picked up the tube and aimed it at the monster's midsection but she only feinted and then slammed the tube straight down on one of the monster's "feet" and happily heard something crash down there, another crack also appeared in the monsters skin and more blue blood began to seep out.
Lisa crouched down and took a few more deep breaths out of the gas mask then she hit the monster in the midsection with the tube so it couldn’t recover and call for help then she slammed the tube down on another one of it's three "feet".

The monster fell to the floor and after two more deep breaths Lisa punched it in the midsection and then she went to its top, took out her key chain, and smashed its three eyes with three quick punches, covering the keys in blue blood. After that effort, she had to sit down and hyperventilate. She was so out of breath it hurt and her heart was beating so hard she felt like she was going to pass out.

The monster that hadn't managed to scream was starting to take in air now, Lisa could tell it was preparing to call for help so she shoved the gas tube into it's mouth before laying down on the floor. The monster came up with its arms towards the tube but Lisa braced herself with one hand against one of the pillars between the toilet stalls and held the tube in place with her legs while she held the gas mask over her face with the other hand. Lisa didn't think the monster would suffocate in the first place, she tried to kick the tube into the monster but she wasn't strong enough. The effort made blue blood ooze from the monsters shattered eyes, the floor and Lisa's shoes was completely covered in it.

The blood loss seemed to weaken the monster but it was far from dead. After 5 minutes Lisa had recovered enough to stand up again but first she attached the gas mask behind her head. Now she needed to be quick. She pulled the tube out and then quickly slapped it over her midsection again. An "arm" went out after her, but she managed to back away and pushed it down on the floor, pining it down with her foot and break it in several places with the oxygen tube.

She hit slowly and methodically now, breathing out of the mask all the time so she didn’t lose her breath. She managed to hit it ten more times and break the third leg as well. Then she had to sit in her wheelchair. She sat and watched the monster for a while. It wasn't dead but it had lost a lot of blood. Would it recover and call for help if she left it? Maybe, but the question was whether there was anyone left on the ship who could hear it. She rolled to the door and ajared it a little and looked out. It was empty out there and the cinema screens were off.

She took another look into the toilet. Her mother was missing an arm and a leg and her face was gone. Beside her lay the implement that the monster had probably used to cut off the leg, she had missed it before in all the commotion and fear. It looked like a large jigsaw/circular saw but instead of a saw blade there was something else, a blue string. Lisa rolled over and picked it up. There was a button you could press and when she did, she felt heat radiating from the blue string that was there instead of a saw blade. She rolled back to the monster to test it.

It can't just be that the blue string got really hot, it must be moving really fast too because it was like cutting through butter when Lisa used it to cut the top off the monster. She continued with the middle and cut the monster in half, now it definitely wouldn't be able to call out for help.

Lisa felt more at ease now that she had a good weapon but it would be difficult to get close enough to use it. How do you get temporarily close to something with three eyes that constantly sees 360 degrees of its surroundings?

She rolled back the way she had come, back towards the baggage claim. On the way out of the dining hall she changed her clothes and shoes, if she was going to get out of the ship without anyone noticing she had better not be drenched in monster blood, that would have made the element given her innocent look away. She wrapped her super saw in a sweater too.

Once at the entrance she hadn't run into anyone and to her relief the ramp was down and had a superstructure that protected against the Martian atmosphere. She rolled to the edge of the ramp and glanced around the corner. The ramp led down into a base that was most likely just for monsters. This did not look like a place shared by two species. She saw no monsters, only a large plant kingdom that could perhaps be described as a forest or jungle, split by a large road in the middle. The light was all wrong and the plants didn't seem to be coming from earth. This was a cultivation from another planet. She slowly rolled down the ramp, it was a long ramp and there was nothing she could hide behind, if anyone caught sight of her now she wouldn't stand a good chance, she could play innocent and confused but if there where no other humans here they would know she wasen’t supose to be here. But nothing happened.

She couldn't see where the walls ended and it was so high to the ceiling that it felt more like being outside than being inside a large room. She picked down one of the fruits from a purple tree and smelled it. She had been involved in some strenuous activities since she had last eaten and it had been a very tiring day to say the least. The monsters had no problem eating us so why should their fruit be poisonous to us? Lisa reasoned, then threw it away. It was no time to take chances. If her email was going to result in someone getting there to save her, she didn't want to risk dying of poisoning before they did.

Lisa rolled along the road in the middle of the forest, further along the road it looked like there were houses, houses inside a house. A carriage came driving further ahead and Lisa rolled to the side of the road and waited. The monster that was coming would have probably seen her if she had seen it so she didn't hide but was ready with her cutter that she had hidden in a shirt, she located the button with her thumb and focused on breathing calmly.

The monster drove up to her and got out of its triangular 'golf cart', it bent its mouth down towards Lisa while tilting its body the other way. When it then moved its mouth towards Lisa's face, she was ready and raised the cutter and pressed the button so that the monster cleaved its own "face"… or top of the body. The new clothes she had just donned were splashed with blue that bubbled up and the elasticity of the monster gave way and it fell down and gurgled like a slimy jelly ball.

"That's how it goes when you're predictable, stupid ass."

Lisa looked at her wheelchair and then at the “golf cart”. She didn't quite have the same anatomy as the monsters but... She walked over to the car and looked down into it to see how tricky it could be. At each edge was a lever that went forward and backward and at either side of them two buttons. Lisa removed the gas-tube from her wheelchair and entered the transport vehicle and tried one of the buttons, it spun in that direction, she spun it until it was pointing at the houses then she tried pushing the lever, she went forward and released the lever and it stopped in its position.

There was a stool in the carriage but it was obviously not made for her as she could barely see over the edge when she sat down. Lisa regretted that she had left her cell phone in the vent, she should have called someone on Mars, they should have some number she could google and call. But maybe not, now that she had more time to think and began to look a little more realistically and less hopeful at her situation she realized that the people who were on Mars were hardly allowed to have weapons for the monsters and there were hardly any police, the monsters ruled this planet and even though Lisa didn't follow the news and was particularly knowledgeable about contemporary history she knew that the monsters didn't share their technology, those on Earth wouldn't send any military because they didn't have ships to send them in. Her lungs wouldn't managed to keep her alive after the oxygen tank ran out. It would take a miracle for her to ever live past the age of nine. But it was okay, her parents and all her new friends she had chatted with and would get to know on the trip were dead, it was time to die. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rode, only those who die in battle are allowed to enter Valhalla.

Lisa didn't have long to drive before more dimwitted space monsters appeared in their silly triangular golf carts, she turned the throttle, stood up and kept her cutter hidden under the edge of the golf cart but ready for his with her thumb on the button. She knew they wanted to latch on to her face and soak up her juices and that gave her an advantage, if they were less confident they would have shot her but now they were going to get close enough to die.

The tube had a buckle on it so that it could be attached to the wheelchair, now Lisa stopped and fastened the tube to her back whereupon she waited for the monsters. They formed a semi-circle around her and left their golf carts to walk towards her, she waited until they were right on top of her before she pulled up the cutter and swiped right through four of them in ahalf-circle. Then she jumped out of the carriage and went on the attack. She ended up as food but taught them something about humans they hadn't learned in all the hundreds-thousands of hours they'd watched movies and TV shows from Earth.

I think there’s something off about my campus

Hey everyone, I’m typing this on my phone so I apologize if there is weird formatting. Anyways, to get to the point, there’s something really off with some people on my campus. I have come seeking answers.I noticed it first walking home from my 7pm class last Wednesday.

To set the scene, most of the campus is tucked back into the woods a little, and my 7pm class is in the farthest building from the parking lot (further into the woods). I get out from that 7pm class around 9pm, so on cloudy nights like last Wednesday, the only lights on that long sidewalk are the lights radiating from the other buildings. Usually, there’s roughly 30 feet where it’s pitch black because the foliage is pretty dense. I usually walk back to my apartment with some classmates that live in the same complex as me, but I told them to go ahead of me while I finished the rest of the project.

After packing my laptop away, I started heading back home. It was roughly 9:30 at this point, and my brain was slowly shutting down preparing for the deep sleep that has yet to come.Walking down the sidewalk, I heard somebody not too far into the woods laughing like they’ve just heard the funniest joke ever. I immediately thought, “probably some Freshman walking the trails with their friends smoking weed”. Chuckling to myself, I put in my AirPods and picked a playlist for my journey back home.

When I looked up from my phone, there was the silhouette of somebody walking towards me. I have no idea how I missed them before, but honestly, it’s very possible they were just in a spot where the light wasn’t quite reaching them. A little unnerved, I shifted over to the left side of the sidewalk.

(Now I’m usually fine walking alone at night; I’m a 6’2 man who’s dabbled in the world of MMA. But something about this person gave me a primal feeling of unrest.)

When they shifted over to the left mirroring me, I felt my blood run cold. But alas, I had to keep walking because this was my only way back home. As I neared closer to the figure, I almost laughed at myself when I realized it was just some harmless girl walking towards the Murphy building. If anything, I’m the intimidating one to her.

