Hello, just looking to see if I can have this checked for guideline breaches from the mods, also any critiques from other sources would be very nice!

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March 3rd, 01:12 - Our unit has hit a wall here in France, we were supposed to assist the forces here in repelling the Germans but we weren't prepared for their assault, yesterday they wiped out more than half of the other brits in our troupe. Squadron leader Lieutenant Fawkes was among the number injured by heavy artillery fire. I had to drag his half-torn body out of the ditch he lay in. He handed me his scrapbook as he was being carried off to the emergency tents, the shrapnel

protruding from his lacerated arm had nearly torn up my hand in the process, adrenaline is a hell of a thing. Until he recovers I will try to keep these pages alive. My name is Private William Greene of the Royal Scots infantry and I've been fighting this war since the beginning. Formerly a professor, I had no proclivity for violence or blind willingness to be sent to my death. I do however, believe in people, I have seen many a graduating student walk out of my doors to brave the world for themselves, knowing full well that this is likely where they ended up, I stand by my principles and I'm doing the same thing I always have, fighting for a better future. At least, I hope so.

March 5th, 19:23 - It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to think I'm starting to go slightly deaf, the bombardments keep me awake most hours of the night and the pressure from German infantry means we can't rest during the day either. Private Wilkins tells me that what little sleep he does get is plagued by nightmares of fleshy things wriggling in the barbed wire so close to where we rest our heads. I think he could tell by my reaction the thought of such a thing disturbed me, so instead he resorted to calling me a feardie boy, we had a good laugh then after. Wilkins always has a way of lightening the mood, I've known him since we got into a verbal scrap at the enlistment office over my own lack of enthusiasm concerning the heightened nationalism in our country leading to more and more violence. We've since come to understand one another, cultivated a sort of friendship even, he's simple minded and brash but headstrong and I've rarely seen him shaken by the atrocities we've since witnessed.

March 23rd, 04:45 - It appears the Lieutenant's sacrifice was for naught, the brass has decided to move us away from the front lines here and toward Belgium, where the trenches have been dug. I've heard stories of the war efforts in Belgium, the so called 'Dodengang' or 'Trench of Death' is our destination. Mayhap the journey will give us a chance to rest peacefully, when I find myself restless I've discovered a habit of looking through the old entries in this here scrapbook. Our Fawkes was quite the artist, each page is filled corner to corner with rather lush depictions of exotic flora from nigh across the world. Take for instance the Rafflesia or 'Corpse Flower', despite being called this, it is in fact a parasite that feeds on dead trees while releasing a sickly sweet smell to lure flies to carry it's spores, while I find these pages to be of great entertainment during my restless nights, I have found nary a trace of journal keeping before mine own. I can't help but feel my entries inferior, Apologies Lieutenant Fawkes, I have no artistic talent of my own, my written entries will have to suffice.

April 1st, 12:56 - We arrived in Belgium after a 3 hour journey by truck on which Wilkins seemed to achieve some short lived rest, he woke shortly before we arrived at the trenches in a cold sweat. I had asked what he dreamed of but he refused to tell me and has since been lost in his thoughts, so much so, that he did not snap out of his delusions even when the enemy artillery had blown to smithereens the truck in front of us, causing our driver to swerve out of the way and back on to the dirt road, I had thought for sure we were bound to topple into a ditch the way I was nearly forced onto my feet caused by the erratic driving. Nevertheless we made it safely to the trench, I wish the same could be said for our unlucky escort, poor sods. By the time we had sunk our feet into the veritable swamp of mud and damp wood that was the Dodengang, Wilkins seemed to be back to his usual, hotheaded self, trading his rationed food for cigarettes with some of the other infantry stationed there. I was by far more interested in seeing where we would bunk so that I could call it a night, we had been introduced to Officer Waylin who was to be responsible for us during our time here, there are rumors he was sent in to replace the Officer before him, who would send the men on 'strategic' rushes of the enemy trench ultimately leading to major avoidable losses. I approached Waylin and upon seeing my halfhearted stand to attention and lacking enthusiasm, he understandably dismissed me to get some sleep.

April 3rd, 04:13 - I'm beginning to understand why we have been so hastily ripped from our comfy defense of France, the fight here is a desperate one. Some men tell tales of watching their brothers in arms peek over the top of the trenches only to hear the distinctive sound of engineered rancor and find their skulls have become one with the mud and disease to which we have now become accustomed. More worryingly so are tales of the fog, some say they have seen the very bodies of the fallen act, unbecoming, of those who surely are dead upon the fog's presence. Officer Waylin seems to frown upon such storytelling, often interrupting these superstitious yarn-spinnings with one of his apparent famous speeches about 'letting fear win' or 'surrendering before trying' which to his credit does seem to light a fire in the hearts of men, more so Wilkins, who has since come to most certainly venerate the man, espousing his words of bravery to anyone unlucky enough to which he shares a bunk space with.

April 9th, 19:12 - Today was my first experience of the dread fog that had captured the imagination of those few infantry, even those most hardened who would stare down enemy machinations and surely not hesitate to pull the trigger so long as he who donned the fatigues wore the wrong colors, were faintly quelled by it's aura. One who remained poised was of course Officer Waylin, who decided this was in fact a situation to be taken advantage of, rallying a few of the nearest troops and laying out his plan. They were to rush the enemy using the fog as cover to cross No Man's Land uninhibited, Wilkins had almost volunteered to be one of those who would brave fate and venture toward the enemy line, before he could pitch his idea to the Officer however I took grip of his shoulder tightly, he shook me off but it was too late, someone else had eagerly stepped up to try their luck at becoming a hero. "What do you think you're doing Greene? Get a hold of yourself man, this is war" He half whispered, noticeably annoyed at not having been at the front of the line to prove himself to his new hero. To be truthful, I'm not sure why I did it either, Wilkins and I have all but accepted our fates in this living hell of a world man has created, mayhap the hysteria surrounding the oozing mist had set my mind awry for but a moment but it felt like a few seconds of instinct in which I would not willingly let him venture into what many have taken to thinking of as the primordial unknown itself.

April 11th, 12:01 - Those men never came back. Those few on watch had said they heard nothing overnight, no shots had rung out over that long stretch of blood and barbed wire meaning they certainly couldn't have been included in a gunfight. Waylin believes the Germans are up to something but I know how his men are superstitious and would rather blame the ordeal on the supposed shapes in the mist that so many of them claim to have been witness to. Many would even ignore the fog's presence all together and avoid looking past the sandbags, having their eyes trained on the ground as they passed through the outdoor sections of the trench, refusing to face the fog and have it stare back at them. Despite many of us feeling this way, there have been a few reported accounts of infantrymen in a trance attempting to climb the walls, I would normally have passed this up as mere storytelling if it had not been for my own experience. I had been assigned to the day watch, fighting my own battle with ostensible awareness when a stranger took hold of my leg, needless to say jolting me well into lucidity. When I had turned around to face him, he was moving past me, into the battlefield almost as if he were sleepwalking. He was making for the fog, I leapt up in a panic once I realized his intent and tackled him to the ground, once more placing my trepidation in another, it took another two infantry to drag him off the field and back to safety.

Despite risking punishment, I passed my rifle to another man and visited the bunker of the fellow who had attempted to rush off, arriving at his dugout, he was restrained by several of our boys, it seemed as if they were causing him pain just by holding him down, he had been screaming all the while “that mist is behind my eyes, it’s moving towards my head” The ramblings of a sleep deprived soldier no doubt, or at least, that’s what the others say, I heard them chuckling amongst each other at his dramatic outburst.

April 14th, 10:11 - Once again a restful sleep escapes me, I awoke to find a surprisingly fearless rodent perched on the end of my bunk, standing on his hind legs. If I were so inclined towards madness as some of our brothers appear to be, I would say it seemed like the creature was regarding me with a sort of intelligence, unmoving and calculated, as if it was waiting for me to do something. Were it not for Wilkin's fevered awakening I would have thought it a night terror, the rat soon scurried off at the unexpected noise and I had asked Wilkins what the fuss was this time. He slumped back in the folding bed that barely fit his large frame and breathed a sigh of relief, I asked him once more if he had experienced another nightmare but he seemed not to be fully lucid and falling back into sleep, or so I assumed, before becoming unconscious once more he whispered fervently something I couldn't fully understand, it sounded like "Too far in" I must have fallen asleep myself shortly after.

