It started with a late night message I wasn’t expecting.

Unknown: Hey. Been a while.

I squinted at the screen. The number wasn’t saved in my phone, but something about the message felt uncomfortably familiar.

Who’s this? I replied, keeping it short.

The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Unknown: You probably don’t remember me. But I remember you.

I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. It wasn’t uncommon to get random texts from guys I’d talked to on apps—old conversations resurfacing after a drunken night of scrolling. But something about this one felt different.

Another message came through.

Unknown: You tapped me on Grindr 13 months ago. You said you liked my dog.

The words hit like a punch. Memories of a late-night conversation flickered to life. We’d chatted for a week or so, then I’d stopped replying. I didn’t even remember why. Maybe I got busy. Maybe I just wasn’t into it. But he clearly hadn’t forgotten.

Okay… and? I typed back, unsure what he wanted.

Unknown: You ghosted me.

I sighed, guilt bubbling up. This kind of thing happened all the time, didn’t it? People drifted apart. It wasn’t personal.

I started to type an apology, but another message interrupted me.

Unknown: I was really into you.

My chest tightened as I stared at the words. For a moment, I considered blocking the number and ignoring the whole thing, but the guilt kept my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

I’m sorry, I typed back. I didn’t mean to hurt you.

The dots appeared again, then vanished.

Before I could process what to say next, my phone buzzed—not a text, but a notification.

Grindr: New message from [Blank Profile]

My blood ran cold. The app had been uninstalled months ago, but somehow it was back on my phone. My thumb hovered over the notification before I reluctantly tapped it.

The profile had no name, no picture—just the outline of a grey avatar and a distance marker: 21 meters away.

[Blank Profile]: That’s a nice apology, but it’s too late for sorry.

My stomach churned. Is this you? I typed.

[Blank Profile]: You can’t block me here.

The distance marker still read 21 meters away. My pulse raced as I stood up and locked my apartment door. My eyes flicked toward the window. The curtains were open, letting in faint streetlight from outside.

[Blank Profile]: Close the curtains if you want, but I’ll still see you.

I froze. My hands shook as I yanked the curtains shut, then backed away from the window.

How do you know where I live? I typed.

[Blank Profile] is typing…

[Blank Profile]: I’ve always known.

My heart pounded as I deleted the chat and blocked the profile. My breaths came fast and shallow as I sat on the couch, staring at the now-blank chat list.

I should’ve stopped there, but I didn’t.

I reopened Grindr. The profile was back.

Another message appeared.

[Blank Profile]: Blocking doesn’t make me disappear. 13 months is a long time to wait.

The distance marker shifted: 9 meters away.

I scrambled to pick up my phone, dialling the police with trembling fingers.

“Police. Someone’s stalking me,” I whispered. “They’re outside my building.”

The dispatcher’s calm voice steadied me for a moment. “What’s your address?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my phone buzzed again.

[Blank Profile]: Look outside.

“No,” I whispered to myself, refusing to obey.

The message came again, this time with a photo.

It was my window. The curtains were drawn, but the photo was taken from the outside, angled toward the light spilling out from underneath.

Tears stung my eyes as I yanked open the curtain an inch.

A figure stood on the sidewalk, staring up at me. He was holding a dog leash, but there was no dog.

“Someone’s outside,” I told the dispatcher, my voice trembling. I recited my address.

“Stay on the line. Officers are on their way.”

The figure didn’t move. He stood there, perfectly still, head tilted slightly as though he were waiting for me to say something.

My phone buzzed again.

[Blank Profile]: You owe me more than an apology.

I stared at the message, barely able to breathe. The figure’s head tilted further, his hand tightening on the leash.

Another buzz. This time, it was the distance marker refreshing. 6 meters away.

My heart slammed into my ribs as I stumbled backward, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. I turned toward the door, checking the locks again, my fingers fumbling over the deadbolt.

The phone buzzed once more.

[Blank Profile]: You shouldn’t hide your spare key in such an obvious place.

My knees buckled as the words sank in. I’d always meant to find a new secret hiding spot for my key but had never gotten around to it.

When I glanced back at the screen, the marker had updated again: 3 meters away.

The dispatcher’s voice crackled in my ear. “Stay where you are. Police are close.”

But the distance marker wasn’t done. The final refresh came as a shadow flickered beneath the door.

0 meters away.

The locked doorknob rattled violently, the sound sharp in the silence. Then I heard it—the unmistakable click of a key turning in the lock.

Warning: This post is quite extensive, but I highly recommend reading it in its entirety.

In this narrative, I recount an incident that occurred when I was approximately nine years old (I am now 25). It is an experience that has left an indelible mark on my memory, and it still evokes a sense of awe and trepidation.

I reside in a terraced house, a common architectural style in many urban areas. Each unit is connected to the next, forming a network of interconnected houses. Each unit is equipped with a small patio, providing a private outdoor space. A narrow road, approximately ten meters in width, separates my patio from the road used for leisurely walks and other activities. My neighborhood is characterized by a high density of terraced houses, making encounters with pedestrians on the road a frequent occurrence. However, the sight of strangers on my patio is a rare occurrence.

On a particular day, I returned home from school approximately an hour before my mother arrived from work. Given my proximity to school, approximately fifty meters away, my mother believed that I was mature enough to remain home alone for an hour before her return. This particular day, I successfully completed my schoolwork and returned home. I adhered to my customary routine, ensuring that both the front and back doors leading to my patio were securely locked. (Although being alone, even during the daytime and for a brief period, was still somewhat unsettling for me.) Subsequently, I ascended the stairs to engage in extended gameplay on my PlayStation console before my mother returned home and assigned me homework.

While immersed in my gaming session, I was startled by a sound emanating from outside my window. (My room was situated on the second floor above the patio, affording me a view of the road previously mentioned.) The noise resembled the purring of a cat. However, my cat had been missing for an extended period of over three months. A glimmer of hope ignited within me, and I entertained the possibility that it could finally be my beloved feline companion. With a sense of urgency, I descended the stairs to ascertain its identity. Unfortunately, the sight that greeted me was profoundly disturbing and continues to evoke a sense of unease even as I recount it.

On my patio, a tall, black-haired man stood. His eyes were partially obscured by his hair, resembling the male version of the ring women’s look. I could hear him making high-pitched sounds, almost like a cat meowing. A brown liquid dripped down his mouth, and I observed him spitting out my father’s stomped cigarettes. He was actually consuming from the ashtray. I was transfixed, observing this peculiar scene, until I finally regained my composure and emitted a piercing scream, likely alerting the man to my presence. However, he remained unperturbed, continuing to eat from the ashtray.

I ascended the stairs to my room, secured the door, and promptly contacted my mother. She promptly notified the police, instilling a profound sense of fear within me. Lying in bed beneath my sheets, shivering with apprehension, I could hear the unsettling high-pitched noises emanating from the individual consuming cigarette stomps from the ashtray on my patio.

For a brief moment, I experienced a state of blackout, the next recollection being the arrival of the police on the road adjacent to my yard. I overheard their conversations with the individual, engaging in inquiries such as “what are you doing?” and “move here or we will apprehend you.” Despite his lack of response, the frequency and intensity of the high-pitched sounds intensified. Feeling a semblance of safety in the presence of the police, I decided to observe the situation through the window.

I observed two police officers standing by my fence: a male and a female. Unfortunately, I was unable to perceive the individual due to his position directly below me, rendering him out of my field of view. The police promptly leaped the fence, and I distinctly recall hearing the individual emit a scream that surpassed any other sound I had ever encountered. He charged the female officer with full force, causing her to fall unconscious. The male officer swiftly administered a taser, leaving the individual trembling on the ground, still emitting screams. The police officer struggled to maintain his composure while restraining the individual and securing handcuffs. Eventually, he managed to subdue the individual.

After some time, he managed to rouse the female police officer, who appeared severely injured. He promptly called for backup and an ambulance. As he did so, he noticed me standing in the window above him. My expression must have been unreadable because he simply looked at me and uttered, “I sincerely hope you did not witness all that.” Tears welled up in my eyes. By then, neighbors had begun to gather, curious about the commotion. One of my elderly neighbors, concerned for my well-being, guided me downstairs and provided me with comfort until my mother returned home. The police escorted the unsettling individual away in their car and promised to return to discuss the incident with us.

This is where the story takes an unexpected turn. Later that night, the male police officer returned and met with my mother and me to discuss the events that had transpired. He revealed that the man on my patio had been diagnosed with severe autism. He had escaped from a facility housing mentally challenged individuals, situated approximately 5 kilometers from my residence. The officer explained that the individual had actually been residing in my house five years prior. However, he was compelled to relocate when his mother, his sole caretaker, passed away. Understandably, the man had mistakenly believed he would find his mother in my house. He had grown accustomed to the routines and cherished the companionship of his mother. Consequently, the police had to relocate him from the house five years ago due to his exceptional strength. (From what I gathered, he had endured intense physical tension as a result of his autism, causing his muscles to grow progressively stronger over time.) This was the reason behind his reaction when the police arrived that day. Despite his lingering fear, I expressed my concern to the police officer, emphasizing the need to ensure that such an incident would never recur. He assured me that he would take necessary measures to prevent it from happening again.

After several sleepless nights, my life finally returned to normal. Years passed, and the man who had been haunting me never returned. Until, one year ago, to be precise. At that time, my parents had moved out. I had purchased their house and still reside there to this day. I was enjoying my morning coffee on the patio when I noticed a random man stopping on the road by my fence. He simply stood there, staring at me. I looked at him and gave him a nod. Suddenly, I heard the high-pitched noises. “Oh my goodness, it’s him!” His hair had turned gray, but the high-pitched sounds made me realize something. My heart started racing, and I instantly recalled the reason for his return. I realized he had managed to escape once again. Because I managed to keep my composure a bit longer than when I was nine, I began to feel a sense of regret for the man. Sixteen years later, he was back, searching for his mother. I decided to cautiously ask him if he wanted to come down to the patio. He immediately jumped the fence. I couldn’t help but think he would knock me out like he had done to that police officer. Fortunately, he didn’t. Instead, he smiled. He looked at me and smiled.

I offered him a seat, but he didn’t respond. I invited him inside, but he started laughing. We went inside, and his face lit up with pure joy. He was finally home. It reminded him of the life he had with his mother. It almost brought tears to my eyes. Suddenly, he sat down on my couch, turned on my TV, and immediately switched to the cartoons. I observed him for a while. He was completely engrossed in the cartoons. I wanted him to fully enjoy the moment, so I didn’t say anything to him. I realized I had to call the facility to inform them of his presence. The caretakers arrived ten minutes later. After much persuasion, he got up, crying, and they took him back to the facility. I called the facility two days later. We made a deal.

Tom, a former resident of my patio, has become a cherished friend. Every Sunday since his return, Tom and his caregivers visit me to enjoy watching cartoons together. This activity has become the highlight of his week, and it brings immense joy to me. For several years, I had avoided meeting Tom due to his habit of eating from the ashtray on my patio. However, my perspective has shifted, and I now eagerly anticipate our weekly gatherings to watch cartoons and strengthen our friendship.

This is something that happened to me last year.

Or, I think it did. 

Truth be told, I’m still not sure if this was real, or if I remember it right, but it’s been eating at me so I figured I’d write it down so it isn’t just in my head anymore. I’m posting it because part of me hopes that I’m not alone, that someone else has seen something even a little bit like what I have. 

Like I said, this was last year, early December. My friend Jess had just got out of uni for the holidays, and I was going to meet her. I don’t want to say exactly where she was coming from, but the plan was for me to meet her at St. Pancras, getting there via the Circle Line. 

Well, I say ‘friend’. We weren’t super close around this time, or at least it didn’t really feel like it. I hadn’t seen her in person or even over video call in about a year, and we only messaged each other sporadically. 

Truth be told, I was a little nervous about seeing her. I didn’t really know if it would go well, or if she even still considered me a friend. I mean, She’d agreed to meet up with me, but I guess part of me was worried she only agreed out of obligation or pity or something. 

Anyway, it was about 5 in the evening when I got on the train. Right away, things felt… off. You’d expect the tube to be absolutely packed in the evening so close to the holidays, but it was completely empty. Nobody else was at the station with me, either. The whole thing felt sort of uncanny.

I get on and shoot Jess a text that I’m on my way. The doors close and the little announcement voice comes on to announce the next stop. The lights flicker for a moment. I know that sounds like nothing. Lights flicker on the tube all the time. But with the weird, empty atmosphere, it put me a little on edge. 

The first bit of the journey was nothing particularly noteworthy. But the first stop puts me even more on edge. Nobody gets off, and nobody gets on. The platform is completely empty. Not even a pigeon picking at litter. It feels like the whole world is empty. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as alone as I did on that train. The doors stay open for what feels like forever.

 I should have gotten off. I should have gotten off and switched to a different line, or gotten a bus or a cab or even just walked.

But at the time, I felt stupid getting worked up over an empty train and a flickery light, so I stayed. 

The train rolls into the next stop and the announcer voice comes on, crackly and indistinct, like there’s something wrong with the speakers. The doors squeak open and then suddenly slam shut. They shudder open and shut, open and shut, open and shut, and then the train jolts into motion. The sudden movement nearly knocks me over, and I barely manage to grab onto one of the support poles to stay upright. But the near-fall flings my phone out of my coat pocket and sends it sliding across the floor. 

The announcer voice comes on, even more distant and tinny, telling passengers to please report anything suspicious. The lights start flickering again, not just the ones above the door this time, but throughout the whole train. It gives me a splitting headache. I let go of the support pole and shuffle along the car to get to my phone. The lights are practically strobing by now and I’m squinting as I make my way to my phone, which is still shaking across the floor. I manage to grab it and sit down with it. The battery is horrifically low, which isn’t too much of a surprise because it’s an older phone and it has shit battery life, but what is a surprise is the time. It’s still 5:00. There’s really no way it should still be 5:00. It was 5:00 when I got on the train and we’ve been to two stops. I don’t know the exact mathematics of it but I know that can’t be right. For a brief moment, I consider the possibility that something got fucked up when it fell on the floor.

And then, with a sharp, electric crackle, the lights go out completely. Everything is completely dark, in the train and, somehow, in the tunnel as well. 

It's the year 1984 . "Tony Stewart!” She calls out to me. "Here we go again," I think to myself. Another sleepless night befell me as the voice rang like a power drill in my ears. I know mother is mad, but father refuses to take her to a mental asylum. "The wall's speaking to me again." This insanity has been occurring for an eternity now. Day and night, mother sits by that cursed wall mumbling God knows what. Father has become a part of the couch, and I'm just trying to graduate school so that I can finally move out of this damned house. Every time I try to make things better, father just gives me 'the look'. There's something strange about father. He seems to be in a constant state of reminiscence, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. It's been like this ever since I could remember.

I emerge from my bed in a corpse-like manner, the lack of sleep is catching up to me. Mother rambles on, as always, about me not cleaning up after myself in the kitchen, even though I was never even there and father had left for work. I take it like a grain of salt, assuming she's responsible as father left for work hours ago. “How many times is this going to happen mum, you need help, it’s clearly you.” “You didn’t even put the toilet seat down Tony, have some decency for your poor old mother.” Mother continued spurting words of nonsense as if I wasn’t even there. “You were extra loud tonight Tony, you know how much of a light sleeper I am.” “You were so loud that even dad was struggling to sleep tonight and he couldn’t sleep again for the rest of the night.” I always ask myself how my mother comes up with these kinds of things and wonder how sick she truly is.

I exit my prison, completely ignoring mother, desperate to enter the school gates. Normally, students can't wait for the weekend. I’m the complete opposite. School is the one place I feel like myself. "What's up Tony!" I wave back, as I make my way to class. My SAT is coming up which requires me to get all the sleep I can get. "Tony!" ... "Tony!" ... "Tony!" The pillow should block out her echoes. She continued on for two more hours and I couldn’t take it anymore. I rush downstairs to the place I’m never allowed to enter.

I never understood why I wasn't allowed to enter father's basement, but I knew that it would withhold something heavy. I frantically search everywhere looking for anything to destroy the wall but what I find instead sent shivers down to my very core. ‘The Stewart family portrait, 1967' a man holding a newborn baby and a child with a disfigured face sitting on a woman's lap. I rush upstairs furiously, portrait in hand. "Who's this creepy kid in our portrait!" All of a sudden, the mirror on the wall shattered. Mother was never insane...

Where I come from, the fields stretch far and wide, endless rows of plowed earth and wheat swaying under the moonlight. During the day, they feel safe, comforting even. But at night? At night, they’re different. And everyone knows: Don’t walk the fields at night.

I used to think it was just a superstition, something parents told their kids to keep them close to home after dark. But then I broke the rule. And now, I’ll never doubt it again.

It started when I was seventeen, after a late-night argument with my dad. I slammed the door behind me and stormed off, too angry to care about curfews or warnings. The town was six miles away, and I figured the walk through the fields would help me cool off. The night was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of my boots on dirt and the soft rustle of the wind through the crops. For a while, it was almost peaceful.

But then I saw it.

At first, it was just a shape in the distance, moving across the plowed rows. It was hard to tell what it was—a deer, maybe? But as I walked, I realized it wasn’t an animal. It was a figure. Human-shaped, but wrong. Its movements were jerky, unnatural, like it didn’t understand how to walk properly. It stayed in the field, parallel to me, never coming closer but always keeping pace.

I tried to tell myself it was nothing, just some trick of the light, but I quickened my steps all the same. My heart pounded in my chest as I reached the old bridge that crossed a narrow creek. Half a mile of woods lay beyond it, and then I’d be at the neighbor’s house, safe in the glow of their porch lights.

That’s when I heard it: “Help me...”

It was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind. I froze, gripping the straps of my backpack. “Help me... please...”

The voice was coming from under the bridge.

Every rational part of me screamed to keep walking, but something held me there. What if someone was really down there? Hurt? Lost?

I took a cautious step toward the edge, peering into the darkness below. “Help me...”

The voice was closer now, but something was off about it. It sounded hollow, mechanical, like someone imitating a cry for help. My stomach twisted.

Then I saw it.

A pair of eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, stared back at me. The figure from the field stood beneath the bridge, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. It didn’t move. It just stared.

And then it spoke again, but this time, it used my voice. “Help me... please...”

I ran. I didn’t look back, didn’t stop until I reached the neighbor’s house. Their porch light was on, and Mr. Harris was standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He watched me stumble up the driveway, gasping for breath.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he said quietly, his face pale. “The thing in the fields.”

I couldn’t speak, could only nod.

He shook his head. “It calls out, tries to lure you in. Don’t ever stop. Don’t ever look. And whatever you do, don’t walk the fields at night.”

The next morning, curiosity got the better of me. I went back to the bridge. Beneath it, the dirt was disturbed, footprints circling endlessly in the sand. In the center was a shredded rabbit, its remains scattered like some grotesque ritual.

I never walked the fields at night again. But sometimes, when I’m lying in bed, I still hear it. A voice outside my window, soft and pleading. “Help me... please...”

I don’t answer. Because I know if I do, it won’t be me who comes back.

In the shadows, he wore a black hooded sweatshirt, his back turned to me. I drove past him, but I knew it was dangerous because he was only a corner away from my neighborhood, and I was speeding toward that very corner.

I considered our neighborhood relatively safe, with a large electric iron gate that wouldn't open unless you pressed a specific remote control or called a resident inside. It was already past two in the morning. Afraid he might follow me, I frantically pressed the remote to open the gate. Glancing into the rearview mirror, I saw nothing but darkness. I sighed softly, thinking, "Maybe he's just passing by late at night." With that thought, I skillfully parked my car in my designated spot.

Our neighborhood had a private parking lot, and each household had its own designated space. Parked next to me was a pickup truck, and as I smoothly backed into my spot, I found myself tightly enclosed on both sides. After getting out of the car, I inadvertently glanced toward the gate and saw a sight that remains etched in my memory.

He tilted his head, and from beneath the hood's shadow emerged a bizarre, stiff smile. One hand gripped the iron gate's bars, his eyes hollow and vacant. The other hand waved mechanically at me. Under the dim streetlight, that's all I could see. The distance was too great to tell if he was saying anything, but I kept hearing some rustling sounds.

I didn't dare linger another second and dashed toward my home. Just as I closed the car door, an indescribable unease crawled up my spine. The figure had vanished, but I could hear footsteps echoing in the empty parking lot, each step amplifying the reverberation. I tried to reassure myself that it was just my imagination, but his eerie smile kept replaying in my mind.

I pulled the keys from my pocket, gripping them so tightly that my palms grew sweaty. The sound of locking the car seemed piercingly loud in the silence, as if awakening some slumbering presence. As I reached the building's entrance, I couldn't help but look back once more, only to find the shadows by the gate empty. It was as if he had never existed—perhaps just a hallucination from my fatigue after a long drive.

Yet those faint, rustling sounds still lingered in my ears, sometimes distant, sometimes near, blurring the line between reality and illusion. Shaking my head, I silently scolded myself for being cowardly, but subconsciously quickened my pace, almost running toward my apartment door. Fumbling with my keys, my hands trembled as I inserted them into the lock.

When the door clicked open, I finally exhaled, quickly shutting and locking it behind me. As usual, I turned on the living room lights. But as the room flooded with light, I noticed that the shadows outside the window seemed deeper than usual, as if that smile was still watching me.

Yes, I saw him! He was staring at me through the closed blinds. In the faint moonlight, I could see his eerie pupils and that unsettling smile. He stood outside on the balcony, fixated on me. I didn't dare look in that direction again and hurriedly dialed the police.

Fumbling with my phone, my fingers trembled as I dialed the emergency number. The ringing tone seemed unbearably loud, each beep stretching endlessly. I stared intently at the screen, afraid to look toward the balcony.

"Hello, this is the emergency center. How may I assist you?" The moment the call connected, I mustered all my strength to whisper, "Someone... someone's following me. He's outside on my balcony, watching me."

My voice was shaky with tension, but the operator sensed the urgency. "Please remain calm. Are you at home right now? Are your balcony doors and windows locked?" Her tone was steady, but it couldn't quell my inner fear.

"They're locked, but I'm scared..." I took a deep breath, trying to suppress my trembling. "He's right outside. I can see his shadow through the curtains."

"Alright, we've dispatched officers. They'll arrive within five minutes. Please stay in a safe place, avoid approaching the balcony, and do not attempt to confront him."

After hanging up, I forced myself to stay calm, holding my breath as I cautiously moved to hide behind the sofa. The curtains fluttered gently in the breeze, and my eyes couldn't help but dart toward that shadow. It moved.

He made no sound but pressed closer to the window like a ghost. I could even feel those hollow eyes staring straight through the curtains at me. Then, he raised his hand and slowly knocked on the glass.

Thump—thump—thump.

The sound was deep and slow, each knock echoing in my heart. I covered my mouth, not daring to make a sound. Just then, the sound of sirens came from outside, and I closed my eyes in relief, a surge of joy washing over me.

However, when I opened my eyes again, the shadow had disappeared. Outside the curtains was a tranquil night, as if nothing had happened.

"The police are here," I told myself, running toward the door. Several officers stood outside, and their presence gave me a sense of security.

"Sir, are you the one who called?" one officer asked.

"Yes, he was just outside my balcony," I said urgently, my voice still shaking.

"Please calm down. We've checked around the building and haven't found anyone suspicious. But to be safe, we'll conduct a thorough search inside," another officer reassured me.

They inspected every corner of my home, especially the windows and balcony. I followed them, feeling both nervous and hopeful.

"There are some strange markings here," one officer pointed to the dirt outside the window.

I leaned in to look, discovering several clear footprints in the soil beneath the windowsill, as if freshly made. There were also some smudged handprints on the glass, the fingerprints distinct.

"It appears someone was indeed here," the officer frowned. "But how did he leave without a trace? Our team was outside the entire time and didn't spot anyone."

Just then, a faint sound came from the hallway, like someone stepping on a loose floorboard. The officers immediately became alert. One whispered, "He might still be in the building. Stay sharp, everyone."

They instructed me to stay put while they spread out to search the hallways and emergency exits. Standing at my door, my heart pounded, and all I could hear was my own breathing.

Seconds ticked by, the officers communicating in hushed tones as they moved.

Suddenly, the hallway lights flickered and then went out, plunging the entire building into darkness.

"What's going on?" an officer's voice echoed in the dark.

Immediately after, hurried footsteps reverberated in the stairwell, mixed with low, eerie laughter seeming to emanate from all directions.

"He's moving!" The officers quickened their pace, chasing the sounds.

I stood at my doorway, palms sweaty and unsure whether to lock myself inside or wait where I was.

The officers moved through the darkness, while I remained rooted to the spot, utterly lost.

After a few minutes, the power returned, and the hallway lights flickered back on. The officers regrouped but all shook their heads.

"We couldn't find him. He may have already left," one officer said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Rest assured, we'll increase patrols in the area to ensure your safety," another officer comforted me.

After they left, I closed and locked my door, double-checking all the windows and locks once more. Even though they said he might have gone, the unease within me didn't subside.

Exhausted, I walked into my bedroom, deciding to rest early. However, soon after lying down, an inexplicable pressure made it impossible to sleep.

"Maybe it's just my imagination," I told myself, trying to calm down. The room was eerily quiet; I could only hear my own heartbeat. Suddenly, a faint rustling came from under the bed, like fabric dragging across the floor. My breath caught, eyes wide as I stared at the ceiling, not daring to move.

Squeak—squeak—

Could it be a rat? I tried to rationalize, but the fear within me kept growing.

A few seconds later, the sound came again, clearer this time, accompanied by faint breathing.

A chill ran from my spine to the top of my head, but that oppressive feeling remained. Carefully, I sat up, heart pounding, palms sweaty.

I didn't want him to realize I'd noticed something was wrong. Gently, I slipped off the bed from the opposite side, my mind blank, completely consumed by fear. I wanted to scream but couldn't make a sound. Slowly, I backed toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a low chuckle came from under the bed.

"Heh—heh—"

"Sir, are you alright? We have new information!" The police knocked on the door unexpectedly.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I glimpsed a pair of eyes glinting strangely from beneath the bed.

"Shh—" a raspy voice whispered in my ear. It was the last time I heard him.

I yanked open the door, only to find no one outside. The corridor was silent. I could have sworn I heard the police just moments ago.

Looking down at my phone, the screen was black and unresponsive.

Lifting my head, I saw that familiar figure standing at the end of the hallway. He slowly turned around, revealing that eerie smile.

"You can't escape," his voice echoed down the empty corridor.

I turned to re-enter my apartment, only to find the door had vanished, replaced by a cold, solid wall.

I was trapped, with no way out.

[Previous Post, for context to my current predicament.]

I’ll be writing this post throughout the day as I go about my business, trying to document everything that has happened for all of you to keep up with, and to make it easier on me than having to sit down to write one long post at the end of the day. I’ll place timestamps above each portion I’ve written, so you know about when I wrote them.

(5:19 AM - 6:53 AM)

I just woke up a few minutes ago from a very forceful sleep.

As predicted, the ‘reset’ I’ve sadly started to become so used to took hold last night. Surprisingly, I had about an hour’s reprieve after sending out the message before I was dragged unconscious by whatever unknowable forces control this world I’m now stuck living in, and for a moment there, I started to think there was a chance we could have gotten away with another day, but no…it was lights out as usual.

The very first thing I did after I woke up was read all of your responses. I really didn’t expect to find so many, but I’m very grateful that I have them. I knew I could count on all of you, and you did all have some great suggestions. Some of you asked me to try to to reach out to my family on here, and as soon as I’m done typing this portion of my post out, that’s exactly what I plan to do; I’m going to see if I can send a message out to my father‘s email address, to tell him I’m alive, and ask him what happened to me from his perspective. It could go a long way in figuring things out. Maybe I’ll draft one up for my Uncle, too, just in case he was there at the time when I ended up here.

I really do hope they answer, not just because it would help me, but because I have some regrets about the day that I disappeared. Father and I had a fight over some things early that morning, and I never got to apologize for it… I want to do that now.

Another thing one of you mentioned was the possibility of being in a time loop in an alternate universe. You could be right about that; I’ve definitely considered both of those things In the midst of all of this, and right now, an alternate universe is about the only theory that makes logical sense, so it’s what I’m going with until further notice.

The only thing that gives me pause about the idea of a time loop is that…well, there’s one strange oddity that I’m not sure would make sense for it, but I’ll let you all tell me what you think on that. The oddity I’ve noticed is that the dates seem to change, people acknowledge what day it is and the passage of time, just like everything‘s normal, and objects stay where they were at the time they were dropped or left behind, even after a reset. The only thing they forget is…everything else. Conversations had, notably unique or major events that happened (for example, if someone openly broke a vase in the theater where I work and got in trouble for it, but it wasn’t cleaned up before the next reset, my coworkers or boss might see it broken, but no one would remember who caused the vase to break) and everything isn’t just the mundane routine of every day life and the general passage of time is forgotten.

Oh, and I’ve gotten fairly good at predicting when the ‘resets’ will happen by now, for those who might be interested in details about the resets in general: It’s not an infallible science by any means, but 3-4 days does seem to be the average, with the rare exceptions of the rare 5th day reset, which so far has happened only once. If it’s a suspected reset day, and you make it past 2AM with no reset, that seems to mean it won’t happen until sometime after 5-6PM the next day (the starting time for a possible reset on every day, except for Saturdays and Sundays, which seem to be wildcards if they’re reset days, and have no reliable start times or reset curfews). Unless my counting skills are failing me, as of today, I’ve been through a total of 6 resets, in the span of 26 days. Three have happened after 3 days, three have happened after 4, and one happened after 5.

Today is 27. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe I’ve been here almost a month, but at least I finally feel like I’m starting to make significant progress in my plans to get back to where I belong. I’ll be heading to the city‘s archive today after work, as one of the other commenters here suggested. I’m hoping I can find something there.

(7:15 AM - 7:16 AM)

I’ve sent out an email to my father. Unfortunately, when I tried to log in to my own ordinary email, it told me I was logging in from a different device, so I needed to use my phone to verify that it’s me. I…don’t have my phone, obviously, so I had to make and use a throwaway email instead. I really hope it doesn’t get caught in his spam inbox, because if it does, he may never notice that it exists…

(1:08 PM - 1:36 PM)

I’m at work currently, so I can’t linger here long, just stopping for a brief moment to update this post as best I can while there’s enough of a lull in tasks for me to easily get away with it.

I stopped by the city hall earlier to request permission to view the city archives. They didn’t seem to balk at it, and told me I could view them tomorrow morning. Normally, I’d have scheduled this sort of thing for the afternoon on my day off, but in this world, I don’t really have that kind of luxury, do I? I have to take what I can get, as soon as I can get it. If an appointment is scheduled after a reset, then no one is likely to remember I was given permission at all, and I can’t take that risk. Thankfully, the reset happened just last night. Tomorrow should be clear. I can do it before work starts.

I’ve read a new comment on my last post, saying I should tread carefully in this situation, because if it was a genuine time loop, people wouldn’t be passing out like that. Honestly, I agree. Like I said, there are just some things that don’t fit with the time loop theory, as much as I’ve considered it being the case. Time progressing and objects staying where they were left is one of the biggest things. I just can’t get past that. If time was rewinding, wouldn’t everything be back in place exactly how it was when all of this started? Wouldn’t it be the same starting day on all the calendars, and wouldn’t everyone think that? You guys are right. I’m going to practice caution.

That and…well, I can’t stop thinking about that one commenter who said they were from this city and tried to convince me that Reddit didn’t exist, even as I was reading it right here on the site. I tried to tell myself it was just a troll messing with my head, but what if it wasn’t? What if I’m not the only one who has access to here, and what if someone is actively trying to stop me? The approach could use some work, but still…it’s disturbing. It’s probably nothing, though. It‘s probably just a troll, right? I’m just overthinking things. I’m scared and I’m paranoid. I need to go calm down.

I wish I had someone to ask to come with me to the archives, but it’s not as if I can just ask anyone. I’ll just have to do my best to play it casual and not arouse any suspicion. I’m just interested in the history of this town. That’s all.

(6:17 PM - 6:23 PM)

I’m heading back from work. I‘m not sure if it matters at all, but I guess it’s a good time to mention that there’s a rule here: don’t stay in the shops after dark if you don’t live there. There are actually a surprising number of people who do have living quarters in the back of their shops here, so I don’t know if it’s just some matter of wanting to unwind without anyone to bother you after work hours are over, or what. It’s just always something that’s struck me as odd. Every building closes after 6:00 PM, which is when things seem to get dark around here.