This is where it really gets weird. She stopped as I was passing her and turned to me. Thinking she needed to ask me something, I took an AirPod out and asked “what’s up?”. After staring at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, she opened her mouth, and I kid you not, mimicked the laugh I heard moments before perfectly. Before I could chalk it up to it just being her in the trails earlier, I noticed something. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. If I had left my AirPods in, it would just look like she was just opening her mouth and staring at me. She then shifted into a deep raspy laugh. She did all of this without moving her mouth at all; I couldn’t even see her throat moving as you would expect if someone was laughing. It was almost like she was some fucked up human-shaped gramophone. The feeling of absolute horror that came over me is something I’ve only experienced in my imagination. Before I could think to do anything next, My body began to run off some sort of primal instinct. With my legs burning, it took me about 10 minutes to get all the way back to my apartment and lock myself in relative safety.

I’m coming on here now to ask if anybody knows what I experienced? I have been hearing that same laughter outside my window every night since that night, I am too terrified to sleep well and have refused to go to any of my classes. Please I just want answers, I don’t want to keep living in fear.

I remember when the first of the Russians attacked back in February, 2022, crossing the border like armies of orcs. Though they were unorganized, and many were drunk or poorly trained, there was such a massive number that they still managed to spread chaos and bloodshed everywhere they went.

People lived in fear, and many remembered the war crimes committed by the Soviet Army in World War 2, especially against tens of millions of German women and girls. Ukrainian women and girls near the battlefield lived in constant fear of being kidnapped by Russian soldiers, knowing their long, sick history of committing atrocities against unarmed civilians. Even worse, the Russians had a history of kidnapping children, supposedly to send back to Russia, though many were never seen again.

Within days, the Ukrainian government enlisted me. I got sent to the border of Donetsk. When I got to the battlefield, I found a city in flames.

“Artem!” my squad leader Dmitri called from the front of the pack. “Keep up!” I looked around, realizing I had been daydreaming as we trooped past the miles of rubble and destroyed buildings.

Many of the soldiers in front of me were barely men at all, just boys really. Many had only recently graduated high school. They continuously looked around with gleaming eyes and stark fear engraved on their young faces, staying together like a herd of antelope afraid of the lion. Overhead, I heard the distant roaring of planes and fighter jets. Faint bomb blasts echoed from all corners of the city.

I started to jog forward, to rejoin the troop, when a high-pitched shrieking whine pierced the winter air directly overhead. I immediately froze, still far behind the last soldier. I looked up and saw a white blur flash through the air, crashing straight down from the sky like a meteor. Before anyone could react, it erupted with a mountain of fire and an earth-shaking cacophony.

The flash was like looking into an exploding star, sending me flying backwards. The ground shook and cracked, the deserted street’s pavement heaving and trembling beneath me. A long arm of flame reached upwards into the air, expanding and consuming everything around it in a growing inferno. Men screamed all around me. Body parts littered the ground like pieces of litter. I saw Dmitri’s head staring up at me from the nearby sidewalk, his eyes still slowly opening and closing. Black smoke erupted in thick plumes all around me, choking and acrid.

Groggily, I started to push myself up, seeing all the scrapes and cuts on my body. I had landed hard on my back. I felt something warm and sticky running down it. Fumbling, I reached back and found a sharp rock stuck deeply into my skin. I pulled out the bloody thing with a cry of pain. I felt weak and sick. I bent over, retching.

After a few moments, my head seemed to clear, though it still hurt even to breathe. I tested all my limbs and found that they still worked. I was bleeding from dozens of small cuts, but, at that moment, that meant less than nothing to me. My adrenaline was so high that I didn’t even feel most of them until later.

Once I realized everyone else in my troop was either dead or dying, I didn’t hesitate. I turned and ran. As I looked back at the crater of smoke and broken bodies laying on the street, I realized just how close I had gotten to death. If I had been twenty feet closer…

In a blind panic, I sprinted back the way we had come. Homes and apartment buildings in flames sent clouds of smoke into the frigid, cloudless sky, turning the world dark as if a solar eclipse were taking place.

The dying screams of my few living comrades followed me out, their voices filled with unimaginable pain and terror as the last few grains on their hourglass descended.

***

I existed in a state of animal panic, alone and surrounded by the enemy without my troop. I had lost my radio sometime during the bomb blast and couldn’t even call for help. Moreover, I had never been to this part of Ukraine and had no idea where I was going.

As soon as I was out of the city, I heard shouting. I looked forward, seeing a line of tanks and soldiers heading towards the entrance to Donetsk. My heart dropped as I realized they were speaking in Russian. Thick woods surrounded both sides of the road. I sprinted blindly into the brush, hoping that they hadn’t seen me.

After a few minutes of running, I started to slow down, wondering if I had gotten away. I kept glancing back, checking to see if they would send soldiers to follow me. My heartbeat burst in my ears like the rapid beating of some sacrificial drum.

I heard the cracking of a twig close behind me. As I turned, I saw the face of a Russian soldier appearing over a bush. His blue eyes looked as cold as ice, the predatory eyes of a killer.

Gunshots exploded all around me as I ducked behind a large pine tree, hugging my rifle to my chest. The bullets smashed into the bark of the tree, sending sharp splinters flying in all directions. I had no idea how many there were.

When they stopped to reload, I leaned out from behind the tree and sprayed a round of bullets where I had last seen the Russian soldier. Someone screamed as a splash of blood covered the leaves and forest floor. Immediately, another rifle started firing, the bullets whizzing right past my head. I felt a burst of heat on my left hand, then a rising current of agony sizzling through my nerves. In the heat of the battle, I didn’t dare look down even for a moment, but I could feel the blood running over my hand like warm raindrops.

With no good options left, I took a grenade out of my belt and pulled the pin. I tossed it as hard as I could in the direction of the enemy before taking off sprinting across the woods. Someone started shooting, but a moment later, the grenade went off. The rifle immediately fell silent as a high-pitched whine filled my ears, deafening me.

***

I looked down, realizing my pinkie and ring fingers were mostly gone. Two mutilated stubs of fingers a quarter-inch long spurted crimson torrents in time with my heart. I felt light-headed and sick just looking at the damage. The pain made it hard to think or focus on anything. I existed in a state of pure instinct, just another injured animal running for its life.

After a few minutes of blindly sprinting ahead, I had to stop and rest. I sat down on a flat boulder, surrounded by evergreens and the cold, whipping wind of the Ukrainian winter. In my pack, I had bandages, tourniquets, antiseptics and even a single autoinjector of morphine. I grabbed the syringe and injected it into my tricep. As I cleaned the mutilated hand, I felt a rising sense of peace and tiredness. The pain, while not entirely gone, had grown duller, and now it seemed a thousand miles away.

I started wrapping up my hand with sterile bandages. The spurting blood from my two fingers stained the bandages red, forming crimson inkblots that soaked through them instantly.

I was exhausted from all the running and fighting. I had, after all, only finished boot camp and training a couple days before, so my body and mind had been pushed to the limit even before Donetsk. I focused on my breathing, feeling the sweet relief of the morphine rushing over my mutilated fingers. I blinked fast.

I don’t know when, but sometime while wrapping up my hand, I fell asleep. Within moments, I was dreaming of men with cold, blue predatory eyes looking down on Ukrainian children, children who screamed and thrashed on surgical tables. Doctors in white lab coats speaking Russian came over to look down on them. With the glittering of a scalpel, the doctors knelt down and began their grisly work.

***

I woke up suddenly, surrounded by thick blankets of darkness. Overhead, the dim light from the stars and Moon barely cut through the wisps of clouds. I estimated that a few hours must have passed, at the very least. It felt like my left hand was being stabbed over and over. The tiny stubs of my fingers felt as if they were burning. Strangely enough, I would’ve sworn I could still feel the fingers there, almost like some ghostly pins-and-needles memory of the digits.

I gritted my teeth, looking down at my first-aid kit. I had used all of the morphine. Swearing, I clawed through the pack until I found some naproxen, then dry-swallowed them. I doubted whether the generic Aleve would do much to relieve such a throbbing, unending pain, however.

I heard something behind me, a sound that came across as faint as a whisper. It was like the breathing of a sleeping infant, calm and rhythmic. Confused, I pushed myself up and turned on the flashlight attachment to my rifle. I flicked the bright LED light over the bushes and naked, leafless trees.

“Don’t shoot!” a small voice cried in Ukrainian, full of panic. A little girl crawled out from behind a pine tree, her face filthy, her clothes torn and covered in grime. She had slices all over her body. Her blue eyes looked up at me with pain and horror. “Please, don’t let them take me again…”

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. I glanced around, expecting a trap.

“You aren’t with the Russians, are you?” she said. I just shook my head.

“No, I’m not,” I said. “Now I asked you- who are you? Where did you come from? How did you find me out here?”

“My name is Daniela,” she said, brushing a lock of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. The girl didn’t look older than eight or nine, if I had to guess. “I was kidnapped from my parents in Ukraine, along with all the other children in my town. The Russians said they would send me to live with a good Russian family, who would raise me to believe in the values of the true Motherland. But I didn’t want to go. I got scared, and when the soldier tried to take me from the house, I grabbed a knife off the kitchen table and stabbed him in the leg.

“They knocked me out, smashing their rifles into my head until I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was with dozens of other children, tied down to steel tables in some concrete basement. They were doing horrible things to the ones on the other side of the room, dissecting them alive and cutting off pieces of their bodies. They worked their way slowly over to me. When the doctors came in with the syringes full of black, glittering fluid, though, things got out of control.