April 15th, 10:03 - It is an uncanny feeling in a place of such constant bombardment to feel nothing but the wind blowing through the trenches. Such was this morning when I awoke to a strange silence, not a semblance of shouting, artillery or gunfire to be heard. My first instinct was to wake Wilkins from his slumber as we often do for one another, I more often than him, however I found his bunk to be empty. Upon exiting our dugout I found my vision to be drastically obscured by the rolling fog which had engulfed the surrounding landscape, a few men were gathered by the sandbags leading out where the fog was thickest, among them was Officer Waylin who didn't seem to care at all that I had forgotten to stand at attention and instead addressed me as Private Greene before informing me of the situation. While I was sleeping, the fog had rolled in thicker than ever before, Waylin saw this as an opportunity to send a small unit across No Man's Land, this time to do some small reconnaissance of the enemy's bunker, Wilkins had apparently approached the group and requested to join the operation, the officer had the right mind to deny him as he looked to be affected by delirium however Wilkins had insisted that he had simply not slept well the previous night, Officer Waylin had decided to let the private do what he willed and they haven't been in contact with any of them since. I do feel regret at not being able to stop him once more going over but in the end, it was his own choice, he's a braver man than I. What’s more, I visited the bunker of that wailing man from the previous day, strangely, naught but his standards remained in his bunk, drenched in water. We are only given one uniform.

April 16th, 10:31 - The fog has not yet cleared at present and the stagnancy of the battle ensues. The men seem to be hallucinating things, disembodied faces seeming familiar to them in an uncanny way, remaining in the corners of one's peripherals and never fully in sight. One man by the name of Lance Sergeant Monet had apparently just gone mad had taken off without a word straight into the maw of the fog, even leaving his rifle behind. no one had attempted to give chase, still sends a shiver up my spine to imagine what urge would drive a man to avoid his sense of danger to do such a thing, I cannot ponder. I find myself unnerved by the intensity of the silence more than anything.

April 17th, 09:58 - Last night I awoke once more, the first time I had slept for such a duration in so long, when I pried my eyes open I happened to spy something I still cannot explain, something that still disturbs me so as I write; I had been observing my surroundings in the dark as I usually do upon waking at night, everyone else sharing the bunker was out cold. Twenty or so minutes must have passed when I chanced to gaze at the form of an entity studying me well before I had noticed it's presence, had an animal happened to invade our bunker? No, an animal could not remain so still as this thing had so effortlessly blended into its surroundings as if it had been there the entire time. As I thought about it more and more, the being frightened me with increasing intensity, I thought my best chance was to reach for my gun. As I slowly began to move my arm toward the edge of my bed, the true peril of my situation struck me, the abomination edged slowly towards me as I turned my body, I stopped and so too did the thing, I rested my arm once more by my side and the thing retreated to where it had been where I first glimpsed it. Every move I made, it would advance on me and judging by its stride, it would certainly reach me before I reached for my rifle. Adrenaline coursed through my being as all I could do was remain still and observe it as it observed me. I remember slowly losing consciousness while desperately trying to keep my eyes locked on the entity, the way it walked toward me whenever I made any kind of movement, flowing like water in the shape of an unnatural being before retreating into the background once more and locking itself into place, once more before I began to slip back into my dreams I noticed it moving slowly, not towards me, instead, it appeared to be mimicking my own breathing. The collective anxiety seems to have affected me somewhat, is it that, or am I simply becoming akin to those plagued by hauntings of the imagination?

April 18th, 10:46 - Still no action from our enemy, Officer Waylin seems to be distraught by his failings to gather intel or at least have a single squad come back after being sent out into the fray. Despite the ominous call of the gray mist warding me away from entry, lately I'm beginning to feel the unknown voyage is better than staying here in the Dodengang overlong, rations are running out and some of the more short-tempered types have begun lashing out amongst their fellow men. What's worse still is that some of the French boys have been turning up eviscerated on their very beds, everything below their necks splayed and bloody while their heads remain a perfectly kept visage of their terror, why the consistency? I'm not sure, but I wonder if I nearly shared the same fate by being privy to the intruder in our bunker. I no longer believe these happenings to be that of human creation, even as one who has witnessed the cruelty of mine own kind. I choose not to think of this too often, nevertheless, tensions are high, It's driving us all to grow distant from one another. Perhaps it would be better to go to my fate than stay here and have death be an eventuality.

April 20th, 15:32 - This morning I approached Officer Waylin with my plan, I was to join the next survey team and make a break for the enemy trenches, where in my mind they would welcome us as temporary allies against the very mist itself, worst case scenario they would take us prisoners and reveal the fog was of their own making. Either way we would be free from the torment and I may even be able to see Wilkins again. Waylin had been so beaten down by recent losses and mounting problems that I must have looked like a knight in shining armor, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth after he so proudly held my shoulder and thanked me for my bravery. No sooner than he let go of me did I become covered in his blood, the aggressor a fellow brit with his eyes rolled back into his head. He let off another shot that grazed my neck and I made for the wall, one shot after another things were escalating and soon the whole trench was engaged in combat with one another, every man for himself. In all the chaos I must have been the only one to notice the fog was creeping closer to where the fighting was, I had run twenty or so yards from the pit and could only hear the shots and violence become drowned out by the wailing of the fog that now surrounded me. Oddly enough, while the air here is filled with stillness, a strange discomposure overcomes me as I venture further.

April, 16:09 - While I was stationed in the Dodengang I had never the chance to see for myself the slaughter wrought upon the battlefield until now, I could not see far in any direction, consequently my eyes are forced downward to the bodies that lay under my boots. I've been wandering for so long that I had almost become insensitive to the nature of this place, the idea that I could dismiss those that were once alive as part of the ground beneath my feet frightened me as I thought of what I would become. I knelt down beside one of the fallen, a German boy, couldn't have been more than twenty years old I thought, when I was torn from my depression, replaced with rising alarm when I realized the lad was still breathing, in fact, they were all still breathing, further yet, they all seemed to be moving ever so slightly. As if they were molten rock, slowly the corpses began to merge with one each losing their own individuality in a spectacle I was too frozen to flee from, they began to moan in a choir of uncomforting harmony as their bodies were unwillingly welded to one another, the very floor beneath my feet now moving to give way to a growing pit in the middle of the field, those inside the maw of the pit now screaming bloody murder. I tried to snap out of it, the shrieking and wailing kept getting louder, more voices in the throng. My primal instinct had all but sparked enough for me to take off in a sprint, no longer caring for the moans of those my boots trampled in my dreaded haze, as I was escaping I felt it in my heart, I knew, something was birthed from that pit of hell, I felt its eyes on me as I made for safety, the same gaze I had received when I had impeded Wilkin's attempt to go over the wall and yet, the same stare I remember from a few nights ago. I ran for what must have been half an hour until I could no longer breathe, things are still once more and the bodies no longer weep as I step over them, I don't recall No Man's Land being this long of a stretch.

April, 19:33 - It is as I feared, they too have been swallowed whole by the fog, what's strange is the lack of bodies, the area around the enemy trench is completely clear, just the mist and mud that engulf my vision. I suppose I must be thankful to have stayed my course, the land has become twisted and I no longer recognize it as it once was. I decided to head into one of the bunkers to investigate, there's not much else I can do and I feel as though I am seen out here in the open, it is not the feeling of staring down the barrel of a rifle, instead, it feels as if there is hot breath around my neck.

April, 20:25 -After some more hours of wandering I stumbled across an odd tarp draped over a hole, upon further investigation it seems to be a tunnel under the trenches themselves, the fog does appear to be present underground. I have naught to illuminate my way, it seems however that there is light emanating from within this cavern. As I write, I'm coming up to the end of the tunnel, I see what looks like an excavation site, so this is where all the bodies were. As I descend I notice the runes carved and etched into the stone walls with such nonsensical detail that it almost hurts to strain a look at; and from a gargantuan hole in the old sandstone seeps the very fog that plagued us, over the dead bodies of countless infantry, ours and theirs alike, Wilkins is among them, I found him, dead like all the others. It is darker than ever I thought possible beyond that hole, the light itself seems to be swallowed whole. There is an odd writhing noise from within, I hesitate to intrude into the dark where whatever animal this is stirs, however, I could have sworn I heard a familiar voice by the entrance to the tunnel.