(3:56 AM - 5:37 AM)

In case it needed saying, I’m back at the hotel. I’ve made dinner, I’ve tried to relax, unwind, get ready for bed, but I just can’t shake this unsettling feeling that I’m completely isolated from everyone I used to know.

I’ve checked my emails again. I’ve been checking them on and off all day, hoping I could wait to update you all one more time after I’ve heard back from him, but there are no responses yet. I guess if my father is still stressed over my sudden disappearance, checking his emails probably won’t be his first priority, but he has to be checking then at least sometimes, right? I wonder if there’s anyone out there searching for me. I wonder if he was even there to see me disappear when I did. I wonder what he’s thinking…

I guess there’s no point in dwelling on it right now. All I can do is wait. But that’s so much easier said than done. For now, I guess I’ll try to focus on something else.

Talking earlier about the strange rules of the place where I work reminded me that I still need to tell you all about how I got this device, so, I guess I’ll do that. I think I said in my previous post that I had to work for two weeks to be able to afford to travel, because travel is pretty expensive around here, and that’s true; they charge you exorbitant prices here because they know that you don’t have a choice. Oh, sure, there’s a shop that sells camping supplies for the patently insane, but they’ll also remind you that if you leave the town after dark without taking a carriage, it’s exceedingly unlikely that anyone will ever see you again. If you want to go anywhere after dark, or anywhere that will take longer than there are daylight hours to arrive and return, then you have to take a carriage, and when it gets dark, you have to draw the curtains on the cabin until you see daylight shining through all of them.

Now, that could be drama, of course; they could just be trying to keep people from seeing some hidden truth. Maybe a wiser man would grab a weapon and supplies and trudge his way through the great expanses of nature with a brave heart, but I’m sorry to tell you, I’m not that sort of man. Everything they say could be a lie made up to control others, but personally, I’d rather be wrong and a little bit controlled than wrong and dead, or wrong and on yet another missing persons list.

So I saved up money, and I took a carriage out northeast, to the house where I was told my family of this world used to live — where I used to live. I didn’t go there looking for a device like this. Really, I was starting to think something like that just couldn't exist here. Sometimss, I was beginning to wonder if it even did anywhere, or if I was just…losing my mind. I guess I thought if I visited the place where my family and I were supposed to have lived here, maybe my memory would finally come back, and I’d realize this was my reality after all. That I’d just imagined everything else.

Honestly, I think cabin is a better word for the place I ended up at. The carriage wouldn’t even take me all the way to the house; apparently, they have some sort of policy against driving into the woods, even though there’s a wide enough dirt path for them to have done it. Instead, I had to get out and hike all the way through the forest on foot until I found it.

For those curious what it looks like, just imagine a dark wood three bedroom cabin, two floors and a basement, with a significantly lighter color porch and other accents, and whatever picturesque, Thomas Kincaid-reminiscent scene you’ve put in your mind is probably close enough, if it weren’t for the utter lack of any warmth or light present in the building, or the musty smell of stale air that I was greeted with the moment I opened the door and stepped inside — a door that, judging by the powdery layers of dust that covered every surface in the interior, probably hadn’t been breached even just to allow the place to air out in some time.

I’ve heard people say that liminal spaces like make us feel uneasy because it’s something taken out of its normal, natural context — seeing something we expect to usually be filled with people and brimming with life and sound is unnerving when it isn’t because it alerts our inner instincts that something is wrong, that this place must have been abandoned for a reason, but that wasn’t how I felt standing inside the cabin that day. It wasn’t unnerving to see because it was a place that should have been full of life now turned empty and silent — it was unnerving to see because it shouldn’t have existed at all.

Walking around in a building that was supposed to have been where I grew up, when I knew it wasn’t; that was terrifying. Visiting a room that must have been mine, seeing old toys that I never remembered playing with collecting dust on the floor like they’d just been sitting right where a nonexistent version of me once left them, looking upon a painting on the wall in the dining room and seeing my younger face staring back at me in a place where it absolutely shouldn’t have been, lovingly surrounded by and happily posing with people that I don’t even recognize — people who must be my parents, but most certainly aren’t — unnerved me to my core.

Here I had been telling myself all of that time that none of this was real and that I belonged with all of you, in my real world, but yet there I was, facing down what felt like the most undeniable of all proofs that I was wrong.

I think if I hadn’t found the hatch leading down into the basement hidden underneath "my" bed when I went to take a closer look around my room, I really might have just accepted that there was something wrong with my head and given up on ever getting out of here. It was down in that basement that I found this device. Sitting under a single hanging, flickering fluorescent yellow light — a light that shouldn’t even exist in this time period — in a basement that looked so unsettlingly modern by comparison to everything else, was an old wooden table with a latched metal box that contained nothing but this one device: a small, flat tablet-like screen about 20.32 centimeters/8 inches high and roughly the same long, with a little pen clipped on the side. It took me a long while to even get it working, and even longer to figure out how to navigate and get onto the internet, but I did manage. And as soon as I realized what it could do, I knew I had to get back to the city and my hotel room as fast as I could, so I wouldn’t lose it during a reset. This device was and still is my only hope of making it through this. I have to keep protecting it at all costs.

And well, you mostly know the rest. I need to try to sleep now, so I’ll be signing off for now. I hope all of this made coherent sense, but I really can’t stay up to proofread it right now. As it is, I’ll only a few hours before I need to get up and go to see the city archives. I’ll update you again as soon as I can. Wish me luck, everyone. I’m hoping I won’t need it.

To be clear, it's not a phobia. A phobia is an irrational fear, after all - and my fear is very fucking rational indeed.

I was homeless. By choice, actually - lived that way for a few years. I juggle, just something I picked up as a kid, and believe it or not, that's enough to keep you fed and then some. An hour or two in front of a red light, and you're done. I liked my life, the freedom of it. I had a bit of money saved back, in case of bad weather, but most days I would work a couple hours and have the rest of the day to myself. But as agreeable as I found this lifestyle, finding a warm, semi safe place to sleep was easier said than done.

So I thought to myself, "why not look for an abandoned house to squat in?" A lot of people who can't pay rent (or don't want to) do exactly that, my state has laws that protect us. So I went to a hardware store, and I bought a padlock, as well as a couple other things. My plan was to find a place where nobody else was staying yet, slap a lock on the door so I don't have to share my space, and live it up rent free in some neglected dump. That's how I found my way to 3494, Lucky Fern Road. The place was abandoned for sure - that first night, I found the door was already unlocked, and the place was... mostly clean. Oh sure, there was dust everywhere, but that's to be expected.

I made my way into the kitchen - I figured if there was any food laying around that was out of date, that would confirm that this place is TRULY abandoned. As I opened the fridge, I was greeted with an absolutely vile odor - the walls inside, covered with mold, and a rotten glob of what used to be meat sat on a tray in the middle shelf. I took a moment to collect myself and recover from the waves of nausea, before making my way up to the bedroom.

It was mostly empty, although a dresser had been left behind - I dumped my few but precious possessions into one of the drawers, and turned my attention to the padlock, and the length of chain I'd purchased with it. The front door already had a bolt on it, which was fortunate, but the back door didn't seem to have any sort of locking mechanism at all. A bit odd, a distinct security risk at the very least. I recoiled, pulling my hand back as I touched the doorknob - it was hot, almost felt as if it nearly burned me in that brief instant. I tentatively poked it a moment later... cool. Normal. At the time, I wrote it off as some weird nerve thing in my head. Either way, I made my way upstairs - it was late, and I needed sleep. The bedroom door has a working lock, so I knew at least I'd be safe in here, even if a likeminded but less peaceful squatter saw fit to come around thr back and break in.

When I woke up, I was greeted by scorching, unbearable heat. This was early October - so naturally, I was highly confused. When I looked out the window... a cold, hard ball of fear formed in my gut. The other houses on the street were fucking demolished, they were in shambles - ruins, even. The sky was a dark, heavy grey, but it didn't look like rain, it just looked... dead. There was no sound, and very little light, and just as I was about to open the bedroom door to investigate further, I stopped. Every instinct was ablaze, and as I stepped back, the wooden floor creaked a bit under my weight. I felt like I was falling, as paralyzing terror gripped me, seemingly without rhyme nor reason.

Then, footsteps. Fast, very fast, something running. The doorknob rattled, as somebody on the other side tried to twist it open to no avail. Rattling gave way to loud slamming, and I started to think that whoever was on the other side wanted to break down the door. I grabbed the chain, and with trembling hands I snapped the padlock onto one end. I turned to the door, anxiously waiting for the rattling and slamming to stop, or for whatever psycho was on the other side to break through so I could brain them. And after a couple agonizingly long minutes, the noise did stop. It was replaced with the sound of a blaring siren from outside.

I heard the person on the other side of the door scramble, running away now, as the siren wailed outside. The grey sky, the dilapidated houses, even the street, had taken on a reddish hue, a crimson saturation permeating as far as I could see. And as it did, I saw somebody stumble out of one of the ruined neighboring houses. They were holding something in their hands - a baseball bat, I think. They looked to something I could not see, down the street - I'd have to open the window to get a good look. Instead, I watched him drop his weapon, drop to his knees... and start sobbing. His hand rose to his face, and slowly, he drove his thumbs into his own eyes. His screams were of pain, but somehow I instinctively knew this was an act of grief. For what, I was unsure. I crouched down, my face in my hands - I was shaking in abject, animal terror, and as the siren wailed on, it too was joined, now by a wet, slipperly slithering sound. I resisted the temptation, I would not look. As I crouched under the window, for a brief moment, the light of the red sky went black, as something very fucking large began to pass by. It halted, and I wanted to vomit or cry or do SOMETHING, but I stayed small, quiet, and hidden. And I waited... and I waited some more. The slithering resumed, and soon the dim red light returned.

When it did, I let out a shaky sigh of relief. What I did not know, at the time, is that I would be stuck here for just under 48 hours. The siren came back every few hours, and every time, I hid in silence, refusing to look. I had food and water, thanks to my lifestyle, stashed in the drawers, and although I'm not proud of it, I didn't even step out to use the restroom. Then, as I was eating a can of baked beans and starting to consider the possibility that the rest of my probably very short life might be spent in this room, I blinked, and the light changed. When I looked outside, the neighborhood was normal again. Blue sky, a bit cloudy, people in the road.

I got the fuck out of there, with the most absolute of haste. That was a couple years ago now. But one thing really stuck with me - my intuition. It's normally nothing special, but during those 48 hours, it was like my subconcious mind had a direct, one way line to my conscious brain. Everything seemed so clear - I knew, even without looking, that had I gazed upon whatever cast that behemoth shadow, I would meet a terrible fate. I knew, a moment before I heard it, that opening that bedroom door was a very bad idea. And when I walked out of that house, out of that neighborhood, and got a one way ticket out of that fucking city, I had this nagging, persistent notion. It was a trap. The house, it wasn't real, it was like a spider's web. I'm not homeless anymore. And I sure am glad of it. Because today I once again found myself in a strange part of town, for reasons irrelevant, and as I looked up at another abandoned house, nothing like the last, I instantly knew that this one was a trap, too. It's not just one, or two, or ten - they're everywhere. They look like forgotten, abandoned homes, down to dust and grime and even forgotten food in the kitchen. Unless you've been in one before, you can't possibly distinguish them from the real thing - and even then, there are no physical signs. All you have to go on is your gut instinct.

We were just kids. We would play on the backs; it was 2 separate dirt paths running concurently next to each other with tress and garages separating eachother. The trees were English oak and hawthorns and had huge thorn bushes between them. Growing up around here was magnificent, all our houses were connected as they were terrace and were on a long street and again, we had the backs. In summer it was amazing, the grass was green, the trees glistening in the sun and late nights. The winter was also fantastic as there was a big mound of old tar and coal that we could sled down and it looked magical as old uk towns do.

The neighbours were all so kind. You had Gordon and Wendy who were an elderly couple and would always bring us ice pops. You had Luke and Jason who were what we believed were brother at the time however as I reached older years realised they were happily married, but always took the time to talk to me and my friends. There was also Scott and Linda who lived on the end; Scott would regularly drive around in his Subaru and give us rides up and down the back strips so fast and Linda, his mum, was disabled however we would help her mow the garden and pick up leaves in the winter.

My best friend was Alan. Alan was a great student and a formidable tennis player. Alan also had a younger sister called Annie who was also a talented football player and was in our county under 10’s team. Me and Alan would regularly sit on the back up until late and go climb some trees and hang out. We did this for years, it was so peaceful and we were only around 8 and technology hasn’t really taken off like it had now.

It was on a warm may evening in 2005. Me and Alan were in the biggest tree on the backs when we here Annie shouting for Alan to come home as his mum had asked her. I climbed down the tree with Alan and we started walking down the backs where we saw one of the other kids on the street Josh. We were quite a distance away so we didn’t stop to talk and just waved. I waved goodbye to Alan and Annie at their door and continued down the road to my house where I took of my clothes and got into bed, falling asleep quickly.

I awaken to heavy thuds on our front door. It must be the middle of the night I think to myself. I go to my bedroom door where I see my dad stood at the top of the stairs frozen as the banging intensified. My dad walks down and asks who’s there. ‘Have you seen Josh he hasn’t come home! The police are out looking for him right now’. The next few days were a blur. He was all over the news, the school sent out huge search parties. The streets were quieter and eerie. I can remember speaking to the police in multiple occasions. However nothing was ever found or was any arrest ever made.

Josh went missing in may in 2005. He has never been found.

Around 5 months later, news had died down. It was small town England. It was colder now but everyone started staying out a bit later again and our parents allowed it ‘as long as we stayed in groups’. Me, alan and Annie were yet again climbing trees when we hear my dad calling so as per usual we begin our route home from the back around to the front. We get to their house and I wave them inside and start walking towards my house just further down the street. I walk passed an alley way that disconnected two of the house between number 18 and 20. A similar place to where we had waved at Josh.

‘Hey!’ A voice beckons I turned around shocked and caught off guard. The alley way is dark but I can see a silhouette of a man, thinking back now around 5’5 with shoulder length hair and thick glasses. It was hard too see him. ‘I’ve dropped my car keys somewhere in here can you help me find them’ My stomach sank, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my heart started racing. It’s strange, I’ve never felt a feeling of utter terror in my life. It felt like a bad seed had just been planted in my stomach and something was telling me to just run.

I got home slammed through the front and explain what has just happened to my dad. My dad walks out of the house where we see a red mini flying down the street. He goes halfway down the street to were the alleyway is and there is nobody there. We go home call the police and explain what happened. I had 2 officers come down and again speak to me.

Fast forward around 2 years, nothing has happened. The streets are back to the way things were. Me and my friend group were coming on 10/11 at this point however plenty of new children were filling up the backs. Just as we had. I’m now allowed further out and about 10 minutes away there’s another street with similar backs however a bit more run down than ours. We were all playing with new friends we had met when the sun started to set so we walked on home. It was me Allen and Annie again, the usual 3. It was a Friday so they were going to come to mine to play some Xbox.

We were walking close to number 18 and 20 when me and Alan stopped to look at a new lamp that one of ours friends Jordan had put in his window and Annie kept strolling forward when we heard “hey!” Again my heart dropped. The same feeling of dread and death I had felt years before. “I’ve dropped my keys down here think you can lend me a hand” I scream at her to come to me now and we cross the road and to the other side of the street. I look down the alleyway. The same shadow, the same thick rimmed glasses, just looking and staring.

We explained the situation to my dad and he again called the police. This time I can remember more officers arrived and the street was full of lights.

After investigations took place and news spread like wildfire the shocking truths came out; inside the house was an old ping pong table with ropes coming off the sides, Bone saws, hammers andnails. It turns out that 4 different children’s DNA was found at the crime scene. The house belonged to an old man who had been living in a facility for 7+ years so nobody lived there.

Upon further investigation there was evidence of cannibalism and torture. I don’t know what I escaped that day and I don’t think I ever want to know.

I know it sounds strange to say that leaves brought me to whatever this place is, and honestly I don’t much understand it myself. Maybe it’ll all make sense to me when I investigate this place further, and maybe it’ll make sense to you once I tell you my story.

In a small town deep in the woods of western New Hampshire, you will find where I reside. When I say small, I mean small. Almost all of our businesses are locally owned and everyone just about knows anyone. I’ve been here since I was little and have only left town to see friends and family. Otherwise, everything I need is perfectly in reach so I don’t see any point of even wanting to leave. For the sake of my people, I will not be sharing much more about our little settlement. It’s perfectly quiet and peaceful around here and that’s the way we want to keep it. Which is why, for as long as we can remember, my people have been trying to get to the bottom of a strange mystery deep in our town’s history. What’s that mystery you ask? Why I’ll tell you… but only if you believe will it even make an ounce of sense to you.

People are going missing, and have been for a long time. We have about 500 people living in our town, and every year 24 go missing. That number is only for people who we as the town believe were kidnapped by “the little men”, but we do have cases where people are found. The little men are a story that parents have made up to scare kids and keep them from running off into the woods and listening to strangers. I think it’s all made up, but like Santa, I don’t even think the parents will even admit it’s fake for our sake.

From this point on, all these events and conversations are real and genuinely happened. If you choose not to believe, then enjoy the spooky story. But if you do believe in such stories, then I advise you to listen closely and use my events to your own advantage. Be safe out there. You never know if stories like these may just save your life, or someone else’s.

“Sweetie, wake up. It’s time for school.” My mother spoke to me in her gentle, soft voice. “You don’t want to be late again baby.”

I don’t remember much during early mornings, but I will always remember my mother’s nurturing voice welcoming me into a new day. I sat up in bed and wiped the crust away from my eyes before heading down the hall to greet my dad in the kitchen.

This was the day that it would all start to change. My view on this town I called home, my safety, my comfort, anything I thought was or could be real, all would transform on that fateful walk after school.

“Hey dad.” I said, taking my seat at the table.

“How’d you sleep sport?” My dad replied, looking up from his newspaper. I don’t even know why he still reads those. We have the internet, so I guess it’s just a weird preference of his.

“I slept pretty well. I had one of those nightmares again, but honestly they don’t even faze me anymore.”

“I’m telling you boy, this town’s got something weird going on in the forest. Maybe not little men, but something most definitely.” He said sarcastically.

“Yeah. Sure dad.” I chuckled.

My mom shot him a jokingly dirty look. Me and my dad don’t believe in that sort of stuff. Can’t say the same for my mom though.

I devoured my cereal and ran for the bus stop down the steep hill from my house. I turned around while running to see my mom blowing me a kiss from the front door of our cozy, one story home. I was so lucky to have an amazing mother like her. Me and my dad are close, but I doubt anyone will ever beat the relationship between this mother and her baby boy.

Once in my home room, I sat next to my friend Patrick and we started having our typical small talk.

“Bro did you hear? Valentina went missing! I’m telling you it’s those damn Pukwudgies man.” Patrick said in his monotone hippie voice. “I’m telling ya, they’re real. You have one of those visions again?”

I rolled my eyes and responded, “Yeah I had one of my NIGHTMARES again. Same dealio as always. I’m just standing at the edge of the woods across my house and there’s leaves blowing around everywhere.”

“Were, like, the voices there again? Or is it just the leaves and stuff.”

“No voices this time.”

“Damn man. That’s my favorite part! All that creepy shit they say, y’know?”

Before our conversation could go on any further, our teacher, Ms.Baker, called for our attention.

“Good morning class! As some of you may have heard- Franklin stop talking! Do I have to move you? No? Good. As I was saying, some of you may have heard about Valentina’s disappearance. If any of you hear or see anything, please report it to a trusted adult so they may notify the authorities. She was last seen in her backyard around 6:30 pm last Friday. I better not hear any jokes being made, or I’m sending you to the principal’s office immediately. You know how this goes.”

I doubt Franklin would listen to that last part. He doesn’t take anything seriously and is honestly kind of a douchebag.

Later at lunch, when I was sitting with Patrick, Franklin and a few of his buddies decided to come over and have a word with me.

“You one of those freaks that have those silly wet dreams about leaves?” He said in a mocking tone.

“Uhhhh. Where did you hear that?” I looked over at Patrick who made a sizzling sound in his mouth with his teeth together and eyes squinting.

“My bad man. I thought Trisha wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“Hah! You guys are losers.” Franklin snared at us with his goons laughing behind him almost robotically.

“It’s just a dream man. I don’t believe in that paranormal crap.” I said defending myself. Patrick must have been offended because he responded to that by punching me in the shoulder. “Ah what the fuck? Sorry, I meant to say I don’t believe in that paranormal STUFF.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever losers. You tell those voices everyone hears that I said hi now.” He chuckled, walking away and taking his sheep with him.

“If it’s ‘crap’, then why does everyone on your street have the same dream?!” Patrick exclaimed defensively.

I rolled my eyes as the bell rang. Time to rap up the day with some 8th grade math and science.

At the time, it was early November. It had just started to get dark and cold earlier. School ended at 2:30, but me and Patrick stayed after school to play Boss Monster at game club. Don’t get me wrong, I have a decent imagination, but that doesn’t mean I had to believe that paranormal stuff was real. By the time we had our fun and game club was over, it was 5pm. That, plus being the last bus stop at a middle school where everyone goes to, I was at my stop at around 5:35ish.

I stepped off the bus and immediately was no longer under the protection of the warm heat the bus driver had turned on for us. In a desperate attempt to not be late for school again, I had completely forgotten to bring my winter jacket for my walk home. I crossed my arms and put my hands under my armpits to keep myself warm. Looking up the steep hill, I could see the light coming from my house all the way at the top, but not the house itself. All the other houses’ porch lights were off because the kids that lived there were in high school and got dismissed at 1:50.

So I was all alone, cold, and in the dark since my town refuses to add damn street lights to this road. As my bus drove off, I sighed, watching the air mystify right in front of me. I started my journey up the hill only hoping my mother made her signature warm chicken and noodle soup. Damn… I could only imagine how Valentina must've been feeling in this weather right now.

About halfway up the hill, I could make out the roof of my house, when all of a sudden whatever breeze there was had stopped. It took me a second to realize, but I wasn’t even cold anymore either. If anything I felt quite warm. Before I could fully process it, I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. There were a bunch of yellow and orange leaves dancing around in the nonexistent wind. It was just like the dreams people on this street have had; like the dream I had. Not only could I not feel the wind, I couldn’t hear it either. In fact, I couldn’t hear anything. No animals waking in the moonlight, no people in their homes, nothing at all. You know the saying “you could hear a pin drop”? It was like that, but in my case all I did hear was the sounds of the leaves moving and crumpling around in unison.

“Well that’s weird.” I spoke to myself aloud, almost to see if I was even conscious.

Unfolding my arms, I started walking again. My attention was once again focused on getting home. That’s when I heard it.

“Shaun”

I froze and snapped my attention towards the leaves that were still spiraling around unnaturally. I could have sworn that the wind just gusted my name. More disturbed than before, I started walking faster up the hill. The wind kept getting louder and louder, chasing after me along with the swarm of leaves.

“SHAUN”

I broke into a full on sprint. I was now certain someone was calling my name.

“SHAUN”

“Leave me alone!”

“SHAUN!”

“Mom!”

“SHAUN!!”

“Stop it please! Mom!” I cried desperately.

I was only a couple yards away from my front door at this point. The leaves had caught up to me and were sweeping around my feet. I burst through my front door, tackling mom in the process. My father slammed the door behind me.

Cradling me, my mom cried out, “Oh my god! What’s wrong baby?”

“S-Someone was chasing me.” The words barely could leave my mouth.

“Chasing you?” She asked concerningly.

My dad sped over to our fireplace, unmantling his rifle from the wall and loaded it with a snap. He then ran back over to the front door, swung it open, and aimed his ruffle up.

“Whoever’s there, leave my son alone, ya hear me?!”

The rest of my parents’ night was spent calming me down and cheering me up. My dad would occasionally check outside all the windows and make sure that no one could get in. My mom made a delicious cookie dough and peanut butter sundae, and we sat and watched our show together.

At one point in the night, I looked out the open curtain and across our street. There, at the edge of the forest, a swirling spiral of leaves elegantly danced as if calling out to me again. I said nothing and only stared. I had enough time to think about what had happened. It’s like my dream had come to life, but being the skeptic I am, it took me time to process it and all I could think was that someone was after me. But now, seeing the leaves sway and swirl, I wasn’t scared anymore. I know I wasn’t crazy, so how could something like that happen? My fear had become curiosity. And that curiosity, would indeed turn out to be as dangerous as you’d assume.

I never talked to Patrick at school about the leaves or anything out of the ordinary about that night. He, along with everyone else at school, thought I had run into who or whatever has been kidnapping people left and right. My dad reported what happened to our neighbors as well as the police. Ever since, whispers of what had happened spread like fire through my school. And you know what that means…

“Watch out Shaun! The little guys are after you!” Franklin yelled to me in the hallway after passing me between classes.

“Mellow him out man. He’d be shitting his pants if that happened to him.” Patrick said while holding the door to our next class open for me.

“Yeah I try. Honestly, nothing he says can affect me. I know deep down he’s just a mouth breathing turd.” I spiritedly replied as we laughed and took our seats.

“All right class, settle down now.” Our history teacher said in his booming, but calm southern drawl.

The sounds of our lesson on ancient Egypt blurred as my mind wandered. All I could think about were the leaves. Their motion wasn’t hypnotic or aggressive by any means, but instead brought a peaceful yet sorrowful feel to my gut. Why were they calling for me? And if people have had the same dream as I, did they also encounter the same thing? I needed answers.

When I got to my stop, my mom was there waiting for me.

“Hello, Mrs.Quiver!” My bus driver waved to my mom.

“Hi Frank! How’s Samantha and the new guy doing?”

“Oh good. They’re both doing great.”

“Oh nice! So happy for you two.”

“Aww. Well I’ll have to tell her you said that.”

“Tell her to ring me up. Haven’t heard from her since she left on maternity leave.”

“Will do. You have a good one now.”

“You too Frank. You too.” My mother said waving goodbye to Frank as he drove off. She then turned her attention towards me. “How was school honey?”

“It was good. Wish game club was today though.” Since the game club was only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I was home at around 3:15 today. It’s been a week and three days since the incident, and not for a moment did I let it slip my mind. “Hey mom?” I asked while we started walking up the sidewalk. “You believe in paranormal activity right?”

“You know it. Why, what’s up?”

“You remember that night where someone was chasing me home?”

“How can I forget something like that? Heck, I probably never will. Scared me to death hearing you scream for help like that.”

“Yeah well, don’t tell anyone, but I’m not so sure there even was a person that night.”

“What do you mean?” Her head turned as she gazed upon me concerningly.

“Well… God this is going to sound so stupid. I was walking up the hill when the wind stopped and it got kind of cozy outside. Then I saw a bunch of leaves dancing around on the street and… it was just like my nightmares mom.” I started crying a little bit.

For as long as I can remember, I was never much scared of anything. I knew that the monsters I saw in movies weren’t real and couldn’t hurt me. But this? This was different. This was unnatural and I couldn’t explain how something like that could have happened. My mom stopped both of us and kneeled down so she was just under my eye level. She just looked upon me with sorrowful eyes and put her arms out offering a hug. I fell into her arms and just cried.

“I don’t know what happened mom. I- I can’t explain it.”

“Some things in this world may never have answers sweetie. All that matters is that you’re safe now and it won’t happen again. Not as long as I'm here.”

We just stayed there and hugged for a good while. It took the cold creeping on us to break our arms’ bond around each other. We started trekking home again, and once inside, never told my dad about it. It was me and my mom’s little secret.

Despite all the search parties, it’s still been weeks and Valentina has never been found. As a matter of fact, her dad had gone missing recently as well. Unlike Valentina, he was found. Police say that Valentina’s dad had been having paranoid episodes where he’d see his daughter at the edge of the forest. Maybe he just broke. Losing a child can’t be easy.

The body was found in the backyard of his own home, riddled with puncture marks and foaming at the mouth. The doctors who must have performed the autopsy chocked it up to a paranoia induced suicidal overdose. All I could think about though was how alone the widowed mother must be feeling. No husband, and no daughter. It was like her whole world must have been swallowed whole. I heard a scoff sound from a desk across the room. It was Franklin. I could vaguely hear him whispering to his friends.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Val’s mom killed herself at this point.” Subtle chuckles could be heard that made me feel sick. I can only hope life comes to bite you on the ass you sick freak.

I turned my attention back towards Patrick who was still yapping about how excited he was for game club this afternoon. At this point I didn’t need my mom to wait for me at the stop anymore. I decided that the incident with the leaves would just end up being some spooky story I’d tell to my kids. An event that most likely wouldn’t repeat itself. I was wrong.

We’re almost all caught up. The next few events that happened only an hour ago, are where things start to get impossibly complicated and strange. This entry is already long as is, so I’ll save it for tomorrow. I had a very long and confusing night and would really like to sleep on it. I’ll continue writing my story as soon as I get home tomorrow. Until I proof read and post it, I hope to hear from anyone that has thoughts on what I’ve told so far. It’d be nice to know that me and my mom aren’t alone in this. I’m even thinking of telling Patrick tomorrow about what happened. Heck, I might just have him read this. He better not go yapping about it though. Last thing I need is Franklin on my ass again.

Until next time.

About a year ago I found myself without a home. A few bad financial choices here and there and you end up three months late on rent. Obviously, I didn’t plan on moving out so soon, but things happened, so I decided to take a risk and move out into the forest. When I was younger, I used to spend my weekends in the summer at my grandparents' house. They had a large property deep in the woody mountains, and I have many memories of exploring the property with my older brother and the other kids that lived in the neighborhood, overturning logs, climbing trees, making forts out of fallen branches, and following the worn paths that we had made for ourselves until we reached the end only to continue those routes even deeper into the forest.

In my search for a new place to call my home, I found a listing that was out in the middle of literally nowhere, and I mean nowhere, just to get to the place you have to take a series of very hidden turns deep in the mountainous forests of northern bc, down roads I will never remember the names of, and you find yourself in a small little town if you could even call it that, as you pass the welcome sign that says in worn out letters “MICKELLY”,  you’ll be greeted by gravel and dirt roads leading off into the forest, along these many paths lined a series of old abandoned buildings and storefronts intermixed with functional shops and small rugged houses barely held together by the boards haphazardly nailed and screwed onto them, it’s amazing that any house with such little insulation could withstand the harsh winters here, this place is covered in snow year-round, yes even in the summer, and you really gotta prepare for those winters, there’ll be weeks where you go without ever leaving the comfort of your own home and wonder if there even is an outside world anymore.

After a week I moved in and was looking for a job; the only listing I could find was for a gift shop worker at a national park I'd never heard of. I saw the ad in the surprisingly active newspaper asking for someone to work full-time running an old worn-down gift shop at the entrance of Mount… I—I can’t remember the name; it was something specific to the area. The mountain has a better-known name that I also, unfortunately, can’t remember. Not that it matters what the place is called; what's more important is the fact that I could barely make my way to the interview. There was no postage for this park, and there was no sign pointing in its direction. Heck, I even looked on Google Maps, and nothing, I had to ask a local, and the old disheveled man, named Hebert gave me a long list of complicated directions for me to get there.

“How is this place a national park? It’s like it doesn’t even exist.” Those were the only thoughts going through my head on the way there.

When I finally made my way to this mysterious park, I was greeted by nobody, only a single small building about fifty feet from the parking lot, that building I now know as the gift shop. In this place, I would experience things that I can never explain, and I now know it like the back of my hand. When I entered the gift shop, I was confronted by an explosion of cheap merchandise, crappy fridge magnets, postcards, and weird little tree-shaped keychains. Two rows of shelves full of these knickknacks were on either side of me as I walked in. After walking by the keepsakes, I found myself in front of an old, beaten-up till surrounded by the same junk that lined this place. The whole room had a smell; it was like a thick smog that ended up stuck in my nostrils for the rest of the day. The place reeked of expired rot, you know those old cans of food you find when clearing out your pantry, only to open it up and find it's gone completely rank? Yeah, that’s the best way I can describe it, after taking in all the eccentricities this small wooden box had to offer. I finally noticed a white letter sitting near the cash register; it was addressed to me, and upon opening, it read:

“Hello, Rob! I hope you don’t mind me calling you Rob, right? Ah, who cares?