“I was trying to undo the knot that kept me tied down to the table. My father had insisted I keep a small folding knife hidden on me after the Russians invaded and started kidnapping and murdering children. I had hidden it in my underwear, and after a few minutes, I was able to wriggle around so that I got hold of it. I started sawing through the knot holding my arms down when the first children started to change.

“Their eyes turned as black as pools of oil. Their skin became bloodless and vampiric. And all the horrific wounds they had started to heal. I saw chests stitching themselves back together, ribs regrowing like fingers reaching out. Their bones lengthened and cracked, twisting and reforming as I watched. Then the children who had received the injection started to laugh and gnash their mouths together. I saw the doctors stop, looking at each with expressions of horror. One of them started to babble in Russian.

“‘Is this supposed to happen?’ he asked, his glasses magnifying his frantic, searching eyes. The children’s teeth lengthened and sharpened into long fangs. As they laughed and grinned, I saw with horror that their teeth were black.

“I felt the rope holding me to the table snap at that moment. The Russians were so distracted by the transformation of the children that they never noticed me sitting up and cutting my legs free. But the transformed children freed themselves at the same time. I heard their ropes snap as a diseased, gurgling laughter ripped its way out of their throats. With jerky, twisting movements, they rose, pushing themselves off the surgical tables. As their black teeth flashed, they launched themselves at the doctors.

“One girl bit off the head doctor’s nose while a Russian soldier screamed orders at her. He came up behind her and stabbed her in the neck, but she held onto the doctor’s nose like a dog with a squirrel in its mouth. Black blood the color of charcoal poured from her neck, but her smile never faltered.

“The other boys and girls with the black eyes attacked the Russians. I didn’t look back again, but I ran out of there.

“The stairway from that room of horrors led up into this forest. Whatever site the Russians used, it was in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a road or a house nearby. I’ve been wandering for the last few hours, trying to find my way back to Ukraine and my family.” I felt sick listening to this poor girl’s story. Of course, I didn’t believe much of it. I figured she had been kidnapped by Russian soldiers and had probably made up a fantasy rather than remembering the actual incomprehensible horrors she must have witnessed or experienced.

“Yeah, I’m trying to find my way back, too,” I said, yawning. My entire body hurt. “My name’s Artem. You can come with me. It will be safer with four eyes than with two, after all.” Daniela nodded eagerly.

“If I had to stay in this dark forest by myself for another hour, I might go insane,” she whispered, looking around furtively. “I could have sworn I heard soft footsteps and this weird, choking laughter while I wandered.”

“When?” I asked. “How long ago?” The terror in her eyes shook me, making me feel uncertain.

“About five minutes before I found you,” she said. Without warning, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, God, I was so scared! It’s those children changed by the Russians, the children with the black eyes, I just know it…”

“OK, then come on!” I said, pulling her. I looked back in the direction I had come. “I think I know the way out of here. The only problem is, it leads towards Donetsk, where the Russians are as thick as fleas. I think we should veer to the left, away from the city. Perhaps we’ll come out further down the road and be able to find a Ukrainian unit.”

Daniela stayed so close to me that I nearly tripped over her multiple times. If I had let her, I’m fairly sure she would have hugged me the entire way.

“Something’s going to try to grab me,” she whispered.

“No, really, it’s OK, Daniela,” I said, patting her head. “You don’t have to worry. If someone tries to take you, I’ll shoot them, OK?” I gave her a small smile. She didn’t return it.

After a few minutes of walking, I thought I heard faint, diseased breathing far behind us. It was so faint that I could barely tell. But there were other noises, too- footsteps that seemed as light as air and, occasionally, a small, choking laugh, like the laugh of someone with a slit throat.

***

Through the thick trees, I saw the glittering of lights in the distance. With renewed hope, I began running towards what I thought might be a town or a military outpost. Daniela tried to keep up, but she was even more exhausted than I was, and I had to slow down.

“I think we’ve almost made it!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing loudly all around me in the silence of the forest. As I listened, I realized just how quiet everything was. It seemed like a graveyard. I didn’t hear a single animal or bug, a single bird or bat anywhere. There wasn’t the sound of people or cars in the distance. It was as if everything had stopped, as if the Earth itself were holding its breath.

Up ahead of us, I saw the gleam of eyes as black and shining as volcanic glass. A young boy stepped out from behind a bush clad only in a blood-stained green hospital gown.

His arms and legs had become inhumanly long and twisted. At the end of each, sharp, bony claws protruded. He grinned at me and Daniela, showing a mouthful of obsidian fangs.

“You must join us, Daniela,” he hissed in a dead voice, stepping forward towards us. In his right hand, I saw a needle filled with sparkling black fluid. “It’s time for the change.”

“Go away!” Daniela screamed, pushing her body against mine. I raised the rifle, pointing it at the boy’s head.

“You heard her,” I said as calmly as I could. “Leave us alone. I don’t want to hurt you. We are on the same side here.” The boy gave a mocking, sardonic laugh at that, a laugh as cold as empty space.

“My only side,” he hissed, “is vengeance.”

As he spoke, I heard soft rustling from directly behind us. I glanced back, seeing dozens of pairs of gleaming black eyes staring at me. I screamed, backpedaling. Daniela sprinted blindly away in a panic as the transformed children leapt at us. I felt my foot catch on a rock. I fell backwards, pulling the trigger as these strange, demonic kids oozed towards me.

The gun went off with a sound like a sewing machine, spraying bullets in a wide arc in front of me. The nearest of the children, a little girl with stringy black hair and an unhinged jaw like that of a snake’s, fell forward as her forehead exploded.

I kept pushing myself away from the abominations as they swarmed toward me, taking down a dozen of them before my magazine clicked empty. I heard shouting in Ukrainian nearby and saw the beams of flashlights searching through the forest, coming from the direction where Daniel and I had seen lights through the trees. I screamed as loudly as I could for help.

I turned, seeing the changed boy standing there only a few feet away, holding Daniela tightly in one hand. In the other, he held the syringe filled with black fluid. With a sadistic grin and a flash of his demonic teeth, he shoved the needle into her neck and pressed on the plunger. Daniela screamed, choking and gasping as he threw her forward. She fell to her knees. To my horror, when she looked back up, her eyes were black and she had an insane rictus grin plastered across her small face.

Ukrainian soldiers sprinted in our direction as I pushed myself blindly in their direction. I cried for help, telling them I was part of the Donetsk regiment. As their lights pushed back the creeping shadows of the forest, I looked over and realized Daniela and the boy were both gone.

When I turned to count the bodies of the transformed children, I found that they were all gone as well. The corpses had mysteriously disappeared, leaving only drops of blood as black as soot behind.

Part 1

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1ahfzyl/i_found_a_living_train_that_slinks_through_the/

Part 2

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1azte0t/i_found_a_living_train_that_slinks_through_the/

Part 3

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1bo92wi/i_found_a_living_train_that_slinks_through_the/

The train’s wheels squealed to a stop, locking up with a deep exhalation of breath. The fungal smell from the pink flesh and black veins spiderwebbing across the walls increased abruptly. I felt the train rapidly decelerating under our feet.

Through the blur of motion outside the mucus-streaked windows, I saw a system of glowing, blood-red roads winding their way hundreds of stories up into the sky on thin stilts. Other roads tunneled deep into the ground. Constant traffic of what looked like giant, egg-shaped pods traveled across them in a blur.

Thousands of the windowless silver towers loomed on the horizon. Behind them, a few enormous ships that looked almost like dragonflies flew up into the coldness of space, while others descended, falling down from the bright chips of starlight with a fluttering of opalescent wings.

The wings stretched out hundreds of feet in both directions, as narrow as glass and filled with throbbing blood vessels under the translucent, shimmering skin. Like the aliens of the Collective Mind themselves and the train we traveled on, these dragonfly ships looked like some mesh of machine and flesh.

From the tails of those ascending came gouts of blue flames, as if they were space shuttles on their way to the Moon. Like some sort of blimp, the alien ships had carriages made of a glossy, obsidian-like material connected to their chests where I figured the passengers or cargo of this strange alien civilization must travel.

I saw the glittering of metal combined with fine, translucent veins on these enormous things. I wondered if perhaps the Collective Mind had even created the living train called the X77 in the first place using the same kind of technology.

If they had, they were advanced far beyond anything I had imagined. Humanity would stand absolutely no chance against such a species. I shuddered to think of what would happen if they reached Earth and found a world full of new subjects to dissect and conduct their horrific experiments on, before ultimately exterminating the whole species like an infestation of bugs, just like they had done on Brother’s planet.

I didn’t get to wonder about it for long when the doors at the end of the carriages opened with a whirring of gears. At the same time, the train came to an abrupt stop, its doors pulling apart, the black veins disappearing like dark dust in the frigid air of the Shadow Plains. Behind us, Cook continuously moaned in agony, his destroyed body smelling like napalm and burnt hair.

“Run,” Cook cried in a croaking whisper. “Justin, you and Brother need to get away…”

At that moment, the hunters of the Collective Mind oozed over the thresholds like alien centipedes, the many electronic components built into their bodies whirring and whining. Their countless unblinking eyes scanned us and the dead body of their comrade with a look of impassion.