As I write now, standing at the precipice toward the breathing abyss I feel eyes on the back of my head, the voices that speak to me from behind are that of Waylin, Fawkes, Wilkins and.. My mother, back home. They speak to me casually but I dare not turn, the voices they speak to me in are so grossly wrong, as if they do not fully grasp the complexity of human speech, as I try to ignore, they grow impatient, the voices manufactured to ease me are slipping and giving way to deep gurgles, perhaps sensing I am too far in to flee, the unhinging of jaws sound and sockets filled with nothing fill my mind, as vision is the vestige of a species of prey.

I feel something akin to warmth on the back of my neck, wrong limbs in the shape of hands push me forward into the hole in the wall, their excited trembling and grasping is beginning to hurt, I can no longer write steadily.

Just confirming! I’m loaded with ideas :)

Hey people,

This is the beginning of a story about the life and sudden disappearance of a strange couple who move into an apartment complex, as told by the apartment manager. It's sort of based on my experiences as an addict in Los Angeles. Just wanted some input. Thanks!

Days after their sudden disappearance, the Lanesboro County Register had come down to interview the residents of the Twin Roses Apartment Complex. They had called earlier in the day when the rain and sleet were thunderheads out by the coast, battering the cabin cruisers and trawlers that dotted the far sea.

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Two reporters, a shorter man and a taller woman, took turns asking the residents of rooms 209, 207, 214, 108, and 107 questions well past the end of day. They came to me last.

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"Hey, Eddie. Thanks for letting us down here. Most managers don't take too kind to the news coming to interview." The man said.

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"Terrible what happened" The woman slung her camera over her shoulder. I invited them in but it was only after coffee and cigarettes that they started asking questions about the Minchin's.

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I told them what little I knew and before long they thanked me for the trouble and walked down the stairs and out into the glistening city. They got into a single car with the County Register logo and pulled away from the curb and drove out towards the interstate, rising gales sweeping rainwater along the blacktops for miles.

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The story never published.

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Patrick Minchin and his wife Ella had submitted an application for room 208. Two bedroom, one bath. 1,200 square feet. No windows, but one free parking space and an in-unit washer and dryer. Patrick had brought the application in person, handing it to me in a string and button envelope. He was a somber man, tall and thin and young. A small angular face with a mess of short hair almost all brown save for the streaks of silver that beguiled his age.

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Over the phone his voice was unhurried and soft.

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"I was calling to inquire about the room?"

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Slow words warm over the line. He'd been approved before the call was over so turning in the application was just icing. The kind of man, the landlord said, who alway's dotted his i's and crossed his t's. He could tell. I watched Patrick walk to his car, a dark colored Buick parked under the sprawling white willow that covered the side street in acorns and harvest leaves. He got in but didn't start the car, instead talking with someone in the passenger seat. He sat there for nearly two hours before he reversed and pulled out into the main road. Storms bloomed out on the horizon. I wondered if Patrick knew how often it rained here. Sometimes it's ceaseless.

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The first odd occurrence was on move in day. Patrick called in the early morning, his voice still steady.

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"The movers will be there throughout the day. Ella and I won't be there until much later. Maybe two A.M."

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I could hear traffic droning like ocean waves over the line. I said it wouldn't be a problem.

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"I appreciate it."

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He hesitated before he went quiet. Then-

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"I've been meaning to talk with you, Eddie. Nothing serious, I just- We're moving to the Twin Roses because we're starting over. Brand new. You know?"

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I didn't but I said I did.

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"There's something you should know."

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At once Patrick's voice was pallid, as if all the color had drained from him and seeped into the gutter.

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"Ella was involved in an accident about a year ago and she doesn't look like she used to. She's fine. Great, actually. She just doesn't like being around a lot of people she doesn't know. It gets to be a bit much for her."

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He thanked me before the line went dead and suddenly I found myself alone in the rushing stillness of my office. Outside the rain had come in steady droves and drummed lightly against the storm windows.

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"Doesn't look like she used to."

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I turned the phrase over in my head for hours while directing the movers to Room 208 as they flew in three dressers and two separate bed frames, then a mahogany bureau and a packaged full length standing mirror. Later, boxes and boxes with labeled tape that stacked neatly against the corners of both bedrooms. The beds were built, one in each room. The sofa lined the back wall of the living area, cornering to the right the dinette that led to the kitchen. The last thing they set up was the mirror.

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It stood tall in the corner of the second bedroom. The movers handled it together, removing it from the cardboard picture box and cutting the styrofoam sheet that covered it in to strips. Towels were draped across the face of it and when they lifted them I could see the brass relief that framed the mirror. It was old, the relief greened with age along the high corners. Dust had settled just beneath where it stood, the carpet now ashen like a painted outline by the stand. And along the mirrored surface a line traveled the length from the bottom left to the upper right. A crack that caught and gleamed the red sun from the windows, deep and bright like pigeons blood.

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The movers left and I stood there looking at the mirror for some time.

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"Doesn't look like she used to."

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Hours later I was smoking the last of the Camel lights by the open screen window in my room when Patrick arrived. I checked the clock fixed to the wall, 2:03. I stamped the cigarette out in the pooling rainwater by the sill and opened my door just enough to see through the gap.

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Whispers from Patrick as he talked to someone who made no noise. The lobby door closed with a dull click but not before letting storm winds in that cooled the stale, hanging air of this place. Dim light from the lobby cast oblong shadows against the stairwell and for a moment it felt as if there were a thousand different bodies gathered in the entrance, waiting to get in.

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Patrick rounded the landing first, alone and soaking. I pulled into my room, keen on his expression as he listened for any signs of waking life. Nothing. He bounded a short distance down the steps and spoke quietly. This time, when Patrick came into view he was guiding a woman by the hand.

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She wore a belted gingham trench coat and stood a foot shorter than Patrick. Her hand was small and pale against his, the other gripping the worn banister as she took slow steps up, her galoshes leaving boot prints against the carpeted floor.

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They turned and went down the hall and soon were in their room. Silence then, as it was every night here.

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I stood there a while playing the image of the woman back again and again. Patrick had never mentioned what exactly was wrong with her. What he meant by she doesn't look like she used to, and now it wasn't any clearer.

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Because her face was covered by a white linen sheet. Over her head and down her shoulders like the parlor veil of nun. Thick enough that Patrick had to guide her to their room. Odd times here at the Twin Roses.

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---

The second occurrence was two weeks later, when Ms. Furlong from 214 knocked on my door in the mid afternoon of some dreary Saturday. She was a stout woman of fifty-six and worked at the local grocery chain as a floor manager. Years of manual labor showed in her swelling wrists and knuckles and in age lines that creased her face in odd angles.

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"She wont stop playing with Anthony." Ms. Furlong said.

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Anthony was Ms. Furlong's grandson, left at her doorstep some eight years ago by her daughter who now was lost somewhere in the wilderness of Los Angeles, shooting dope and running dates to survive. I'd seen her once, years ago when I had first started working here. A gaunt, hollow woman with sunken eyes and bone white skin that shone like moonlight in the dark. She begged Ms. Furlong to take her back, telling her she needed help. A place to sleep away from the cold and pouring rain. Away from the men who lived at night.

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She left two days later while Ms. Furlong was working the start of a double shift, taking the last of her mothers jewelry and cash. When Ms. Furlong returned, she didn't call the police. Instead, she sat outside her apartment with the bags of grocery she had bought, her back straight against the scuffed wainscoting.

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"Take it", she said "It's too much for one person."

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I said nothing as I stood by her.

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She handed me the bags and then Ms. Furlong got up and silently entered her apartment and for the rest of the night I could see the honey glow of old light from beneath her doorframe glowing. The following year is when she was gifted Anthony.

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"He came back crying, Eddie. Crying. She won't stop and I've half a mind to call the Police."