If you’ve found your way here, you got the job. Please write down all the information requested in the included form. You’re free to look around the shop, but until I can give you your orientation, stay off the trails. I’ll call you when I can make it out and show you how this place works, but until then go no farther than the gift shop.

 Cheers 

 - Denis Hayley”

After reading the letter, I pulled out the form he mentioned and filled it out. I didn’t spend too much more time in the shop, looking at the merchandise and noting where the only bathroom was; it wasn’t exactly like I wanted to take in its special scent any longer. Apparently, it had taken me so long to get to the shop that the sky began to turn that familiar shade of deep navy blue I fondly remember from those summers when I was younger. Oh, how I miss those warm nights. 

Upon getting home that night, I struggled to go to sleep; somewhere along my drive home, it had begun to rain, and pretty violently at that. I think something about the combination of the rain and having just driven out to a park in the middle of nowhere kept me up. I flinched at the sound of my old wooden walls creaking, and at some points, it even felt like I was being watched. I think that feeling lasted for a couple of hours, and at some point, I got up to check around the house to ease my nerves. 

“There’s no way someone got in; I’ll just check things and that’ll be that.” It was what I think was a pretty obvious lie I told myself to justify my anxious actions; after the day I had, I was ready to just lie down and rest, and once I knew my home was safe, I could finally get that rest I so deeply desired. I walked from the top of my stairs to the bottom. 

Now, I should probably give a brief description of the house's layout. There’s a relatively large area once you walk in the door, and because the place isn’t huge, the kitchen and the living room are the same thing. I have a small patio instead of a backyard, which overlooks the hill on which the house was built. There are two big windows overlooking the hillside and a sturdy back door with a prominent window you can see out of from the other side of the house, yes, even at night. There’s a staircase to the right of the front door leading upstairs, and at the top of the stairs in front of you is my spare bedroom, on your right, you will find the only bathroom in the whole house, and on the left down a small hallway lined with closets is my bedroom. With that done, let’s go back a bit to those stairs. I was just then walking down. 

To get a full view of the living room, you have to turn the corner at the base of the stairs, and just as I did, I saw through that fairly big back window, a man; he wasn’t bundled up; not a bit of him was dressed for the weather, yet there he was. I wanted to believe that he couldn’t see me back, but I think deep down I knew that he did, I could see his breath fog up the window, and as I motioned into the living room to get a better look, he dashed out of view, and I just barely heard the patio boards creek as he ran. Now remember how I only have a patio back there and how my house was built on a hill? I DON’T KNOW WHERE HE WENT.

I turned on my downstairs lights, grabbed my gun, and ran to the back door. I wanted to believe it was just my imagination, and maybe it was because when I opened that back door, I saw nothing, no man, and no footprints on the wet old wood boards I had sworn he ran across, no signs that ANYONE COULD HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN OUT THERE. BUT EVEN ALMOST A YEAR LATER, I KNOW WHAT I SAW. I KNOW I SAW SOMEONE, and I HATE that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him. In the end, I remember waking up to the moist, thick, cold air of fall, on one of my two small couches in the living room, clenching my rifle; I don’t know how I got to sleep that night, but I knew that it was going to be a long year.

"I hate zingers. I was told, growing up, that they are for the weak-minded. Like a 'Jedi mind trick', you know?" Detective Winters was doing something on his phone in our hotel room. His voice startled me as I lay half asleep on my own bed. He was sitting on his bed, half undressed, smoking under the fire alarm. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Will you open a window? Cory has very small lungs." I requested.

"Cough." Cory said in perfect English. Then my talking crow imitated the hacking and coughing of Detective Winters in the middle of the night. It went on for about as long as a mummer's dance and then ended with the sound of a man spitting.

"Jesus would have sworn for a bird like that." Detective Winters applauded the performance and then used the lit cigarette in his mouth to light another and then he put the smoldering one in his mouth and used the lit one again to finish lighting the fresh tobacco. Then he accidentally scattered the rest of the brown stringy stuff all over the floor. He swept the remains of his new rolling kit off with the spill and shrugged, laid back, and puffed away.

"Goodness." Cory flitted down and inspected the stuff. He liked it too much and I told him to stay out of it.

A knock came upon the door. I already had a bad feeling. I'd read my horoscope and Detective Winters's too. We both had it coming our way. Nothing good could come from 'non-dairy starlight' and 'niche holes on the border'. Those phrases meant no sense, and yet our stars translated to those words, as they danced drunkenly across the keyboard of the starry skies.

"You get that." I stiffened.

"Uh, I always get it." Detective Winters smiled at me weirdly for being weird. He wasn't feeling the terror I felt. For a man who hated zingers: he sure took fear literally.

"One knock, my Lord. Very bad." Cory told me. I nodded, I already knew something was terribly amiss. Just because the armed and half naked policeman in my bedroom was blundering forward to grip the doorhandle without regard, didn't mean that we were safe. Only terror gripped my heart as my crow went to the bedpost and squawked in alarm, "Must go now!"

He opened the door and it was the same maid from before. She was wearing her regular street clothes instead of her uniform. She reminded Detective Winters that he was a policeman. He agreed and she asked him if, as a policeman, he could help her. He agreed to that too.

I didn't want to go, but I had no choice. Gagging and swaying stiffly like a terrified zombie I went with them; knowing this was going to be very bad, because I had read those weird horoscopes and believed them. Sweat shot out from my upper lip as I gibbered helplessly in dread:

"Where are we going?" I asked in apprehensive discernment, finally getting the words out of my sweaty lips.

"We are going to Sesame Street and Brooklyn Ave. You ever gone there before?" He accepted one of the woman's menthol cigarettes and fumbled with the book of matches from the hotel that was in the ashtray of his car. Then he put the cigarette to his lips and lit it while driving. He eventually cracked the window and let out most of the smoke.

"Why don't you open your window?" The woman asked. I was very afraid of the kind of trouble she was asking for. If I opened the window I might lose Cory in an awful way. Trembling I reached out and took the window's lever and opened the window a crack. Then I reached over and got the other one too. She smiled, like a golden devil, and cracked her window and then got her's down to about halfway. By then only the odor of the smoke remained.

"That's probably good." I gulped.

We got to her apartment and went inside to meet her husband and her son. The boy was tied to his bed and his eyes were terrifying and horrible. His face was monstrous and contorted and looked like a bad makeup special effect. Except that was his actual flesh. He struggled mightily and for a moment it was as though he would break free and rampage like an angry animal. His teeth glowed in the shade, sharp and ready to bite. He looked at us.

As his eyes met Detective Winters, the man froze. Then some of his hair started to wither and wilt. It became brittle and grey. He staggered backward and fell. I tried to avoid the gaze of whatever that was. It only wore her son, but something else was with us, watching us from within him. As Detective Winters made the communion of eye contact it had known him and known itself to him. Thus kin to its ways, he had fallen to the shock and horror of something unfathomably horrifying beyond words. The meaning of such a thing is simply instinctive, and to not know it is a blessing, and it cannot be known to someone until they have seen it, smelled the fruit-candy sweetness and the sulfur of its breath. Heard the voice of an angel, but not one from Heaven.

"Open the window." It commanded. The voice of this creature was not made by a human-will, yet it was from the lips of a child. Horrible and deep and grinding like a thousand souls on wheels of torture, all crying out this one phrase in unison, and then as one voice together and tormented and irresistible. 

I quaked and fell back against the wall, refusing to look at it. I crept along the wall until I got to the shades. Then I drew them and let in the light. I gasped at the surreal horror I could see then:

The whole city was covered in flesh. Parts of people twitched and dripped and dangled everywhere. Skinless ones dragged their feet, leaving trails of themselves as they went. I heard a rumbling, or rather saw it, sensed it somehow. The clouds convulsed and began to drip and it was then raining. The rain was blood. 

I screamed and fell back. Cory flapped around the room and the demonic thing with us was laughing. I clawed my way to the door, frantically. Detective Winters got up suddenly, and with a wild look in his eyes. His head was struck upon the shelf and a clacking monkey doll with chimes fell free onto my back as I crawled out the bedroom door.

The vision of ultimate horror burned the landscape into my memory. Once it is seen, it cannot be unseen. As I looked around I could still feel its presence on everything. I clawed at the floor, slick with the butcher's offal, but it was just the carpet. The fear was real, and as I held myself and cried in terror: I knew the carnage was still all around me, invisible. There were bodies hung from ropes, and chopped apart, and torn, and there were dead staked to the ceiling, and vivisectioned. Only I knew they were there, even if I couldn't see them. I had seen them and knew they still remained. My heartbeat slowed and I felt the clacking of the monkey on my back. I shook myself free of it and went and hid in a corner.

"My son, he is feeling better! You two have cured him! How do you do this? No exorcism? Nothing?" The father was in tears and holding up his son for us.

"Let's get out of here." Detective Winters helped me up. Cory rode on my outstretched left arm, nervously. I kept lowering my arm to which he would click his disapproval, each time. Detective Winters helped my shocked frame into the car and tossed the toy monkey onto the seat next to me. It had most likely followed us out of the apartment, or else he had carried it. Certainty is for the weak-minded, I concluded, as I stared at its malevolent glass eyes.

We got back to the hotel room and one of us put the monkey on top of the television.

"Time to get some sleep." Detective Winters stated. He laid down stiffly, like some kind of rigid corpse.

"Must go now." Cory hid behind my head on the pillow and softly called.

I watched sleeplessly as the horrible thing sat there atop the television. I could only speculate that it was the cause of the child's malady and that removing it had made everything better. I stared at the infinite evil in its dark glass eyes. Suddenly it started to chime its little chimes, clashing them loudly in the darkness.

"Oh, gawd! It's awake!" I yelled and sat up. Cory fluttered around on the bed, flapping frantically.

"What! What's happening?" Detective Winters woke to a start.

We laid back down and I started to fall asleep. As my eyes slowly started to close the absolute terror I had felt since the beginning was starting to subside just enough to catch my breath. Maybe I would not get left forgotten in the starry skies. Perhaps the wall of sleep had an unlocked door for me to get through safely to the other side. My eyes were fluttering shut when suddenly the monkey chimed again, evilly and terrifyingly in the dark.

"That thing!" I shrieked in gross terror as I woke suddenly.

In the darkness its shape sat there ready to pounce on the sleeper. It was watching our eyes close with its own eyes always wide open and staring, shining in the darkness. The toothy grin of the diabolical creature anticipated this third calamity upon our dying nerves.

My sleep brought the image of the mirrored eyes. I stared into a mirror, seeing its marble glass amid the tufted spiky hair. The monkey in the mirror wanted out; as I dreamed in a delirious fog. My dreams told me of its true nature in the true world. The one we shared alongside it.

The doll was merely where its existence met ours, like a kind of intact vortex. The space between the walls of the whirlpool, as it drains into the darkness, gurgling. I was staring too deeply into that darkness and there it was. I could see its true form there. It clambered up out of the darkness, held back only by the glass of the mirror.

Enraged, the monkey glared and snarled at me. It showed its sharp teeth and then it began hitting the glass. It threw itself against the glass over and over. As the glass fractured and broke, it began the crawl through, shrieking and snarling in terrifying rage. Its flesh was cut to the bone and it peeled off its own face coming through the broken glass like that. Then it came crawling across the floor to get to me, its hate-filled eyes glimmering over its vicious teeth.

Sleep was not a safe place to be. The chime blasted again, clanging loudly and diabolically. I jerked to my feet with a start, the image of the nightmare still clinging to what I thought I was seeing.

Except as I blinked away the nightmare I could see the dark liquid of its true form writhing back into the shape of the doll. Its shadows scattered across the wall like animated flames with no color. The foul smell of sweet and rotting things filled the air. I could hear its growl from the doll and from all around and from within my own mind, echoing from the memory of Dream.

Then without warning there was a loud detonation and blinding flash. The doll exploded into thousands of tiny sticks that were painted in red stripes. Detective Winters put his gun back into the holster.

"Perhaps now, we can get some sleep." He had a bent rolly in his mouth with bits of tobacco sticking out of it every which way. He managed to get it lit without setting it on fire and smoked it for a minute before he snuffed it out.

"I am too afraid to." I yawned.

Part 1 | Part 2

Back home, the house felt suffocatingly quiet.

I sat curled up on my bed, staring blankly at the wall. The funeral had drained me—physically, mentally, emotionally—but every time I tried to close my eyes, the same images flashed in my mind: Tom’s small body lying lifeless on the shore, his framed photograph on top of the casket, and that dark stain spreading at its base, like water seeping from somewhere deep and hidden. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, shivering despite the thick comforter pulled tightly around me. The house was dark and still, the only sound the occasional creak of the floorboards settling. My parents were asleep down the hall, exhausted and silent. I hadn’t told them what I’d seen—what I thought I’d seen. They wouldn’t believe me. I barely believed myself.

But something was wrong. I knew it. I could feel it, like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Tom was here. I didn’t know how, or why, but he was still… somewhere.

He likes to watch.

Lily’s words echoed in my head, sending a chill down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the panic that threatened to swallow me whole. Was he really here, in the house? Watching me? Why? What did he want?

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

A soft thump broke the silence.

I jerked upright, my heart lurching painfully. The sound had come from downstairs. I held my breath, straining to listen. For a long moment, there was only silence.

Then, slowly, I heard it: the faint, almost imperceptible creak of footsteps on the stairs.

My blood ran cold. I shot a glance at the clock—2:15 a.m. No one should be awake. My parents were heavy sleepers, and the only other people in the house were…

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. Tom.

I slid out of bed, my bare feet brushing against the cold hardwood floor. Every instinct screamed at me to stay put, to pull the covers over my head and pretend I hadn’t heard anything. But I couldn’t. I had to know. I had to see.

Slowly, I crept to the door, easing it open just enough to peer into the dark hallway. The floorboards outside my room gleamed faintly in the moonlight, empty and still. I hesitated, my heart pounding, then slipped out into the hall, my footsteps soft and silent.

I moved toward the stairs, every nerve in my body tingling with fear. The darkness seemed thicker here, pressing in around me, making it hard to see. I squinted, trying to make out the bottom of the staircase. Had I really heard something? Or was I just imagining things?

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I froze.

There, at the base of the stairs, a small, pale figure stood, half-hidden in the shadows. I sucked in a breath, my heart leaping into my throat. It was him. I knew it was him.

“Tom?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The figure shifted, stepping slightly into the pale moonlight streaming through the front window. My breath caught in my throat. It was Tom—his small frame soaked and dripping, his eyes wide and unblinking.

He didn’t say anything. He just… stared at me, his gaze intense, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“Tom,” I breathed, taking a step down. “Is it… is it really you?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But as I stared down at him, I saw it—the dark water dripping steadily from his hair, pooling around his bare feet. The same stain I’d seen at the funeral. The same cold, wet scent that lingered in the air.

“Why are you here?” I whispered, my voice tight with fear. “What… what do you want?”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, watching me with that same blank, empty expression.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I hugged my arms around myself, trembling. This wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. He looked like Tom—he was Tom—but there was something else, something strange and unsettling about the way he stood there, so still and silent.

“Please,” I murmured, my voice barely more than a breath. “Please, just… say something.”

But he didn’t. He didn’t move. He just kept watching me, his eyes dark and empty.

And then, slowly—so slowly I almost didn’t see it—he raised one hand.

I flinched, my heart racing. His fingers twitched, then stretched out, pointing down the hallway. I followed his gaze, my pulse pounding in my ears.

There, at the end of the hall, my bedroom door stood ajar. And from within, I saw it—a soft, pale glow, flickering faintly in the darkness.

“What…?” I breathed, taking a step back. “What is that?”

Tom didn’t answer. He just stood there, his hand still outstretched, his gaze fixed on the faint, ghostly light emanating from my room.

I turned, staring at the glow. It pulsed softly, like the steady beat of a heart, casting eerie shadows across the walls. I’d never seen anything like it. And yet, there was something familiar about it—something that tugged at the edges of my memory, sending a chill through my veins.

I glanced back at Tom, my breath hitching. He was watching me again, his eyes wide and unblinking. Waiting.

“You… want me to go in there?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. But I knew. I could feel it. He wanted me to follow him. He wanted me to see.

Slowly, I turned and took a step toward the glow, my heart pounding wildly. Each step felt like a lifetime, my body tense and shaking. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the door, and pushed it open wider.

The glow brightened, flaring up for a split second before dimming again. I took a deep breath, my pulse racing, and stepped inside.

The room was empty. Dark. But there, in the center of the floor, a wet footprint glistened faintly in the pale light.

My heart stopped. I stared down at the print, my mind spinning. The shape was distinct, the impression deep enough to show the curve of an arch, the ball of the foot. It could have only belonged to one person. Tom.

I glanced back at the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

But he had vanished.

The hallway was empty, the shadows deep and still. There was no sign of him, no sound, no movement. Just the faint, lingering scent of lake water, hanging heavy in the air.

“Tom?” I whispered, stepping back, my pulse racing. “Tom, are you—”

A soft, ghostly whisper echoed through the room, cutting me off.

“Ellie…”

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. The voice was faint, distorted—like a breath of wind or a ripple in water. It sent a shiver down my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Ellie…”

The glow pulsed once, then slowly faded, leaving the room dark and cold. I stood there, trembling, my mind reeling.

He was trying to tell me something. I was sure of it now. But… he was struggling, as if the effort cost him something I couldn’t see. He seemed lost and confused, his form flickering like a weak flame, unable to stay solid for long.

“Tom…” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. “What do you want?”

But the room remained silent, the air thick and heavy. And as I stared at the empty space where he’d stood, I realized...he needed help.

The trouble was, I had no idea how to provide it.

* * * * * *

The next few days were a blur.

I kept expecting everything to go back to normal—to wake up and find out it had all been some terrible dream—but it never did. Tom was still gone, and the strange occurrences around the house only grew worse. Little things, at first: doors creaking open by themselves, the TV turning on in the middle of the night, the soft sound of water dripping in empty rooms. But it was the smell that got to me the most—the unmistakable scent of lake water, cold and murky, clinging to the air like an invisible presence.

Mom and Dad didn’t seem to notice. They were still caught up in their own grief, moving through the house like shadows of themselves, barely speaking to each other or to me. But I noticed. Every time I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye, every time I heard a faint whisper that sounded like my name, my heart would leap, and I’d find myself holding my breath, straining to catch some sign of him.

Tom… what are you trying to say?

But he never answered. Never showed himself the way he had that night at the bottom of the stairs. It was as if he were… fading, slipping further and further away, his presence growing weaker by the day. And yet, he was still here. I knew it. I could feel it.

And then, one night, everything changed.

I was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, when I heard it: the faint sound of splashing water, echoing softly through the house. I shot up, my heart pounding. The sound was coming from downstairs.

I crept to my door, my breath hitching, and peered out into the dark hallway. Nothing moved. But the sound continued—a soft, rhythmic splash, splash, splash, like someone wading through shallow water.

“Tom?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

No answer. Just that steady, hypnotic splashing, growing louder by the second.

I stepped out into the hall, my pulse racing, and made my way toward the stairs. The house felt different tonight—colder, darker. The shadows seemed to shift and breathe, wrapping around me like a thick, suffocating fog. I hesitated at the top of the stairs, staring down into the murky darkness below.

And then I saw it: a soft, pale glow, flickering faintly at the bottom of the staircase.

“Tom?” I whispered again, taking a step forward. The glow brightened slightly, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

I took another step, then another, my legs trembling. The splashing grew louder, sharper, until it seemed to fill the entire house, echoing off the walls, the floors, the ceiling. My skin prickled with cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently.

“Tom, is that you?” I called softly.

And then, as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw him.

He stood in the center of the living room, his small frame hunched and shivering, his clothes soaked and dripping. The glow surrounded him, pulsing softly, illuminating his pale, hollow face. Water pooled around his bare feet, spreading outward in dark, rippling circles.

“Tom!” I gasped, stumbling forward. He didn’t move, didn’t react. He just stood there, staring blankly at the floor.

“Tom, what—what’s happening?” I whispered, my heart aching. “Why are you here?”

His gaze lifted slowly, his eyes locking on mine. And for the first time, I saw it—the fear in his eyes, the way his shoulders trembled as if he were struggling to hold himself together.

“Ellie…” he whispered, his voice faint and broken.

My breath caught in my throat. “Tom, I—what do you want me to do? Just tell me. I’ll do anything.”

But he just shook his head slowly, his gaze flickering to the far end of the room. I followed his gaze, my stomach twisting painfully.

And then I saw her.

A small figure—no more than six or seven—stood in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows. Her hair was dark and tangled, her face pale and ghostly. She looked… wrong, somehow. Blurred, like a reflection on the surface of the water.

My pulse stuttered. “Who… who is that?”

Tom didn’t answer. He just turned back to me, his expression twisted with pain and desperation.

“She’s going to drown,” he whispered, his voice strained. “You have to help her.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding wildly. “What? Who is she? Where—where is she?”

Tom’s gaze shifted, his eyes dark and haunted. “The lake,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “She’s at the lake.”

My stomach dropped. “Tom, I don’t—”

“She’s going to drown, Ellie,” he pleaded, his form flickering like a candle flame in the wind. “You have to save her. Please…”

The glow around him flared suddenly, bright and blinding. I threw up a hand, shielding my eyes, my heart racing. When I lowered it again, he was gone.

I staggered back, gasping for breath, my mind spinning. The room was empty, silent. No sign of Tom, no sign of the girl. Just the faint scent of lake water, lingering in the air.

“Tom!” I cried, spinning around. “Tom, come back! Please, just—”

But there was no answer. No movement. The house was dark and still, the only sound the rapid thudding of my own heartbeat.

I sank to my knees, trembling. What had just happened? Who was that girl? And what did he mean—she was going to drown? How did he know?

“Tom, please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t understand…”

But the room remained silent, empty. And deep down, I knew that he couldn’t stay. Whatever was keeping him here, whatever fragile connection he had to this world, it was weakening. He was slipping further and further away, his presence growing fainter by the day.

But there was something he needed me to do. Someone I needed to help.

“She’s at the lake,” I murmured, hugging my knees to my chest. “She’s going to drown…”

I shivered, my breath hitching. Could it be real? Could there really be someone—some thing—waiting for me at Lake Newell? And if there was… could I really save her?

I didn’t know. But I had to try. For Tom’s sake. For that little girl’s sake.

For my own.

* * * * * *

I felt like I was moving in a dream as I climbed out of bed, threw on my jacket, and grabbed my bike. The house was silent, the shadows thick and heavy, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. If I stopped now—if I hesitated—I knew I’d lose my nerve.

Tom’s words echoed in my mind: “She’s going to drown… You have to save her.”

My hands shook as I wheeled my bike quietly down the driveway. The air was cold and still, the moon hanging low in the sky. I glanced back at the dark windows of my house one last time, then swung my leg over the seat and took off down the street.

The ride to Lake Newell was a blur. The empty streets whizzed past, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath clouding in the chilly night air. I pedaled faster, the wind whipping through my hair. The dark shapes of the houses and trees seemed to merge into a single, endless stretch of darkness. But I couldn’t slow down. Not now.

As I neared the lake, the faint sound of water lapping against the shore reached my ears. I skidded to a stop, breathless and trembling, and leaned my bike against a tree. The park was deserted, the sand pale and empty under the moonlight. I shivered, hugging my jacket closer around me. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting.

“Tom?” I called softly, my voice trembling. “Are you here?”

No answer. Just the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, the distant creak of a swinging sign by the lake entrance. But I could feel it—something drawing me forward, tugging at me like an invisible thread. I swallowed hard and started toward the shoreline, my shoes sinking into the soft sand.

The water was smooth and dark, the moonlight casting eerie reflections across its surface. I took a deep breath, scanning the shoreline. The campground on the opposite bank was quiet, its flickering campfires just visible through the trees. I knew that campground—knew it was mostly families and kids on summer weekends like this one. But why would a little girl be out here alone at this hour?

And then, I saw her.

She was at the far end of a narrow wooden dock, chasing fireflies.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. The girl was small, no more than six or seven, her hair wild and loose around her shoulders. She was wearing pale pink pajamas, the kind with long sleeves and a cartoon bunny printed on the front. Her tiny feet were bare, the moonlight glinting off her toes as she skipped and darted after the glowing insects. A small laugh escaped her lips as she caught one in her cupped hands, holding it close to her face, the bright light illuminating her wide, delighted eyes.

What was she doing out here? It was the middle of the night! I took a step forward, squinting through the darkness.

“She must have gotten out of bed,” I murmured to myself, my heart racing. “Chasing fireflies… her parents probably don’t even know she’s gone…”

Panic surged through me. She was too far out—too close to the edge of the dock. One wrong step, and she’d fall right into the deep water.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice high and desperate. “Hey, wait! Don’t go any further!”

But she didn’t seem to hear me. She just laughed again, shaking the firefly free and watching it flit away. She took a step closer to the edge, reaching out with both hands, her gaze fixed on the glowing insects swirling around her.

“Stop!” I screamed, breaking into a run. “Please, stop!”

But it was too late.

I watched, helpless, as she took one more step—and slipped.

Her small body hit the water with a soft splash, the sound carrying eerily through the stillness of the night. My breath caught in my throat. I skidded to a stop at the edge of the dock, staring down into the dark, rippling water.

“No!” I gasped, dropping to my knees. “No, no, no…”

The girl’s pale face bobbed to the surface for a split second, her eyes wide and terrified, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Then she disappeared, pulled under by the icy grip of the lake.

Panic surged through me. Without thinking, I kicked off my shoes and dove in after her.

The water was shockingly cold, closing around me like a vise. I gasped, the breath knocked from my lungs, and kicked hard, forcing myself deeper. The murky water stung my eyes, blinding me. I reached out, my fingers groping desperately in the darkness, searching for any sign of her.

Come on… please… where are you?

And then I felt it—a small hand, brushing against mine.

I grabbed it, my heart leaping. The girl’s hand was slippery and cold, her fingers limp in my grasp. I kicked hard, pulling her close, my lungs burning with the effort. She was heavier than I’d expected, her small body weighed down by the waterlogged pajamas. But I couldn’t let go. I wouldn’t.

I kicked again, harder this time, and felt us break the surface. I gasped, sucking in a mouthful of cold air, and tightened my grip on the girl. She was coughing weakly, her eyes wide and frightened. I wrapped my arm around her, keeping her head above water, and started kicking toward the shore.

“It’s okay,” I panted, my voice hoarse. “I’ve got you. Just—just hold on.”

The swim back was only fifty or sixty feet, but it felt like an eternity. The water tugged at me, pulling me down, the cold sapping my strength. I struggled to keep moving, my muscles screaming in protest. I could barely see the shoreline, the dark outline of the trees blurring in and out of focus. But I kept going, my pulse pounding, my lungs burning.

Finally, I felt the soft sand beneath my feet. I staggered forward, dragging the girl onto the shore. We collapsed in a heap, gasping and shivering, our clothes soaked and heavy. I cradled her small form, my chest heaving, and looked down at her pale, tear-streaked face.

“You’re okay,” I whispered, brushing a strand of wet hair from her forehead. “You’re safe now.”

She blinked up at me, her eyes wide and bewildered. She was shaking, her tiny body trembling violently. I pulled her closer, trying to warm her, my own body shivering uncontrollably.

“Wh—where’s your family?” I asked softly, glancing back across the lake. “Are they at the campground?”

The girl nodded weakly, her gaze drifting back to the dark water. “I—I was chasing the fireflies,” she whispered, her voice small and broken. “I—I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to catch one…”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I hugged her tighter. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “You’re okay.”

“Aubrey! Where are you?” A man’s voice, desperate and panicked, echoed from across the campground.

“Aubrey!” A woman’s voice joined his, her tone shrill and trembling. “Please, answer us!”

My head snapped up. “Over here!” I shouted, my voice hoarse and ragged. “She’s over here!”

The voices stopped. Then I heard them calling back, closer now, their footsteps pounding against the sand. I turned to the girl—Aubrey—and gave her a weak smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “Your mom and dad are coming.”

A moment later, a man and woman burst out of the darkness, stumbling to a stop as they spotted us. “Oh my God,” the woman gasped, dropping to her knees beside Aubrey. “Aubrey, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Aubrey shook her head, her face crumpling. “I—I’m okay,” she whispered, clinging to her mother’s arm. “I’m okay, Mommy…”

The man turned to me, his face pale and stricken. “Did you… did you save her?”

I nodded weakly, my whole body trembling. “She… she fell in. I—I just pulled her out…”

His face twisted with emotion, and he reached out, gripping my arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick. “Thank you so much.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the world swayed around me. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the sand, my limbs numb and heavy. I heard the parents’ frantic voices, felt their hands on my shoulders, but I couldn’t focus. Everything was spinning, blurring…

And then, through the haze, I saw him.

Tom stood at the water’s edge, his form faint and wavering, watching us with that same calm, distant gaze.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly.

I blinked, tears blurring my vision. “Tom, I—”

But he was already fading, his form dissolving into the mist, melting away like smoke.

“Tom!” I tried to call out, but my voice was too weak. “No, wait—please!”

But he was gone.

And this time, I knew he wasn’t coming back.

* * * * * *

The house was dark and quiet when I finally got home.

My parents had already gone to bed. I slipped in through the front door, still shivering from the chill of the lake water, my limbs sore and heavy with exhaustion. The events of the night blurred together in my mind—the frantic ride to the lake, the panic when I saw the little girl fall in, the icy water closing around me as I fought to pull her back to shore.

And Tom. Tom standing at the water’s edge, his ghostly form watching me with those calm, solemn eyes.

I hung my jacket on the back of a chair, the fabric still damp and smelling faintly of lake water, and wandered into the living room. The house felt strange tonight—quiet, but not empty. The lingering weight I’d carried for weeks seemed lighter, as if something inside me had finally loosened, freeing me from its grip.

But it wasn’t just me. The entire house felt different. Warmer. Lighter.

Tom was really gone.

I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. I’d saved the little girl. I’d done what he’d wanted—what he’d needed me to do. And now, finally, he was at peace.

But it hurt. It hurt so much more than I’d expected.

A soft, almost imperceptible breeze brushed past me, stirring the curtains. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. There, on the wall opposite the couch, a framed photograph of Tom—taken last summer at his birthday party—seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight. He was grinning, his eyes bright with laughter, his hair sticking up in wild tufts as he held up a slice of cake.

I smiled weakly, tears pricking at my eyes. Goodbye, Tom. I glanced at the empty hallway, half-expecting to see his shadowy form flickering in the dark.

But the hallway was empty. The house was still.

He was really, truly gone this time.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, my body sinking into the soft cushions. It felt strange—wrong, almost—to be relieved. But I was. I was relieved, and sad, and happy, and devastated, all at once.

Tom had needed me. He hadn’t been angry. He hadn’t blamed me. He’d just wanted to protect someone else from suffering the way he had. He’d just wanted to save her.

And I had.

The thought warmed me, a tiny spark of light in the darkness. I took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling it spread through me, filling the empty spaces that grief had hollowed out.

“Goodbye, Tom,” I whispered softly. “I’ll never forget you.”

I stood up slowly, my muscles aching, and made my way to the window. The night outside was calm, the moon casting a soft, silvery glow over the lawn. I stared out at the quiet street, the shadows of the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt… at peace.

Tom was gone. He was free. And so was I.

I reached up, touching the glass with my fingertips, my heart aching with bittersweet sorrow.

“I love you,” I murmured. “I hope you’re happy now. I hope you… found what you were looking for.”

I turned away, the tears slipping down my cheeks, and headed upstairs. My body felt heavy, my eyes burning with exhaustion. But the weight on my chest—the suffocating, crushing guilt that had kept me awake night after night—was gone.

Tom had forgiven me. I knew that now.

As I reached my bedroom, I hesitated, glancing back at the hallway. The moonlight cast soft, silvery shadows across the floor, the air cool and still. I took a deep breath, my heart aching, and smiled.

“Goodbye,” I whispered one last time.

And then I turned out the light, crawled into bed, and, for the first time since the accident, slept soundly through the night.

A few hours ago, I left Aspen hauling an unplanned return load through a mountain range I've never been through before.

As a trucker, surprise loads and switch ups in the plans are no big deal, normally. But tonight, my GPS led me down a weird road, maybe to avoid construction or traffic, I have no idea.

I stopped for food and gas while I was on the main road leaving the city, but after driving awhile, I had to make a stop to fix my windshield wipers.