Brother did not hesitate when he saw the enemy. He pulled my arm and yanked me out the door. As we sprinted away, he turned, firing a blast of lava at the closer of the two hunters. I glanced back, seeing it land on the abomination’s black flesh with a sizzling sound and a dripping of fat. It gave a shrill, banshee-like wail, which was answered all up and down the living train a few moments later by countless other hunters.

Brother’s plan worked. Both of the hunters from the Collective Mind slithered out of the train in a blur after us, leaving the burnt, moaning form of Cook propped up against the fleshy wall. His eyes looked glazed, as if he didn’t even know where he was or what was happening. He was seriously injured, and I wasn’t sure if he would make it back in the shape he was in.

We sprinted out onto a road that looked like it was paved with some red volcanic glass. It split off into dozens of smaller branching paths that tunneled into the ground, deep under the screaming of the grass and the spiraling black hole of the sky.

The hunters moved at a superhuman speed as Brother chose one path at random. I heard them behind us, their wet, slimy bodies giving off gurgling breaths. They rapidly closed the distance.

The red path narrowed into a tunnel only wide enough for Brother and I to run in single-file. Brother abruptly stopped, motioning me forward.

“Keep running,” he said, turning to fire another round at the hunters. To my horror, I saw they were less than twenty feet behind us now. At this rate, they would catch up with us in seconds.

The black smoke belched from the end of the obsidian rifle as he sprayed another blast of lava at the closer of the two hunters, the one with a mass of still-smoking, burnt flesh on the front of its tree-like trunk. It saw Brother with its many lidless eyes and gave a wail of surprise. Its hundreds of long, skittering legs pushed it up into the air. Its blue wires suddenly shone with an explosion of light. More of its cobalt-blue napalm shot out of sizzling holes that opened up like screaming mouths all up and down the wires spiraling around its body.

Brother’s fiery round sprayed the hunter behind it, covering the front of its legs. It fell forward with a wail as its legs melted, the flesh ripping open under the tremendous heat.

The nearer of the hunter’s spray hit Brother in the arm. He stumbled back, following after me with a grim set expression. His stony face showed no signs of pain even as I heard his skin sizzle like bacon and give off thin wisps of gray smoke.

“Go!” he yelled, pointing forward into the darkness and the unknown. Without hesitation, I sprinted ahead- my body sore and exhausted, my arm still gouged from the bullet wound I had gotten when I was first chased on the train, countless burn spots eaten into my skin. And yet, I knew I was incredibly lucky to even still be alive.

***

The tunnel quickly sloped down like the trail of a mountain, the road hanging over the massive chamber of dark, empty space that opened up for hundreds of stories beneath us. The alien hunter in front still trailed closely behind us. It gave its eerie banshee shriek. I heard responses from all around us in the darkness, including not far ahead up on the floating crimson road.

Brother glanced backward and forward with a grim expression in his colorless eyes. I saw we were trapped, surrounded on all sides. They would either burn us alive right here and now or take us to some cold alien laboratory where they would dissect and torture us like medical experiments in some death camp.

“Do you trust me?” Brother murmured in a barely audible voice, grabbing my arm with a grip like iron. I nodded. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed me over the edge of the road. I fell back, my arms windmilling, a silent scream suffocating in my throat. Still holding onto my arm, Brother jumped over the edge after me just as the hunters of the Collective Mind reached us.

***

As we fell through what felt like eternal space, I felt a blind animal panic take over, exterminating all rational thought. I saw there was a city thrumming and vibrating thousands of feet beneath us, the place the train had called Sugguroth. Great towers shaped like spiraling blades made of glossy black and red volcanic glass loomed hundreds of stories, their many circling windows giving off a pale, white glow. My mind wouldn’t register what I saw until later, however, when I looked back with a more dispassionate and less terrified eye.

Clusters of hunters from the Collective Mind were gathered in circles. Hundreds of the black, writhing creatures huddled tightly together in groups, screaming up at the dark stone sky in harmonizing shrieks. Artificial lights gave off a white radiance that shone across the seemingly endless cavern.

Soft fungal root systems wound their way through the air like spiderwebs, each glowing with a pale silver like moonlight. The air whipped crazily all around us. I looked down, realizing we were falling right into the web of roots. Before I knew what was happening, they were all around me like narrow tree branches, grabbing at my body.

I felt a scream sucked out of my lungs as we tumbled through the thin strands that reached out and caught us like grasping hands. The narrow roots slowed our descent. We fell into tangles and knots, breaking through one layer after another until we finally found ourselves stopped. Like flies in a spiderweb, we were trapped thousands of feet above the ground.

My heart slammed over and over in my chest, the rapid beat ringing in my ears. I had thought I was dead. The sheer animal terror of falling still shook me to my core. Trembling and weak, I could only lay there on the fungal roots, hyperventilating and praying. I looked down at Sugguroth far below us, my stomach flipping with vertigo.

Brother and I were caught in the filaments as if they were tightly-wound strings of rope on some nightmarish rope course. Except I doubted that any rope course would have a drop of hundreds of stories onto the flashing, strobing city of the Collective Mind.

“We need… to get back…” Brother gasped next to me, looking more shaken than I had ever seen him. He gulped hard, looking around, as if expecting to see another vision from a nightmare perched overhead. Yet, as far as I could tell, we were safe for the moment- as long as the roots didn’t give out and cause us to plummet to our deaths. I gazed at him in amazement.

“Back?” I asked, confused and stuttering. I tried not to look down for too long, otherwise everything started spinning. “To… the train?” He nodded grimly.

“The X77 only stops here for about an hour,” Brother said, his ticking, golden pocket-watch flashing in his hands for a brief moment. It was the one with twenty-five hours on it that I had seen on the train. “It isn’t like the Boglands where it must regenerate its energy. I’ve seen the hunters from the Collective Mind loading up cargo and supplies on the X77 train, which is probably the only reason it stops for as long as it does. I don’t know where the cargo goes, but thankfully, the train stops here longer than it does in the other worlds, like Naraka or Victoriat.”

“So what do you propose?” I hissed through gritted teeth, looking around at the empty space that surrounded us all on sides. “Do you want to just fly away? Because, as far as I can tell, we’re stuck.” I looked around grimly, seeing the bottom of the crimson road hundreds of feet overhead. It was so smooth and glass-like that I could see a reflection in it. Everything in its reflection became red like blood, as if it were a mirror that showed the absolute reality of death and murder all over the universe.

“I have something here,” Brother murmured. He frantically brought his small, leather satchel he always wore between us and reached inside. Brother’s eyes flicked constantly, glancing up at our torturers on the crimson road and down at the city of Sugguroth far below.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, still feeling sick from my fear of heights. If I kept my gaze fixed on Brother and kept him talking, I didn’t notice the endless drop beneath my feet so much. It was like standing on the edge of a skyscraper at night and looking down 100 stories at the flowing traffic below with a shrill wind whipping all around me. Brother didn’t respond, however. The look of intense concentration remained plastered across his thin, aristocratic visage.

The many lidless eyes of hunters gazed down at us from the road overhead. Even though everything about them seemed alien, I could have sworn I saw an expression of hunger reflected in their eldritch faces. The granite walls of this subterranean city stretched for miles in every direction, as smooth and free of handholds as smooth glass. I knew we would not be getting up that way.

Brother’s hand came up with two coiled lengths of rope. The rope looked like something futuristic. It looked as yellow as gold and shimmered like metal. He carefully handed one over to me.

“These creatures exist primarily as a hive mind. What one sees and thinks, the others can all gain access to. The entire city will be looking for us soon,” Brother said. “All of the hunters can access the memories of their comrades, even the dead ones. Within their bodies, they have something that records everything.

“We need to find a way back to the train and get out of the Shadow Plains before the hunters all organize. We need to start climbing somehow.” My stomach dropped at the thought. Climbing an unsecured rope of some unknown material with no safety harness three or four thousand feet above the ground seemed like something from a nightmare. I felt the sudden urge to retch just thinking about it.

“No, absolutely not,” I said, breathing faster. My vision seemed to turn white with anxiety. “I am not doing that. No fucking way. I hate heights.” Brother looked coldly over at me.

“Then you can stay here forever,” he said, a flash of amusement coming over his eyes. “It will be a fitting death for someone afraid of heights, yes? You can just starve and dehydrate over here by yourself, or wait for someone from the Collective Mind to come grab you…”

As if the universe had heard Brother’s words, I heard a dissonant, whirring sound far below. It sounded almost like a helicopter, with a kind of rhythmic whooping that faded and grew in cycles of a couple seconds. I had no idea what I was hearing at first, but the shard of dread that pierced my heart told me it was nothing good.

I looked down, seeing one of the alien dragonfly ships soaring straight up towards us. Gouts of blue flame shot from its tail as countless fans whirred inside its body. Like the hunters of the Collective Mind, these dragonflies had both organic and machine parts. On its torso, I saw a black, obsidian box fused into its skin. A slit in the box covered with some sort of tinted glass allowed me to see what lay inside.

Hundreds of eyes on stalks stared up at me and Brother from the box without any shred of emotion. The dragonfly flew up at us with a predatory hunger in its dragon-like face. Its eyes looked as pale as cataracts, opaque and filmy, the white gleam looking as pale as moonlight. Its wings looked as light and fragile as a thin pane of glass, translucent and filled with throbbing rivers of red and blue vessels.