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She looked then over her shoulder, towards the room the Minchin's had rented and rarely ever ventured out of.

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I sat with Ms. Furlong on the graying sofa that backed the wall opposite of the single hung windows in her living room, the view a pallid image of main street slick with old rain. Patches of wet concrete spotted the walkways like sunspots and gave way to standing pools of wastewater ankle deep in the gutters.

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"He won't sleep. Hasn't for two nights now." Ms. Furlong said.

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Anthony picked at loose threads that hung from the cuffs of his jeans, preening them like pinfeathers, sitting on a small plastic chair by the television that played public access. A mail man talked to a puppet, explaining to it the different routes he took to deliver packages.

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Anthony and the other children of this place played in the long hallways that traveled the length of the building. In the summer it was active; baseball or football or anything else that required movement. In the winter it was exploring games, slow methodical searches of treasures and hints and artifacts. Games played in groups that kept them together. Rarely, very rarely, it was hide and seek.

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The two elevators of the Twin Roses had stopped working decades ago and now sat as empty shafts, sarcophagi of dust and debris. Legend was a child had gone missing in the eighties and after days of searching the town and the further fields that land locked the county, a maintenance worker had found his battered, rigid body at the bottom of the elevator shaft. They said his eyes were open, peering above into the dark ceiling eleven floors above him, as if he had been alive for some time, watching. But in the cold dark of the shaft, his eyes would have seen nothing but night, and the autopsy confirmed he had died on impact.

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Whether or not the stories were true, it had steeped enough fear into the old tenants to keep their children from playing anything that would keep them out of sight. It was strange then, what Anthony said.

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"I was playing hide and seek with the new woman."

Hello, sleepless!

Fantastic Mr. Fox here to shine some light on the “Original Story” and “Celebrity/Politician/Public Figure” rules, which have been known to trip authors up from time to time.

Generally, if a particular work wasn't created by yourself or can be traced back to its origins, it's not suitable to use as your own. Urban legends, folklore, and myths are different and usually fine to use, but more about those later.

We don't allow the use of any intellectual properties (IPs) not owned by yourself as a significant part of your story. That includes, but is not limited to, characters and settings from books, movies, TV shows, video games, songs, creepypastas, SCPs, and even other r/nosleep stories.

Some examples of characters that are considered IPs are Siren Head, the Rake, Freddy Fazbear, Claire Redfield, Arthur Morgan, Pinhead, Tommy Taffy, Laurie Strode, Rose the Hat, and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

Some examples of settings that are considered IPs are Rivendell, The Upside Down, Tatooine, USCSS Nostromo, Vice City, Amity Island, and Shawshank State Prison.

Even if you create your own characters, you can't use The Upside Down as your setting. Even if you create your own setting, you can't use Freddy Fazbear as your character.

I hasten to add that it doesn't matter if an IP is now in the public domain. It's still not allowed at r/nosleep. We try to keep things pretty immersive here. As fun as it is to read about Winnie-the-Pooh’s bloodlust or your experience in Wonderland, these are known fiction.

Fan-Fiction, piggybacking/bandwagoning, and using AI to write or help write your story breaks the original story rule. We judge such stories at our discretion, but plagiarism will earn you a shiny permaban with no further discussion.

There are some ways in which you can use/mention established works in your own stories. Here are some examples:

Character - Count Dracula

What's not allowed:

• OP finds themselves in Transylvania, or any other location, being stalked by Dracula.

• OP tells the story of how they became a vampire and reveals at the end that they are Dracula.

What is allowed:

• OP is stalked by a vampire. “I read Dracula in high school, but this vampire is nothing like that!”

• OP is stalked by someone wearing a Dracula costume.

Character - Jason Vorhees

What's not allowed:

• OP is camping with friends. One of them is found decapitated in the woods. Later, OP is attacked by someone wearing a hockey mask and holding a machete. Even if this character isn’t explicitly named Jason, his likeness is iconic and not suitable for r/nosleep.

What is allowed:

• OP is camping with friends. One of them is found decapitated in the woods. Later, OP is attacked by someone wearing a balaclava and holding a machete. “He made Jason Vorhees look like Bambi!”

Using an existing character's likeness is a no-no. If it's more reasonable to suggest that, as written, your character is supposed to be “X”, it will be removed. “It was a tall, skeletal, humanoid creature with two sirens where its head should be.” Even if it was one siren, that doesn't work.

There are exceptions for more generic character descriptions. A killer wearing a mask of human skin isn't necessarily going to be connected to Leatherface. Put them in an apron and give them a chainsaw; there will be blood. And originality issues.

Character - Mickey Mouse

What's not allowed:

• OP is watching some old Disney cartoons. Mickey Mouse climbs out of the screen. “Oh, boy, I'm gonna enjoy eating your liver, ha-ha!”

What is allowed:

• OP goes to Disneyland and is stalked by Mickey Mouse after the Meet & Greet.

This kind of thing is generally an exception. If it's clearly someone in a costume and not the character, it will likely be fine. The same goes for a model/statue/toy of a character/mascot. For example, your collectable Star Wars figures burst from their pristine packaging and try to kill you. Double whammy!

Setting - Derry, Maine

What's not allowed:

• OP lives in, has lived in, or visited Derry, Maine. This is a fictional town created by Stephen King.

• OP grew up in Derry. The state isn't mentioned, but they played in the Barrens and lived on Neibolt Street.

What is allowed:

• “I grew up in small-town America. It wouldn't surprise me if it was Stephen King's inspiration for Derry.”

Setting - The Backrooms

What's not allowed:

• OP found themselves in an endless liminal space with yellow walls, fluorescent lights, and wet carpets. Whether this is referred to as the Backrooms or not, it's the Backrooms.

What is allowed:

• The concept of an endless space is generally fine if it's a complete story, you cover plausibility, and the setting can be distinguished from the Backrooms (or something similar like SCP-3008, the infinite IKEA).

Setting - Raccoon City

What's not allowed:

• OP is playing Resident Evil 2. During an electrical storm, they are pulled into the game and find themselves in Raccoon City facing hordes of zombies.

• OP is on a road trip and pulls over when they see a burning vehicle. As they investigate, the driver of the vehicle attacks OP despite being covered in flames. As OP runs to safety, they spot a sign that reads “Welcome to Raccoon City”.

What is allowed:

• OP is playing Resident Evil 2. During an electrical storm, OP looks out of their window to see the streets of small-town nowhere crawling with zombies. “It was like Raccoon City had landed on my doorstep.”

Song - Heart-Shaped Box

What's not allowed:

• OP discovers notes from Kurt Cobain that state Heart-Shaped Box was written to ward off an evil entity. They use the song to fight the entity when it returns.

What is allowed:

• OP faces an evil entity. When Heart-Shaped Box begins to play in the background, it appears to have a negative effect on the entity, giving OP time to escape.

It's fine to reference the things you love as an homage, as long as you don't take it too far. A good example of this is Billy Loomis from Scream was named after Dr. Samuel Loomis from Halloween, who was named after Sam Loomis from Psycho. You can set your story in Haddonfield or mention you grew up on Elm Street (as long as you don't indicate it's that Haddonfield or Elm Street). If you want to name your family John, Wilma, and Dean Torrance, go right ahead! If you name them Jack, Wendy, and Danny, it will raise eyebrows.

Generally, using common horror settings and tropes won't be an issue. A group of college students spending the weekend in a creepy woodland cabin can't really be linked to one particular existing work. Don't use the exact plot of The Evil Dead though.

When it comes to cursed media/lost episodes, you should make up your own fictional movie/TV show/video game, explaining why no one else has heard of it.

Despite popular opinion, we mods are human(ish). There are times when we might miss direct references to IPs due to lack of knowledge. I'll admit that if it's not a reference to Cthulhu, for example, I'm not incredibly knowledgeable on the works of H.P. Lovecraft. We encourage you to report any stories you see that clearly use IPs as their own.

If it's decided that a particular reference is a bit too on the nose and it results in a removal, we will consider reapproval based on the edits you're willing to make.

Urban legends, folklore, and myths

Generally, these are fine to use. They can't be traced back to a single origin or are considered part of a cultural heritage and don't belong to anyone.