Despite the radars looking clear for the day, I found myself in a slowly growing snowstorm, my truck chugging loudly between the unfamiliar rocky cliffsides reaching high above me towards a slowly whitening sky, the sun a slowly waning beacon of hope as the snow began to pick up, kicking violent gusts of icey tree limbs and snow.

I pulled over on an old road stop that sat near a few trees and boulders, a small parking lot next to a long-since abandoned service station that sat pretty close to the main road.

When I got out to fix the wipers, I lingered for a moment half way out the door, watching as the snow seemed to form small tornadoes all around me, encircling the mostly empty parking lot, dancing with the ravaging winds that began kicking up clouds of snow that glittered in the truck's headlights.

I got out and climbed up the side of the hood enough to get the wipers unstuck from their positions. On the way back down, the headlights took my sight in a flash for just a moment.

That's when I saw him. A silhouette in the snow, just out of sight. Maybe 100 feet away. I hadn't noticed them before, but a pair of headlights were on next to the obscured figure.

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes barely adjusted in time to see him. I was suddenly hyper aware of the sounds of spiteful and angry wind tearing it's way along the now snow covered cliffs that surround me. It felt like my head was going to spin off into the wind at any moment.

I choked out a weak, "Hello?" that barely made itself heard over the bitter whispers of the wind.

Nothing...

I slowly approached, at the time I thought maybe someone needed my help, maybe they didn't hear me.

When I got to the man, he was standing facing his car. He was on the passenger side and the door hung slightly ajar. The snow has already started building up inside the car and around the man's feet.

"Sir, are you ok?" I managed to squeak out as I grabbed the man's shoulder, fully expecting him to be frozen solid.

I managed to get him to turn, and at this point, I wish I never had.

The man wasn't frozen, despite the snow slowly building up on and around him. He turned and looked at me, his features gaunt and a gristled and grey beard hung low and dripped with icicles. He almost looked normal... But his eyes.

Like two soulless white orbs that were suspended in cavernous black holes on his lost looking face.

As soon as I grabbed his shoulder, he practically jumped up a foot into the air. I tried to signal to him, but he wouldn't react to my words or finger snapping. He was either blind and deaf, or catatonic.

His throat cleared and he had to fight not to upheave as he spoke frantically to me, "It's in wind, it's in the wind..." He kept saying it. Over. And over.

He got louder, slowly breaking into a hysteric "IT'S IN THE WIND! IT'S IN THE WIND, GOD DAMN IT! IT HIDES IN THE SNOW!"

The man started thrashing about in a rabid state, spitting and frothing at the mouth, screaming upwards into the sky and letting his fear and hatred be carried through the mountains by the wind.

I only watched long enough to see his skin was beginning to flake off in frozen chunks as the wind began to rend across his body. The headlights of my truck were starting to falter. Something was wrong.

I ran frantically back to my cab, the sound of the old man's screams of terror slowly faded into the howling and rushing winds that pursued me. I could feel the ice starting to pierce my coat and flesh, trying to reach into my veins.

And now here I am, watching the snow slowly build up on the hood of my truck from the inside. The power died a little bit ago.

Sometimes, I see the old man wandering about in the blizzard. Once he came over to my truck. He tried the handle of the passenger side door for about two minutes, rambling and muttering to himself slowly.

When he was close, I saw most of the skin and meat on his skull has been torn off by the wind. The muscles are still keeping him going, but that's about it. His eyes were searching, his mouth was trying to ramble while blood and meat slowly churned out in an ooze from his mouth.

I called the police, hospitals, fire department... But I can't give them an address. My GPS is not working here. And for some reason they can't track me down. Most of them think I am joking...

I don't have much longer to type here. I can hear something in the wind. It's telling me to come out and it will help me find my way home. It wants to take me somewhere where I will always be warm and happy. It feels a bit crazy saying it, let alone typing it...

But I'm not going to trust it. I see what it does to us.

That old man came back. He was looking right at me, his mouth wrapped up in a snare like smile that showed blood covered teeth and rotted gums. Even though it was mostly skull now, he kept leaking that red ooze.

I watched as the wind tore him away from the door handle this time. He was dragged through the snow by something in the wind. I couldn't hear it, but I saw his sinister laugh as he clawed at the snow and ice, his fingers leaving oily red streaks of blood as he tried to cling to anything he could.

I saw him for one last moment, and fear finally twisted his face as realization and self awareness kicked in.

Then, it was quiet. All but the skittering snow that is slowly consuming my entire truck. My entire life. And it has been quiet every since.

I can't make calls anymore, but I keep spamming "post" on this, hoping it will get some shred of bandwidth.

I won't go out there. Maybe someone will find me, but probably not. I have 3% battery now and all I have is the smell of cold air, and the whispers of the wind, trying to force it's way inside.

I'm going to try and get some sleep. I am so cold. If I can, I'll update you. If not, well... Stay out of the wind.

Hello everyone, I am writing this to ask for help with something related to a dream I had a few nights ago that has left me deeply confused and somewhat disturbed. If anyone has any information about what it might mean, I would greatly appreciate it if you could share it with me.

Two nights ago, I had a nightmare. I was floating in a black void, not physically, but… just my mind, I don’t quite know how to explain it. In that black, mental void, I was navigating through a series of memories from my life—happy moments, sad ones, some that were exciting, etc. But, as if it were a roulette wheel that lands on a random prize, the memory of my daycare from when I was little came to me, and it began to materialize before me, as dreams often do. As the space formed around me, I started to feel my body; I was standing there in my daycare, but not as a child, instead, as a 20-year-old. There were children playing, running, and shouting all around me, and I was like a ghost wandering through it. I remembered every corner, many details, even some of the faces of the children.

My daycare was a single-story building. It was an enclosed space, but even though I was there with the body and height of an adult, it felt huge to me, as if I were still seeing it from the perspective I had when I was 3 years old. I felt a lot of nostalgia and joy being there, and I also started to remember small moments with my classmates. For a moment, I even felt that innocence and carefree spirit of early childhood again. But, this is a dream, and sometimes we think about things, and things happen just because they do. When I recalled that my daycare, to this day, was nothing more than an abandoned building in ruins… everything fell apart.

The scene around me changed completely. The children disappeared. The white walls, which used to be painted with clouds, a big yellow sun, rainbows, and images of Mickey Mouse and Donald, were now bare, gray, and dusty. The ceiling was a horrible dark green. I knew it wasn’t night, but it was an enclosed place, and everything was wrapped in shadows.

Shit... Look, my daycare had a peculiar layout; from the main entrance, you could practically see the whole place: A) the first play area, B) a long hallway with classrooms on both sides, C) at the end of the hallway, the second play area (even bigger than the first), and D) a room at the very end, "the back of the daycare," so to speak. Basically, the structure seemed designed so that the back of the daycare could be seen from the main entrance, passing through the hallway and the two play areas.

I was frozen in the first play area, near the entrance, facing the end of the hallway, toward that damn room at the back. I started to remember, that room was some sort of laundry area, a rustic cement laundry room, I think they also kept cleaning supplies there. A few times they had taken us there to teach us how to brush our teeth. I knew how to do it, but there were even younger kids than me who didn’t know how to brush their teeth yet. That room was kind of narrow and had light blue walls. The light in the room was weak and dim, so being there gave the sensation of being underwater. Remembering the shape of the room made me tremble and gave me chills.

I remained frozen, staring down at the end of the daycare, when suddenly, without making a single sound, the room began to move toward me slowly. I’m not just talking about the door—the entire room at the back of the daycare started to come closer, passing through the play area and down the hallway.

I felt panic and a horror that I couldn’t remember ever having felt before in my life, and all of that was multiplied a hundredfold when the room started talking to me. I repeat, in dreams, you just know things for no reason. That voice was heard inside my head, but I knew it was the voice of that room, which was getting closer and closer. "Enter the fishbowl, little fish, the eel will protect you," the voice said, once, then repeated it in a series of echoes.

I started to feel like my head was soaked with what I thought was a torrent of sweat from my panic and terror, but then I realized it was water. "The eel caught you, little fish. Swim, swim far away from here and don’t come back," the voice said. I felt a deep pain when it said that phrase, as if my heart was being taken and shoved into a ball of needles. The room was now just a few meters away from me, and I saw the door swing open abruptly. At that moment, I woke up screaming and drenched in sweat.

I cried for a long time, rocking back and forth in my bed, not even sure why, but still feeling the horror, the panic, the pain… everything was so intense that I couldn’t help but cry until my head started throbbing with pain and my eyes grew tired. A part of me wished my parents had heard my scream and my cries and would come in to comfort me, but my pride told me that I was an adult now and I had to face it alone. It was 4:17 AM, and I knew that trying to fall back asleep wasn’t an option, so I took my phone and tried to distract myself and calm down.

Look, I’ve had nightmares before, like anyone else, but they never really affected me much. I even remember that when I was 10, I suffered from night terrors. At most, they would wake me up with a scream, but after a while, I was able to fall back asleep. My parents told me I was always a very brave kid, but that it was best to take me to a specialist, who ended up putting me on medication, which helped a lot with the nightmares, and they gradually decreased... But none of that compares to this. This was, by far, the worst thing I’ve ever experienced in a dream.

I know I dreamed about the room again yesterday, but I don’t remember it well, as if my brain said "Nope, none of that, block activated," and it terrifies me to think about what I might have seen this time if my brain hadn’t protected me.

I’ve thought about telling my parents because there’s something about all this that worries me. It’s not normal for a nightmare to make you react so violently… Right? Well, I’ve heard about dreams that can reveal things from our past or relive traumatic moments... No, I’m becoming paranoid. I just hope I can sleep well tonight. If something new comes up, I’ll make an update.

There was not a person around, not here in the forest, not now at ten o’clock on a crisp January evening. The cold, misty air whirled around me, tugging at my hat. I pulled it down further over my ears, shaking my hair out of the way. Shimmering rays of moonlight danced through the trees, lighting up patches of frosty mud. This always gave me comfort, a silent walk through the forest after sundown. Even the birds were asleep, not a whistle to be heard. The bustle of the day was slipping out of my head, thoughts calming, mind slowing.

A sudden glint on the ground caught my eye. There, by that tree. The grass crumbled beneath my feet as I walked over to it. The brambles had left deep scratches. Moonlight reflected wildly off the shards as I turned it gently between my fingers. A small, sharp splinter cut into my middle finger. It didn’t hurt, but it drew a little blood. I stood up, the frost crunching beneath my feet. It had been left here a few years at least. Maybe longer. I could just make out an inscription on the back reading Olympus - but this was an ancient camera. OM-1n, in carved in gold. At least twenty years old. The dull silver chrome finish was wrapped with dark brown leather, with deep gashes lining the side, and the strap nowhere to be seen.

There was a torn up leather label attached, with the words ‘belongs to’ written on in elegant red cursive, and a completely unreadable name. The camera was light in my hand. A smaller model. I wondered if the film inside was still salvageable.

At home, the microwave clock read 22:45. I’d never cut my walk short before. My mind had been preoccupied, I suppose.

I placed the camera onto my desk, brushing aside a pile of papers I’d been working on earlier. I dropped my coat on the floor by the chair, and went to fetch my equipment. A developing tank, my thermometer, some reel, and of course, my old wooden timer. I’d done it all a thousand times. Usually, of course, it was my own. Not this time, though. I had no idea what could be on this roll.

The whole process was muscle memory. Rinse, dip, rinse, and repeat. There were only a couple of photos. I counted eleven in total. It would be several hours before they developed. I wanted to go to sleep and just look at them in the morning, but for some reason I felt like I should stay awake and wait. My eyes kept closing, my body sinking into the soft armchair I’d placed myself in. For some reason, I was resisting sleep. But soon, my thoughts swirled into dreams and the dim light from my desk lamp faded into darkness.

I jolted awake. My eyes blinking, the light slowly coming back into focus. I looked at the clock. 22:45. I rubbed my eyes. 22:45. It must have stopped. The light slowly blinked at me, teasing me. I hauled myself out of my armchair, stretching my legs as I did so. My lamp flickered on my desk across the room. I don’t remember leaving the lamp on. There must have been a power cut during the night. Blinking, I rubbed my eyes again. They hurt, a dull ache sort of feeling. I walked towards the door, where I kept a clock by my desk. I peered around the corner, and in the dim light my desk lamp still gave, I saw the clock hanging above the bookshelf. Reading a quarter to eleven. I rubbed my temple with my index finger. I must have been dreaming. Maybe I didn’t sleep well, and I was seeing things. I peered through the curtains on the window to my left. The moon was still up.

I went back into the room and walked towards the desk I'd put the camera on. The photos were lying there, scattered all over the desk. I hadn't left them like that. I definitely hadn't left them like that. I rushed over to the desk.

They were everywhere.

I could swear there had only been eleven photos, no, I was sure of it. But there were at least fifty photos here, stacked around in haphazard piles across the desk. I grabbed one off the top at random, and looked closer at it. At first I thought it was pitch black, but as I looked closer and closer, I saw that it wasn't quite empty. It had just been taken in very low light, or very low exposure, extremely quickly. There was a figure that I could just make out, in a dark blue jacket, almost black.

I couldn't see anything else, the whole picture was covered with a sort of dark grainy fog. I put this photo to the side, and hurriedly took another one. It looked the exact same, from a slightly different angle. The same figure, a little closer this time. I picked up another. This one was different, at least it wasn't pitch black this time. The bottom half was covered by some sort of grass, maybe a bush. The top half was framed by a window looking into a room full of people. The photo was blurry, as if it had been taken hastily.

I couldn't make out any faces of the people inside, but there were maybe about ten of them, sitting on chairs around the edge of a white room. I shook my eyes away from the photo for a second to glance again at the microwave clock. 22:45. I willed it to change, just one minute, but nothing came.

I quickly put the photo down to the side, onto the pile I'd started making, and picked up another. This one looked like it was taken from a security camera. The angle was high and tilted, as if taken from the upper corner of a room. Though it was grainy, I could see a queue of people, in what looked like the bank on the high street. I couldn't make out any details, it was too faint.

I put it down, took another. It was blurrier than any of the others, but I could just make out a light in the background, illuminating a dark room. I blinked, squinting, trying to make out more details. I felt my breath pick up, my ears begin ringing. There was something off about this photo, something I couldn't quite place. I felt like I recognised it.

I picked another. This one made my breath quiver a little. It was a photo of a house from the front, a red brick, detached house. But I recognised this one too. This wasn't a picture from my town, but I'd been there more times than I could count. It was my parents’ house. It had the green wooden door with the frosted window pane, the line of dahlias by the front porch, everything, down to the last detail, I couldn't be mistaken. As I peered closer, the ringing intensified, and I began to hear a faint whispering in my ears, getting louder and louder. I dropped it into the pile, hastily reaching for another.

“Explain this to me.”

My heart practically jumped onto the table in shock. I span around, but there was nobody in sight.

“You go for a walk in a forest, late at night.”

The whisper had become a voice, strangely calm but forceful. I had no idea where it was coming from.

“And you find a camera.”

I stepped back and watched in half awe, half terror as the camera on my desk slowly twisted and turned, and began to make a terrible screeching sound.

“That isn't yours.”

The voice began to shout, louder and louder, as if raising its voice to be heard over the screeching. The camera began to lift off the desk, still spinning faster and faster, blowing a gust of wind into my face.

“And you think,” the voice boomed, as I saw, with my breath held and my chest tight, the pile of photos begin to ripple in the wind, one by one being picked up and spun around the camera, “that you can just take it?”

My head had started to hurt badly, with a sort of sharp, disorienting pain. The shrill ringing sound in my ears only got louder, on top of the screeching of the camera and the shouting of the voice.

All the photos were in the air now, my vision was getting blurred but I saw hundreds and hundreds of little squares flying around the room, the metal camera in the middle of them all barely visible with how fast it was spinning.

“What if it wasn't to take?” the voice screeched.

I didn't even realise I'd put my hands over my ears, but I saw that I had when they got ripped off my ears by a strong gust of wind, and I got blown to the floor.

“Did you even consider that?”

I tried to get up onto my knees, but something was pushing down on me, like I was trapped under a heavy weight.

“Stay. There,” the voice screamed, barely audible over the screeching of the spinning camera.

I didn't have much choice.

Tears were streaming down my face, whether from fear or pain, I wasn't sure.

“And now”, the voice screamed once more.

“Put my camera back.”

I was back in the forest. I glanced upwards in panic. The moon was up, brighter than ever. My heart was beating through my chest, did I just imagine the whole night?

I heard a faint whisper, the leaves rustling behind me.

“Put my camera back”, they were saying.

I looked back down. I was holding the camera in left hand. My right hand was still shaking, but at least I could move it around fine. Okay, it wasn't a dream. I took a deep breath. Finally, it was quiet.

Not wanting to think too hard about what was happening, I placed the camera down into the leaves gently.

As I did so, a rustle came from my right. I looked. There was a woman walking on the path, just visible through the trees. Long black hair, a dark blue coat, I think. The light made it hard to make out details. I called out to her.

“Miss!”

I heard the crunching of her footsteps stop and saw her body twist and turn towards me.

“Miss?”, the doctor said. He had a warm smile, and some sparse black stubble. He wasn't talking to me, but a woman sitting three seats down from me. I took a look around the room. A clock hung over the old man with a cane sitting opposite me. It showed a quarter to eleven. I looked down in panic. I had a newspaper in my hand, today's print. Was it today? I read the date in the top left. The 18th of December. Three weeks ago.

“Your scans are ready, Miss.”

I turned to look over at the doctor again. The woman was wearing blue jeans and a light green cardigan, the type with pearl buttons. She had my fashion sense. I think she sensed me staring at her, because she turned and looked right at me.

“Can I help you with anything?” asked the man. I blinked, shook my head.

“Could you step out of line, please? There's a queue.”

Dizzy, I stepped to my side. I stared at the marble floor. Looked around. There were two queues either side of me, snaking all the way from the door. Large, double oak doors. A chandelier hung on the ceiling. Large, ivory clocks around the walls, all reading a quarter to eleven.

“I'd like to make a withdrawal, please,” the woman said.

Blue jeans. A fur lined coat, black with white lining, stylish but not expensive. Bought second hand from the charity shop around the corner from my house. I stood, in between the two queues.

I heard a yell. As I looked to my left in panic, there was the woman, right in front of me. Just before I saw her face, everything went black. I opened my eyes. I was standing in front of a mirror, a floor to ceiling mirror. I saw a woman standing there, wearing blue jeans and a light green cardigan. It was me. I blinked, and I was wearing a fur lined coat. I blinked again, and I was back in the forest, the moon shone bright into my eyes and then I was at my parents’ house.

I'd knocked on the door, my hand fell by my side. The frosted glass window in the door stared back at me, teasing me. I heard footsteps inside, coming towards the door.

“Hello?” came a call from inside the house. I’d knocked again. My hand was up in the air, against the wood, why was I knocking? And again. Louder, this time. The knocking got louder and louder.

The ground felt soft underneath my feet. I closed my eyes. The door opened towards me with a bang and I fell backwards into my armchair.

The ringing was gone, the house was gone. I breathed heavily, feeling my room fall back into place around me. The kitchen, then the desk, then the soft light from my desk light, fell gently and filled the room.

No screeching this time. Just the soft hum of the microwave to keep me company. I looked over the desk. It was as I had left it, nothing but my lamp and a pile of papers. No camera to be seen.

The clock on the microwave blinked at me. It read 22:46.

Hello my name is Hiroshi Nakamura, and I am not really the type of person who writes personal things online. But something happening here, and I feel like I need to tell before it is too late. Sorry for my bad English, but I hope you can understand what is happening. Everything started some weeks ago in Minakami, a small town in the north. People said there was some illness, something in the water, but at first no one really cared. An illness from the water? It was something we didn’t think was possible.

A friend of mine, Taro, lives near Minakami. He told me they closed the town, police blocking entrances and exits, and people there started disappearing. Then, TV stopped talking about it. It was strange, like Minakami had just stopped existing suddenly.

But yesterday, I saw it myself. Something is very wrong. Very, very wrong. I was walking near Sumida River when I saw a group of people walking toward the water. At first, I thought it was just some hikers, but there was something strange in the way they moved… something not right. They didn’t talk, they didn’t stop. They just walked straight to the water, like they had no will of their own.

I tried to get closer to stop them, but before I could say anything, the first person was already in the water. Then another. And another. Their eyes were red, and in some of them, I saw... blood. They didn’t react, they didn’t scream. They just let themselves sink. I saw a woman, a mother with a small child, and I knew something terrible was happening. But no one around me moved. No one screamed. They were just watching, same scared as I was.

That night, silence in my house was more terrifying. My wife and I decided no more tap water. We don’t know exactly what is happening, but rumors are everywhere. Some say it’s a parasite, others say a toxin, and some even say a curse. All I know is it is not safe anymore. Water, the source of life, now is killing us.

Today, I saw something that froze my blood. My neighbor, Mr. Tanaka, was in his garden, standing next to his pond, staring at the water. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes lost and glassy. When he finally moved, it was to go into the water, like it was calling him. I couldn’t stop him. I just saw him disappear under the pond, and now I don’t even know if I want to know what is down there.

The noises outside won’t stop. People are desperate. They are looking for water, but can’t find any. No one is safe, and the TV is not talking about it, like the problem never existed. My wife and I decided to seal all the windows and stay inside. Maybe tomorrow we go out, look for help… or at least some clean water. But tonight, we stay.

I don’t know if anyone will read this. I don’t know if someone out there can help us. But if you are reading, don’t go near the water. Don’t drink. Don’t trust what authorities say. Something is here, and it is in the water. I feel like Mr. Tanaka is still there, looking at me, calling me. But I will not open the door. Please, stay away from the water.

It was late at night. the moon reflecting off my skin like a pane of glass. i usually don’t leave my window open but something compelled me maybe it was random gut feeling,maybe the stairs creaking, since i was the closest door to the stairs. maybe that weird screech I’ve been hearing for a week now that my mind conjured up as a monster. maybe its me using the moon light to help see my room better. as i had overseen my brother watching a horror movie in the living room just that afternoon and i thought the light would keep the monsters away. how wrong i was.

As i was dozing off mere moments from the warm embrace of sleep i heard something a crack a slither a screech. it was coming from down stairs. immediately i ran past two doors and into my parents room just to see them alert. faces pale whispering. when they saw me they put a finger to there lips with a fear so conquering even the warmth of the brightest sun the happiest smile or the greatest reassurance couldn’t stop it. i immediately was surprised by this frankly weird moment. Just as i was going to ask whats wrong they gestured me to shut the door and to turn off the lights. after doing so they waved a hand telling me to come sit so quiet I thought i could have been imagining it.

my father said to me “son i’m sorry for not being able to be a real father I’m sorry for failing the one task every parent is supposed to” he said (somberly). i immediately ask after why what did u do ur acting weird i whispered. then with a face mere moments away from tears he said. “i cant save u” it was dead silent I didn’t say a word i was confused and terrified but didn’t know why yet. then I heard tears “ill still try even though i know i wont ill try i have to try to give you your brother and ur mother time to escape even if its without me” (in a quiet and somber voice) then I realized why i hadn’t heard from my brother. he was behind my father frozen in fear i didn’t know why they were so afraid of whatever made that noise but i would soon.

after a few seconds of silence i heard scuttling and my father picking up my grandpa’s shot gun and knife, and says “he knows”, then i hear it run up the steps, then it breaks 1 door 2 doors 3 doors then i hear a bang the shotgun rang before he could touch the door then four more shots followed suit my father with a booming voice commands us to run down the stairs as he’s screaming from the pain of getting punctured by the creatures arm. as were going down it sees us its head cracks like a whip to are direction and immediately tries running towards then i hear “not today not ever again u BASTARD” as he pierces its hyde and it lets out a oddly familiar screech sounding like it came from the depths of hell.

my mother speeds up instantly knowing what to do grabs the keys and puts us in the car and pulls out as if it was a primal instinct as we were pulling out we could see him being easily overpowered by that monster. we drove for what felt like years dead silent the whole time. and eventually pulled up to my uncles house. he’s happy to see us even though we don’t give him back the same cheer. he asks wheres his brother. then my mom without a word or a glance shows him a picture and nothing else needed to be said his face was pale and sorrowful and he lets us inside we haven’t been back to our old home since. i still hold out hope that one day he’ll knock on our door even though i know he’s gone. my father was a great man i miss him.

But i know he failed no matter how much i love him i know he failed us cause last night i heard it again the screech. best case scenario in a week i die and my family lives and hopefully that thing dies with me but i know it wont happen. I’m going to confront uncle Isaiah tomorrow

Our talk

In my first post its back i talked about what happened to my father a few days ago but I didn’t know a lot about what that monster was. but my uncle did and i had him explain to me what that demon was he said “years back before you or your older brother came along me and ur father loved exploring caves we’d go to tombs. even got throne in prison for grave robbing we saw a bunch of myths and legends none of them ever true until the temple of the labebantur diaboli.

Or im english “the slithering devil” my older brother snapped “why would u explore something like that it’s obviously demonic why even risk ur life for a quick thrill are u stupid” “ we were young and dumb we had been to so many monuments, temples and tombs i thought it would be the same but it wasn’t.

(sigh) I should have known it felt . off my gut was telling me no but I didn’t want my brother to think i was scared. so i carried on. as we were running through there were tons of warnings in latin saying things like don’t wake it, satan, beezelbub and other stuff like that but we didn’t listen it was a highly adventured trail we thought it was kids just trying to scare us then we ran into a door it had a glowing crest with a key hole”.

Where was the key i muttered he said “ there wasn’t one it had been there for so long that the hole had corroded all i had to do was put a curved stick in and open the door. as soon as the door opened we felt a rush of adrenaline most buildings even the oldest ones look built on the earth but this looked like the earth was built around it. and in the center was a statue of a giant centipede demon with a note on it that ur brother and i read. whoever reads this ancient curse no matter man no child even people of the church will be cursed with this plague to awaken this creature when u have gained the thing u crave and if u escape no matter how close ill come back with twice the strength so u can roast. and the thing he craved was ur mother which he assumed but after what we had done we thought it was a ancient cult and with the dr seuss writing we obviously believed it was fake. and a few weeks after ur father had been hearing a screech. and u know what happens next it goes after them and they kill it by the skin of there teeth. and now after that ur father raised u guys and then sacrificed himself thats all i know” he said. And thats all i can explain to u guys more accurately what he can explain im sorry.

But what i do know is its back and i cant stop it i dont know if i should call the military the police a priest i dont know im scared i feel bad for them cause for some reason im the only one who can hear it maybe we can move maybe we can get on a plane please any advice u can give me i need help.

Pine trees sway in the wind while glimmers of sunlight peak through gaps in the needles and branches. I’m sitting with my friend, Tom, in a hunting blind. I say hunting blind but it’s really just a fallen tree that we laid branches over. We are covered in camouflage, long sleeve shirts and pants. Our faces are covered in dark greens and black to hide our pale complexion from our prey.

Across from us in a giant field, a group of six deer casually graze through tall grass. Every so often, one of them raises it’s head suddenly to stare off into the distance at something. Only to put its head down several moments later. 

We’ve been out here for at least several hours and the sun was beginning it’s descent into the horizon. There are still several hours of daylight left. Several hours for us to bring home a trophy buck.

“It’s getting late.” Tom whispers to me. 

I just nod to signal I understand. When hunting you need to minimize noise. This is our fifth weekend in a row sitting out here waiting for a buck. Truth be told, we had seen smaller bucks on several occasions. But they wouldn’t get us any bragging rights back at the bar. 

The wind is blowing directly into my face. The cold breeze penetrates my face paint like little frozen fingers caressing my cheeks. 

“God this is miserable.” I muse to myself. 

On the far tree line, we see a large hulking shape moving through the trees. Something big was making it’s way out of hiding and into the field. I feel my hands begin to shake with excitement, as a massive set of antlers appears. This is the biggest buck I’ve ever seen. It’s a monster of a deer with twelve antler points.

I look over to see Tom’s bulging eyes staring back at me, his hands shaking as well. We creep into a better shooting position while I get my bow and arrow ready. Tom nags me for being a try hard but I love the feel of a bow in my hands. One hand squeezes the leather handle while the other notches an arrow.

I get down on one knee while Tom perches himself on a branch above me. I can’t normally stay in this uncomfortable position long but today I can’t feel anything. Adrenaline is racing through my veins while tunnel vision clouds everything except the antlers.

The buck makes it’s way to the group of deer. They take notice immediately and keep their eyes trained on him. Maybe this is the biggest buck they’ve seen too. As this beast of a buck approaches, one of the does makes her way to greet him. 

She approaches and lifts her nose to touch the nose of the newcomer before collapsing to the ground like a rug was pulled from under her. We watch as the buck lowers its head and starts eating grass, like nothing happened. 

Tom and I exchange a puzzled look. What happened to the doe and why was the buck so unreactive? Normally, deer bolt off into the trees at the first sign of danger. One of the other does stomps her foot and snorts loudly. In a flash, the rest of the deer scamper off into the forest. Their white tails flap up and down before disappearing completely into the trees.

But the buck was still standing there. He wasn’t even eating now but staring directly at us. What was he looking at? Did he detect us? 

“I don’t like this one bit” I crane my neck up and whisper to Tom. 

He pulls out a pair of binoculars and pushes them into his face. The binoculars hit the ground almost immediately as he lets them drop to the ground.

“What is it?” I question trying to stay quiet but he doesn’t respond.

I snap my eyes back to the buck and a shiver runs down my spine. The deer is staring right at me. I pick up the binoculars and zoom on the deer.

“K-ke-keep your e-e-eye on th-th-the deer.” He stutters while his body begins to shake.

The deer doesn’t have eyes. Dark eye sockets fill the voids where its eyes should have been. Its face hung from its skull covering only half of its skull. Its teeth are stained black and are dripping blood. I walking corpse is staring directly at me. 

“TOM,” this time I shout “It’s time to get out of here!” 

Tom looks down at me, his expression is petrified. The color from his face is completely gone. For several moments, we just stare at each other in disbelief. He slowly turns his head back to the field and then immediately snaps it back to me.

“Ava the deer is gone!” he cries out.

I scan the field with the binoculars but the deer is gone. The field is quiet as a tomb, not even the wind blows. I hear Tom struggle above me but before I can remove the binoculars something hard slams the back of the head. My vision immediately fades away.

When I wake up it’s completely dark. I had been unconscious for hours because the trees looked like silhouettes against the twilight sky. The night’s frigid air was making my body shiver uncontrollably. My head was throbbing and I could feel a bump on the back of my head. Color had left the world completely except for a fiery glow in the woods. The glow was faint but it looks like someone had setup a campfire.

I stood up and made my way through the field towards the forest. Tall grass brushed against my bare forearms. I flinch as a briar catches my skin, stabbing into my flesh. I stumble in the darkness until I reach the tree line. The fire looks brighter now and I start to smell smoke. I have the urge to call out to Tom but hold back. What if that thing hears me?

Under the trees, the ground is mostly empty. I don’t have much trouble finding my way except for the occasional low hanging branch. I narrowly miss hitting my head on the nearly invisible branches. I push aside a tree branch and see Tom sitting in front of a campfire. He is frozen like a statue while just staring into the flames. 

“Tom!” I shout to get his attention. 

Tom’s head turns slowly to face me but his eyes look straight the entire time. The fire light dances on Tom’s face, illuminating his blank expression. For brief moments, his face is visible before being plunged back into total darkness. 

“Hey…man” I question “Are you alright? I saw the fire from back where we were hunting.”

Silence. Tom doesn’t speak a word but just stares back at me. His face is devoid of emotion. We study each other for what feels like an eternity before he opens his mouth and vocalizes.

“Let’s just stay here tonight,” Tom speaks without moving his mouth, his face plunges into darkness “we can sleep in the dark if you want to…”

The sides of my head begin to tingle before spreading across my body. The fire roars back to life but Tom’s face is now hanging off his head like an open door. His skull stares back at me and he has black sores on his neck. I blink and Tom is instantly replaced by a massive monster masquerading as a deer. Its face is gone, all I see are the dark eye sockets of its skull. Furry flesh hangs off its exposed skeleton like a poorly worn coat. 

My body jumps back as my feet kick up into the air. I fall on my back before rolling and jumping off the ground. I sprint back the way I came and feel the ground begin to rumble. I glance back and see the monster racing after me. I put my head down and run as fast as I can through the woods ahead of me. 