The dragonfly’s long, tapering mouth opened with a cry like a tornado siren. I felt my heart drop as I stared down at the approaching messenger of death.

For now, my fear of heights was forgotten. A new fear, far more sharp and urgent, stabbed its way through my heart.

***

“This is our only chance,” Brother said without a hint of fear. He took his rope, tying the end into a large lasso. I didn’t understand how he stayed so calm. I was so filled with mortal terror that I could barely remember how to speak. “Get your rope ready, dammit!”

I jumped, looking down at the rope. With shaking hands, I grabbed it, following Brother’s lead and tying a large lasso in the end. I triple-knotted it, not knowing what his plan was but figuring that our lives depended on it.

The dragonfly was only a couple hundred feet below us by this point. It would reach us in seconds. Its wings battered the air furiously as it ascended, showing off thousands of protruding, needle-like teeth in its reptilian mouth. Brother took me by the arm with a grip like iron.

“This is our only chance,” he hissed. “Get ready!” With his rifle slung around one shoulder, he took his rope and began swinging it in circles, gaining momentum for the lasso. I did the same, but I had no experience with rope or lassoing livestock. I wasn’t a cowboy, after all.

Time moved so fast, though, that I never got the chance to question it. Before I knew it, Brother had flung his rope. The steam-whistle cry of the cybernetically-enhanced predator roared from directly below us as it blurred through the spiderwebbing of thick fungal roots growing out of the smooth granite. The roots dissolved into a cloud of spores and dust beneath us, and suddenly, there was nothing between me and the ground except cold, empty air.

A moment after Brother, I threw my lasso at the creature- and prayed.

***

My lasso did not land anywhere close to the massive alien dragonfly. I heard a deep booming chortle from the creature, as if it were trying to laugh. And then I felt myself falling as the last of the roots dissolved under the dragonfly’s attack.

I screamed, knowing I had lost. In that moment, I knew I would die. I could only look down at my fate as everything inside my chest squirmed and rose like pure, distilled anxiety. My feet tingled as if butterflies flew underneath the soles.

A hand came down and grabbed my arm with a grip like iron. I couldn’t look away from the drop, however.

“Help me, you fool!” Brother screamed. I looked up as he started to pull up, the grip he had on my arm slipping. I began to slide back down. With a wave of adrenaline I have never felt before, I reached and hugged his body with every ounce of strength I had. Then we were rising into the air at a tremendous speed. I clung to Brother’s body, but felt myself slipping. My sweaty palms could barely support me. I tried grabbing his waist, but we were moving up so fast that I felt myself slip down a couple more inches. Frantic, I dug my fingers into the cloth of his poncho, hoping the material would not rip and send me falling to my death.

I glimpsed the rope Brother had thrown caught around the alien’s dragon-like snout. The creature shook its head like a dog with a toy, trying to throw us off. I watched in horror as its mouth opened, the rope snapping apart with a popping sound.

Then both Brother and I were falling. I was screaming. Brother’s eyes had rolled up in his head and gone white. Everything was moving so fast that I wasn’t even sure where I was anymore. I only knew we had failed.

A moment later, my body hit something hard. I rolled, feeling something in my left shoulder give way with a crack. The breath was knocked out of my lungs as I shrieked in agony.

Brother was suddenly standing over, pulling me up. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead as he pointed below us.

“We did it!” he told me excitedly. “We landed on one of the roads. The train will be leaving soon. We need to get back immediately.” Still stunned, I barely comprehended the words. Brother knelt down and slapped me hard across the face. “Get up! Run! Do you want to stay here forever?” Groggily, I rose to my feet and followed Brother out into the cold blackness and screaming grass of the Collective Mind.

***

We sprinted down the bloody glow of the smooth alien road. The train in the distance still had its doors opened. I realized with some slight amusement that we had returned to almost the same exact spot we had left from. As we got closer, I could even see the burnt, blackened body of Jeremiah laying still and cold on the blood-strewn floor.

“Next stop: St. Joseph’s Stand. We will reach our destination in approximately seven hours,” the train gurgled in its low hiss of a voice. The words echoed through the cold, dry air of the Shadow Plains all around us.

To my horror, I saw Cook missing from the carriage. Where he had been sitting, I saw a puddle of gore and a warhammer covered in blood and pieces of skin. Ruby-red drops led out the door like breadcrumbs, smeared across the floor of the train as if something had dragged him away. Bloody handprints covered the wall and door.

I could almost see what had happened in my mind’s eye: Cook trying frantically to keep his attacker away with the meager warhammer, his injured, withdrawing body filled with terror and pain. The hunter from the Collective Mind wrapping one of its slithering, snake-like tentacle legs around Cook’s leg and dragging him away. But to where? To the horrors of the dissection chamber deep in the supermassive skyscrapers of Sugguroth?

In the end, I would never find out. In hindsight, I realize that was probably for the best.

***

Finally, mercifully, the doors of the train closed. The living train slowly gained speed, heading towards its next destination in its never-ending circuit across the multiverse.

We took off across the dark wasteland of the Shadow Plains with the screaming of the dull, jet-black Katcha grass surrounding us like the shrieking of an erupting volcano. Brother turned to me, his eyes cold and distant, his lips tightly pressed together. Sighing deeply, he slung his rifle around his body and patted me on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Justin,” Brother said, a genuine expression twisting his face for the briefest fraction of a second. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Do you think the Collective Mind is experimenting on him?” I asked, horrified. “What if they use what they learn from experimenting on Cook to attack Earth?” Brother just shook his head.

“We can’t change that now,” he responded grimly. “All you can do is prepare yourself for whatever may come.”

***

After we had escaped the Shadow Plains of the Collective Mind and the hunters from the House of the Blades, the danger on the train seemed much less. Brother and I were the sole survivors, and while we had to watch our backs due to the plethora of strange and often hungry alien creatures inhabiting the train, we saw no more hunters from the Collective Mind after that. We didn’t end up having to kill more than a couple dozen monstrous creatures on the train in the next few weeks, a number which Brother seemed to find dull and underwhelming. He lived on the thrill of the hunt, after all, which was something I found out more and more as I got to know him.

We passed through many more worlds, living on the water of the train and kalipare meat for weeks at a time. I saw the fiery cliffs of Naraka, where millions of naked people swarmed above the rivers of fire and lava that rained from the sky like constant streams of hail. I remember Veriden, where the tall humanoid creatures had legs that bent backwards, like the legs of a bird.

Eventually, we passed through the last of the stops, the one labeled ULTIMATE REALITY. As the front of the train disappeared into a vortex of spinning light, I saw Brother’s eyes gleam with a strange kind of existential terror.

“God, I hate this place,” Brother murmured to himself. A moment later, our carriage flew through the radiant gate into that other world, the eternal moment at the center of all things.

***

I tried to scream, but it seemed like the sounds moved in hundreds of spatial dimensions, writhing backwards and forwards in time like ripples on a pond. The train began to peel away all around me, layers of metal and pink flesh ripping away as if in a hurricane.

Brother’s skin disappeared as if it were being eaten by a corrosive acid, then his muscles started to fade away, until he stood there, a skeleton with a chattering mouth. A tunnel of light with millions of lidless, staring eyes formed at his heart, spiraling all around us until they formed a wall of pure consciousness rising up into infinity.

I looked down, seeing my own body peeling away in layers. Soon, I only saw the light spilling out from my heart, and in that moment, I forgot who I was or even that I was once human at all. Revelation like a tsunami shattered my mind, and all illusions shattered with them.

I saw reality from the viewpoints of all beings in all moments of time. A sound like a cosmic gong rang and shook everything beneath the many layers of reality. These countless layers shimmered like mirages above the eternal, timeless moment at the source. I saw universes created and destroyed in the blink of an eye as a Deathless Self looked out from every heart, seeing all moments of time but not imprisoned within it.

Worlds were destroyed by civilizations, alien and human alike, and I saw into the minds of the killer and killed. Mountains of corpses collected and rotted all across space and time, but inside the heart of every one, I saw the same consciousness peeking out, the Deathless Self like a trillion omniscient eyes.

It existed outside of time, existed purely of eternal bliss and peace, and, while seeing everything, it never experienced the suffering of these many beings passing through the mirage of this strange universe. Always, it lay beyond.

I saw into the deepest hells opening like worlds of lava far below me and found the light of the Self there, too. Even during trillions of years of endless agony and suffering, it stood like a deep well of peace, untouched and tranquil.

And then we were through, and I was falling and gasping, looking over at Brother. He lay on the floor, sweating heavily, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, it’s the same every time,” he said, wiping his pale face and standing up. “Same goddamn thing every time. But it fades rapidly once you’re through. In a few hours, you’ll barely remember what happened there.” I could only stutter, confused as to who I was or why I had a body at all. The glimpse of ULTIMATE REALITY rapidly faded, however, and within a few minutes, I could barely remember what I had seen.

***

It wasn’t long after that the living train pulled up to Market Street substation with a deep exhalation, as if the train itself were sighing in relief after a long journey completed. The brakes squealed with a high-pitched cacophony.