You can write your own versions of Bloody Mary, Krampus, Kuchisake-onna, La Llorona, the Loch Ness Monster, the killer in the backseat, the licked hand, etc.

You can't use gods, demigods, or other deities as main characters. For example, you can have an encounter with Medusa, but not Poseidon.

Please note that modern “internet urban legends” are generally not suitable to use as their origins can be traced.

Celebrities/Politicians/Public Figures

The guidelines state you can't use these as a main character in your story, but they can be mentioned in passing or in an insignificant way.

For example, you could be in LA and spot Jamie Foxx having lunch. There's no interaction. He doesn't play a significant role in your story. That's fine.

If you want to use a celebrity in a more significant way, there can be absolutely no direct references or even the slightest implication to it being a particular person. It would need to be 100% vague and also be plausible.

For example, there's a secret conspiracy involving a pop star who is part of an underground cult. She's not explicitly named, but she's “crazy in love” with her plan to “run the world”. It's not subtle. Don't do it.

Use that same rule of thumb for politicians and other public figures. When it comes to politicians and politics in general, we discourage you from using r/nosleep as a platform for political statements.

Mods reserve the right to remove any post at our discretion. If you're not sure about these or any other rules, send a complete draft of such stories (in a Google doc allowing viewing permissions) to the mod team at r/NoSleepAuthors before posting it to r/nosleep. Please include the title of your story in the message. They can let you know if your story works, if it needs more work, or if it won't work at all.

For more information, LanesGrandma poured her blood, sweat, and tears into this super-duper In-Depth Guide, where you can find just about everything regarding the r/nosleep guidelines.

I hope this is useful. Feel free to ask questions or throw in any other scenarios you're unsure about, and we'll do our best to get back to you!

This story was removed for lack of consequence. I'd like a little more insight regarding the nature of story consequence, as I perceived the communications received from the killer and the subsequent implied threat to another person's life to be consequence enough. OP is now a part of the killer's game, as it were, and implicated in their crimes. A little guidance would be greatly appreciated, thank you!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’m a pretty solitary person. I like my alone time. The very definition of an introvert. I took out extra student loans in college to afford a solo dorm room. That’s how serious I am about it. In order to escape humanity, I have several secluded, quiet places I like to visit throughout the week, just to get a breath of air.

They’re my secret hideouts where I recharge. A hidden glade in the woods by my apartment, an abandoned path at the end of my block leading to a lookout above the freeway, the roof of my complex only accessible by fire escape. Nobody ever goes to any of these places but me. They’re mine, and when I’m there, I feel safe, set apart from the world.

So when I found an iPhone placed conspicuously where I usually sit in the glade, I became pretty upset. It was a mild summer afternoon, the perfect weather to spend an hour in my woodsy retreat. But my succor was spoiled when my eyes fell upon the device. Who has been in my space?

I scanned the vicinity for movement, as if the owner of the cell phone might still be around. Perhaps it had slipped from their pocket and they’d be trekking back to find it any moment. But a feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that wasn’t the case. The phone sat there too perfectly, resting on a boulder in the middle of the clearing.

As if it had been intentionally placed there.

I didn’t think twice about picking it up and looking through it. I knew I should’ve ignored it, left the area, kept my nose in my own business. But, well, you see, I’ve got a little problem with that. I’m a bit of a voyeur. I like to snoop. Most of my quiet places are selected for their vantage. I take binoculars and spy on people. It gives me a sense of power.

I know, I know, it’s messed up. But totally, completely harmless. Whose curiosity doesn’t get the better of them from time to time?

To my surprise, the phone was unlocked. I swiped up on the screen and saw the collection of apps, web browser, camera, notes. Curiously, there weren’t any social media apps, no dating apps, nothing that wasn’t already loaded onto a phone out the box. Like it was brand new.

My interest piqued, I opened the camera first and saw hundreds of photos organized into several different albums. I went to the first and flipped through them. They were all one woman, dark hair, green eyes, pretty in a mousy sort of way. But in none of them was she posing for the camera. In each, it seemed like she had no idea someone was snapping shots of her. There were pics of her at an art museum, walking down the sidewalk, eating at a local taco joint—

I gasped when I got to the final shots. There were dozens of them, all of her sleeping soundly in her bed. What sort of creep takes so many shots of a person sleeping? I checked out the other photo albums to find each was a repetition of the same pattern. A girl going about her day, then sleeping in her bedroom alone.

But she wasn’t really alone, was she?

With trembling hands, I closed the photo app and opened notes. I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps I hoped there would be some reasonable explanation for the pictures I’d seen, an artist’s statement about a postmodern photo project. “Surveillance in the Modern Era” or something.

Instead, there were detailed descriptions of five different murders. It was like reading a police report, but with extra commentary. The author of the notes would list all the places he stuck his knife, but then also how delightful the resulting screams had been. He timed each killing, from the moment of the first stab to the second he witnessed the life fade from their eyes.

A shiver ran the length of my spine. Gooseflesh broke out across my forearms. What was I reading? This couldn’t be real, could it? It had to be some sort of depraved, elaborate prank. Right?

Against my better judgment, I took the phone home with me. That night, I conducted my investigation. Sure enough, each woman in the phone corresponded to a missing persons case. I was able to match each face to a picture posted on local news sites. In all five, the body was never found. No evidence of foul play, suicide not ruled out.

Could I really be in possession of a serial killer’s phone? That question gave rise to a more disturbing follow up: how had this person been so careless with such damning evidence?

I should have reported it as soon as I pieced together what I had. I should have turned the phone over to authorities so that they might use it to find the sick person who owned it. But as days passed, I wrestled with the decision. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they hadn’t been careless, that the lost phone wasn’t really all that lost.

Which meant two things. First, that the presumed killer probably covered their tracks pretty damn well. Even if I handed over this phone to police, it seemed unlikely to me it would lead to an arrest. Or worse, they would make an arrest, but it would be my wrists they slap the cuffs on. Because I could find no personal identifying information anywhere on the phone. It seemed to be a prepay with no accounts logged in. A perfect burner. In lieu of any better suspects, the cops would logically turn their eye to me.

The second thing was that I was meant to find it. That the killer wanted me to have this phone and knew just where to put it so that I would find it and no one else would.

That possibility occupied my thoughts for days as I struggled to ascertain the reason. Why share this information? Why share it with me? What had I done to merit their trust?

Then it rang.

An unknown caller ID flashed on the screen as I lay in bed reading. I froze, staring at the phone until the call went to voicemail. Then I stared for another half hour, waiting for the notification a voicemail was left. But the caller chose not to leave one. Was it the killer trying to contact me? Verify that I’d put two and two together? Did they know I had the phone still? Were they watching me?

The call happened again the next night, and the next night after that. For five days in a row, I watched in horrified silence as “Unknown” blared on the screen, each time too petrified to answer. I didn’t know what to do. Should I have picked up? Told the person they were evil, that they should stop what they were doing? That would make me crazier than they were.

Last night, instead of calling, they sent a text. It read: “I know you’re seeing this.”

A second text came five minutes after the first. It contained a picture of a blonde sipping her latte at the coffee shop just down the street from my apartment complex.

I shut the phone off, but I haven’t gotten rid of it. Right now, it sits at the bottom of my sock drawer like a terrible secret.

And every waking moment, I think about responding.

This story was flagged as incomplete and I’m not sure why:

This all started with a box labeled “Amalgam” in my grandfathers attic. I’ve only peaked into its contents but enough to leave me up at night asking questions. So I decided to post here to hopefully make some sense of this or at the very least, feel less alone. I’ll post here in parts as not to overwhelm you guys, thanks for taking time to read my post.

As I said, the box, our grandfather recently moved from his home to a nursing home in our state. So over winter break, me, my mom, and my dad helped him with the move. Among many of the things in his attic was the box labeled “Amalgam” but not written on it like it contained long lost childhood memories or antiques. But instead a bold, painted on font that invoked an uneasy feeling out of me. I thought about it the whole road trip back home and when we got back, I specifically made sure to bring that box to my room and into my closet. And there it sat for many weeks until relatively recently, I’ve decided to investigate it.