Small branches smack my body as I blindly rush through the forest. I still feel the monster chasing after me. My skull collides with a thick tree branch slamming my back into the dirt. I feel antlers spear into my forearm before lifting me like a rag doll. My shoulder feels like it’s going to tear from my body. The monster hurls me into a nearby tree trunk with a thud.

At this moment, I realize I am going to die. The scent of rotting flesh fills my nose as my throat starts to gag. I close my eyes and accept my fate. I hear the monster approach me, its steps vibrating my body into even more pain. 

The ground starts to shake faster and I hear the monster crash into a tree. I open my eyes and see it’s antlers stuck in a thick pine branch overhead. I see my chance and dash away as fast as my legs will carry me. 

I feel ground shake less and less as I continue sprinting through the forest. In the distance, I can see the field now visible by moonlight. My arm throbs in pain with each step I take. It feels like someone is hammering nails into my bones. I stumble into the field and see a full moon shining down on me. 

I am out of breath but I don’t have time to wait around and recover. So I jog while my lungs feel like they are catching on fire. I find the path Tom and I used to get to our hunting spot. My truck is parked at the end in a small parking lot just off the main road. 

With my one good arm, I enter the pickup truck and start the engine. My right foot slams the accelerator into the floorboard. Rocks soar as my tires tear into the gravel parking lot. I finally hit the main road and hear my tires screech against the asphalt leaving a white cloud behind me. I glance in the rearview mirror but see no sign of the monster. All I see is moonlight shining through the trees back at me. 

At the local hospital, I pull into the drop off lane in front of the emergency room. I don’t even turn off the truck before jumping out and limping through the sliding doors. Each movement sends a jolt of pain through my arm. Dark green puss is leaking out of the puncture wounds in my forearm and onto the floor. The wound smells like it’s rotting but I can’t keep my nose away from my own arm! 

A nurse walks out, looks at my arm and immediately yells, “CODE BLUE! We need a doctor STAT!”

I’m nearly shoved onto a gurney as nurses swarm my sides and rush me down the hallway. I see at least four faces looking down at me with worried expressions. The gurney blasts through the operating room doors and I feel my vision start to fade away.

When I awake, I see that my left forearm is completely gone. A bandaged stub of an elbow is all that remains. I still feel like I have an arm but nothing is there when I go to grab it. That and the painkillers make it hard to feel anything at all.

I’m writing this because I don’t know how much time I have left. I can see small sores forming on my skin and my vision is blurry. I need to warn you before its too late. 

I shudder to think what would’ve happened, if that thing didn’t get stuck. If it had gotten me. So, if I don’t make it, just remember one thing: If you see a deer acting weird or staring at you for a little too long, keep your fucking eye on the deer!

"You know, Larry," Ranger Steve said, squinting through the dusty windshield at the endless expanse of pine trees, "I've never seen so much as a squirrel out of place here."

Larry, his young, eager-to-please intern, nodded fervently from the passenger seat. "I know, it's like nature has its own rules in Yellowstone," he replied, trying to sound as wise as his mentor.

The rumbling of the ancient pickup truck echoed through the otherwise serene valley as they bounced along the rutted dirt road. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the landscape, the kind of light that makes everything look more mysterious. Steve had been a park ranger for more years than he cared to admit, and he'd heard all the stories—the whispers of bears with an attitude, the occasional mountain lion scare, and even a few tall tales of Bigfoot. But in all his time, he'd never seen anything that couldn't be explained by a good old-fashioned wild animal or a tourist with an overactive imagination.

"Speaking of which," Steve said, his eyes never leaving the road, "have you ever heard the one about the camper who left his cooler unlocked?"

Larry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the bear broke into it and had a midnight feast," he said, finishing the story for him.

"No, no," Steve chuckled, "the real kicker is what he found the next morning."

As Steve launched into his favorite bear-and-camper yarn, a strange, unidentifiable sound echoed through the trees. It was a low, grumbling noise that didn't quite fit the usual soundscape of the park. The truck's engine masked it at first, but as they rolled to a stop at the trailhead, it grew louder.

"What's that?" Larry asked, his hand hovering over the door handle.

"Don't know," Steve murmured, his smile fading. "But it's not a bear. Not with that bass."

They climbed out of the truck, the cooler air a welcome relief from the stale cab. The noise grew more pronounced, a deep rumble that seemed to come from the very earth beneath their boots. They exchanged a look, the story forgotten. Something was out there, and it was definitely not in any wildlife handbook Steve had ever read.

"Stay close, Larry," he said, his voice low and firm. "We're going to investigate, but keep your wits about you."

They headed into the forest, Steve leading the way with a stride that was both confident and cautious. Larry trailed behind, his eyes darting nervously between the towering trunks and the fading light that dappled the forest floor. They moved quietly, the crunch of their steps on the pine needles seeming deafening in the stillness. The sound grew louder, more rhythmic—almost like heavy footsteps, but too spaced out to be human.

The trail curved around a bend, and suddenly, there it was. A creature, massive and unmistakable, lumbered through the underbrush. Steve's heart skipped a beat as he took in the creature's form—huge, covered in dark fur, and unmistakably not a bear. It moved with surprising grace for something so large, its long arms swinging and its wide shoulders hunched. It was a creature of legend, a creature he'd laughed off for years—Bigfoot.

Larry's eyes widened in terror, his hand shaking as he reached for the radio at his belt. "Steve," he whispered, "we should call this in."

But Steve was frozen in place, his mind racing. This was no time for protocol. This was history in the making, and he wasn't about to scare it away with a radio call. He reached out a hand, placing it firmly on Larry's arm. "No," he breathed, "we're going to get closer."

The creature was now just a hundred feet away, unaware of their presence. Steve's hand tightened on Larry's arm, urging him forward. The intern's eyes were wide, his breath coming in short gasps, but he nodded. They moved as one, step by careful step, closer to the creature. The air was thick with tension, the only sounds the creature's footsteps and their own racing hearts.

As they approached, the Bigfoot paused, tilting its head as if listening. For a moment, Steve thought it had heard them, but it continued on its path, disappearing into the thick woods. They followed, their steps quieter now, driven by a mix of fear and excitement. The sun was setting, casting the world in a soft orange glow that painted the creature in a mystical light.

When they were just fifty feet away, Steve slowly lifted his camera, his hands shaking with the weight of what he was about to capture. He took a deep breath and focused, clicking the shutter just as the creature looked over its shoulder. It was a perfect shot—the creature's fierce, intelligent gaze locked onto the camera lens.

For a second, the world stood still. And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very trees, Bigfoot bolted away, disappearing into the dense foliage.

Steve and Larry stared after it, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had seen it. They had photographed it. They had proof. The legend of Yellowstone had just become very real.

"We can't tell anyone," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet."

Larry nodded, his eyes still glued to the spot where the creature had vanished. "What do we do?"

"We document everything," Steve said, his voice firm. "We need evidence that can't be dismissed. And we keep it between us. For now."

They spent the rest of the evening collecting footprints, hair samples, and any other signs the creature had left behind. The adrenaline kept them going, despite the fading light and the eerie silence that had descended over the forest. They worked meticulously, each step a silent dance of excitement and caution.

By the time they returned to the truck, darkness had fully embraced the park. Larry looked around nervously, the headlights casting strange, elongated shadows on the surrounding trees. "Do you think it's still out there?"

Steve didn't answer, his eyes scanning the forest. "Probably," he finally said. "But we've got enough for now. We'll come back tomorrow."

The drive back to headquarters was tense. The radio crackled with the mundane chatter of other rangers, oblivious to their discovery. Steve couldn't wait to get to his office, to examine the photos, to make sense of what they'd seen.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Steve's mind was racing with the implications of their encounter. This was big—bigger than he could have ever imagined. It could change everything. The park's reputation, their careers, maybe even the way people saw the natural world.

"What happens now?" Larry asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Steve took a deep breath. "Now, we start preparing for the storm," he said. "Because once this gets out, it's going to be a wild ride."

The next few days were a blur of secret research, covert conversations, and feigned normalcy. Steve studied the photos, his heart pounding with every zoom and enhancement. The creature's features were clear, undeniable. But he knew that without more, people would dismiss it as a clever hoax.

They decided to set up a hidden camera in the area of the sighting, hoping to capture more evidence. Nights were spent in the quiet office, poring over maps and reports of past sightings, looking for patterns, for clues. They whispered in hushed tones, the weight of their secret pressing down on them like a thick blanket.

The anticipation grew with each passing hour, each unanswered question fueling their obsession. The creature had become their white whale, a myth made flesh. But with every step they took towards unveiling the truth, Steve couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. That maybe, just maybe, Bigfoot knew they were onto it.

One evening, as they were hiking back to the spot they believed the creature had made its lair, they heard it again—the unmistakable rumble of something large moving through the brush. Their hearts racing, they approached the clearing where they'd set the camera. It was gone, the area disturbed, the underbrush trampled.

And then, they saw the eyes—two gleaming orbs reflecting back at them from the darkness. The creature was closer than they'd ever dared to believe. For a moment, they were locked in a silent standoff, man and myth staring each other down.

And in that moment, Steve realized that their world was about to change forever. The creature was not just a figment of imagination, but a living, breathing part of the park's hidden tapestry. And they had just become part of its story.

"We should go," Larry whispered, his voice trembling. But Steve couldn't move, transfixed by the creature's gaze. It was a mix of curiosity and something else, something ancient and wild. He felt a strange kinship, a connection to the untouched wilderness that the creature embodied.

Slowly, the Bigfoot retreated into the shadows, the rustling of the bushes fading away. Steve and Larry backed up, their boots crunching the leaves underfoot. They didn't speak until they were a safe distance away, their hearts pounding in their ears.

"We have to tell someone," Larry said, his voice urgent. "This is too big to keep to ourselves."

Steve nodded, his thoughts racing. "But who can we trust?"

They decided to keep the evidence to themselves for now, sharing it only with a few trusted colleagues who had seen enough in their time to not dismiss the impossible. The whispers grew, turning into a hushed buzz that spread through the ranger community. They were met with a mix of skepticism and excitement, but Steve and Larry remained steadfast, driven by their shared encounter.

The tension grew with each passing day. They found more signs of the creature—broken branches, a clearing where something had rested, even a tree with deep scratches that looked suspiciously like a message. It was clear Bigfoot was aware of their presence and perhaps even watching them.

The standoff continued, a silent dance between the two worlds—man's desire to know and nature's need to remain untouched. Steve found himself torn between his duty to protect the park's secrets and his burning desire to share this monumental discovery with the world.

As the days grew into weeks, the evidence mounted, and the whispers grew louder. They had to act fast, before the truth was taken from them or, worse, before someone got hurt. They had stumbled upon a secret that had been kept for centuries, and now it was their responsibility to ensure it was handled with care.

One evening, as they sat in Steve's office, surrounded by maps and notes, a knock at the door made them both jump. It was the park's director, a stern look etched on her face.

"I've heard the rumors," she said, closing the door behind her. "Tell me what's going on."

Steve took a deep breath, then recounted their story, showing her the photos and the data they'd collected. She listened, her expression unreadable.

When he was done, she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "This changes everything," she murmured. "We need to be careful, Steve. The world isn't ready for this kind of revelation."

They spent the night discussing a plan, weighing the consequences of their actions. By dawn, they had a strategy in place, one that would protect the creature while also sharing its existence with the world. It was a delicate balance, but it was the right thing to do.

The sun rose over Yellowstone, casting its golden light over the landscape. The park was waking up, unaware of the seismic shift about to occur in its very fabric. Steve and Larry knew that their lives would never be the same, but they also knew that the truth had a way of finding its voice. And today, it would roar louder than ever before.

Pt1 & 2 are both in the link below

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/s/9b4MMjQPHM

(Pt3)

I needed to try and do something to be able to search for answers without the demon making an appearance. It was clear that it wasn’t happy about my search for information and it made sure to let me know it didn’t approve.

It’s been over a month now, and with each day my hopes that maybe I will get used to it is fading.

One day it was following me as I walked down the street. I learned that it wasn’t just my mother or grandmother it could decide to look like, but also my friends and acquaintances- dead or alive - but as my late mother had last said to me, more than anything “it likes to look like family.”

It followed me down the street about ten feet behind me. Passing unnoticed through the crowd. It appeared this time as a boy I had gone out with. This time it had eyes, only one of them dangling from the socket. Blood streaks down its cheeks. It just followed behind limping on its disfigured legs.

Then I tried something that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t tried sooner. As I approached ST Anthony’s Catholic Church I hurried up the steps and through the door. After all it’s a demon right? If there was anytime to find God it was now. I walked to the middle of the cathedral and turned to wait and see if it was able to enter. After about fifteen min, I felt great relief that i appeared to find a sanctuary from this curse.

I shrieked and jumped a few feet at the sound of a voice saying “welcome child” echoing from across the church. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Father George”

Trembling a little and unsure what to say I managed to mutter “…hi…I’m *****” he told me it was nice to meet me and asked what he could do for me. “I just need to…uhmm…get a break from…”

“Your demons?” I was looked at him with some shock.

“What did you say?” I asked as I wondered if I should flee.

“You’re demons. We all have to grapple with our inner demons in this life. It can take its toll on us, spiritually and emotionally.” I relaxed, and thought to my self he just HAD to phrase it like that.

“Yeah, you’re more right than you know. Look i…uhh…I’m not catholic. Can’t really say I come from a particularly religious family at all actually. But…i have some work I need to do.. would it be okay if I hung around here and worked for a little?”

He looked at me momentarily before telling me I was welcome to stay as long as I liked. He also informed me that the church had its own library and instructed me to follow him to it through the courtyard. I was nervous that it might not be holy enough or something like the chapel to keep the demon out. Walking through the courtyard I saw it standing motionless outside the church grounds. Just staring. It looked like my mom again, only I noticed, it looked a little less…demon like than usual. Almost like it was my mom, just an empty dead gaze and somewhat pale complection.

The church library was the perfect resource. I looked for anything related to demons, searched for details that seemed familiar to what I’d read in the diaries (which didn’t reveal much). I didn’t want to leave. Each time I looked out of a window, there it was, staring. Sometimes motionless. Other times it would act out in disturbing ways. Jumping infront of a truck. Shooting itself. Vomiting a stream of dark - almost black colored blood. I stopped looking.

Suddenly, I was startled awake. I had fallen asleep on a pile of books. Father George offered to take me home. The demon stayed away on the drive. He asked why I was reading so much about demons. I didn’t know how much to say. But I told him “I think there is a demon. A real one, that’s attached to me and it looks like it’s been tormenting my family for generations.” He hadn’t reacted at all with skepticism. Even though he was a priest, I was still surprised. He asked what I knew about it. How it acted. Who it attached too. I told him what i knew.

“I may know what kind of creature you are referring too. I’ll have to dig up some things that might help you. Come see tomorrow as soon as you can”

I couldn’t believe that i had stumbled across someone who knew what I was talking about, and maybe could help. It felt nice to not feel as alone. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. He gave me a little jar with clear liquid. “Holy water” he said “now, sometimes…holy water doesn’t do a damned thing. But sometimes it does” I thanked him and went inside.

My dad had already gone to bed. As I entered my room, which cast a dim light from my desk lamp, I tried to mentally prepare myself to get through the night. Entering the room I was surprised yet again as I saw myself, sitting at the desk. It looked at me through the reflection menacingly. It smiled with black and rotting gums. My mouth suddenly felt dirty and putrid. It laughed a sickening, cackling laugh as it turned. “MY FACE MY PRETTY LITTLE FACE” it cried as it took its hands, my hands, and clawed at its cheeks. The flesh torn from the muscles and skull. “IN YOUR SKIN IM GONNA GET IN YOUR SKIN” it said as it continued to tear at its face. As I stepped away, crying in horror my face suddenly felt burning hot and a sharp excruciating pain consumed me as if my face was actually having the flesh torn from it.

My dad was awoken and interrupted the demons game. He appeared concerned. Like he did with my mother. I have to figure something out fast.

People like to think the life of a high-end escort is glamorous. Luxury hotels, expensive dinners, enviable vacations, men who worship you with gifts. And sure, sometimes it is. But it’s also a world where power is currency, and the men who have it are often darker than anyone realizes.

I’ve met politicians, tech billionaires, and heirs to empires, but none of them unnerved me like him. Anton von Teufel, the kind of man who only exists in myths and nightmares.

It started with a phone call from my agency. My handler, Veronica, sounded nervous, which wasn’t like her. “This one’s different,” she said, her voice taut. “Old money. Real old. You’ll meet him at his estate. No public venues, no hotels.”

“Why me?” I asked, more curious than worried.

“He requested you specifically.”

That wasn’t unusual; I had a reputation for being discreet and professional. But there was something in her tone—an edge that unsettled me.

The estate was a two-hour drive from the city, buried deep in the woods. The directions wound through narrow, unmarked roads that twisted like veins. The trees were dense, their shadows so thick they seemed alive. By the time I reached the gates, the sun was setting, casting the mansion in hues of deep orange and crimson.

The gates creaked open on their own, and the driveway stretched endlessly toward a mansion that looked more like a Gothic cathedral. Its towering spires seemed to scrape the sky, and the windows glowed faintly, as though the house itself was breathing.

A man in a black suit greeted me at the door. His face was pale and gaunt, his expression void of warmth. He didn’t introduce himself, just motioned for me to follow. The house was cavernous, the air heavy with the faint scent of roses and something else I couldn’t place—something metallic, like blood.

Anton was waiting in the library, sitting in an enormous leather chair by the fire. He was older than I expected—mid-50s, maybe—but handsome in that weathered, aristocratic way. His salt-and-pepper hair was swept back, and his tailored suit hugged his frame like it had been sewn onto him. His presence was magnetic, the kind that made it hard to look away.

“You’re even more exquisite than I was told,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate.

“Thank you,” I replied, slipping into my professional charm.

He didn’t touch me, didn’t move closer. He just studied me, his eyes sharp and unrelenting, like he was memorizing every detail of my face. “Do you like games?” he asked suddenly.

“Depends on the game.”

His lips curled into a thin smile. “Good. I like a woman with an adventurous spirit.”

That was our first meeting. He didn’t ask for anything physical, just talked. His words were strange, full of riddles and half-truths. He spoke of beauty and power, of how true worth lay in what couldn’t be seen. When I left that night, he handed me an envelope.

Inside was $50,000.

I should’ve walked away. Something about him set my nerves on edge, but the money was too good. Over the next few weeks, I visited him several more times. Each time was the same: cryptic conversations, no touching, and another envelope of cash.

Then, one night, he asked me to stay.

“It’s late,” he said, pouring me a glass of wine from a crystal decanter. The liquid shimmered in the firelight like molten rubies. “Why not spend the night? I have a guest room prepared for you.”

I hesitated, but the wine was already in my hand, and his gaze made it hard to say no. “Sure,” I said, forcing a smile.

The room was beautiful but cold, decorated in rich velvets and dark woods. The bed was massive, draped in crimson silk that looked untouched. I locked the door and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.

At around 3 a.m., I heard it: faint footsteps in the hallway, followed by a low, guttural noise that didn’t sound human. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming at me to stay still.

The noise grew louder, joined by a soft scraping, like nails on wood. It was coming from the other side of the door.

“Hello?” My voice cracked as I whispered.

The scraping stopped. For a moment, there was silence. Then a voice—low and distorted, like it was being dragged from a deep well.

“Let me in.”

I froze, my breath hitching.

The voice came again, more insistent. “Let me in.”

The doorknob rattled violently, the sound echoing in the silent room. I grabbed the lamp from the bedside table and held it like a weapon, my knuckles white.

The rattling stopped abruptly. Then came the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall.

When morning came, I found Anton waiting for me in the dining room, his smile as sharp as ever. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

I stared at him, trying to read his expression. “What was that last night?”

“What was what?” he asked, his tone as smooth as the marble floor.

“The noise outside my door. The voice.”

He set his cup down and leaned forward, his eyes glinting like a predator’s. “You must have been dreaming.”

I knew he was lying, but I didn’t press him. I just wanted to get out of that house.

As I was leaving, he handed me another envelope. “One last thing,” he said. “I’d like to show you my collection sometime. I think you’d appreciate it.”

I didn’t respond.

But curiosity got the better of me. A week later, I agreed to see it.

He led me down a narrow staircase to a locked door. The air grew colder with each step, and my stomach churned with unease.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to run. “Beauty, preserved forever.”

When he opened the door, the smell hit me first—chemical and cloying. The room was lined with glass cases, each one containing a figure so lifelike I thought they were mannequins at first.

Then I looked closer.

Their eyes were too real, their expressions frozen in terror.

“You see,” Anton said, his voice soft, “true beauty transcends life. It becomes eternal.”

I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat. “You’re insane,” I whispered.

He stepped closer, his smile widening. “You’re perfect, you know. You’d make a fine addition.”

I ran. I didn’t even know how I managed to make it out of that house. My memory of the escape is a jumbled haze of blind panic, my heart thundering in my chest as I fled through those vast halls. The walls seemed to close in on me, the air growing thicker, suffocating. My heels clattered against the marble floors, the sound echoing like gunshots in the stillness.

I could feel Anton’s eyes on me, though I never dared look back. His voice followed me, low and calm, as if he didn’t even need to chase me to catch me. “You can’t outrun beauty, my dear,” he called out. “It has already claimed you.”

When I finally burst through the front doors, the cold night air hit me like a slap, and I nearly stumbled down the steps. The estate’s grounds were a labyrinth of shadows and looming trees, but I didn’t care where I was running as long as it was away from that house.

The forest swallowed me. Branches clawed at my skin and hair, the scent of damp earth filling my nose as I stumbled and tripped over roots and stones. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but I kept going until the mansion’s eerie glow was nothing but a distant memory.

I didn’t stop until I reached my car, parked by the estate’s wrought-iron gates. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before finally jamming one into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and I peeled away from that place, my tires screeching against the gravel.

But even as I drove, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The shadows outside the car seemed too dark, too dense, as if they were alive and watching.

By the time I reached the city, I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the wheel. I checked into the first motel I saw, a dingy place with flickering neon lights, and barricaded myself in the room. I didn’t bother with the bed; I sat on the floor in the corner, clutching the lamp from the nightstand like it could protect me.

Hours passed. My mind raced with images of Anton’s “collection,” the frozen faces locked in glass cases, their eyes pleading for release. I thought about his words: “Beauty, preserved forever.”

I wanted to tell myself it was some elaborate nightmare, but the smell of those chemicals, the glint of terror in their eyes, was too vivid. Too real.

Then, just as I was starting to think I might be safe, I heard it.

A soft knock at the door.

My heart stopped.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Who’s there?” My voice cracked as I shouted, though deep down, I didn’t want an answer.

Silence.

I crept toward the door, pressing my ear against the cheap wood. My pulse thundered in my ears as I peered through the peephole.

Nothing.

I exhaled shakily, backing away. Maybe it was just my imagination—paranoia playing tricks on me.

Then I heard it again.

Scrape. Scrape.

The sound of something sharp dragging along the door.

“Let me in.”

The voice was low and distorted, the same one I’d heard outside my room at Anton’s estate. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, clutching my mouth to keep from screaming.

The doorknob rattled violently, as though someone—or something—was trying to force it open.

“Let me in,” the voice repeated, more insistent this time.

I scrambled backward, my body trembling. “Go away!” I shouted, but my voice sounded small, powerless.

The rattling stopped abruptly, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my ears straining for any sound.

Then, slowly, the door creaked.

The lock hadn’t turned, but the door was opening anyway, inch by agonizing inch. Beyond it was darkness—thick and impenetrable, like the void itself was staring back at me.

I couldn’t move. My body was frozen, paralyzed by fear as a shadow began to spill into the room, twisting and writhing like smoke.

“You can’t run from me,” the voice said, now clearer and closer, reverberating inside my skull.

The shadow stretched toward me, and I felt its coldness wrap around my legs, dragging me forward. I clawed at the floor, my nails splintering against the cheap carpet, but it was no use. The darkness consumed everything it touched, swallowing the walls, the furniture, the light.

The last thing I saw was my reflection in the cracked motel mirror. My face looked different—distorted, wrong. My eyes weren’t mine anymore. They were hollow, lifeless, the same as the figures in Anton’s collection.

And then, the world went black.

When I woke up, I was back in the mansion. But I wasn’t in my body.

I was inside the glass.

I could see everything—the room, the cases, the other faces staring back at me, their mouths frozen in silent screams. I tried to scream too, but no sound came out. My body wouldn’t move. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own reflection.

And somewhere in the distance, I heard Anton’s voice, calm and unhurried.

“Welcome to the collection.”

For anyone that missed yesterday

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1gv4rhx/im_an_evil_doll_but_im_not_the_problem_part_5/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=1

“You know what my favorite part of it all was, Choir-Boy? Watching your brain start to turn on itself.

Watching you talk to thin-air, hide bodies, convince yourself something else murdered those intruders . It was beautiful.

When you called in a Sneopman to try and get you free, that was my favorite. Your ancestors must be spinning in their graves.

Wish I got an angle on how you killed those burglars, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles I guess. “ I hear the Bishop gloat through the vents.

When I heard Cameras, I was confused. Last time I checked they were loud things the size of bricks, cost upwards of 5 thousand dollars, and were installed in banks and dangerous party stores.

If I could smile, I would be.

I wasn’t made as early as I’d been assuming. My creator, half assed as she may be, had cameras in mind.

Think back to when I was trying to work through the vantablack barriers.

Today, from what I’ve read ,cameras are everywhere. Whoever my creator is, she had that in mind. I don’t think cameras can see me.

My body rattles slightly, fear and panic trying to force rational through from my stitched together mind.

I send Kaz a text, not willing to risk calling.

“Bishop had the place wired up with cameras. Knows about you, but not me. Do not come. Walking into a trap. Don’t know how much he knows. “ I type.

The minutes before the reply feel like days.

“GET OUT NOW. It won’t be long before he figures out Leo wasn’t hallucinating. “ is Kaz reply.

Unfeeling monster is a cliché so overused, just reading that probably made you skip a paragraph.

From personal experience I can tell you it’s total horse-shit. I’m, by any metric, a monster. I own that. But the fear I felt trying to get out of that house, it was real.

Every tiny footfall sounded like a gunshot, every rustling leaf, every cough I could hear from a block away, it invoked a sense of dread. At any moment I knew I would suddenly feel a tentacle wrap around me, and be dragged back into that house.

But eventually, I found myself standing at the door to an upscale candy shop in a very downtrodden neighborhood.

There was a sign that was yellowed and curled from time and light. Written in immaculate cursive was “Closed for family emergency. “ .

Kaz lets me in, and as the door closes I stand in shock.

The first thing that hits me is the smell. I’ll be the first to admit, spilled blood gets my engine running, but the rotten, nearly tactile reek of decaying flesh makes my vestigial digestive system try to run in reverse.

Then I see it.

Bodies, half rotten and cocooned in some kind of whispy, tarry, black substance.

I know I shouldn’t have been shocked, I’m in a world of blood and magic. But I guess I’d gotten to think of Kaz as just, a nice guy.

“A Regrettable part of being who I am. “ Kaz offers by way of an explanation.

I can’t shake the shock. I know it’s hypocritical as hell, but the, desecration of the bodies, the, serial killer vibe of it all , I can’t let it go.

“What do we do now?” I say, still staring at the corpse collection.

“We tried things Leo’s way, now we tap our world. “ Kaz says, there’s a tone of trepidation in his voice.

“Why do you sound like you hate that idea?” I ask, noticing one corpse is still moving slightly.

“Punch, you, me, Leo, we are the odd men out.

What you are staring at is me making a half dozen kills last a decade. I’m starving, constantly. I’m poor, and I’m isolated. All it would take to remedy all of these issues is to spill some more blood, and ruin a few more lives.

You, I can still smell the shame on you from killing those people. I can smell the fear of what you could become.

And Leo? That guy is a strange duck just based on the fact he was willing to have a conversation with us. He can hide it behind all of the Archie Bunker type attitude he wants, but he’s one of the good ones.

In our world, it’s hard to be strange, ironic as that may be. The society behind society runs on rules, ritual and tradition.

Reaching out for help isn’t going to be as simply as you think. “ Kaz admits.

“What am I not getting?” I ask, impatiently.

“You are an experiment, Leo is a soldier, I’m an oddity.

The only person I can think of that can help, is a demon. “ Kaz says, sitting in a somehow clean leather office chair.

“Demon, as in, pitch forks and red skin? From the bible? How’s something like that possible?” I question, not quite buying it.

“No pitch fork, no red skin, think more, biblically accurate.

And as to how that book can hold weight in a world like ours.

If something is powerful enough to fit the description, and chooses to make the effort to, I don’t think it matters much.

I don’t know if there is a god, Abrahamic or no, but I’ve met my share of demons.” Is Kaz’ answer.

A few phone calls later and we find ourselves standing at the door of what looks to be an active meat packing plant. Pretty much the opposite of the rust flecked, ominous structure you’d guess. Well lit, active, and with security manning several guard stations.

Kaz carries me, sneaking to the complex in the middle of the night seems old hat to him.

The young, dark skinned man working the booth doesn’t so much as blink when he sees the collection of horrifying features Kaz calls a face.

“First floor, back corner, east side.

Boss wanted me to say, ‘ If you’re not early, you’re late’. “ the man says, almost bored.

I don’t like the nervous body language I see in Kaz.

A metal gate that’s pristine looking but squeaks open none the less lets us through.

Have you ever wandered into the wrong part of a town you’ve never been to?

I’m not talking somewhere you’ve been mugged, or had a bad experience, but one of those places where bad things happen so deep in the shadows, they stay there.

It has a feeling, doesn’t it? A sense of violence and danger beyond any obvious signs.

That’s what this place feels like. And all those little bits and bobs of the arcane that make me more than a garage sale find thrum with the evil energy permeating it.

A massive metal roll-up gate takes it’s time to reveal what I’ll start by describing as something ‘man-shaped’.

It has a grin, the kind of hateful rictus mask that seems to escape the edges of it’s malformed skull.

It’s eyes are sunken back, scrutinizing from deep within black pits, the yellowed, dry flesh around them cracked and bleeding, as if trying to contain something within.

Black claw like nails, corpse pallor skin, the thing stood nearly eight feet tall. A parody of the human form.

For a second I look at it with my new eye.

The hardware has no problem discerning what’s in front of me, it transmits the signal to a mind that’s still nothing more than meat.

Burning pain, a nonsensical image that sits at the front of my brain like a fresh brand.

And the knowledge. The horrible, fucking knowledge.

Seeing what it was, truly, even for the briefest of moments, it’s not something you shake off.

When I go back to looking at the lumpen, terrifying thing in front of me, I understand, it’s nothing more than the demon’s way of communicating with us. A minor, almost vestigial appendage that lets us beg at it’s feet.

“Kaz, you old motherfucker, it’s been a while! And you brought me a gift?” The thing says pointing to me. It’s deep voice has a command that goes beyond charisma.

“No Pi, this is a friend of mine, I didn’t know how…cultured your workers may have been So I played things subtle. “ Kaz responds, letting go of me.

“Well come in, have a look at the new digs. Lets see what I can do for you. “ Pi says, motioning us inside the massive building.

At first things look normal, just about what you’d expect from a meat packing plant. But the second that roll down door shut, it was like a switch flipped.

Suddenly all around me are cultists and victims. Dozens of people, strapped down or hanging from bloody hooks. Cultists cutting, burning, chanting and flensing. One massive ongoing ritual.

The floor is covered in a quarter inch of blood, hunched backed cultist mill about mopping and attempting to minimize the offal and fluids on the floor.

The cultists give pi a wide berth, and seem not show no surprise at either Kaz or myself.

Screams ring out as pi walks us back to a modular office.

The carpet is pure white, and as pi opens the door, two cults scramble to place thick disposable towels under our feet as we enter. Once we’re seated , the cultists stand, motionless at the side of the room. Masked and seeming more like furniture than people.

It takes me a moment to notice the bound, shirtless, pale man in the corner. There is terror in his eyes, and fresh wounds over his malnourished body. His face has jester’s makeup either branded or newly tattooed on it.

“ Who’s that?” Kaz says casually , pointing to the bound man.

“That’s the meat puppet the last scraps of Jack the ripper escaped into.

Been a hell of a time trying to get ol’ Demitreious out, but we’re making progress. “ Pi explains as the man tries to scream and plead through a blood stained ball-gag.

“I thought he was dead ten times over. Crafty old lich. “ Kaz replies.