Floating on clouds of bliss, I glanced back at Brother one last time, seeing his lined face and ancient eyes. He was a true survivor, a killer, a kind of man I’d never before encountered and likely never would again. He raised his hand, his face still stony and grim. I gave him a faint half-smile as I turned away.

At 3:33 AM, I stepped off the X77, the sole survivor of all those who wished to return. But I still carry all their stories in my heart as I go forward.

Part 1

“Hey! Hey kid! Hey, wake up!.. God damn it all… Wake up!”

To my slight dismay, I was gaining consciousness again. My vision was hazy, I could barely keep my eyes open but the stabbing pain in my back forced me to stay awake.

“There you are! Now don’t you fall asleep again son! Keep your eyes open!”

My mind instantly became more clear.

“Dad?” - I quietly called out in a haze.

“Uh… Not exactly son… Alright lemme’ try this.”

Ice cold water splashed all over my face. I shot straight up in reaction to the cold shock and frantically threw my head around in all kinds of directions in confusion.

“Wooaah! You alright there son?”

“Wha- Ugh- Who are you!?”

“Calm down now, I ain’t here to hurt ya.’”

Someone was sitting beside me, almost hunched over my face. It was an older gentleman with a thick white beard and untrimmed eyebrows. He was wearing a dark green raincoat, one of those old-school ones made of that rubbery material with a pair of cargo pants in the same color to match. After making sure I was alright and fully conscious, he grabbed his rifle and hung the sling around his shoulder as he stood up.

“Whew, thought we lost ya’ there.” - The man said in a humorous tone.

“How long was I out?” - I asked him, drying my face off with the sleeve of my jacket, still sitting on the floor.

“No idea kid, I came here about 10 minutes ago myself.”

Without responding, I remembered the gushing wound inflicted on me by that monster as I quickly put my hand on my back, patting around in search of the gash.

“Don’t worry kid, I patched you up, you should be fine for the time being, long’ as you don’t touch it” - The man said in a casual tone.

“Name’s Russell, Russell Cook, but to be honest I’d rather you just call me Russ.” The man said as he reached down and grabbed my hand and shook it.

“What is this place?” - I asked him, as soon as I had gotten up on my feet.

“Good question kid! That’s exactly what I’ve been tryna’ figure out for years!” - Russell said before letting out a laugh.

“No, I don’t understand, what is this place? What was that thing that attacked me?” - I asked while trying my best to keep my composure.

His eyes drifted away from mine, down towards the floor to my left.

“Look kid, as I said, I honestly don’t completely understand any of this either, but before I tell you all I know, we gotta’ get outta’ here.” - He said in a gloomy tone.

“What? Why? You wanna go out there?” - I asked him.

“Nope, as a matter of fact I’d much rather stay here.” - Said Russell while heading towards the door, now back in his casual tone of voice.

“Then why are we leaving?” - I eagerly pleaded.

Old man Russell turned around and hastily marched back towards me, his dirty combat boots thudding against the snow-white tiling below.

“Look here junior, we don’t have a choice. And if you’re gonna come with me, you’re gonna live under my rules, understood?” - He said as he grabbed both of my shoulders.

“Okay…” - I responded, scared shitless. This old man had a generous amount of kick in him.

“Alright, good.” - Russell said as his lips formed a friendly grin.

We made our way out of the gas station and started crossing a field of grass that laid behind it, partially covered by snow. I still had a lot of questions but I didn’t want to get on the gentleman’s nerves by asking too many questions, so I thought to myself that I should probably keep quiet for the time being. I looked up at the thick, white clouds above. Around the time I got attacked, the sky was mostly gray so I figured it must’ve been noon by now. I turned my focus back towards the direction we were walking, increasing my pace to catch up with the old man.

“So kid, how’d you end up here?” - Russell asked in an obvious - but appreciated - attempt to make small talk.

“I uh… Crashed my car and headed south to look for help.”

“Really?” - He responded as he let out a chuckle.

“Yep, really.” - I said in a jaded tone.

“Well, where’d you crash?”

“A dozen miles north of here, on a dirt road, the one off’ i-95.”

“Ah, I see. What were you doing out there?”

“I was headed to Dover but I decided to take a detour.”

“Dover? What were you gonna do down there?”

“I was gonna attend my old man’s funeral.”

“Oh… Sorry kid.” - Russell said, taken aback by my sudden answer.

“No it’s fine, really.” - I assured him.

“So, how’d you manage to crash the car?”

“There was a pick-up, driver turned off his headlights and rammed into me.”

The man stopped abruptly and quickly turned around to face me, a look of fear plastered on his face, something I thought impossible.

“What did it look like?” - He asked, sounding like he hoped his concerns were in vain.

“Uh… black? It was a Ram 3500, I’m pretty sure.”

“Shit.” - Russell said quietly.

“Why? What’s going on?” - I worryingly asked as the fear that was still inside me started surfacing once again.

“A dozen or so miles north of here you said, right?”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure… What’s goin-”

“Don’t worry about it, just… get a move on.” - He interrupted, as he started walking faster.

As the border of the woods ahead, previously hidden behind a wall of fog, became visible, I thought about how I still wanted my question about the pick-up answered. But on the other hand, if I didn’t shut up, the old man would probably lose his shit this time around - and in hindsight - I understand why. We kept walking in silence for a long while, switching between a normal and a fast pace occasionally.

***

After about an hour or so of walking, we were now deep in the forest. I didn’t want it to seem like I thought the man had led me into a trap or something but in truth, I was beginning to have my doubts.

“Hey uh… Russ, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see soon enough kid, wouldn’t wanna ruin the surprise.” - Russ said in a lighthearted tone.

After the old man’s statement, my nerves calmed a little. I started looking around as I kept on marching, despite the seemingly never-ending cloudy sky, it was pretty beautiful. A little snow here and there, mixed with the deep green of the forest. As I was taking in the beauty of the nature around me, almost in a daydreaming-like state, old man Russell’s footsteps suddenly stopped. I turned my head back to him, he stood completely frozen in place.

“What’s wrong Russ?” I asked.

“Sh!” - He shushed aggressively.

“Did you hear that?” - He asked in a half-whisper.

“Hear what?”

As soon as the words exited my mouth, every single hair on my body stood up as I heard that terrifying neck-snapping sound coming from about 20 feet to our right. Now I too, stood completely frozen, unable to move a single inch.

“Don’t move until I tell you to, alright kid?” - Russell whispered.

“O-okay” - I answered.

There it was again, the snapping noise. Only this time, it kept going, every two seconds or so. My heart started beating faster and faster as adrenaline started coursing through my blood, just like it had last night. The noise got more frequent and closer by the second, until I could hear it from all directions, snapping at least once every second.

“Run!” - Russell said loudly, his voice echoing through the woods along with the snapping sound.

I did as he said, we ran straight ahead as fast as we could. Despite his age, Russell was quite fast. Even though I wasn’t the athletic type, I wasn’t that out of shape, but nonetheless, I could just barely keep up with him. As we ran, that damned snapping sound just kept following us. After only a minute or so I was starting to lose my breath, even with all the adrenaline, I was starting to slow down.

“Keep going if you wanna live, kid!” - Russell called out in between rapid breaths.

I let out a groan, forcing my body to run faster, a sharp pain developing in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe at all, I wasn’t gonna be able to keep this up for long. As I started slowing down again, the snapping kept getting closer and closer to me, it only took a few seconds before it sounded like it was right behind me. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. My legs gave out as I crashed onto the forest floor, hitting my knees on the rock-hard root of a pine tree. Russell ran over to me and helped me get up. We both stood bent over, our hands on our knees, trying to catch our breaths. After a few moments of gathering ourselves, we stood up straight again, I wiped sweat off of my forehead while Russell let down his rifle from his shoulder, readying it as he scanned our surroundings. After he had looked around for a minute, he put his rifle back on his shoulder.

“You alright there kid? Looked like you fell pretty hard there.”

“Yeah I’m fine for the time being.” - I responded, still not having quite caught my breath.

“Alright, good, we got no time to waste, we gotta’ keep moving, we’re almost there.”

***

And he wasn’t lying, just a few minutes of relatively slow walking, we arrived. A half abandoned, half renovated log cabin. It stood in a small clearing in the woods on flat ground, the lantern that hung from the roof of the small porch gave me a sense of comfort. We made our way inside, a musky scent of old wood hitting my nose. There were three small rooms. The one in the middle had a fireplace, a table with three chairs around it and a small gas stove. The other two rooms were basically just two small bedrooms on each end of the cabin. My room was to the right of the front door and Russell’s was on the left.

“Make yourself at home kid, I know it ain’t much but it’s better than anything you’ll find in this place.”

“No, no, this’ll do.”

We said good night and headed to our rooms. The small bed with old, plain, white sheets and white covers with a flower-pattern on them stood in the corner of the room. I sat down and looked around the room. By the door, there stood a small, wooden desk accompanied by a small, old chair, seemingly made of the same, dark-brown wood. I decided it would be best to try and get some sleep, so I laid down on my side, facing the wall, feeling a slight pain around the wound on my back as I did so. I started thinking about how crazy all of this was, this place, these monsters, the weather, all of it. Why was I acting like any of this was fine by any means? How was I satisfied with the less than bare minimum information Russell had given me? I kept pondering until my mind simply couldn’t stay awake any longer. I drifted off to sleep.