Below is a picture of the first thing I pulled out of the box. A heavily redacted medical folder, including medical forms, x-ray images, but most notably, an abnormal amount of personal doctor’s notes. Most of the forms are redacted but almost all of the doctor’s notes are kept free of censorship, only censoring specific names. The doctor notes seem to get more and more sporadic as they jump dates, with diagnosis’ crossed out and hasty writing and slang. That’s what it seems like to me anyway, and instead of having you guys zoom in and try to read this doctor’s writing, I’ve taken the liberty to type it out here. I’ll include what I think are the most important and interesting notes as there is a lot of them, below is the first one:

Patient Name: REDACTED Date: 4/13/82

I honestly do not know where to start, Mr. [REDACTED] is an anomaly. Nothing in my career as a medical professional have I seen something like this. Allow me to go down the list of discrepancies, a healed femur that shows no evidence of EVER being broken, 3 different blood types in this patients veins, 2 appendixes despite having an appendectomy 4 years prior, I could go on with all of the odd quirks that Mr. [REDACTED] has throughout his body. But the most striking thing is his behavior, he is calm, collected, and friendly unless faced with any medical test or treatment, where he then becomes extremely violent and took an unnatural amount of medication to subdue the patient. To be honest, I do not have a diagnosis for the patient at this time and would request to hold him longer with a possible psychiatric evaluation.

Dr. [REDACTED]

Patient Name: REDACTED Date: 4/15/82

For the past 2 days, it has been a constant cycle. The patient no longer acts calm and collected when awake but instead resorts to screams and sounds I have never heard before. Trying to escape the room at any opportunity and we have since resorted to restraints to hold Mr. [REDACTED]. The patient had also attempted to harm staff and mutilate (itself) himself (itself is crossed out to write himself) to escape restraints. To have my personal opinion, I do not see anybody behind those eyes. I cannot formally tell you this but, i think a form for DNR is in order. The patient has been in a constant cycle of medicated comas, violence, comas, violence. And we have had to resuscitate the patient multiple times. To be honest, I think whatever is happening is killing the patient and making it suffer. And due to the biological discrepancies mentioned, I think a visit to a visit to a coroner is in order after. Unless of course you wish for the patient to remain in this state. Dearest regards,

Dr. [REDACTED]

Patient Name: REDACTED Date: 4/23/82

I feel disgusted walking into that room. Get it out of that room, sign the damn form, I don’t care if I get fired anymore. It’s a stench of death. Do you think it’s normal for a person with this behavior, multiple appendixes, bones where there shouldn’t be bones, who has ONLY been eating raw meat and nothing else we try to feed them. Do you think this is normal? Better yet treatable?? You are mad. This thing is evil and god forbid, if you don’t let it die, I’ll kill it myself and find out what it really is.

After that note there is not another from this doctor. But, there are drawing, I’ll attach them below, but to describe them and the writing on them, he killed that man, and dissected him. The doctor seemed to have been driven mad. He describes an unnatural amount of rib cage bones, an altered brain, stacks of eyes in the skull and melding of bones together. But the most disturbing is the teeth. There were teeth everywhere. In its throat, in its stomach, in its arms, all seemingly human teeth. Honestly writing this right now it’s making me sick, I don’t know what to do right now, I’ll probably post more soon but I don’t think I can right now. Thank you for helping me feel less alone in this.

Hey peeps, during the lead-up to our April Fools’ Day event, expect your feedback to be very basic; we won’t have time to go in-depth due to the quick turn-around required for the event.

Thanks for your continued support!

Let me get straight to the point. If you live near 32 [REDACTED] rd., I need you to help me. Take a gun, a bat, or a knife, break into the address given, and kill the man on the upper floor, no matter what they do or say. I'll cover any damage done to the building, so do whatever you need to do to get inside. If you are nearby, I beg you to just stop reading. Close this post and exterminate this monster. I just need someone to end this psychological nightmare of mine as soon as possible.

I work a pretty boring 9-5 at a gas station a few roads down south and was just finishing my shift. A coworker of mine came in to begin the evening shift, and I grabbed my backpack and keys before leaving the building. As I got closer to my car, I noticed someone entering the gas station, even though we hadn’t had a single car pull in for the past fifteen minutes. I glanced over and saw the guy wearing a similar jacket to mine approaching the counter. My colleague started talking to him, and I entered my car and started the engine. I glanced over to the window one last time. I shouldn’t have. The man was looking directly at me. I saw my own eyes stare back at me with a wide grin. It wore my face, my clothes, my backpack I just picked up. But this wasn’t me.

I immediately drove off, exceeding the speed limit after just a few seconds. I wasn’t ready to deal with this. My mind was somewhere else, and I couldn’t pay any attention to the road. Was I going crazy? Looking into the rear mirror, my heart dropped. There he was. In the middle of the road where I just drove by, looking at me and smiling. He even started to slowly wave at me. And in the blink of an eye, the man was gone once again. Whatever this thing is, it was following me. I kept my foot on the gas until I heard sirens. It was only a matter of time until the speeding caught the attention of two officers. With a police car behind me, I kept on driving. I couldn’t pull over. How could I? What if that thing caught me?

After some rethinking, I decided to pull over regardless. After all, I’d still have the police officers on my side in the case of an attack. I honestly can’t recall any of the things said during that discussion. My eyes were fixated on the police car. I saw it's eyes reflecting the sunlight through the back window. Unable to move, I interrupted one of the officers who was writing me a ticket.

“Who is that in the back of your car?”

And I kid you not, as soon as I said this, the fiend deflated like a balloon. I screamed. I ran over to the window and looked inside before an officer pulled me back by my arm. There was nothing there. I tried focusing on the policemen instead. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to not end up in an asylum after that encounter. They ended up giving me a hefty speeding ticket and the advice to maybe take a day or two off, but that was all. They drove off, and I got back in the car.

The rest of the way home was quiet. But my mind was on fire, overflowing with questions. I pulled into my driveway. And there he was. Inside my home. Watching me from my kitchen. I lost it. I contemplated going to the neighbors but figured the thing would just disappear again. I started shouting at it—must’ve looked like a madman from the outside. And it just stared back. The more I shouted, the wider it’s smile became. It genuinely enjoyed systematically driving me into insanity. I blinked, and once again it disappeared. I heard a knock to my right. Now it was inside my car, just a few meters away from me. It’s face pressed against the glass like some kid peeking through the window of a toy store.

I used this opportunity and stormed inside my home, ran upstairs, and locked myself in my room. I closed all the blinds, locked all the windows, and barricaded my door. Steps echoed outside my door. And for the first time, it spoke. It sounded exactly like me, but its voice had this glitching effect to it and occasionally became unnaturally loud, similar to a microphone overdriving.

“I know you’re in there. Open the door. There's no need to be afraid."

Then it hit me. My backpack was still inside the car, and my phone was within it. I can’t call 911 or any family members to rescue me from this nightmare. It’s still outside. I can hear it knocking on my door, occasionally I see its shadow through the blinds of my window. It taunts me; it wants me to open the door and face it. But I am not ready. I’ve been shouting and screaming for help for hours on end, but nobody has even rung the doorbell. Nobody knows I’m here with this thing, and nobody is coming to help me. I can only go so long before I need to sleep, and I know I’ll wake up seeing myself standing over my bed. This is why I need you to save me. I’ll try to hold on as long as possible before making a last-ditch effort to escape. If you don’t hear from me afterwards, you may assume the worst. I beg you: come to 32 [REDACTED] rd., break into my home, and shoot the smiling, blonde man wearing a blue jacket roaming the area. I need salvation from this psychological hellscape.

(Hi, first time doing this, so forgive me if I mess it up. I submitted this story to NoSleep, it was taken down for Unacceptable Horror, but the message didn't specify what aspect of the story was the problem. I would really appreciate some guidance on what might have gone against the guidelines so I can make the necessary edits.)

(Trigger warning - Gore, Zombie-esque creatures, no violence)

---

I am not the easiest person to be around. I don’t even like myself. For years, I would stumble, my head creating this distortion of reality that would make me think the world was tilting on me when it was me falling over. I would hear sounds that weren’t there, a strained pulling noise as if a metal cable was ready to snap.