“Me too, looking to get some favors out of this situation.

Speaking of favors, what do you need Kaz?” Pi asks.

I can tell something about the demon’s tone is making Kaz nervous.

“Nothing I’m not ready and willing to pay for in full. “ Kaz says.

“Right, let no one say you don’t pay your debts.

But, I have to ask. What’s the nature of the request? Is this another one of your pet projects?” Pi’s tone gets somewhat sinister as he talks.

“I’ve crossed paths with a malignant that is not receptive to reason. I need someone who can make a stronger case than myself. “ Kaz replies, dodging the question.

Pi takes a long inhale, tension builds.

“Kaz, I like you. We’ve known each other for over a century.

The thing is, when you come to me, it’s never for things that will advance the cause. You never want to expand your domain, or cause chaos.

Kaz, my friend, you’ve gotten boring.

We are here for very specific reasons, and the more I think of it, the more it offends me you want to pretend that isn’t the case. “ Pi is locking eyes with Kaz as he talks.

“Pi, what’s all this? You know me, you know I don’t want to have to be butting heads with the likes of you to try and gain position. “ Kaz sounds nervous.

“With what’s coming down the pipe, I don’t know if attitudes like yours will be very helpful.

Walk with me Kaz.” Pi stands as he says this.

As I hop from the white leather chair to join him and Kaz, a single drop of blood falls from my shoe, hitting the plush, pristine carpet.

A cultist tries to dive and catch it, towel held out, but fails. He’s shaking and frozen with fear as pi looks over.

To call what that masked person received a beating would be vastly understating things. Bones break under an inhuman torrent of blows, sick joy spreads across Pi’s face as he leaves the cultists damned to a slow brutal death on the floor.

Pi leads us out a door in the back of an office, and we are standing in a long, wide hallway. On either side of us cells. Thick iron bars, some etched with runes and shifting symbols cage in things more, and less than human. All hurt, screaming, and trying their best to escape.

“On the horizon is a war. One that will make the battle between heaven and hell look like a bar-fight.

Those that survive will be the strong, those with power, and cunning.

And they will need soldiers. Willing or no.

This will be my army. “ Pi says, gesturing to those in the cages around him.

“Pi, if I’ve done anything to offend, or came at the wrong time, I apologize.

I’ll be on my way, I didn’t mean to impose. “ Kaz says, trying to stop what feels like a very bad situation.

Pi stops and stands silent.

“Kaz, you don’t get to back out of a deal. You know this.

You get your favor, but I want more than just compensation. I want to see that you still have that drive, that spark. I want to see that you are someone who deserves to survive.

Give me the Pipe-Bomb. Haven’t been able to acquire one of my own, and I have a feeling the cultists could figure out a lot if they could pull it apart. “ As Pi makes his demand my heart sinks. If I could sweat I’d be soaked.

Kaz attempts to laugh things off.

“He’s more than just a construct. The creator left a lot of personality in there and he’s a friend of mine.

I can have you a handful of humans in an hour or so.” Kaz offers.

“You know who’s my friend Kaz?

The Bishop.

And you coming to me asking me to intervene puts me in an awkward situation.

I don’t need more meat, I have more than I know what to do with. I need your little friend. Those are my terms. “ Pi turns around, the screams from the cells echo, providing hellish background music.

“Kaz, I’ve got this. Out of the two of us you are more likely to pull things off.

And to be honest, maybe I’m sick of having a 90’s slacker mind, and 90’s slasher urges. “ I mean what I say, but it doesn’t make the terror any less.

“The Pipe-Bomb gets it.

Now, what do you need Kaz?” Pi asks.

Kaz looks to me, guilt and shame on his face. He then turns toward Pi.

“The bishop is planning something large. And he has a friend of mine. I need the man saved, and the malignant dissuaded from his current course of action. “ Kaz is monotone, defeated.

Pi begins to laugh, an otherworldly sound that full of hate, that comes from every angle. When he stops, his voice is thick with rage and evil.

“Didn’t believe it when I heard. Thought there had to me more to things.

But I just wanted to hear it with my own ears, or as close as I can get anyway.

You sad, broken failure. You twisted little runt. You had so much potential, so much power and promise.

But it’s wasted.

You come here, and ask of me, on the dawn of war, to provide aid and succor to the line of those that have hunted us since time began.

You’re dead to me Kaz”

The door to the cell to our left slowly creeks open of it’s own accord.

“Don’t make me ask.” Pi says, by way of demand.

We don’t. The sense of rising evil and power all around us, is plenty of incentive to not argue.

Other than the cultists, we see individuals in black security gear. All of them seem slightly off, we quickly realize it’s the guards. All tainted by Pi’s essence.

Within an hour a gurney is wheeled in by two guards and a three eyed humanoid in medical garb.

You’d think being resilient to harm would be nothing but a boon. I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want to be able to shrug off a shotgun blast.

One thing I bet none of you have thought about is just how much worse this could make torture.

They rip, burn and tear at Kaz form. The surgeon is an artist of pain. Using equipment that ranges from surgical to industrial to decimate my friend.

Kaz screams, loud enough to rattle the bars of the cell. The noise, in any other context would be blood curdling, the type of hollow bellow that would make grown men afraid of the dark. But here, all it means is pain and betrayal.

When they finish, they toss Kaz broken form on the ground like so much garbage. He’s alive, but one hand isn’t coming back, and his body is hastily knitting together enough broken bones to make him sound like a thawing pond.

Snickering, the guards leave us in the gore stained cell.

I can’t focus as conflicting thoughts, urges, and feelings hit me all at once. I’m enthralled by the violence in the warehouse, scared witless by the situation we’re in , and on some small, deep buried level, wanting to pledge myself to Pi.

At first I think the vibrating is my heart. That the stress of everything has finally gotten to me, and I’m going to die, less like Chucky and more like Fred Sanford.

But I don’t have a heart. Literally anyway.

As the fear and panic begins to dull, I realize it’s my phone.

“And much to my surprise the demon betrays you. “ I hear jp say after I’ve accepted the call, “ You’ve got some surveillance equipment in you little fella, outdated enough I’ve been able to keep an eye on you guys.

Figured you’d try and stab Leo in the back eventually. “

“Can you bust us out?” I text back.

“ Oh fuck no. First off, I’m not risking my life for the likes of you two.

And more to the point, the Greysmiths aren’t soldiers. We have connections, knowledge, we make things, but I’m not Leo.

Did you see a tall, thin guy, maybe in clown makeup?” JP asks.

“Yeah, but he didn’t look in any state to fight. “ I reply.

JP snickers.

“He wouldn’t, your buddy has been putting him through the ringer. But that Pagliacci looking fuck is sitting on more power than he knows.

I’ve got a man on the inside that can get him free, and give him a box of some of my best party favors.

He should be able to create enough of a shitstorm for you two to sneak out, and the three of us to get Leo.

Once he does though, your buddy, he’s going to go scorched earth. That place is going to turn into Lovecraft’s wet dream.

Beyond that, those people, the victims. Half will probably snap, and the rest, well, they won’t see you as any different than any of the other evil shit there.

What I’m saying is, even if you two make it, you’ll be getting your hands dirty. “ As JP says his plan, Kaz tries to sit, his hips are still fractured, and falls, screaming.

“Doesn’t seem like there is much of a choice. “ I text back.

“Trust me, if there was, I wouldn’t your ass out of the fire. “ JP replies.

And that’s where I am, a dying phone, a possibly dying friend, and my only hope is some sketchy promises from a man that claims to be Q but seems more Q anon.

As always, if anyone has any ideas, let me know. So far listening to those around me, hasn’t exactly got me in the best situation.

I don’t tell this story often. Mostly because I hate reliving it, but also because when you try to explain something like this, people smile politely, maybe even laugh it off. But I know what I heard. I know what I saw. And God help me, I know what’s still out there.

It was late October when Eric and I decided to go camping in Blackwood Forest. We wanted to get away - no phones, no city noise, just miles of trees and sky. Blackwood had a reputation for being remote, untouched, and… other things, though we didn’t pay much attention to the stories. Stories about strange disappearances and “voices” were just campfire fodder, or so we thought.

The hike in was uneventful, beautiful even. The trail wove between towering pines that stretched like ancient sentinels toward the sky, their branches forming a canopy that muted the sunlight. By the time we found a clearing and pitched our tent, the world was steeped in twilight. Everything was bathed in this eerie orange glow, the kind that makes shadows seem longer and darker than they should be.

We built a fire, drank a couple of beers, and talked about nothing important. It was quiet, too quiet. At first, we chalked it up to the forest being remote, but looking back, the stillness was unnatural. No rustling leaves, no distant owl calls. Just the crackle of the fire and our own voices.

As night fell, the silence seemed to thicken, pressing in around us. It was the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every sound, your breathing, the occasional pop of a log in the fire. When we crawled into the tent, I remember saying something like, “At least it’s peaceful,” but Eric didn’t respond. He just stared into the trees, his face pale as snow. I should’ve asked him what he saw.

I woke up hours later to the sound of footsteps.

At first, I thought it was Eric moving around, but then I realized the steps were outside the tent. Slow, deliberate, crunching through the dead leaves. They circled us, pausing every so often before resuming their measured pace. I lay there, my pulse pounding in my ears, trying to convince myself it was just an animal. A deer, maybe. A fox.

But then the steps stopped.

And something spoke.

“Jonathan… Eric…”

It wasn’t loud, but the voice carried, slipping through the tent walls like smoke. It was soft and sing-song, the way you might call to a child who was lost.

I froze. My mouth went dry, and for a second I convinced myself I’d imagined it. But then Eric whispered, “You heard that, right?”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me in the dark.

The voice came again, closer this time. “Come out and plaaay…”

There was a lilting quality to the words, like it was enjoying itself. I wanted to move, to grab the flashlight, to do something, but my body wouldn’t obey. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming that whatever was out there wasn’t human.

Then the scratching started.

It was faint at first, a soft drag of nails against fabric. It started low, near the base of the tent, then traveled upward, slow and deliberate. The sound was maddening, like whoever, or whatever, it was, wanted us to know it was there.

Eric grabbed the flashlight, his hand trembling so badly the beam wobbled across the tent walls. “We’ve got to go,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“No,” I hissed back. “We don’t know what’s out there.”

He didn’t answer. He just unzipped the tent in one frantic motion, and before I could stop him, he was gone, the flashlight bouncing as he bolted into the darkness.

For a second, I was paralyzed, caught between the safety of the tent and the terror of what lay outside. But then something slammed into the tent, hard enough to knock me sideways. The walls caved inward, and I scrambled out, my breath hitching as I hit the cold night air.

The forest was a maze of shadows. The moon barely pierced the canopy, and the trees looked… wrong. Their trunks were gnarled, their branches twisted into unnatural shapes, like skeletal hands reaching toward me. The air smelled sharp, metallic, like blood.

I heard Eric screaming.

It wasn’t a normal scream. It was guttural, broken, the sound of someone being ripped apart. It came from deeper in the woods, and every instinct told me to run the other way. But I couldn’t leave him. I took a step, then another, my legs shaking so badly I thought they’d give out.

“Eric?” I called, my voice barely more than a whisper.

The laughter started then.

It was faint at first, a low chuckle that seemed to come from everywhere. But it grew louder, more distorted, until it was a chorus of voices, overlapping and echoing. Some were high-pitched and manic, others low and guttural, like growls.

I turned, and that’s when I saw it.

At first, it was just a shape in the darkness - a pale smudge against the black. But as it stepped into the moonlight, I felt my stomach drop. Its limbs were too long, its skin stretched tight over jagged bones. Its face was… wrong. The eyes were hollow pits, and its mouth was an impossible grin, the teeth jagged and uneven.

It tilted its head, watching me. Then it spoke.

“Jonathan,” it whispered, and the sound was like needles sliding into my brain. “Don’t you want to see your friend?”

I didn’t think. I just ran.

The forest seemed to shift around me, the trees bending and twisting, their roots clawing at my feet. The laughter followed, growing louder, closer, until it was in my ears, in my head. I didn’t look back, not even when I heard the heavy crunch of footsteps right behind me.

When I burst onto the trail and saw my car, I nearly sobbed. I threw myself inside, locking the doors and jamming the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and I floored it, gravel spraying as I sped down the dirt road.

But as I glanced in the rearview mirror, I saw it.

Standing at the edge of the forest, its head tilted, its grin stretched impossibly wide. And as the car disappeared into the distance, I swear I saw it wave.

They never found Eric. The search teams said there was no sign of him, no sign of us ever being there. But sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet, I hear it again - soft and teasing, just outside my window.

Journal of Avery MacKenzie

July 7th, 2024

​

Nobody’s talking about it.

​

Nobody even seems to be thinking about it… we just woke up this morning, got back in the car and started driving again like nothing happened and everything just seems normal.

​

We didn’t make as many stops today, but I think that has less to do with the mood and more to do with the fact that the Project starts tomorrow. There’s not as much time to stop and bum around whatever small town we’re passing through. Today we’re on a deadline. We stopped for breakfast later than normal. We drove about an hour down the highway before finding some small diner to pop into, but aside from that, there wasn’t any indication anything was different among us.

​

Maybe there’s just nothing to talk about? But that doesn’t feel right?

​

I didn’t sleep last night but nobody else looks tired.

​

Keelan won’t shut up, as usual. If anything he's even louder than normal this morning. I'm not sure if he's on edge or if I’m just less willing to put up with him than usual. He spent most of our breakfast stop teasing Cody for stuffing his face. Cody just wiped the biscuits and gravy from his beard before he insisted that since he’s probably never going to come this way again, he might as well see what the restaurants we visit have to offer.

​

While they had their stupid little back and forth, Leo and Adam hovered over Leo’s phone and talked about the route we were going to take. What stops we’d make and how long we could stay. Leo kept bringing up some military history museum we’d be passing as if he was quietly begging Adam to let us stop by it. Adam didn’t really give him much of a reaction, but I took that as a good thing. If I have to watch Leo gush over another scale size replica of some battle nobody cares about, I might actually turn myself into a casualty.

​

Matthew didn’t really talk. He just kept to himself and nursed the single glass of ice water he’d ordered… but that was normal for him. Matthew isn’t usually the sort who has a lot to say and he’s still on this weird health kick, where he’s only supposed to eat things he’s made himself, so there wasn’t much to read in to with him.

​

Everyone was just… normal…

​

Like nothing even happened.

​

We should make it to the Training Compound today.

​

I feel like I should be more excited for this… everyone else is, but I don’t really feel anything. I’m trying to fake it and I think most of them are buying it. Cody, Matthew and Leo definitely are. I think Keelan is too… but Adam? Adam has always been hard to read. You just look into his eyes, and there’s simultaneously nothing and everything in there. It’s like staring at a brick wall. He’s always been like that, ever since we were kids.

​

I’m probably overthinking it. Adam has been busy driving. He probably hasn’t even thought about me… I’m not even sure he’s even taken a moment to even think about what happened last night.

​

Is it weird that nobody’s talking about it? After what happened, we should be…

We-

​

No… I’m not going to bring it up. Nobody’s talking about it. I’m not sure if they just don’t care, or if it really just isn’t worth discussing with them. Maybe I’m being weird by dwelling on it? I mean, what happened, happened. Nobody else seems worried. Maybe I’m just being too sensitive? I don’t know…

​

I feel… sick.

​

Maybe it’s because I’m trying to write in the car? But I need to do something to stop my mind from racing. Keelan keeps talking, and his voice is starting to give me a headache. I don’t know how everyone else puts up with him… although I am looking forward to watching the Drill Instructor tear him a new one once we get to the Training Compound. He’s gonna be in for one hell of a rude awakening. I think that’s the only thing I’m looking forward to this month.

​

From the way Adam described this whole thing, it’s going to be miserable. I think the entire point is that it’s going to be miserable because: ‘Adversity breeds excellence.’ At least that’s what he keeps saying.

“When you’re pushed to your absolute limit, it brings out your true self.” He explained to me. “You finally see who you really are, broken down to your rawest form and from there, you can be built back up. Reforge yourself into a stronger, better man with a deeper connection to his true self, a deeper connection to those who have been through the same trials he has and a deeper connection to God.”

The ultimate bonding experience.

​

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be going, but Adam kept insisting. He kept saying that it was important for us all to be there… and once he got the other guys on board, it was harder and harder to say no.

​

Leo especially got into it… he kept telling me: ‘God was calling us here’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I kept telling them all that I wasn’t interested… but Adam was adamant. He said he’d already reserved a spot for me and he’d cover the cost of admission, that he wanted to do this together and eventually… I caved.

​

I really am a sucker, aren’t I?

​

I don’t actually know why I caved in the end. Maybe because I figured it was easier than fighting it? Ironically it was easier to just suck it up and go along with it. I tried to find some sort of list of activities online, just to see if I could figure out what I was getting into, but they don’t post that stuff on the website. I guess they don’t want to scare their prospective customers off. I was able to find a few videos online they’d posted… and this stuff looks intense. Ten mile jogs, ice baths, survivalism training.

​

It’s all supposed to: ‘Grow you into a better Man’ but there’s gotta be a way to grow as a person without this stuff, right? I didn’t mention to Adam that I’d looked up the program… and I didn’t tell him about how many people online had said the whole thing was probably just a grift. I didn’t think he’d care, and I got the feeling he’d see all the stuff I was concerned about as a benefit. Adversity breeds excellence’ after all.

​

I guess it’s just one month… so there’s a silver lining. I’m pretty sure I can survive a month of this, and when it’s done, I can go back home and put all of this behind me like a bad dream. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it won’t actually be so bad.

​

God, I hope so.

​

​

July 10th, 2024

​

This is exactly as bad as they promised it would be. They said Project Alpha was going to be brutal and they didn’t lie.

​

I wanted to write in my journal every night, but I legitimately haven’t even had the energy to do that, lately. They’re working us to the bone and I’ve only barely got enough energy to write anything down tonight.

​

When we got in a few nights ago, on the 7th, just like we’d planned. Everything seemed pretty tame at first. Almost underwhelming. I’d been expecting something a little more impressive from the Training Compound but there really isn’t much to it. Looks like this place used to be an old summer camp. There’s a wooden sign out front that looks like it used to read something else. They painted it black and wrote Project Alpha Training Compound over it, but you can still see the raised text where the original name of this place was. The main area of the Training Compound looks pretty run down too. There’s a few cabins and a mess hall, all of which have seen better days. Someone’s thrown a fresh coat of paint on them, but they only covered up the wear and tear, they didn’t actually fix anything.

​

When we arrived, we parked our car and headed into the main office to get ourselves signed in. The guy at the front desk was apparently one of the instructors (or I guess Lieutenants, is what they’re supposed to be called) and he introduced himself as Chad Tyson.

​

Lieutenant Chad sorta looked exactly the way you’d expect someone named Chad Tyson to look, which is to say - the poster child for steroid abuse. He seemed nice enough at the time though, so I didn’t think too much on it. He signed us in, showed us to our cabin and told us to get a good sleep since we’d be starting bright and early the next morning.

​

The cabin was kinda cramped. There wasn’t really anything else inside them but the beds, which were small and hard with cheap paper thin sheets and cheap pillows that might as well have not even been there. Some of the other guys wanted to socialize a bit, and I remember Keelan talking about a bonfire, but I didn’t go. I told the guys I wanted to turn in early since Instructor Tyson had warned us about the early start, but Adam was the only one who agreed with me.

​

I didn’t talk to him about what had happened… actually, Adam and I only barely spoke before we turned in for the night. I didn’t really know if I was going to get much sleep considering how bad the bed was and how much my mind was racing, but I was already tired from not really having slept the night before, so I guess the exhaustion did me a few favors there. I didn’t really know what I’d be waking up to, so I am glad I got some sleep… turned out I was gonna need it.

​

***

​

At 4 AM, the Lieutenants started pounding on our doors and sounding bullhorns to get us out of bed. Once we were out of the cabin and lined up along with the residents of the other two cabins, they marched us into the mess hall for orientation.

​

There was a man waiting for us in the Mess Hall. His hair was cropped short, being just a little longer than a buzz cut, although didn’t really distract from the fact that he was balding. He had a heavy scruff that I wouldn’t have called a full beard, and very intense eyes. I’d seen him in the videos I’d watched before we came, so he really didn’t need any introduction, but he introduced himself all the same.

​

“Good morning gentlemen…” He spoke with a clear yet firm voice, as if every word he spoke was a command. “I hope you had yourselves a nice sleep last night, because today is the last fucking day for the rest of the next month that you’re gonna wake up without pain. In the coming weeks, each and every one of you will become intimately familiar with pain. You will be in pain every hour of every day from the moment you leave this mess hall until the moment you graduate the Project. Pain is the greatest teacher you will ever have, because pain shows you who you truly are. It is through pain that you see where your limits lie and it is through pain that you break them and build yourself up into who you need to become! My job is to keep you in constant fucking pain, so if you are not in fucking pain than I’m not doing my fucking job. My name is Hunter Marquadt, but you will address me as Sergeant Hunter. Is that clear?”

​

“Yes Sergeant Hunter!” Came the reply.

​

“Good. Now… you are all here because you made a choice. You’ve chosen to unlock your truest, fullest potential. I commend you for that and I am here to guide you into unlocking your potential. But I can not… CAN NOT just give it to you. You need to take it for yourself. You need to earn it and I will make you earn it. Through blood, and sweat and tears, you will earn it. I am going to fucking rip you apart… and you are going to fucking thank me for it when all of this is said and done.”

​

I’d heard a lot of this opening speech before. It’d been part of some of the videos I’d seen online… I got the feeling I wasn’t the only one who’d heard it before either. But while most of the other guys were hanging on to his every word like they were meeting a celebrity in person, I couldn’t help but think that the whole thing felt a little canned. Like he was just going through the motions… Sergeant Hunter wasn’t nearly as impressive in person as he seemed in those videos. There, he’d come across as this no nonsense drill instructor, carrying himself with the energy of an angry Pit Bull. In person he felt more like a grumpy substitute teacher who seemed almost comically small beside Lieutenant Chad and the other Lieutenant in the room, whos name tag identified him as ‘David’

​

As Sergeant Hunter's inaugural speech ended, I noticed Lieutenant Chad and David bringing out trolleys with food on them, plates with something that looked like muffins made out of thanksgiving turkey stuffing. I guess Sergeant Hunter was expecting the entire room to be wondering: ‘What the hell is that?’ because he answered the question before anyone even asked.

​

“Gentlemen, say hello to your new favorite meal. It ain’t pretty, it won’t taste good… but it’ll give you the energy you’ll need for the days ahead. This is the only food you’re guaranteed here. You’ll get it for breakfast and you’ll get it for lunch. Dinner? Well… Dinner is something you earn. If you soldier on and you fight through your trials, then you’ll eat like a man. But if you don’t, then you don’t fucking eat. That’s life, gentlemen. There are no fucking handouts and the sooner you learn that, the better. And you’d best be fucking thankful for what you do get. Sit… and I wanna hear you give thanks…”

​

On cue, everyone else sat. The plates were handed out, but nobody ate. Not until Sergeant Hunter spoke again.

“Lord… may this food restore our strength. May it fuel our bodies and our minds so that we can strengthen our souls so they may better serve you, oh Lord. In defense of your faith, in protection of our holy tradition and in our defeat of the wicked. Deus vult.”

“Deus vult…” Came the murmured reply before we were finally allowed to eat.

​

The food was strange… the texture was similar to meatloaf, although it felt more like bread than meat. It was crumbly, dry and mostly flavorless.

“Nutraloaf,” I heard Leo say. “Used to be popular in prisons. Never thought I’d ever actually try it.”

“Didn’t they ban this stuff from prisons?” Keelan asked. “I heard eating it was considered cruel and unusual punishment…”

“I mean it's not bad,” Cody said. He'd already mostly finished his and had a few crumbs stuck in his beard.

​

“Given what we’re here for… it’s not a bad pick,” Leo said. “You ever hear of John Harvey Kellogg?”

“Like the cereal?” Keelan asked.

“Exactly. He believed in the importance of a bland diet to help minimize sinful urges. His teachings were actually fascinating, if you actually take the time to read them.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re just a really boring person?” Keelan asked.

​

“The entire thesis of the program is that adversity breeds excellence,” Adam said. “In dire situations… one doesn't usually have a lot of luxuries.” He took a bite of his loaf, chewing it thoughtfully before swallowing. “If this is the worst meal you'll ever have, then anything else will taste like prime rib.”

​

After our breakfast of nutraloaf and warm water, we were led back to our cabin where Lieutenant Chad went through a more private orientation.

“Gentlemen, during the next month you will live and die by routine. Day in and day out, you will follow the schedule I’ve set for you. At 4AM, you’re out of bed and by 4:30 you will be in the mess hall for breakfast. By 5, we will return here for roll call. Understood?”

“Yes sir…” The words fell out of my mouth without much thought behind them.

​

“That’s what I like to hear… now, as part of your training under me, you will follow my command to the letter. Outside of your downtime in the evenings, you do not eat unless I tell you to eat. You do not drink unless I tell you, you can drink. You do not take a shit unless you have my formal permission to go and take a shit. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir…”

​

“Good. You will dress in uniform during your time here. You will have three sets which you are responsible for. You do not get another one. I don’t care if you don’t have a single other scrap of clothing to wear. I’ll make you spend the rest of the month buck fucking naked if I have to. You are not entitled to jack fucking shit while you are here, clear?”

“Yes sir.”

​

“That’s right. Now when I call your names, you step forward, you take your uniforms and you go get changed. Bring your clothes and your personals back out here when you’re done.”

Lieutenant Chad looked down at his clipboard before calling the first name:

​

“Matthew Brisbois…”

Matthew dutifully went up to take his uniforms. Lieutenant Chad gave him an approving nod before he disappeared into the cabin.

​

“Keelan Galloway.”

The look he gave Keelan wasn’t quite as approving… I wondered if he could just sense how much of an asshole he was. Keelan admittedly does have one of those faces.

​

“Cody Gillard.”

As Cody took his uniforms, Lieutenant Chad huffed at him.

“I’m gonna be on your ass, big boy…” He said, before calling my name. “Avery MacKenzie?”

I quietly took my uniforms. Lieutenant Chad didn’t even look at me as he handed them to me, and I dutifully went to the cabin to change as he called the last two names.

“Leo Stone… Adam Yachimec…”

​

The uniforms weren’t really anything special. Gym shorts and plain shirts. We all got changed in relative silence and when we were done, we brought our belongings out to Lieutenant Chad and stored them away in a set of plastic bins.

“Cell phones go in the bins too, ladies. Right now, you’re undergoing a transformative process. You can not afford a distraction like your fucking cell phone. Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping them safe for you and if you absolutely need your phone for any reason, you come and talk to me, alright?”

​

I watched as Adam, Leo, Cody and Matthew calmly put their phones in the bin… Keelan on the other hand didn’t. I don’t think Lieutenant Chad noticed, but I saw him slip it into his pocket. Normally I wouldn’t have been inclined to mimic Keelan… but it seemed like a good idea. So while Lieutenant Chad was speaking, I slipped my phone into my pocket as well.

​

The bins were closed up Lieutenant Chad had us write our names on them and carry them down to the office while he briefed us on what was coming next.

“Now, the Project begins with The Gauntlet. This is the first step on your journey. This first step is meant to break you. Is that clear?”

After some quiet replies of “Yes Lieutenant,” he continued.

​

“Our days are gonna start with a jog. So once you’ve got your shit stored away, make sure your shoes are fucking laced up and be ready to run, cuz now that we’re done with the fucking orientation, I’m gonna send you pansy fucks straight to hell.”

​

***

​

When Lieutenant Chad had said: ‘a jog’ I didn’t expect it to be ten miles… although all things considered, I had been expecting a lot worse when he’d promised to send us to hell. The jog was rough, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. In fact, most of our group did pretty well during the jog.

​

Most of us.

​

I noticed Cody lagging behind after the first half hour. His shirt was already drenched in sweat and his breathing came in slow, heavy pants. Cody admittedly was a fairly big guy already and although he was strong, he really didn’t have the stamina for this sort of thing… and Instructor Chad tore him a brand new asshole for that.

​

Once he’d noticed Cody had fallen behind, he was on top of him, walking beside him as he struggled to catch up and screaming at him.

“COME ON! MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS, FAT BOY! YOU WANT ME TO DANGLE A FUCKING TURKEY LEG ON A STICK YOU FUCKING TUB OF LARD? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? IT’S BEEN HALF A FUCKING HOUR, IT’S JUST A JOG!”

​

I tried to tune it out. This was what I’d expected… this was what they’d shown off in their videos. This was part of the experience. I didn’t say anything… I didn’t want Lieutenant Chad yelling at me, I just tried to keep my head down and keep running.

​

After the jog was a ten minute water break… water wasn’t allowed during the jog, followed by an obstacle course, not too different from what you might see in the training montage from an army movie.

​

Lunch was around 1 in the afternoon and consisted of another helping of nutraloaf… and as soon as we were done, it was right back to training.

​

I guess it wasn’t all miserable. They pitted us against the guys in the other two cabins in a few games. Tug of war and rugby, to name a couple. Those were almost fun and when dinner rolled around at 7, I was happy to see they weren’t bringing us another serving of Nutraloaf. For dinner, we got salisbury steak. It wasn’t great and tasted like a TV dinner… but compared to the nutraloaf, it might as well have been fine dining.

As we wolfed it down though… I noticed Cody sitting in front of an empty space. There’d been no meal brought out for him. I saw him glancing over at Lieutenant Chad, who glared right back at him.

“You pick up the fucking slack, lard ass and maybe you’ll get to eat tomorrow.”

​

Cody didn’t reply. He just watched as Lieutenant Chad walked off.

“Here…” I said, moving to cut my steak in half. “You can-”

“Don’t,” Adam said coolly. I looked up at him.

“He didn’t earn it today,”

“It’s just the first day…” I started, but Adam cut me off.

“He didn’t earn it.”

​

He looked over at Cody, who seemed to shrink back from him a little.

“Those are the rules, gentlemen… you earn your dinner or you don’t eat. That’s life.” Adams' eyes shifted to me next. “We should not be obligated to share what we rightfully earned. Now eat your dinner, Avery.”

I took one last look at Cody, before quietly finishing up my steak.

​

***

​

We should have had leisure time after dinner… but as soon as the plates were cleared away, I noticed Sergeant Hunter taking his place at the front of the mess hall.

“Alright gentlemen… Can I have your attention for a moment?”

The room fell silent.

“That was a solid first day today… most of you should be proud. Most of you. And normally, this is the part of the day where I’d send you to your well earned rest. But because this is our first day… there is one more activity I have for us. Just one. So… bear with me for just a little bit longer. Let’s go outside.”

​

He beckoned us to follow him, and in unison we got up and marched outside. We let him lead us to a dirt field a few meters behind the mess hall. This place looked barren compared to everywhere else we’d seen so far. There was no grass underfoot. Just dry, somewhat loose dirt… and shovels.

“You know, we never really think about how good we have it until it’s gone. We never see the value in our lives until they’re over… and make no mistake. Death is the one thing certain in this world. It’s the great equalizer. The one thing that unifies us all. Every single person at this Training Compound is going to die… and today, you’re all going to face that inevitable death. Grab a fucking shovel…”

​

And that’s what we did.

We each grabbed a shovel before spreading out to find a spot.

“Tonight you will not sleep in a bed… no. Tonight, you will sleep in the ground. Tonight you are going to dig your own grave. Tonight you are going to reflect on your death… you are going to reflect on who you are, who you want to become… and tomorrow morning when you climb out of that grave, you will leave your old self behind in it and you will build yourself anew.”

​

As Sergeant Hunter gave his sermon, I watched as my friends dug their graves close together. Adam in the middle, the others spread out around.

​

They didn’t seem to notice when I picked a spot a little closer to the woods and started to dig there. It was hard work… but the soil was relatively loose and I didn’t need to dig that deep. I just needed a hole deep enough for me to comfortably lie in. The stars shone above me as I lay in my grave, listening to Sergeant Hunter’s monologue about learning from death… but I tuned him out.

​

After a while, he and the Lieutenants left us to sleep… and I was honestly happy that I didn’t need to hear his voice anymore. I don’t really know if it’d be fair to say that I reflected on my life… I don’t really remember what I was thinking about. I just remember the exhaustion… I remember trying to sleep… and then I remember waking up, stiff, sore and covered in dirt.

​

***

​

The next day followed a similar routine.