***

I woke up, feeling more groggy and exhausted than I’d felt in years, my whole body was sore. I guess it’s only natural when you severely overexert your unfit body. Nevertheless, I had to get up and get to it because I did not want Russell to think I was just another lazy young man. I got up and out of bed, still wearing my black, oversized sweatpants I had been wearing the whole time as well as my plain white t-shirt. I put on my black sneakers and my black bomber jacket and headed out of my room. I walked through the living room, Russell wasn’t there. I kept walking forward until I stood in front of Russell’s room. I started contemplating if I should knock or not but I figured it would be for the best. Just as I was about to knock, the front door creaked open. I turned around to see who it was.

“There you are kid!” - Russell said with a smile on his face.

“Morning.” - I answered, trying my best to seem at least a little energetic.

“What were you doing outside?” - I asked curiously.

“Oh, just having a cigarette, was just about to head inside and check up on you.”

“You smoke?” - I asked, a little surprised.

“Yep, and you?” - He answered.

“Yeah.”

“Well, come on outside and let me share one with ya’ then.” - Russell said before letting out a slight chuckle.

“Sure.” - I answered with an awkward smile on my face.

We sat down on the cold, damp wooden steps of the porch. I looked around, it was pretty bright outside. There were no sounds, the air felt thick, like it usually does when everything’s covered in snow, that echo-y atmosphere was very noticeable and felt strange since there was pretty much no snow left.

“Here ya’ go.” - Russell said as he extended his paper pack of Marlboros to me.

“Thanks.” - I said as I pulled one out.

“So, how long you been’ smoking?” - I asked, in an effort to make small talk.

“Eh, on and off for the past 40 years or so.” - Russell said with his cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“On and off?” - I asked.

“Yep, wife didn’t appreciate it very much.” - He said as he let out a melancholy chuckle.

“I see.” - I responded in a quiet and serious tone as Russell lit his cigarette.

“Don’t sweat it kid, she was gone way before I ended up in this place.” - Russell said as he exhaled the smoke.

“How’d she die?” - I followed, as Russell handed me the old-school zippo lighter.

“No idea, she died in her sleep while I was in Afghanistan.”

“You were in the military?” - I asked, even though I wasn’t very surprised.

“20 years.” - He answered.

I lit my cigarette, realizing this would be my first drag for more than 24 hours, which hadn’t happened for years. We sat in silence, enjoying our cigarettes. My mind started to wander, I thought about quitting smoking, how my dad’s funeral went and if my family wondered where I was. That’s when I realized I hadn’t asked Russell if he had a phone.

“I forgot to ask, you got a phone by any chance?” - I eagerly asked him.

“Nope, sorry kid but there’s no point, phones don’t work here.”

I should have figured really, if you could contact people “on the other side” or whatever, Russell wouldn’t be here. I turned my gaze forward and - I didn’t really feel sad, nor did I feel completely hopeless, I’d best describe it as a somber, empty feeling that hung in the air. I glanced towards Russell and I could kind of sense that he was preparing to answer the multitude of questions that would come his way about what this place is.

“Those… things that attacked me… they looked like kids. Do you-”

“Yep, only seen em’ two times before yesterday though.” - Russell interrupted.

“To be honest, I don’t know what they are but, all I know is they only appear during the morning. We used to call em’ scratchers.”

“We?” - I asked, confused as to why he hadn’t mentioned that there were other people stuck in this hell with us.

Russell winced in recoil of his slip-up before he sighed.

“Yeah… To tell you the truth kid, I haven’t really been honest with you. My wife didn’t die in her sleep, she died here. Now, how exactly she died isn’t something I’m interested in getting into.”

“I understand.” - I replied.

“Was it just you two?” - I followed up.

“Our son.” - Russell said as he took the last drag of his cigarette.

“Oh.” - Was all I could say.

“Ya’ know, you kinda’ remind me of him sometimes, he was tall, skinny, not very athletic and not very outgoing either. He was nothing like me or his mother. I tried changing him, to make him more of a “man”... I gave him hell for not being like me and I wish I didn’t” - Russell ranted, as his voice started to break.

I wasn’t sure how to respond so I just defaulted to the most typical, consoling thing to say.

“I’m sure he was a great guy.”

“Yeah, he was a good kid.” - Russell said, his voice now as strong as usual.

“So uh… How about that thing yesterday? The one that makes that snapping noise.” - I asked to change the subject.

“They thankfully never got to meet one of those but I call them snappers, I’ve never actually seen them though, just heard 'em.”

“Creative.” - I replied in a jesting, smug tone.

“Yeah, I was never the creative type.” - Russell said while smiling.

“By the way, how’s your body feeling?” - He asked.

“A little sore but good enough” - I replied

“You think you can go for a hike?” - He followed up.

“I don’t know, why? Where are we going?” - I asked.

“To get you some real clothes, the stuff you got on now won’t last long here, you’ll need something a little more sturdy.”

“Where would we do that?” - I asked, completely confused.

“You know the gas station you were at?”

“Yeah?” - I replied

“It’s probably gonna disappear soon.”

“What? What do you mean disappear?”

“That’s all there is to it son, they just disappear. Hardware stores, convenience stores, gas stations, motels - and if you’re lucky - gun stores. They come and go about once a month and I happen to know of a hardware store that’s got everything you’ll need about 7 hours north-east of here.”

“Okay…” - I responded, a little surprised at how casually Russell was talking about it.

“So, you up for it or not?” - He asked as he stood up on the porch.

“Yeah, sure.” - I replied after a few seconds.

“Alright then, let’s head inside and eat something before we go.”

And so we made our way inside, Russell pulled out two cans of beans in tomato sauce from the tiny pantry in the corner of the living room. He opened the cans and emptied them into one of those survival kit pots and hung it on the makeshift cooking station made of cast iron that stood in the fireplace. He lit the fire and we waited.

***

After about 10 minutes or so, the food was done. I hadn’t had actual food for more than two days and in hindsight, I don’t even understand how I hadn’t starved; maybe it had to do with this place. Russell went back to the pantry in the corner of the room and pulled out two porcelain bowls and two spoons and put them on the table.

“You must be starving kid, dig in.” - He said as he sat down on the chair in front of me.

“Thanks.” I said as I pulled out a chair and sat down.

I poured some of the beans in my bowl and just started gorging on them. Plain beans in tomato sauce had never tasted so good before, probably because I was quite literally starving. Which made me once again think about why I hadn’t really felt all that hungry.

“Say Russ, how come I haven’t felt hungry since I ended up here when all I’ve had is some Fritos and half a can of beer?” - I asked after I finished my bowl of beans.

“Alright so, I’m not totally sure but it seems like our bodies can’t sense how long it’s been since we’ve eaten. That said, you still need to eat or you’ll die, our bodies still work the same, they just don’t react like they should or - send the right signals.”

“Oh, okay” - I responded.

“Alright, I’m ready kid. We should head out as soon as possible so prepare whatever you need and meet me outside.” - Russell said as soon as he finished his food.

“Yep.” - I replied as I walked back to my room.

I entered my room and sat down on the bed, there wasn’t really anything for me to prepare so all I did was just make sure that my shoes were laced tightly. After lacing my shoes I sat up straight again, took a deep breath and headed out. I sat by the dining table in the living room and waited for a few minutes. Russell came out of his room, fully geared and ready to go. Part of me was a little worried about how I had basically nothing but regular clothes.

“Alright kid, let’s go.” - Russell said as he put on his hiking backpack.

“Oh right, almost forgot, wait here.” - Russell said as he walked back into his room.

I heard him rummaging through his room, looking for something.

“There it is!” - He exclaimed as he started walking back out to the living room.

In his right hand, he had one of those modern survival hatchets. It was small but it looked sharp and well-maintained.

“Here ya’ go.” - He said as he handed me the hatchet.

“Thanks.” - I replied

Russell opened the front door and made his way outside and I followed.

“Alright now where’s my compass?” - Russell said to himself as he dug through the multitude of pockets he had on his cargo pants.

“I got one.” - I said as I pulled out my swiss army knife.

“North east right?” - I said as I looked back up towards Russell.

“Yep, just point the direction and we’ll start walking.” - He said as he looked out into the woods.

I turned until the red triangle pointed towards north-east,

“That way.” - I said as I pointed in the same direction.

“Alright let’s go.” - Russell said and started walking.

I’ll spare you the details of this long trek, not much happened which was a nice change. We walked for about two hours at a time and took breaks in between, pretty much only talking during those breaks, mostly about basic stuff like the weather, nature and politics. As we walked, I spent most of the time just fiddling around with the hatchet Russell had given me. And after three breaks and a lot of walking, we were almost there.

“Alright kid, we should be pretty close by now.” - Russell said in a relieved tone.

“About time!” - I responded.

“Hahaha, yeah must be real uncomfortable walking in those plastic so-called shoes you got on.” - Russell said as he looked back towards me over his shoulder.

“Eh, they’re not too bad.” - I said as I looked down at my shoes, knowing Russell was 100% correct.

“There it is!” - Russell said as he pointed forwards.

“Where?” - I asked.

“Right ahead.” - He said as he picked up the pace.