I had my brain scanned, my ears and eyes checked, and a list of invasive experimental procedures to find the answer…I didn’t even know we did experimental medical procedures still. I guess the human body is still very foreign to us.

For me, reality just wasn’t a steady thing. It was changing constantly, so sometimes when I’m doing one thing, I’m actually doing something else. I tell you all this now because I need you to understand why I live alone and don’t have anyone I can turn to. Nobody wants to be near a guy who thinks he is cutting a cake when he’s cutting your arm. An actual incident during my fifteenth birthday party.

In the end, the doctors were the only ones looking out for me.

After getting in contact with a lawyer, I found out that experimental medical procedures are permitted with the subject's permission, but that subject can also do them in exchange for money. Get into the right program with a unique enough problem and a lawyer by your side, then you’re earning decent money as a human lab rat.

There is a lot of money in the healthcare sector and my problem turned out to be unique. Bizarre readings on fancy computers, blood work results, and the occasional stint in a government observation room had the professionals confused and intrigued - especially in the beginning.

The story begins a little over two years ago when my hell finally came to an end…and a new one began.

No brain prodding, no pills, no weird spinal surgery - like what did my spine have to do with it? All of that was left behind for a single dose of a clear, experimental liquid injected into my left butt cheek while I was asleep in one of their facilities. Nothing unusual. I woke up to see the doctor leaving, my hand instinctively rubbing my ass.

“Thanks, doc,” I said drowsily. “Was it good for you?”

He didn’t look back, but I think he heard the smallest of laughs. I closed my eyes and placed my head back on the cool pillow, facing the wall. That’s one thing I have to give props to hospitals and other medical facilities - they always had comfortably cool beds. I was out for moments and woke up the next day to electrodes being attached to me.

I yawned.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked, letting them do their thing. I knew one of the doctors there. “Phil, what time is it?”

Doctor Philip Kelly, is always there to treat me like a human. He was standing at the end of my bed with a clipboard, as always. With the lights turned on so suddenly, I was a little blinded by it all, so I just closed my eyes and let them work.

“Five in the morning,” he said. “Thought we’d let you sleep in.”

I laughed along with the other doctors and nurses. I was patched up in seconds. Have you ever seen mechanics change tires on a racing car? These people were so used to working with me that they could flip me onto my back, and remove my shirt and pants to poke and prod before I even really woke up. At least they made me coffee afterward.

“Standard testing to start,” Phil said. “We’ve got a whole new batch of goodies from the lab to try, nothing too strong. We just want to see how it affects certain chemical levels in your bodies, which means-”

“More bloodwork,” I nodded. I loathed the sight of blood. I couldn't watch violent movies without gagging. “Okey-dokie.”

“Let’s just see what state you’re in first,” Phil said.

Phil started asking me standard questions, which was nothing out of the ordinary. He asked me what my name was, what was the date, where I lived, and how I was feeling.

“A little tired,” I told him. “Lights are bright. You guys think about getting a dimmer so you don’t hit me with a full blast the moment I wake up?”

“We’ll consider it,” Phil said. “But I need you to open your eyes now and tell me how many fingers I am holding.”

I loathed that. I never got that right, which usually meant going straight into the first test. I could hear a nurse flick open the clips on a case containing the first injection. Still, I opened my eyes and looked down at Phil. My eyes slowly got used to the light and focused on Phil. He held his clipboard against his chest with his right arm, while his left hand was up, giving me the peace sign.

“Two fingers,” I said, immediately looking at the nurse who held up a plastic syringe while another prepared the blood draw kit. I expected them to approach me and do their thing, but they looked at Doctor Phil.

“Correct,” Phil said. “How many now?”

I looked back at him in shock. He was holding up five fingers.

“Five,” I said.

“Right. Now?”

“One…four…four…three.”

Doctor Philip put down the clipboard and started testing me with both hands, moving his hands around sometimes. He was smiling, a strange giddiness taking over. Eventually, he picked up the clipboard again and started leafing through the pages.

“When was his last injection? What was it?” he asked.

“A few hours ago,” I told him. “My ass still aches a little.”

“What are you talking about?”

I told him about the doctor who gave me an injection while I slept. How he even laughed when I made a joke. Phil just looked at me, disappointed, perhaps thinking I was talking crazy, that I had seen something, but I told him to believe me. When a nurse said my last experimental drug on record was several weeks before, that it couldn’t have taken effect so long after it had been given, Phil decided to investigate.

The room was monitored, so he went to check the camera feed. To my surprise, nobody visited me that night. Not only was there nothing on the camera feed, according to him but security was stationed in the hall outside my room all night. Three guys who would have seen if someone had gone into my room.

More tests followed, and every single one I passed with flying colors. I was mentally sound. I was ready to believe that the doctor who visited me was my final hallucination. A nurse joked that it was God coming to do what the doctors could not, after all these years.

I remained there for one more week. I didn’t have to, but they asked, and I was nervous enough to say we should make sure before I go home too. The days passed and the results were conclusive - I was normal. I could go home. I could call my family, I could reconnect with old friends. I could even try getting my first job, even though I had more than enough money to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.

I was a free man and it scared the hell out of me.

*

The man helping me in my home wasn’t too thrilled to see me so well. I kept him for a week just in case, but basically, I fired him. It was no longer necessary for me to pay so much money to somebody who just wasn’t needed. That was a fat paycheck lost and it was back to his agency to find a new client.

When I was finally alone, it all started to settle in for me. The pieces of my life just fell into place. People who stopped talking to me because it was too painful…well, they rocked up to my doorstep in tears. Friends and family. Many were still on the fence, but those who called on me welcomed me into their lives as much as I welcomed them back into mine.

I know it’s bad to cut someone out of your life because of some difficult sickness, but I never had the energy to hold a grudge against somebody. I’d hate those who stayed to hurt me, not those who left to spare me.

I live in an eco-brutalist house. For those who don’t know, it’s blocky cement architecture, but a good kind of cement, with plenty of greenery. Plants decorated shelves indoors and outdoors. Cool, grays with vibrant greens were a comfort to my eyes, but the private pool in the backyard was a welcoming blue.

I wanted to celebrate, so backyard BBQ with all those I could invite.

And it should have been perfect.

*

I left my home to get stuff for the party. Tons of meat, and drinks, and…everything. I was also eager to check out the store because I hadn’t been there in a long time. I hadn’t been anywhere except my home, hospitals, and medical facilities.

I parked my car, entered the store, and…screamed.

People turned to look at me. Many were normal, but some had these floating…corpses above them. Faceless heads, gangly fingers held above them. These featureless faces also looked at me. Many quickly ignored me and turned back to their shopping, some giving me sideways glances. Life continued, but I was at my lowest point.

I thought the hallucinations had grown more severe. Before, it was like the world was shifting, but now…it had shifted. Someone walked past me, brushing shoulders with me. I saw above him a pale corpse-like creature. Its lower half was torn off, tattered pale skin and inky insides, from the gore to the bones, were plain to see.

The creature plucked his fingers, skillfully, gesturing his two arms. Suddenly, two more arms sprouted from his back, controlling the man to squat down by a magazine rack and grab one of them. The second set of hands returned as the man stood up and continued into the store.

I was staring for too long. I saw security eyeing me. I tried to calm down, to snap out of it, but I was stuck. These monsters were terrifying. I couldn’t handle it. A moment later I was in my car and about to drive out of the parking lot, but then I noticed the people walking on the sidewalk were no different. Few were normal, many were guided along like puppets by these fleshy creatures. Creatures whose skin seemed to sag and melt over their bony forms.

When I got home, I watched the garage door close in the rearview mirror for fear of something rushing inside. Once it was closed, I got out of the car and walked straight through the house and to my bedroom. I was looking for any leftover medication from my last trials, but not a single pill to pop.

My head was pounding, but because of stress more than anything else. When I began to calm down, the pain left. Walking to the window, I looked outside. There was barely anyone in sight, but I still saw someone walking just out of sight with a corpse floating above them - they were skipping as if they had received good news.

I made my way downstairs, trying to figure out how I didn’t notice it before. I only started seeing them after I left the facility. I didn’t see one hanging over the doctors or the nurse who drove me home. Were they an exception like some of the others, or had the drug only taken effect recently?