​

At 4 AM, the Lieutenants came to wake us from our graves.

​

After a rushed, cold shower we were treated to a breakfast of nutraloaf and another bizarre little prayer from Sergeant Hunter.

​

Then came another jog… another run around the obstacle course, a game of tug of war, a few rounds of rugby. The ice baths were new, but what’s there really to say about them aside from how fucking miserable they were? Cody didn’t get dinner again… this time I didn’t offer him any of mine.

​

There was no grave digging the next night. Just a bonfire with some of the guys from the other two cabins, but I really couldn’t have given less of a damn about any of them. I did notice Keelan sneaking off to the cabin, and thought he was going to turn in early… but judging by the moaning and crappy music I heard when I decided to call it a night myself, he was up to something else.

I hadn’t questioned why he’d kept his phone before… and to be honest I would’ve died a happy man if I’d never found out the answer. I decided to socialize for another half hour instead of interrupting him. It was less awkward.

​

Today was more of the same.

​

4 AM start.

​

Nutraloaf.

​

A jog where Cody got screamed at the entire time.

​

Obstacle course, swimming, ice baths, tug of war, rugby. They added in fight training today, which was a bit of a slog. They paired me up with a guy from one of the other cabins. A guy just a little bit bigger than me who went by Josh. He tossed me around the ring for a few minutes before pinning me. Lieutenant Chad yelled at me for that, but I still got dinner. Cody on the other hand didn’t for the third night in a row. He tried to ask if he could share some of my pasta, but Adam shut him down before he could say much.

​

I wouldn’t have minded sharing… the pasta wasn’t much better than the nutraloaf. There was another bonfire tonight, but I don’t really want to get involved. Keelan ‘turned in’ for the night early again, so I figured I’d find a quiet place to sit and write for a bit while I wait him out.

​

He’s probably done by now… I think I’ll walk by the cabin and check.

​

​

July 12th, 2024

​

Is this supposed to feel routine? It’s not painless… my body is so fucking sore from the jogs and games… but it’s starting to feel routine. Maybe that’s the point?

​

I can’t believe I’ve almost been here for an entire week now. Every day just sort of bleeds into the next. I didn’t even bother writing anything last night because there wasn’t really anything to write. They made us pull a truck with some rope. That’s the highlight of my day summed up in a single sentence.

​

Today was more interesting at least. Today they started weapons training. We spent most of the afternoon learning how to shoot. Sergeant Hunter made this whole speech about how: “A man is by nature a warrior. He will not look for battle, but he will be ready for it when it comes.”

​

I noticed everyone else hanging on to his every word, listening intently to him as if he was revealing the secrets of the Universe… but I don’t really see why. Everything about him feels so… fake. From the low, commanding voice he speaks in, to the way he skulks around, staring at everyone as if he’s evaluating them. I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all an act… and not a good one either. Among the three instructors, Hunter is the oldest, the shortest and the least physically imposing. Lieutenant David is at least a head taller than him, and Lieutenant Chad looms so far over him that Hunter could probably get lost in his shadow.

​

Why do we need to call them by those stupid titles anyway? I looked into ‘Sergeant Hunter’ the other night and as far as I can tell, he’s never even served in the military! Neither has Lieutenant David! Apparently Lieutenant Chad has, but I wasn’t able to find out anything about his service and I don’t think I’d get an answer if I asked him. Honestly, I’m okay just leaving it alone.

​

Apparently this weekend, our cabin is going to be doing our survival training. Tomorrow we’ll be going out into the woods and we’ll be staying there for the next 48 hours. No supplies. All we can do is forage and hunt.

​

I can’t really say I’m looking forward to it… but on the bright side, I’ll finally be able to turn in early without having to race Keelan back to the cabin. Seriously, it’s every fucking night with that guy! He goes for about an hour each time! I’m starting to think he’s got a problem and I don’t know how he hasn’t chafed his dick off! I’m pretty sure he thinks no one knows… but I’m willing to bet Leo’s caught on too.

​

Other than that… sleeping outside again probably won’t be too bad. It can’t be any worse than the beds we’ve got. Cody was asking about wild animals earlier. He said he saw something in the woods. Adam said there’s nothing but deer out here and I didn’t bother mentioning that deer can still be pretty dangerous. Realistically, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.

​

What the fuck was I thinking?

​

​

July 13th, 2024

There’s something out there and it’s not a fucking deer.

​

We went out into the woods with Lieutenant Chad this morning… and for the most part, everything was going pretty good. He showed us how to forage and set traps, he showed us how to build a shelter and a fire… he helped us get our bearings before he left. He did give us a flare gun in case of an emergency, but I didn’t think we’d have to use it… I didn’t think…

​

FUCK FUCK FUCK

​

After Lieutenant Chad left, we divided up roles among our group. Leo and Keelan were to watch the camp, keep the fire going and build up our shelter. Matthew, Cody, Adam and I were supposed to gather food. Lieutenant Chad had left us with two bows and a handful of arrows that we divided amongst ourselves. We split up into two teams, each team with a bow man. I went with Adam while Matthew and Cody stuck together. We went off in opposite directions to see what was around.

​

Adam carried the bow and we spent our time surveying the area, looking for any signs of life. Adam mentioned looking for deer trails, but I got the impression that his fantasy of taking down a deer was a little unrealistic… so I made a point to set up a few small traps using bits of nutraloaf Lieutenant Chad had given us. I was hoping that if we were lucky, we might just land a squirrel or a rabbit… although I did get a little excited when Adam mentioned he’d found a deer trail.

​

“Right here. Looks pretty fresh too,” He’d said before leading me down it. I’d almost started to buy into the fantasy that we would manage to find an actual deer… until I noticed the smell.

A sweet, pungent aroma of decay hanging heavy in the air.

I noticed Adam’s brow furrowing as he noticed the scent, but he pressed on, curious as to its source.

“Come on man, it’s just a dead animal, just leave it,” I said but he shook his head.

“A dead animal wouldn’t smell that bad,” He said plainly.

​

It was a few moments later that I noticed something ahead of us. A shape hanging off one of the trees, swarmed by buzzing flies… and it took me a couple of seconds to realize it was covered in fur.

​

At first I thought it was just a deer pelt. Maybe we’d stumbled upon some hunters abandoned kill? But there was too much there to be just a deer pelt. We were looking at what was left of an entire deer. I froze, staring at the blob of flesh and fur hanging from the branch. It didn’t look like a deer… not in any way that mattered. The shape was… wrong… like someone had reached in, pulled out the bones and tossed the rest aside. The flesh was ripped in strange places but the rest of it was more or less intact.

​

What did this?

​

“Holy shit…” Adam said under his breath. I looked over at him, and that’s when I saw the rest. At least five or six corpses strewn across the forest, all of them torn apart and warped into strange, boneless blobs of flesh…

​

My stomach churned and I retched before vomiting up the nutraloaf I’d had for breakfast.

“Let’s go…” Adam said sternly. “Now…”

I didn’t need to be told twice and hastily followed him back down the deer trail.

“What was that?” I asked. “What did that?!”

“I don’t know…” He replied, and for a moment I thought I heard a slight tremble in his voice. He looked back, before smoothing down his pale blond hair. “But those bodies were only about a day old, so whatever did that could be anywhere…”

​

I almost asked him if we should consider shooting off the flare gun, but I didn’t want to sound like I was ready to give up yet. So I just followed him, letting him lead me back to camp. It wasn’t long before I saw out campfire through the trees, and spotted Leo and Keelan lounging beside it.

​

Adam barely even made it back to camp before he was interrogating them.

“Matthew and Cody, have you heard from them?”

“What? No, they’re off on a hunt… I saw them heading west, why what’s wrong?” Leo asked.

“Missing the gang already?” Keelan teased, although he was ignored.

“Avery, let’s go get them. Leo, keep the flare gun on your person. There’s something out here.”

I saw a flicker of confusion cross Leo’s face before Adam pushed past him.

“Like an animal…” I heard him ask, but Adam was already gone. Leo and I traded a look before I followed… and it didn’t take long before we heard a voice in the distance. Matthew’s voice.

​

“CODY? CODY, WHERE ARE YOU?”

​

Adam’s pace increased as he tore through the woods, following the sound of Matthew’s voice and after a couple of minutes, we saw him wandering through the trees up ahead, bow in hand and arrows on his back.

“CODY?!”

“Matthew!”

​

He paused at the sound of Adam’s voice and looked over at us as we emerged from the brush.

“Oh… am I off course? Have you seen Cody?”

“No, we came to get you both back to camp. Where did you last see Cody?”

“About… a few meters from here, give or take?” Matthew said. “I saw a rabbit and took a shot at it. Thought I’d hit it, but it took off on me. I thought I might be close enough to catch it but…” He shook his head. “Stupid idea… lost track of Cody around then. I didn’t think he’d be far but…”

“We’ll find him,” Adam said gravely. “But watch the yelling… we don’t know what else might hear us out here.”

​

“What else…?” Matthew asked, his brow furrowing. For a moment, I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes before Adam continued the search.

​

We spent roughly the next hour looking for Cody… but in the end went back without him.

​

***

​

“He probably fucked off back to the cabin,” Keelan scoffed. “I mean, you’ve been watching him, right? Everything we do, he’s been in dead last. Every night, he’s the only one who doesn’t get to eat. Maybe he’s not fucking cut out for this.”

“He wouldn’t leave without telling us,” Matthew said. “That’s not like him. He was there with me one minute and he was gone the next.”

“Yeah well, people do weird things under pressure,” Keelan shrugged.

​

“No… I’m with Matthew. Cody isn’t that kind of man,” Adam said.

“Then what happened to him?” Leo asked. “Because if he didn’t leave, then something had to have happened… he can’t have just gotten lost. These woods aren’t that thick.”

“Maybe he fell or something…” I suggested.

“The terrain here is flat and fairly even,” Adam said, shaking his head. “We would’ve seen him.”

​

“I’m telling you, he fucked off,” Keelan said before getting up and stretching. “I’m gonna go take a leak. You guys figure this shit out.”

We watched him go, before Leo spoke again.

“My question is… if we’re thinking something happened to him, then maybe we ought to consider using the flare. If he’s lying in a ditch with a broken ankle or something, we need to call for help.”

​

“I say we do one last sweep before we use the flare, just to be sure…” Adam said. “Or… maybe we send someone back to the Training Compound . Have someone check to see if he did go back without telling us.”

“Can it be Keelan?” Leo asked.

“I don’t care who it is, but we’re running out of daylight and-”

​

The screams from the woods cut Adam off, and all of our heads shifted toward the direction Keelan had gone off in. Immediately we were on our feet, racing to see what was the matter. I saw Keelan running toward us, eyes wide with panic. Adam tried to talk to him, but he shot right past him, sprinting back toward camp.

“What’s his problem…?” Leo started to ask before looking back in the direction Keelan had just come from and freezing. He and Adam saw it first… and a moment later I noticed Matthew tensing up as well.

​

I looked around… but I didn’t see anything.

​

Not until I looked up.

​

The shape above us hung from the branches of one of the trees although I didn’t immediately recognize it as a person… I didn’t immediately recognize it as Cody.

​

He’d been… peeled... I don’t know how else to describe it. Strips of skin had been flayed off of his body and were hooked to the branches of the trees above us, suspending him like a grotesque marionette. I’m not sure if whatever killed him did that to him because it derived some sort of sick pleasure from ripping him apart that way… or because it was the only way they could hang him from the tree.

​

After all… they’d taken his arms and legs.

​

Leo fired the flare up into the air, but none of us said a word. We all just stood there in silence and stared while we waited for the Lieutenants to find us.

​

We’re back at the cabin now… I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

​

Adam says we should try to get some sleep but I can’t… every time I close my eyes, I see Cody hanging in those branches… and I think about what happened the other night.

Desperation makes liars of us all. I told myself I was taking the house-sitting job for the money, that I needed the quiet, the isolation. But the truth is, solitude calls to me—its silence a canvas upon which my thoughts become unbound, raw, and often unbecoming.

The ad itself was unremarkable:

“House-Sitter Needed. $1,200 for one week. Remote cabin. Quiet location. Must appreciate solitude.”

The response came swiftly. A woman, Angela, wrote with a tone of gracious urgency. She would be gone for seven days. The cabin was stocked. There was no Wi-Fi, but there was a landline. Her only request was tantalizing in its singularity: “Do not open the basement door.”

Her instructions were sparse, yet her image was everywhere. When I arrived, she met me in the driveway—an elegant woman in her mid-fifties, with a gaze as sharp as a scalpel’s edge. I found her attractive, almost disturbingly so, in the way one might admire a knife for both its beauty and its potential.

After she left, I discovered photographs of her scattered through the house: Angela on a sun-drenched porch, beside a lake, leaning against the cabin’s wooden frame. The cabin was filled with her presence, her scent, her secrets.

Night One: An Indiscretion

That first night, I explored. The house was unassuming, filled with the detritus of a life lived alone. Books, faded rugs, the faint hum of silence in every corner. But it was in the guest room closet that I found them—a pair of black lace panties, worn and folded with a care that felt almost ceremonial.

I should have left them where they lay.

But there is something in us—a dark curiosity, a need to brush the edges of propriety. I held them, hesitated, and then pressed them to my face.

The scent was faint, intimate, and intoxicating in a way I dare not name. The act was over in seconds, yet its shadow lingered, curling into the corners of my mind. I buried the panties back where I found them, ashamed but strangely exhilarated.

That night, I awoke to a sound: a tap, tap, tap, soft as the brush of fingertips against wood. I sat up, ears straining. The sound was faint, deliberate, and seemed to emanate from somewhere below.

I told myself it was the wind and went back to sleep.

Night Two: The Whispers Begin

The second night was worse.

The tapping returned, joined by something faint—whispers, thin and airy, rising through the floorboards. At first, they seemed random, like the rustle of leaves. But as I lay in the dark, listening, I realized they had cadence. Words.

I strained to hear, but the whispers eluded me, tantalizingly just out of reach.

Sleep was impossible. My thoughts returned, unbidden, to the closet, to what I’d done. I told myself it was nothing, a moment of indulgence, but the whispers carried a different weight. They were accusatory, amused, like laughter behind a closed door.

I locked the bedroom door that night. Not that it mattered.

Night Three: Voices in the Dark

By the third night, the whispers had become voices.

They slithered through the cabin, rising and falling like a tide. At first, they were fragmented: soft, unintelligible murmurs that brushed the edges of comprehension. But as the hours stretched, the words sharpened.

“He watches. He waits. He hides.”

I froze in bed, the sheets damp with sweat.

“He touched. He smelled.”

The words wrapped around me like a noose, pulling tight. My breath came in shallow gasps, my mind racing. The voices knew. The house knew.

And then I heard it: my name, whispered in unison, carried on a current of malice.

Night Four: The Basement

I couldn’t take it anymore. The house had become a living thing, breathing, watching, judging. I told myself that facing it—whatever it was—would grant me release.

I took the key Angela had left, heavy with unspoken promise, and opened the basement door.

The air was cold, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. The stairs groaned underfoot, each step a betrayal.

At the bottom, the darkness seemed alive, shifting and writhing. At first, I saw nothing. But then a shape emerged—a shadow against shadows, its edges indistinct, its form alien. It did not move, but its presence filled the room.

And then it spoke.

Its voice was low, soft at first, curling through the air like smoke. “We saw you.”

I froze, my blood turning to ice.

“We watched as you held them,” it continued, its tone laced with contempt. “Did you enjoy the scent?”

My breath caught, a strangled gasp escaping my lips.

“You thought you were alone,” it hissed, louder now, the words sharp and accusatory. “But we saw everything.”

The shadow moved then—just a step forward, but it was enough. My legs gave out, and I scrambled backward, clawing my way up the stairs. The voices rose around me, a cacophony of laughter and whispers, chasing me as I fled.

Aftermath

I drove away that night, never stopping, never looking back.

When I reached home, I found an email waiting in my inbox. The subject line read: “I hope you enjoyed your stay.”

The message was brief:

“The house enjoyed you. And so did I. Don’t worry—we’ll always be watching. —Angela.”

I deleted it immediately, but the damage was done. The whispers followed me into the night, into my dreams, into my life.

I will never be alone again.

PART 1

“More of them?” Kev whispered, his voice a thin thread in the silence.

“Should we back up? We could go around?” Tommy asked, gripping the edge of his seat.

Greg shook his head, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “If we do, we’ll never make it to the gym. We’re running out of time.”

For a moment, no one moved, the enormity of what Greg was suggesting hanging heavy in the air. But one by one, we all nodded, determination replacing fear. We were all in this together.

“Alright,” Greg said, his voice low and steely. “Hold on.”

As the car plowed forward, the first creature hit the bumper with a bone-rattling thud. But instead of rolling off like we had hoped, it launched itself up onto the hood, then clawed its way onto the roof in a disturbingly quick motion. My heart thundered as I saw its shadow sprawled across the windshield, its limbs twisted, claws scraping against the metal above us.

“Oh god, it’s on the roof!” Kev shouted, pressing himself back into his seat, his eyes wide with terror.

Greg gritted his teeth, hands clamped onto the steering wheel as he tried to keep the car steady. “Hold on! Just hold on!”

The creature’s claws began tearing into the roof, each strike creating a screeching sound and sending bits of metal raining down on us. Jagged holes appeared one by one, and we could see the claws slashing through, inches away from our heads.

“Drive faster, man!” Tommy yelled, clutching the edge of his seat as the car lurched forward.

“I’m trying!” Greg shouted back, his knuckles white as he swerved down the street, doing everything he could to shake the creature off. But no matter how hard he turned or how quickly he sped, the thing clung on, slamming its claws through the roof, reaching deeper each time.

In a final, desperate attempt, Greg whipped the steering wheel to the right, then sharply back to the left. The creature was thrown off-balance for a split second, enough for its grip to loosen as the car skidded violently toward the school’s parking lot.

With a sickening crash, we smashed into the curb and spun sideways. The creature flew off the roof, disappearing into the darkness behind us as the car finally lurched to a stop, tilted halfway up on the curb. The silence that followed was deafening.

For a moment, none of us moved. Then, slowly, we took stock of ourselves. I reached up and touched my head, relieved to find no blood. My shoulder ached from the impact, and i could feel a bruise forming along my side, but i was otherwise okay. Around me, the others were doing the same—Tommyrubbing his elbow,Kevclutching his shoulder, Greg with a split lip from where he’d bitten down too hard.

“Everyone…good?” i asked.

“Define good,” Kev muttered, wincing as he flexed his arm. But when he looked up at the others, a nervous grin cracked his face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Greg took a deep breath, nodding. “Same here.” He looked at the car, grimacing at the ruined roof and crushed fender. “But my mom’s gonna kill me.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Let’s focus on not getting killed first.”

We climbed out of the car, feeling the aches and pains from the crash but grateful to be in one piece. The school gym loomed ahead, just beyond the edge of the lot. Despite everything, we've made it. We had gotten this far. Now, we just had to get my sister and her friends and find a way to get out of here.

"You guys realized something? I mean, the first one we saw—at the house—she looked... almost normal. Human, even." said, Tommy.

I looked over at him, my mind flashing back to the girl we’d found. “Yeah. She was freaked out, but she still looked like a person. Kinda."

Greg nodded, looking off into the distance. “It’s not just their appearance. It’s like they’ve evolved. They’ve got these huge, bulky bodies now, but they're also fast. Their claws are longer, sharper... It’s like they're not thinking—they’re just hunting.”

Kev looked down, his face grim. “If that’s true, then we’re screwed. They’re not just some mindless monsters anymore. They’re evolving into something way worse. Something smarter.”

“Then we can’t waste any more time. We need to stay ahead of them. If we don’t, we’re gonna be dealing with creatures that are too strong, too fast... too smart to handle.” i replied.

We all fell silent for a moment, feeling the weight of what we were up against. Whatever these creatures were, whatever they had once been, they were changing. Soon we wouldn't just be fighting some monsters - we'd be fighting a force that was learning to hunt us.

Greg popped open the trunk, and we peered inside, hoping to find anything we could use to defend ourselves.

Greg dug around and pulled out an old wooden baseball bat. He weighed it in his hands, giving it a test swing. “I’ve got this. Should be good enough to get us through if anything jumps us again.”

Tommy pulled out a screwdriver, tucking it into his back pocket as a backup. “Still got my knife,” he said, holding up his old pocket knife, the blade dulled but reliable. “But this might come in handy too.”

Kev grabbed a tire iron. “This’ll work,”he murmured, mostly to himeself ,but we all nodded in silent agreement.

I fumbled around before finding a heavy wrench, its weight solid in m yhand. I forced a small grin, trying to shake off my nerves. “Alright. Looks like we’re all armed and ready for… whatever this is.”

We set off toward the school, moving in tense silence, weapons gripped tightly. Every shadow seemed to breathe, every gust of wind carrying the possibility of danger. The parking lot was vast and quiet,

As we entered the empty, dimly-lit halls of our high school, we felt a strange sense of nostalgia mixed with dread. Every corner, every stretch of linoleum, every creak in the floor was so familiar, yet tonight, the building felt like a different place entirely. We moved carefully, keeping an eye out for any shadows that might be lurking, but with each step forward, the tension eased just a little. It was almost comforting to be back in these hallways, and as we passed the rows of lockers and posters advertising long-past events, a bit of our old banter returned

“So, Tommy,” Kev started, nudging him with a grin, “you’re still dead-set on ditching us for the mountains next year, huh?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, smiling despite everything. “Yeah, man. Somebody’s gotta live off the grid and teach y’all how to survive someday. I’ll be up there, raising chickens and growing vegetables, while you guys are still stuck in the rat race.”

“Oh please,” Kev shot back, laughing quietly, “I give you two months before you’re back, begging for League of Legends and burgers.”

Greg snorted. “Yeah, you’ll miss us too much. Besides, you’re not gonna make it out there if you think a pocket knife’s the only survival tool you need.”

Tommy shrugged, flashing his trusty knife with a grin. “Laugh all you want, city boys. I’m gonna be living in peace while you all are drowning in student loans and bad jobs.”

The laughter was quiet but felt good—normal, like the kind we had on a hundred nights, when life wasn’t so frightening. But then Greg glanced over at me, his expression shifting as a question seemed to form on his face.

“So… Casey,” Greg started hesitantly. “After all this, do you think you’ll, uh… try to get back with Ashley?”

I frowned for a second and Greg noticed.

“Ah, shit,” Greg muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Casey. I… I shouldn’t have asked that. I guess it’s just—I don’t know, this place feels like we’re just back in school. I forgot, for a second… well, you know.”

I shook my head, forcing a small smile to ease the awkwardness. “It’s okay, man. Really. I was thinking about her, too. I just… I hope she’s okay, wherever she is.”

The silence lingered, heavy with unspoken worries and memories, until Tommy broke it with a clap on my shoulder. “She’s fine, man. Probably better than we are right now. We’ll find her and everyone else when we get through this.”

I nodded, grateful for Tommy’s optimism. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the reason we had come here: my sister.

“Let’s keep moving,” i said.

We continued down the hall, the weight of the conversation hanging over us, but somehow, it was easier to move forward knowing we were in it together. Whatever happened tonight, we make sure each of us got through it—even if our plans for the future felt a bit more distant than before.

Finally, we reached the double doors to the gym, its faint glow spilling into the hallway. With a final glance at one another, we pushed the doors open,

The gym was still and quiet, its usual hum of activity replaced by a thick, tense silence. As we pushed through the double doors, I spotted Demi right away, sitting on the bench with her friends huddled close—Claire, a friend from her soccer team, Wes, a guy I vaguely knew from band class, and Ethan, who looked almost unrecognizable without his usual easy smile. When Demi saw me, she jumped up, pulling me into a fierce hug.

“Oh my god, Casey. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” She pulled back, her face pale and her eyes darting over me and the others, checking to make sure they were okay.

I squeezed her shoulder. “We’re here. You’re alright, yeah? What happened?”

Demi exhaled, glancing back at her friends. They all looked rattled, their eyes dark and haunted. Ethan, the tallest, nodded at me and the others, offering a small nod. “You guys saved us from losing it, honestly. We didn’t think anyone would come.”

I managed a reassuring smile. “Of course we came. But tell us… what went down back there?”

Demi glanced between her friends, then back at the boys, steadying herself. “It started out as just a normal party. We were having fun, dancing, talking—it was fine. But then Jason—”

“Jason Lawrence?” Greg asked, raising his eyebrows. Jason was notorious for causing trouble, especially at parties.

Demi nodded. “Yeah. So Jason finds this locked door on the upper floor of the house. Some people were telling him to leave it alone, but he wouldn’t listen. He thought there might be something hidden inside, and of course his friends just egged him on. Meanwhile, the rest of us were trying to ignore them, just keeping the party going. But after a while, his friends brought him downstairs and laid him on the couch, saying he fainted after entering the room.”

We all exchanged a worried look.

“At first, he didn’t look hurt,” Demi continued. “Just… really out of it, dizzy, and nauseous. But then he started… puking. Only it wasn’t normal puke.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as if remembering it made her cold. “It was thick, black, like oil. And a few seconds later, he started spazzing, thrashing. He attacked his own friends first. He held one of them to the ground and puked this thick, black liquid on his face, then they started changing, too.”

“Changing?” Kev echoed, his face pale.

“Like they weren’t human anymore,” Demi whispered. “Their eyes turned yellow, and they started moving differently—like they could barely control their bodies. One by one, they turned into… whatever those things are.”

Claire, who had been staring down at her feet, finally spoke up, her voice soft. “The rest of us scattered. Some people tried to barricade themselves upstairs, others jumped from the balcony. We didn’t know where else to go, so a few of us managed to make it here. We used to be six on our way, but, well…”

We all stood in silence. Knowing that the people we used to go to school with, are either dead or infected.

Greg ran a hand through his hair, taking it all in. “So… opening that door is what caused all this?”

Demi nodded, despair filling her eyes. “They never should’ve opened it. Whatever was in that room, it wasn’t meant to be found.”

The weight of her words settled over us all, each of us feeling the chill of what we were facing. After a beat, Tommy cleared his throat. “Alright, then. So we know they can spread this to other people. And we know they attack."

Kev squared his shoulders. “So we need to be smart. We get everyone out, check on our families, and make sure we’re not putting ourselves or anyone else in danger.”

We all nodded, a shared determination in our faces. It was a faint thread of hope, but it was something.

Tommy glanced at us “So, first, we go in a loop—Kev’s house ,Casey’s, then Greg’s. In between the others. We’ll check on everyone we can, then head to my uncle’s place out of town.”

Ethan looked around at the group, his voice low but firm. “We stick together, right?”

“Absolutely,” I replied “We get everyone out of here. We take the side roads, avoid main streets, and if we have to stop, we stick close and stay quiet. And no matter what, we don’t leave anyone behind.”

With a last nod, we all steeled ourselves, ready to face whatever was out there. Our mission was clear. Together, we would see this through—one step at a time, one person at a time.

We made our way down the hall toward the main exit, keeping up a nervous banter, each one trying to distract ourselves from the terror of the night. Greg was half-laughing with Kev about the dent on his car from an old road trip, while Tommy and Claire shared a quick joke about our principal. It was strange, like we were still just teens trying to shake off a nightmare, holding onto any bit of normalcy we could.

“Those things…what even are they?” Wes muttered, glancing back, though the hallway behind us was empty.

“Monsters?” Kev suggested with a shrug, though his voice wavered.

“Nah, that’s too generic. They’re freakier than that,” Ethan replied. “They’re like…demons or something.”

“Maybe we should just call them ‘claws’ or ‘fiends,’” Demi threw in, but even she sounded unsure.

Tommy, shaking his head, finally spoke up. “No, no. They’re…lurkers.”

We all paused for a second, letting it sink in.

“Lurkers,” I repeated, a chill running through me as the name settled. “Alright. We’ll stick with that.”

We shared a brief, grim smile, and a little of the tension seemed to ease. But the moment of calm didn’t last long.

“Hey, Greg…” Wes said suddenly, his voice tight with worry, as he glanced through a window facing the parking lot. “Is that…your car?”

Greg walked over, dread creeping up his spine as he peered out the glass. There, in the dim light, his car was under attack. Two Lurkers hunched over it, tearing into the metal and smashing windows, ripping the car to shreds. They moved with a sense of purpose, like they knew exactly what they were doing.

“What the hell…” Greg whispered, just as one of the Lurkers slowly lifted its head, locking eyes with him. Its eyes were a fierce, glowing yellow, and its mouth twisted in a snarl as it raised a clawed hand, then raked it down the car door, shrieking as it scored deep grooves in the metal.

The Lurker let out a low, guttural growl and then turned, sprinting towards us, the second Lurker following right behind.

“Run!” I yelled as the first Lurker barreled straight for the window, smashing through it with an explosion of glass. Shards scattered across the floor as we turned and ran, sprinting down the hallway, our footsteps echoing as the Lurkers thundered after us.

We rounded a corner, racing as fast as we could, when a strangled scream cut through the chaos. I spun around, my heart dropping—Ethan had been caught. One of the Lurkers had him pinned, its claws wrapped around his torso as he struggled and gasped for breath.

“Ethan!” Demi screamed, starting forward, but I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. The Lurker’s claws were sinking into Ethan’s side, and his face twisted in agony as he fought to breathe.

“Let him go!” Greg shouted, running toward the creature with his bat raised. Tommy and Kev followed, desperation driving them forward as they surrounded the creature, swinging wildly.

I gripped my wrench tightly, running forward and swinging at the Lurker’s legs, trying to knock it off balance. Kev landed a blow on its back, and Tommy jabbed his pocket knife at it, his face pale but determined. The Lurker let out a furious hiss, but it barely flinched, its attention locked on Ethan.

With a sudden, violent jerk, the Lurker’s claws sliced into Ethan’s chest. His screams were cut short as he went limp, his body slumping forward in the Lurker’s grip. Blood soaked through his shirt, dripping onto the tile floor, and a cold, numbing horror washed over me

“Ethan!” Claire’s voice broke as she took a step back, her face pale. The Lurker dropped Ethan’s lifeless body, his eyes wide open, staring blankly into the distance.

“No!” I felt something snap inside me. I swung my wrench with all my strength, smashing it into the Lurker’s head. The Lurker staggered back, hissing in pain, but its fury only seemed to grow. Its partner, seeing the attack, lunged at Greg, its claws slashing through the air.

Greg barely dodged in time, stumbling as he swung his bat, the wood cracking against the creature’s side. Wes managed to jab a pen into the Lurker’s arm, but it only seemed to enrage it further. It swiped at them, forcing them back, each swipe closer than the last.

Tommy gritted his teeth, launching forward and stabbing his pocket knife into the Lurker’s chest. But it didn’t slow down—it turned on him, knocking him to the ground with a vicious swipe, claws raking across his arm.

The second Lurker snarled, leaping towards us with outstretched claws. I swung my wrench, barely managing to deflect its attack as it clawed at me, its face inches from me. For a split second, i saw the hunger in its eyes, felt the heat of its breath as it lunged closer.

Then Tommy seized his chance. With a desperate shout, he drove the screwdriver straight into the creature’s eye. The Lurker let out a shriek, recoiling as black liquid oozed from the wound. I didn’t hesitate—I swung my wrench again, striking the creature’s head, and it crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud.

But the second Lurker was already lunging, claws tearing through the air toward Greg. I barely had time to react, swinging my weapon to block its path. Kev jumped in, slamming his tire iron into the creature’s side, and together, we forced it back down the hallway.

Finally, the Lurker reeled, dazed for just a moment. I turned to the others, shouting, “Run! Get out of here!”

We bolted, our breaths heavy and panicked as we dashed down the hall and out of a side door, leaving the shattered glass and the dead body of Ethan behind. The night was eerily quiet as we stumbled into the darkness, our hearts pounding and our bodies aching.

I forced himself to focus, my mind reeling as I thought of what we had just survived—and what we had lost. We didn’t have time to grieve. Not here. Not yet.

We had to get somewhere safe, somewhere where we could finally stop running.

But as we looked back at the dark silhouette of the school behind us, I knew this wasn’t over.

We gathered in the school parking lot, trying to steady our breaths and our nerves. Greg’s car was a wreck, barely recognizable under the damage the Lurkers had done to it. I gripped the wrench in my hands tightly, feeling the weight of frustration and exhaustion pressing down on me.

“Now what?” Greg finally snapped, kicking a piece of glass across the asphalt. “My car’s a wreck, and we’re sitting ducks if that thing comes back.”