We got closer to the border of the woods and, just outside the forest there stood a huge hardware store. It stood by the side of the old tarmac, it didn’t fit in at all. It was way too big for its surroundings, it was as if it was pushing away the nature around it to make space for itself. There wasn’t even a parking lot or anything, it was just there. So we stepped onto the tarmac, Russell tapped the road with the toe box of his combat boot.

“Yup, this road ain’t real.”

“What do you mean?” - I asked, a little confused.

“This road right here, it doesn’t exist in real life. My bet is that it’ll be gone within a few weeks, just like the hardware store.” - He said as he looked both ways while slowly crossing the road.

“Oh.” - I answered.

We now stood in front of the hardware store. “Heft n’ Craft”, the big plastic letters spelled on the front wall over the entrance, its green light illuminating its immediate surroundings.

“Heft n’ Craft… What kinda name is that?” - I scoffed.

“Yeah, no idea kid.” - Russell said as he chuckled.

“Well, we better get in there and get all we need before nightfall.” - Russell said before I could say anything else.

As the electric, automatic doors opened, I thought to myself that this would be fun. A shopping spree without having to pay a penny sounded pretty nice to me. But, I was wrong, to say the least.

***

We were now inside, some background music was playing on the speakers all around the store, the echo it made through the otherwise completely silent store was a little unsettling. The background music wasn’t the kind of music you’d expect either, it was more like the background music you’d hear in an elevator. As we slowly walked through the store, I looked around at the shelves stacked with all kinds of tools and thingamajigs, it looked like nobody had been here at all, as if it was completely new.

“Alright kid, first things first, go get yourself a big hiking backpack, like mine.” - Russell said as he turned slightly, so as to show me his backpack.

“Yes.” - I answered in a “copy that” - kind of tone.

“Then you should change into some fitting clothes, sturdy boots, tactical clothes and a real… jacket.” - Russell said as he looked me up and down, a look of slight pity on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll get to it.” - I said, feeling a little embarrassed over my clothes, even though I shouldn’t have.

“Good, I’ll go get some stuff I need to stock up on now, since we’re two people now.” - Russell said as he smiled.

And so we headed in our separate directions, I went to the clothing and boots section. As soon as I got there, I saw a pair of black hiking boots. They were pretty similar to Russell’s, just a little more sleek and modern-looking. They were the only ones that caught my eye and they felt comfortable so I decided I’d take them. My next objective was pants, I walked over to where all the pants were and again - one of them caught my eye. A pair of black cargo pants with gray zippers on all the pockets. I tried them on and they felt nice and most importantly - looked cool, so I took them.

“Man, this is pretty cool, I feel kinda badass.” - I thought to myself as I looked down on my pants and boots.

And that’s when I remembered Russell had told me to get myself a backpack first, so before getting any more clothes, I decided I should do that first. I went over to the area where the backpacks were, there were only three different kinds of hiking backpacks, a camo-green one with orange details, a dark-blue one with white details and a black one with gray details. Naturally, I picked the black one. I put my new hiking backpack on and went back to the clothing section.

***

I now had all the clothes I needed and a cool, black tactical jacket. I walked over to a mirror and looked at myself, I thought I looked more awesome than I had ever done before. Who knew that actually putting some thought into the clothes you wear would feel like this? As I was posing in the mirror, a voice called out to me out of nowhere, startling me.

“You all set kid?” - Russell called out from my right.

I flinched as I snapped my head towards the direction of the voice. It was, of course, Russell.

“Hahaha, did I scare ya’?” - Russell teased.

“Yeah, haha.” - I awkwardly chuckled, having almost soiled my brand new pants.

“Well? You got everything?” - He asked to reiterate his question.

“Yes sir, everything.” - I answered.

“Well alright, let’s…” - Russell stopped in the middle of his sentence as he looked past me, looking like he was listening for a sound.

“Russ? What’s going on?” - I asked quietly.

“You hear that?” - He asked.

“No. What is it?”

“I dunno’.” - He said as he slowly started walking towards the direction the sound was coming from.

I turned to look in the same direction, and as I started walking with him, I grabbed my hatchet that I had hung on the right side of my backpack. After a few steps, I heard the sound. It was almost like the sound of someone rummaging through the shelves, occasionally broken up by a pitter-patter kind of sound.

“Stay here.” - Russell whispered as he reached behind with his hand, so as to show me that he wanted me to stay.

“Okay.” - I whispered back.

As he turned to look down the aisle where the sound was coming from, his eyes went wide and he looked pale. He looked like he was in shock. But before he could do anything, a loud screech-noise erupted and filled the building, it was almost deafening and - I immediately recognized it. It was those God damned kids. Russell snapped out of it and started running at me.

“Run kid!” - He yelled, his voice making my whole body vibrate.

I did as he said and started running. I could now hear the thing behind us start chasing us, I looked back and saw the scratcher slip and crash right into some shelves. I looked back ahead and followed Russell’s lead. We were now at the checkout, Russ stopped for a split second while looking around.

“Alright let’s hide over there, quick!” - Russell said as he pointed to one of the store counters.

We dove under the counter and sat up, we could barely fit. As we sat, balled up under the counter, that same, blood-curdling screech filled the store again. A few moments later we started hearing the footsteps of the scratcher, its long, black, nails that were now more like claws scraping against the floor.

“Why is that thing here!? It’s not supposed to be here now!” - Russell whispered to himself frantically, boiling with rage.

“Didn’t you say those things only appear during the morning?” - I asked.

“Yeah, I thought so!” - Russell whispered.

The footsteps stopped for a second before resuming, this time getting further away. We kept hiding for a few minutes before Russell slowly crawled out from under the counter, stood up and started looking around. He bent down and looked at me, who was still balled up, scared shitless.

“I think it’s fine now.” - He said as he reached out to help me get up.

I nodded as I crawled out and grabbed his hand, he pulled me up as I stood up. I patted down my clothes to get rid of dust and whatnot - but strangely - there wasn’t any. Russell let down his rifle from his shoulder and held it at his hips while looking around. I was still holding my hatchet as well. After a few seconds we assumed it was safe, so we started walking towards the exit. Russell gestured for me to get in front of him, so I nodded and started walking.

***

It was dark out by now, I could see myself in the reflection of the glass pane of the automatic doors. I kept walking towards them, until something caught my eye, something in the reflection. I couldn’t quite see what it was so I stopped and tried to focus on it. Before I realized what it was, it was already too late. It was the scratcher, creeping behind a shelf. I turned around quickly.

“Watch out!” - I yelled, pointing at the scratcher.

As the scratcher realized it had been caught, it pounced on Russ before he could react. The scratcher tackled him to the ground, making him drop his rifle. Russell screamed out in fear as he was wrestling the scratcher. It was now on top of him, inches from his face, gnawing at the air. Russell turned his head to look at me.

“Get out of here kid! Run!” - He screamed at me as he struggled against the scratcher’s brute strength.

I snapped out of it, turned around and started running, as the automatic doors started opening slowly, I tried to pry them open in panic. That’s when I asked myself what I was doing. Was I really gonna just leave him behind? After he had saved me and taken care of me? Without Russ I would’ve been dead. I couldn’t leave him behind.

I turned back around, looked down at my hatchet and charged the scratcher that was getting closer and closer to biting Russell’s face off. I screamed out as I swung my hatchet at the back of the scratcher’s head. As I planted my hatchet in the back of its skull, the scratcher let out a horrible screech in pain. I backed away as the scratcher turned towards me. It cried out in pain and shook its head around, it was horrifying. I readied my hatchet as it started running towards me on all fours. It pounced on me this time, and as soon as it was within reach, I swung my hatchet once more with all my might. The hatchet sliced right into the side of its skull, cutting right through its left eye before stopping, the scratcher went limp immediately. I stood there, looking at the lifeless scratcher I was holding up with my hatchet, I was unsurprisingly in shock. I dropped the hatchet and as I did, the scratcher plopped down on the floor along with it. I once again snapped out of my shock and started running towards Russell.

“Russ!” - I yelled as I ran to his side and sat down.

“Hey! Wake up man!” - I yelled while shaking him.

I looked around on his body to look for any blood, there was, and a lot of it too. On the right side of his stomach, there was a gash, it looked just like mine. As I looked at his wound, my mind started racing in panic. I didn’t know what to do. Russell coughed.

“Hey! Russ! Wake up!” - I yelled again.

“Right… compartment… bandage.” - Russell tried his best to talk.

“Where!? In your backpack!?” - I asked frantically.

Russell nodded. I turned him on his right side to access the right compartment of his backpack, he groaned in pain. I opened the compartment and started looking for the bandage. After throwing out everything that was in there, I found it.

“I got it!” - I said.

“We gotta’ get your jacket off!” - I said.

I sat Russell up as I pulled off his backpack and then his jacket. I pulled his shirt up and started wrapping the bandage around his abdomen. I didn’t really know what I was doing but I had to stop the bleeding somehow. I wrapped it as tight as I could and before I knew it, it had run out. So I tied it up and put pressure on the wound, Russell groaning in pain once again as I did so.

“I’m alright kid.” - Russell said quietly, barely being able to talk.

Without responding, I laid down on my back and closed my eyes, a feeling of hopelessness once again washing over me. I knew I wasn’t gonna survive without Russell.