“We could try on foot,” Kev said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “We’re not far from the main roads. If we move fast, maybe we could make it out.”

“Yeah, and hope we don’t run into a whole pack of those things?” Tommy replied, a hint of frustration in his voice.

As the tension grew, Claire suddenly pointed at something beyond us, her eyes widening. “Guys—what about that?”

We all turned to see what she was pointing at: the school bus parked in the far corner of the lot, partially hidden in the shadows of the school building

Greg’s face lit up with realization. “The School bus. If we can get that thing running…”

“But...how are we supposed to start it?” Kev asked, sounding doubtful. “You think the keys are just lying around?”

Wes nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, yeah. I did a summer internship with Coach Pat last year, helping him with equipment. He mentioned that they keep the bus keys in the faculty office for emergencies—easy access and all that. They should still be there.”

Greg sighed, eyes on the school, scanning the shadowed windows. “Of course, the keys would be in the same place that Lurker’s still roaming around.”

“Then we split up." I said. "A few of us can head back in and get the keys while the others wait out here with Claire and Demi.”

“No way,” Demi interrupted, shaking her head. “Casey, you’re not going back in there. Not after everything that’s happened.” She clutched my arm, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t leave me out here alone. I don’t want you going back in there.”

I softened, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Demi, I know you’re worried. But we need those keys if we’re going to get everyone out of here. You’ll be safe out here with Greg and the others.”

Demi bit her lip, still clearly uneasy. “But…what if something happens to you in there? I can’t just stand out here and wait.”

“Hey, listen,” Greg said, stepping beside her. “We'll be right here, keeping an eye on everything. We'll look out for you—and if anything goes wrong, we’ll call them, and they’ll be back here in a flash.”

Demi’s grip on my arm loosened slightly, though the worry didn’t leave her eyes. Finally, with a reluctant nod, she stepped back. “Fine. But promise you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I promise,” i said, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

With a final nod to the others, Wes, Tommy and me turned back toward the entrance, weapons at the ready. The others stayed back, forming a small circle and keeping a wary eye on the parking lot. I could feel my sister’s gaze following us as we slipped into the darkened school, hoping the keys—and our way out—would still be there.

Part 2

Day Two

When I say I didn’t sleep that first night, I’m not exaggerating. I turned in early (just to get away from the both of them), and listened through the wall as Dylan tucked the boy in. I had found Gus cowering underneath our bed, and he lay next to me, wide-eyed and alert. When Dylan finally came in, he climbed into bed without saying a word and rolled over so his back was facing me.

It was like a slap in the face. No matter what happened—communication breakdown, minor argument, major fight—it didn’t matter, we talked before bed every night and fell asleep holding hands. Not that night. I didn’t understand his anger. But maybe I wasn’t looking at it from his perspective. If we DID have a child at some point and he’d gone missing, wouldn’t I be angry at Dylan if the child returned and he was acting like he wasn’t happy about it? Like he had no recollection of ever having a child. Wouldn’t I feel frustrated and confused?

A quiet sob shook through me. Talking to my mom had made things so much worse. Now I could no longer blame Dylan’s confusion solely on him. My own mother asked about the boy. Talked about his return excitedly. She even asked when she could come see him. It was more and more looking like I was losing my mind, that I’d scrubbed out all evidence of the boy because I couldn’t handle it when he disappeared. How else did you explain the pictures in the living room?

Deep down in the pit of my stomach, another thought poked at me. Maybe NEITHER of us was losing our minds. The boy’s dark soulless eyes and wide grin plagued me as I lay in bed. The hours ticked by, Gus by my side, as I thought about the possibility that my initial reaction to seeing the boy was the only explanation.

He was evil. And he’d come here to destroy us.

At some point, I drifted off. I woke with a start, feeling a deep vibrating against my side. It took a minute to realize that it was Gus, crouched down low next to me, growling at the door. I struggled to sit up, peering through the dark as my eyes adjusted. Dylan had left the door open (I assumed in case the boy needed us), and dark shadows pulsed beyond the doorframe.

“Hello?” I whispered. “Is someone there?”

Dylan snored quietly beside me, completely oblivious to my insomnia and the agitated dog. I squinted, then nearly screamed. A dark silhouette stood in the doorway, dark glittering orbs unblinking, staring at me.

“What do you need?” I asked, my voice high-pitched.

The boy didn’t answer. Gus let out another growl that rumbled deep in his chest. The orbs flickered from my face to Gus. A hissing sound cut through the silence, and Gus let out a little yelp, burying himself beneath the blankets. The boy’s eyes swung back to my face. I was pinned in place by the stare. Waves of malintent washed over me, shaking me to my very core. What did this boy want from us? Why was he here? Why US?

We were locked in a staring match for more than ten minutes, then I blinked and he was gone. Like he was never there in the first place. I was tempted to get out of bed and check to see if he was in bed, sleeping, but fuck that. Gus’ reaction was enough to tell me that I hadn’t imagined it. I knew one thing. I was NOT going to live like this. In the morning, I’d take Gus, pack a bag, and get the hell out of there.

But what about Dylan?

I couldn’t leave him behind. He was wrapped up in this delusion, but it wasn’t his fault. He needed my help to see that this boy wasn’t our child. If I left him alone with the boy, there was no telling what would happen to him. I couldn’t just abandon my husband, my best friend, even if he wasn’t himself at that moment. He needed me. I needed to figure out what was going on.

When the watery gray light of dawn filtered around the edges of the curtains, I pulled myself out of bed. The house was silent, save for the quiet snoring coming from Dylan’s side of the bed. I felt a tug on my nightshirt as I slid my feet into my slippers. Gus had clamped his teeth down on the corner of my shirt and was trying to keep me there.

“Its okay, buddy,” I whispered, patting his head. “Release. Release, bud, it’s okay.”

He finally opened his mouth and let go of my shirt, but looked up at me with big, round pleading eyes. He was trembling, and I felt awful leaving him, but I had work to do. Walking into the hallway, I heard the thump of Gus jumping down from the bed, and tentative steps following me out into the kitchen. He let out a whine and glanced at the front door.

“Wanna go out?”

He hadn’t come out at all last night, so I was sure his bladder was close to bursting. I grabbed his leash, slipped on my crocs, and opened the door. Before I could hook the leash to his collar, Gus jumped up and slammed his paws into the screen door, pushing down on the handle. The door flew open and Gus took off running before I could react. By the time I made it out onto the front steps, he was nowhere in sight.

“Gus!” I screamed, holding his leash helplessly in my hand. But he was gone. He was probably safer on the streets than here. I didn’t like the way the boy looked at him. Besides, I couldn’t hold it against him, could I? How many times had I thought about doing that exact same thing over the last 24 hours? I hoped he’d be alright. The thought of him being out there all alone made tears well up in my eyes. Of course, I’d go look for him, but I didn’t expect to find him. Not while the boy was still around.

“Hey, what’s all the screaming?”

I turned to see Dylan standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Gus,” I said. “He ran away.”

“What? Why didn’t you catch him?” he asked, accusation in his voice.

“H-he was too fast,” I said, closing the door. “He was gone by the time I got out there.”

Dylan shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll come back. Is Logan up yet?”

“I have no idea,” I said, moving back into the kitchen to put some coffee on.

“So you’re going to continue with this charade?”

I whipped around. “What charade?”

“This game you’re playing where you’re pretending you don’t remember our son.”

“It’s not a game, it’s the truth,” I snapped. I was tired of pretending. I was tired of the accusations and the guilt trips. I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I was so freaking tired.

“If that’s the truth, Lyss, we might need to go talk to someone,” Dylan said quietly.

“Oh, fuck off,” I snarled, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“That’s a new one,” Dylan said, only slightly taken aback. “I have to go in to work today, by the way.”

A shock of fear jolted through me. “It’s Saturday!”

“I left work early yesterday, remember?” Dylan asked. “I have some things to wrap up.”

I did NOT want to be left alone with that THING. But it would give me some time to try and figure out what was going on. Some of you have suggested in the comments that I look up various types of supernatural or sinister beings, and that’s exactly what I had already planned on doing. I was no idiot. I’ve watched all the horror movies and read all the books. Asking for permission to come in, those dark creepy eyes, the monotone voice—something was off with that kid, I just didn’t know what. And what kind of being could inject memories of itself into people, anyway?

Maybe the better question was, why didn’t he inject them into me, too? Why leave me out of the loop to spiral, when he could have come home to two parents with memories of him, who were happy to have him back home?

Once Dylan left, the boy wandered out of the guest bedroom, still wearing the clothes we picked him up in. He stared at me sitting at the dining room table, unblinking.

“Are you hungry?” I finally asked.

“Where’s Gus?”

“Gone,” I said, glancing at the front door.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He had to go to work for a bit,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

There was a slick of red on the side of the boy’s mouth. He reached up with a pale hand and wiped it away. “I already ate.”

I frowned, knowing fully well he hadn’t, but I didn’t want to even THINK about what it was he thought he’d eaten. “Can you change out of those clothes? We need to go to the library.”

“Why?” the boy asked.

“Because I need some books,” I said, losing my patience.

“I don’t want to.”

I stood from the table and marched into the guest bedroom. The social worker at the police station had given us some spare clothing in the boy’s size, since we obviously didn’t have anything at home. Just to tide us over until we could get to the store. I rummaged around in the bag, then pulled out a fresh pair of jeans and a red polo shirt. I waved them at the boy.

“Put these on.”

“I said, I don’t want to go.”

I sighed. “I can’t leave you here alone, for Christ’s sake—”

The boy recoiled, hissing at me from between his teeth. “No!”

“Look,” I said, changing tactics. “If you go with me to the library, I’ll take you to the store after and buy you anything you want.”

The boy tilted his head. “Anything?”

I swallowed. “Yes…anything. Just get dressed, please.”

At the library, I sent the boy over to the children’s area where storytime was going on. I watched as he sat on the floor crossed-legged on the outskirts of the circle of other children, then I hurried to the section of the library where I would find books on folklore, cryptids and the like. I pulled book after book off the shelves and thumbed through them.

Nothing about the boy’s appearance in our lives seemed to match up with the creatures I was finding in the books. A changeling was close, but that was a replacement for a child that was taken by a fairy or a troll or something. This child wasn’t a replacement. He never existed in the first place. WHAT was he?! Frustration coiled inside my stomach.

When storytime ended, a line of parents and children shuffled out of the library. I glanced over at the children’s section and saw there were a few stragglers—parents and kids looking at books or playing with toys. The boy still sat on the carpet, hands planted on his knees, starting straight ahead.

I needed to find something, anything, before he got restless. AND before Dylan realized we’d left the house. I opened up a book on urban legends and was thumbing through it when a shrill scream cut though the air. There was a commotion over in the children’s area.

“Shit,” I said, throwing the book aside. I jumped up from my chair and rushed across the room, rounding the corner. There was a group of parents—all clearly upset—standing between the boy and a little girl in a pink dress.

“Whose kid is this?” someone asked, looking around.

“Hi, mine, sorry, what happened?” I asked breathlessly.

A woman pointed to the little girl, who had lines of tears streaming down her cheeks and red marks on her neck. “Your son was CHOKING my daughter!”

My mouth dropped open. I grabbed the boy roughly by the shoulder. “Why did you do that?”

He looked up at me. “I was reading a book and she took it from me.”

No emotion whatsoever. No remorse in his flat-toned voice. I looked at the little girl, horrified, then at her parents. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should watch your kid,” the mother snapped. “Or better yet, don’t take him out in public until he learns how to behave!”

“Yes, of course,” I said, taking hold of the boy’s hand. Just touching him made my skin prickle. But I was trying to keep up appearances. “Let’s go.”

As I dragged him away, he started laughing. A raspy, gurgly sound that made all the hairs on my arm stand on end. I looked over my shoulder. The other parents watched us go, their eyes wide, hands pressed to their mouths. The boy continued laughing all the way out to the car.

I shook him. “Stop that! What’s wrong with you?”

“She deserved it,” he answered, climbing into the back seat.

I tore out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Five minutes later, I turned onto our street. I could feel the boy’s eyes boring into the back of my head.

“You said you’d take me to the store,” he said. And even though his tone didn’t change, I could hear the malice behind it.

I pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and whipped around to face him. “That was before you choked out a four-year-old at the library!”

I climbed out of the car, glancing around for any sign of Gus. Our next-door neighbor was walking around her front yard, shaking a box of treats. She waved at me absentmindedly as the boy joined me on the front walk, still bristling from being told no.

“Alyssa, dear,” the neighbor called. “You haven’t seen my cat Muffin around, have you?”

“No, is she missing?” I asked, glancing at the boy.

“I let her out early this morning and she always comes home for lunch,” she said, scratching her head. “I don’t know where she could be!”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” I said, cold cascading down my back. It was not unusual to see the gray tiger-striped cat wandering around our backyard. The guest bedroom looked out over the very same backyard. I looked down at the boy and he grinned.

First:

Previous:

I was tempted by an email about a job that looked like it wouldn’t kill me. I just needed to investigate a motel.  

All sorts of supernatural motels showed up on empty roads of almost abandoned towns. There must be a few thousand different types of these buildings. Some were creatures disguised as somewhere to rest. I only knew details about the basic ones. A Pop-up Motel for the most part isn’t overly harmful meanwhile a Haunted Hotel can be very dangerous. A mixture of safe and life-threatening is a Bugged Motel. I just needed to gather details about an out-of-place building in the middle of nowhere. What could go wrong?  

Knowing my luck, a lot of things.   

I arrived at the location where the motel had last been seen. These types of buildings don’t show themselves to just anyone. Luckily enough, I was the type of person it wanted—or didn’t feel threatened by. The outside looked more like a decent hotel than a U-shaped motel. The nicer the place, the more danger that waited inside. I took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors, unaware of what would greet me.  

To my surprise, it appeared normal. It's as normal as an unnamed hotel showing up overnight in a rundown neighborhood could be. A man dressed in a professional suit jacket waited behind the check-in desk. His dark eyes watched me as I carefully walked over. His friendly smile did nothing to comfort me. For some odd reason, he reminded me of August. They didn’t look related. It was just how they both smiled and facial structure formed their face. Because of that one hint, I already knew what I was dealing with.   

My palms became sweaty as I tried to look calm. I stopped in front of the desk hoping I could get out of this place safe and sound in the next few minutes.  

“What can I do for you today?” The man chirped.  

His smile grew wider, and it made every hair on my arms stand on end. I only had one chance.  

“I would like to book a room for next Monday if possible.” I said, keeping my voice steady.  

The man nodded and reached for a book to write down the information. There were no computers or cameras in the lobby. But I knew I was still being watched. I glanced away long enough to spot a cockroach nestled in the corner near the ceiling. I focused my attention back on the clerk and gave him my contact information. I was almost in the clear. Once I left, I would pass along what I learned to The Corporation. They would decide if this place was dangerous enough to assign an Agent to deal with.  I could cancel my booking, but I wasn’t aware of what the cancellation fee would be. Whatever it was, it would be better than actually staying in a place like this.  

After a tense few moments, the clerk finished my booking and I let myself exhale knowing I was free to leave. Before I took a step away,  someone came literally crashing through the door, guns drawn. A few bullets hit the clerk, his false face blowing apart at the edges showing parts of what he really was.  

“I’m here to exterminate all you fucking bugs!” A voice shouted out into the lobby.  

I stared in sheer shock at the stupidity of the person who just arrived. He wore a long black duster with his hair wild. Countless charms and necklaces dangled from his neck, and he stood tall because of a pair of black platform boots covered in belts. He must still be a teenager if he thought those boots for fighting monsters were acceptable.   

The clerk smiled away, not noticing a few new holes in his face.   

“Would you like to check in sir?” The clerk asked.  

I couldn’t stop the kid in time. I opened my mouth to speak but he instantly responded.   

“Fuck yeah I do! That way I can-”  

I watched as a swarm of dark insects flooded out from each side of the lobby. They went around me heading straight to the newcomer. He screamed and shot wildly trying to get away. He didn’t stand a chance.   

“We’ll see you to your room. And we’ll see you on Monday.” The clerk said, his voice not able to hide the joy of nabbing a new victim.  

I felt the floor move under my foot. I was rudely tossed out, the doors slamming behind me. The windows in the hotel became dark as a closed sign appeared in the window. No matter how hard I pushed or pulled, the doors weren’t opening. This was not good. That kid had at most, a few hours before the hotel claimed him. This was easy to tell this place was a Bugged Hotel.  

It was just as it sounded like. A supernatural hotel run by insect monsters that pretend to be human. Since they didn’t eat the kid when he first checked in, then I knew they would keep him alive but slowly drain his life away.   

I rushed off and somehow got a meeting with someone I’d spoken with before. Klaus met me outside of the interview room ready to hear my story. He handed me a water bottle noticing how haggard I was from running around finding the right damn magic key that would bring me to The Corporation office.  

“It sounds like you met a new Hunter. They often take in whoever applies. They give them weapons but no real training. People like this die quickly, but to their credit may take a monster down or two with them.” Klaus said after I told him the short story.  

“Clearly this kid was a dumbass trying to look cool. We need to get him out of there, like ten minutes ago.” I pushed.  

Klaus made an expression I didn’t like. He straightened his posture ready to ask questions I didn’t want to hear.  

“Did you encounter any other humans in danger?” He asked using a stern tone.  

“Well, no I didn’t see any but-”  

“Your job was to collect information. Our job is to keep the balance between supernatural creatures and humans. We do not kill every monster we come across.”  

“Yes, I know that.” I argued but he went on.  

“As distasteful as it sounds, The Corporation allows certain creatures to hunt humans to live. Each creature has a different victim limit. From the sounds of it, This Hotel has only taken one human that picked a fight. I’ll submit what you’ve told me, but you may need to accept the fact this hotel’s activities have been approved by us, but we were just not certain where it had moved to.”  

“Are you saying we should just leave him to die?”   

Klaus took a moment to try and collect his words. I knew he had most likely dealt with situations like this before. His hands were tied when it came to how The Corporation dealt with certain supernatural creatures. I knew it was only fair of them to protect monsters as much as they did humans. I still didn’t agree with certain decisions.   

“If this is deemed to be a priority, then we’ll send an Agent out. Your job is done here. You’re able to carry on with the rest of your day.”   

Instead of being angry over what he said, I nodded. He said I could leave and do anything I wanted today. That included saving a stupid young Hunter that got himself into a huge mess.  

I left the office behind knowing I wasn’t going to get any help from them. Instead, I called an old friend. She owed me a favor. Not a big enough favor for her to rush into such a dangerous place. I may need to pay her a little extra for this.  

She met me in front of the Hotel, face bright and ready to help. Harp was taller than me. Her well-built body could barely be contained in her simple clothing. Now that I was in front of her again, I knew why I had stayed away for so long. I got weird when she spoke to me. I suddenly understood Joey’s interests a little bit more.   

I shook off those emotions to get down to what we needed to do.  

“It’s good to see you back on your feet little man.” Harp said as she crossed her arms over her chest.  

She had cream-colored hair that she always kept tied back for jobs. Her ears were slightly pointed and her nose was flat. I’ve never figured out what sort of creature she was. The only thing I knew about her for certain was that she could snap me like a twig with her massive arms.  

“Not fully on my feet, but it’s good to see you. Thank you for helping with this.” I quickly said and started forward hoping she would follow.  

She did not. I turned back, my stomach rolling with different emotions.  

“You know what my price is. What I owe you is not enough for this.” Harp said, eyes gleaming.  

I let out a deep sigh feeling my face go slightly red.  

“Not in front of people this time, alright? Now let’s go.”  

I wished she would stop teasing me as much as she did. This time she followed. Her long strides soon overtook my pace. She entered the Hotel, the closed sign now gone. I felt a million unseen eyes on us when we entered the lobby. She stopped a few steps away from the front desk. The dark-eyed clerk smiled at us. His smile appeared strained when he saw me again.  

“Booking a room for tonight?” He offered in a less polite tone than he used with me earlier.   

“Nope. Coming to pick up a friend. You wouldn’t happen to know what room he’s in, would you?” Harp said, sharp teeth coming into view.  

The clerk matched her expression.  

“I’m afraid we can’t give out that information.” He half hissed.  

“Then I'll just have to beat it out of you.”  

She quickly moved; fists ready. The clerk let out a cackle, finding the idea of a fight amusing. His face spilt open as long spider-like legs spilled out from the flesh. Countless insects started to pour from the cracks in his skin. That was my cue to leave.  

Harp crashed into the desk so hard it sent pieces flying in all directions. She hadn’t been hurt in the slightest. Another powerful blow came down on the mess of insects the clerk had turned into. My skin crawled hearing the loud crushing sounds of bugs under her fingers.   

I was already running down the hallway when swarms of more dark bugs came for me. I kept them away with a blast of spray I’d bought before I arrived. Even supernatural bugs hated regular bug spray. It wouldn’t last forever though.   

My heart raced from fear and effort. I forced myself to look around tracing the magic inside the building. It gave me a headache right away. This place looked like a building, but it was alive. I saw veins of magic pumping through the walls. I thought my head would burst before I saw anything useful. Then I spotted a mass of small flickering lights in a room three floors above me. I stopped focusing, my eyes hurt as much as my head.  

That kid was inside the room with all the other bugs gathered nibbling on his energy. I shook my head to clear my vision. I now knew where he was, and just needed to get through a few million bugs to find him. A black mass moving like water charged down the hallway in my direction. Thankfully Harp came crashing through, her body turned into a massive furred beast that wrecked everything her claws touched. She took out half of the swarm. I still had way too many bugs to take care of.  

I forced myself to keep moving. I heard the chittering of the swarm hot on my heels. Before I arrived, I stocked up on a few things. A can of bug spray and a lighter could easily be turned into a small explosive if you handled them correctly. The small bomb was tossed in the middle of the mass, but it barely made a dent.  

I didn’t slow down when I hit the stairway door. It had been locked but I crashed into the door so hard it dislocated my shoulder. It hurt like hell but at least it broke the door open. Small bugs flew around hitting my face as I kept running up the stairs. I swatted them away just enough to see where I was going. The room I needed was so damn close.   

Luckily the next door wasn’t locked. I opened it to the next floor, my racing heart nearly stopped when I saw countless insects the size of small dogs waiting in the hallway. I swore knowing I didn’t have a good way to deal with them. A few charged at me which I kicked out of the way. They tore at my pants legs, some biting into the flesh. They soon backed off after getting a small mouthful. I guess I didn’t taste very good.   

My mind raced through ideas coming up empty. Just as I thought I was done for, the ceiling caved in. A smaller person came down with a cackling laugh. They darted around on all fours killing a handful of bugs. When the figure stopped to rip one apart with their teeth I could get a good look at them.  

“April?!” I shouted shocked seeing her here.  

“You!” She yelled back and pointed in my direction. “I’m your friend and you don’t call me for help?! I’ll talk to you about this after!”  

I nodded and let her focus her attention on the small army in front of us. Our enemies must have realized she was stronger than them. They all turned to leave but didn’t get very far. April shrieked in delight every time she crushed one under her feet. I left her on her rampage and forced myself inside the room the kid was being held inside.  

I found him on a bed covered in easy-to-deal-with bugs. They were as weak as a normal cockroach. It took me a few minutes to empty my last few cans of spray into the mass. My skin crawled as I swatted them away hating the sensation of them running up my arms. I got most of them off then lifted the kid into my arms. I realized he would be too heavy to carry around for too long. I’ve been out of the game for a while and my strength wasn’t what it had been before.  

I set him back down and pressed my palms against the floor. I haven’t done this trick very often and I just hoped it worked. The building we were inside was powerful. I bet it held more magic than August, April, and Harp combined. But, it didn’t have the kind of awareness or intelligence. I carefully started to take a little bit of magic into my arms. I held my breath during the process, making certain I stole power in a way the building wouldn’t notice. Like a flea draining blood. If it got itchy, it would be all over.  

Since Harp and April were causing problems, my actions weren’t noticed. I gathered up enough power and let it sit inside my arms. I had about ten minutes of being able to lift things twice as heavy as myself without the muscles getting tired.   

When it comes to magic, you can do almost anything with it. The more complicated requests require more focus and power.  Becoming strong enough to carry a person without issue was something so simple I bet more humans could do it if they were aware of how magic worked.  

Most of the larger bugs had been chased away by April. A few were still in the hallway which I took out with a few well-placed kicks. I almost felt sorry for the things even if they would be glad to eat me on the spot.  

I started down the stairs again but ended up tripping over the kid's damn jacket. We tumbled downwards, my shoulder feeling hot from pain. I ignored it. The kid didn’t wake up but I bet he got a few bumps from the fall. At least he wasn’t dead so he should be thankful.  

I thought I was in the clear when I didn’t see any threats until I hit the entrance of the lobby. The building had been torn up from the fight between Harp and the Clerk. I heard rumblings from them exchanging blows. I took a step towards the door, but my path was cut off by the ceiling caving in once again.   

Both April and Harp came with a creature with an appearance that would haunt my dreams for a while. The body looked like a long millipede but with long spider legs. It had transparent wings that had been damaged. The head was made up of different types of insect faces and human skulls fused together. A human face that looked like the Clerk sat in the middle. An appearance of disgust directed towards us.  

“Do you think you can win?” I asked the girls.  

Both had torn clothing and slowly healing wounds. Harp gave a strained smile and April stayed on all fours, a deep rumbling coming from her chest.   

“No, but we would do a lot of property damage before he took us all out.” Harp admitted.  

That was it. We were dead. Or at least, we should have died there.   

“No, you shall not!” The monster snapped. “I’m canceling your rooms, Get out!’  

An invisible force took us all by the ankles. One after another we were all tossed out the front door. I was almost crushed by Harp when she was tossed out last. I rolled over at just the right time.  

I sat up dazed to see the building shaking. It started to sink into the ground, the entire thing leaving to take up a different spot to lure in victims.  

Somehow, April snagged a large bug on the way out. She held on to it as I shook off any that had hitched a ride on my clothing.  

“How dare you not call me to help!” April snapped.  

“You’re a kid! That place was dangerous!” I reminded her.  

“I’m a menace!” She corrected and then bit the head of her hijacked snack.  

“You sure are Baby Girl.” Harp complimented her.  

I wanted to tell Harp to not encourage her but knew it be useless. I also had a weird feeling come over me as if I was jealous Harp called April ‘baby girl’ and not me. I shook that thought off hating how I got around her.   

“Who’s that?” April asked, her mouth full.  

She pointed at the guy we risked our lives to rescue. She didn’t even know why we had almost died. She just wanted to fight. I didn't think I could ever understand supernatural creatures. I couldn't answer her because someone else had just arrived.  

“Now what happened here?”  

Klaus stood; arms crossed with a younger Agent in tow. The Agent wasted no time going over to the hunter to see if he was alive.   

“Well...” I started.  

I didn’t have a lie out of this.  

“Do you know what you just did? Now we need to find the location of the Bugged Hotel all over again! You risked your life, and two others when you should have just waited.” His voice was so stern it made me shrink back a little.  

He let out a sharp inhale of air. When the other Agent wasn’t looking, Klaus gave me a wink. Damn, this guy was good at acting. He needed to give me a hard time because that was his job. But he was secretly glad I saved an inexperienced hunter from the Hotel.  

“We’ll take him to get treatment. Does anyone else need to go to the clinic?” He offered.  

I shook my head and popped my shoulder back in because I hadn’t had a chance yet. Klaus let his eye twitch from the sound, but he didn’t say anything. Both girls shook their heads.   

“April, please come with me. We have a job for you if you’re up to it.”  

She let out a long groan sounding like a teenager who had just been asked to clean her room.  

“I HATE picking plants! There are only undead in that swamp! They’re so easy to kill and don’t taste good at all.” She pouted but still followed behind the Agents.  

Harp had nothing else to do so she offered to go along with April. Not before she claimed her price of doing this job for me. She grabbed hold of my face to give my cheek a hard kiss that felt like it bruised. I protested reminding her our deal was for her to not do that in front of people. Her answer was to do it three more times.  

I let them leave, rubbing my sore cheek. I honestly like Harp. I liked her a lot. She was well aware of that fact however understood a relationship would never work out between us. She wanted different things in life. Mostly a strong partner and a family. I could barely take care of myself, let alone kids. When we saw each other, we would show our mutual affection but nothing more.  

I went home that day wondering if I had done the right thing. Would that Hotel take more victims before The Corporation was able to find it again? Had saving one person caused the death of others?  

Even if it did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let that kid die today. I did one more shake to make certain I didn’t have any bugs still on me before entering my apartment building. Creating a cockroach infestation was the last thing I wanted from this day.   

On our way back to Washington from Oklahoma, Leilani and I stopped in Tennessee. We ran out of gas (my bad) and had to walk to a gas station. It was a forty-minute walk to get there, and another forty minutes back, so it was pretty dark by the time we were on our way back to the car.

We could see the car in the distance when a figure stepped out onto the road in front of us. From the distance it was at, all we could tell was that it was an unusually tall man wearing an old-fashioned stove pipe hat. Leilani and I were giggling about the idea of running into Abraham Lincoln on the road when we realized how wrong the shadow in front of us was.

It was at least seven feet tall, the arms were too long, and it seemed to be moving in an unnatural way. We stopped, hoping the shadow would stop too, but it continued to approach. There was nowhere for us to go, we didn't think we could outrun whatever it was if we turned back towards the gas station, but we also didn't like the idea of trying to run past it to the car, and we didn't feel safe stepping off the road to get away.

Before long the shadow was right in front of us, a giant dark figure leaning over us menacingly. It wore a grey button-down shirt tucked into grey pants which were in turn tucked into brown boots. The most disturbing part was its face, the figure had large eyes and no mouth, and it looked down at us with malice. It swayed back and forth like a tree in the wind, craning its head slowly down to look at us.

While its eyes were filled with a strangely malicious energy, it didn't seem aggressive. It reminded me of a person crying in public, the way their face seems to go from grief to anger the longer people just pass them by with no concern for their well-being.

Leilani reached over and grabbed my hand and said, "Excuse us."

She took a step forward and the figure raised both arms, holding them out straight. Hanging from each arm were several bodies, each one attached to the arm with a noose around its neck.

From the mouth of one body came a man's voice, dark and raspy but somehow almost musical, that said, "You have nowhere to go."

Leilani tilted her head stubbornly, "Yes we do, back to our car."

It's hard to make a lot of expressions without a mouth, but the creature in front of us seemed briefly taken aback by Leilani's decisive answer. It leaned closer and another corpse opened its mouth to speak, voice rasping in a hypnotizing lilt.

"There is no purpose in leaving me behind. I am the inevitable. All make the decision to follow me."

I felt a chill shake my spine and the creature made eye contact with me. In its eyes I saw tragic life after tragic life, each one ending on this road with this creature. It sighed sadly, and all the heads nodded at me.

Another dead mouth opened to speak, "You see the truth in my words. You see that the only release from sorrow is death. There is nothing to fight against when the fight is already lost. You have been losing for so long. Allow me to take your burden away."

It felt like a cold spike was being driven through my chest. Every moment I had ever felt like giving up came crashing down on me like a wave. A secret fight I had refused to share with even my closest friends. Staring into the figures' pale eyes, I did feel like I was fighting against the inevitable. I noticed something I hadn't seen previously, an already tied noose dangling from its left hand.

It held the noose out to me, and another mouth opened, this time it spoke gently, "Why wait any longer? You can be released now. Released from the fear and shame, the pain and suffering of your life can come to an end."

I could vaguely feel Leilani tugging on my hand, but it was like a tunnel was forming around me, all other thoughts were cut off. I could only see and hear what was right in front of me.

The mouths all smiled, and the creature held its arms out as if for a hug, "You can join me. We will walk from this place together. You will find eternal companions with us."

Then Leilani spoke, shattering the darkness."I'm so sorry that was your experience, and I'm sorry for all the people who agreed with you." She squeezed my hand, "But there is help. There's no shame in asking for it, and I hope you can find rest. I wish we could help you.” She looked at me, “But we can only help each other."

The creature let its arms fall to its sides as all the malice left its eyes, it looked at Leilani for a long moment. It vanished, and I burst into tears. Leilani and I stood on the road for a long time, holding each other and talking. We had been planning on finding a hotel but decided to drive for a while longer so we could talk. Leilani asked questions and I answered all of them honestly, feeling like we were doing surgery on a part of myself that had been fighting an infection for a long time.