Was I reverting, or was it going to get worse?

When I reached the bottom floor, I headed towards the kitchen to get something to eat. I had to cross this open plan area which had the lounge, kitchen, and dining room. The coolness of the grays was comforting even then, but something caught my eye. The glass wall to my left showed the backyard. A secluded place with my pool, and tall concrete walls all around. The sun only hit it around midday - yet something bright was there.

Hovering above the water was a corpse. Unlike the others, this one was clothed, more like draped, in flowing white cloth. spilled off its head and frame, looking like the remains of a violent accident waking up under a mortician's sheet. From head to the end of its flowing white cloth, it had to have been close to ten feet tall.

It seemed to flow in some ethereal breeze, yet it moved like it was underwater.

When confronted with such horror, I could only think about a weakness within me. I realized then why they called cowards spineless. My spine felt like it was thin and fragile as spaghetti, ready to snap under my quivering weight.

I approached the sliding door when I could, slowly, unsure if moving too fast would make the thing float towards me. As I neared the sliding door, its head turned to look at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the spot where its eyes might have been. I didn’t pretend not to see it, because I wanted to keep it in sight at all times.

When I reached the door and started to slide it closed, it raised a draped hand.

“Wait,” it said. “Do not be afraid. You can see, can’t you?”

Me pausing as I closed the door was answer enough. The creature raised its head to look up at the sky and then raised its arms as if basking in the glow of the sun.

“Praise,” it said. “Praise. Praise.”

I didn’t understand if it was asking me to praise it, or if it was praising me, or if it was praising God. Its voice was this guttural growl, pained and wheezing. It’s exactly what I imagined a corpse would sound like. I just closed the door the rest of the way. The creature heard the click and lowered itself down.

Its white cloth touched the surface of the water, it got wet, but the water did not react. It was then I realized how pointless it was to close the sliding door. It passed through the wall, slowly, as if the passage through the glass was a greater journey than it looked. I had backed into the kitchen, aches, and pains around my lower half as I bumped into corners and furniture.

All that was going through my head was my imminent death. It stopped a few feet away. I could see the cloth move as it breathed. I could see the way it clung to its bony frame.

“Give me your form,” it said. “Let me guide you. I shall show you peace, I shall show you a fortune, I shall make you happy.”

I thought it meant to take over my body. Possess me. It was an evil spirit, of some kind. I had to escape, but where could I run to? At the very least, it didn’t seem to want to force control over me - it requested it.

“Don’t…go away. Leave me alone,” I murmured, trying to find the right words and the courage to say them.

“Why deny yourself an easy life?” it asked, sweeping its hand. “You have known pain. I will help you forget it.”

“I’m not a puppet,” I said, sliding along the cabinets towards the living room. From there I could get to the front door. Its head followed my movement. “Stay back.”

“You have seen the others…then you can see for yourself that I am not like them,” it said. “I will not bind you with strings…but just one string. A line between your heart and mine. Let me share your joy, let me hold your pain…your pain. Give me your form and I will free you from it.”

I turned around and ran towards the door. I couldn’t tell if it was following, but I thought I had outrun it. I pushed the door open and turned around for just a second to close it and its face was right in front of mine, a few inches away. It looked down on me, growing closer. I stepped back and it kept the distance between us.

“You already belong to us,” it said. “You would be better in my hands, than theirs.”

I fell back onto the ground. I couldn’t even crawl away, it floated right above me.

“Submit. You cannot escape.”

*

I woke up inside my home. The pool party was that day, so I went to the store, finally entered, got what I needed, and returned home. I saw people being paraded around like puppets. It didn’t bother me then, it doesn’t bother me now.

I returned home, prepared, and welcomed my friends and family. Seeing them again, after all this time, felt amazing. I noticed almost all of them were strung up, all except one - my father.

He lounged by the pool, perfectly natural. Beer in one hand and a bowl of bar snacks resting on his round belly. I noticed a glimmer of something thin against the cold cement wall behind him, Like a silken web that only appeared briefly.

I followed the direction towards the sky and saw them. Pale ghosts against the sky, many barely visible. Their white veils flowed gently, silently. I saw mine as well. It didn’t repulse me, not as it should have. I no longer felt this painful fear whenever I saw something gorey or disturbing. I recognized it as bad and that was it. No gagging, nausea, or cold sweats.

Question my sanity, if you want. I had a real problem for years, so I don’t blame you. I don’t know what brought me to this state. All I know is, we can lose ourselves if we give in to something. Most of us do so many times without realizing it. It’s either one thing or another.

There is only one phrase that comes to mind that simplifies this all. It's a phrase that can give you comfort, or send a shiver down your spine. For me, all it can do is give me comfort.

Our lives are not our own.

(I am submitting this for review as I have never posted to r/nosleep before and unaware of the small intricacies and don't want to infringe on the community unduly. I did read the rules and guides and feel as though this might fit well, but I wanted to make sure. thanks for your help and I hope you find this story fitting)

____________________________

I can't sleep. I don't dare to dream. For whenever I close my eyes I can see them, burned into my mind like hot coals. Smouldering.

It all started so innocently, I can remember it clearly as if it happened just last night instead of years and years ago.

I was always a lover of the clear night sky, the millions of pinpricks of light that made up the fan of the milky way captured my attention as a young child. Filling my mind with mystery and awe. I remember the first time I saw them for what they truly were.

I was nine, my father was an older man. My mother and he had three older children and never planned for a fourth, but when they were approached by the state to accept an adoption from another member of the family that had died in a fire they couldn't refuse. And so they took me in.

Well, my parents had always loved me, and so for my ninth birthday we had decided to go camping in the rockies. We brought all the essentials and drove many hours till the air grew thin and clear, the woods all around us filled with tall sturdy trees the likes of which I had never seen before. My father had called them ponderosas.

It was amongst these tall trees that I first gazed upon these spectacular heavens. The phantasmagorical sight of that vast purple smear captivated me, ensnared my young mind like nothing ever had before or since. That first night felt like an awakening, as if I had never truly seen before.

You must consider the tenderness of my age at this time. My mind was free of stress and fear, thoughts of girls and money had no hold on me. And so the vast emptiness of my mind was nearly destitute, free to become enraptured by the intricacies of the wider cosmos. And what inspired glories they were, for the very next day was my birthday, and my parents got for me a wonderful telescope.

Its construction was plain, a simple white cylinder with a black cap and eyepiece, the stand a bare silvery stainless steel construction. And yet to me at the time it seemed as though its every contour and edge were imbued with that same brilliance that spanned the heavens above.

My parents were pleased to see my excitement at first. But pleasure turned to horror as my excited murmurs turned to screams of terrible panic. For when I looked through that cursed scope I saw not the light of a thousand stars but terrible burning lights, and those lights looked back through me. Together a single baleful eye full of ancient hatred as wide as the sky.

I remember running, my parents chasing me though the darkness calling my name, branches whipping my face as I fled with fearful abandon. The cuts stinging like ice and fire at once upon the tender skin of my youth, but they caught me eventually. Their hands were gentle but their voices were rough. They demanded to know what was wrong, but I never spoke about it. In fact I never spoke again.

From that day I grew more and more distant, at night I buried myself under my blankets to blot out the sky, in the day I moved in fear of the heavens. I couldn't see them, but the prickling in my mind told me that they could still see me no matter how I hid.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was driving my mother to madness. She took her own life that winter, not knowing that in doing so she only further cemented my own madness. I became worse, so much so that my own father had me committed to an asylum at the age of eleven.

But it wasn’t enough.

Whenever I closed my eyes I saw them, the thousand glowing spots that seemed to draw inexorably nearer with every passing hour. I can feel them in my mind, hear them in the shadows that lurk in the corners of my vision. And at night they scream, not with words, but in hatred for all things bright and kind. Something must have turned them, made them this way. For how could creation be turned so far on its head? What terrible fate could have made them so?

I had to know more, when I was fourteen I slipped out while the guards were changing positions. My bare feet had slapped the bare tile flooring, the sounds echoing through the silent halls like the slow beating of some twisted heart, but all I could hear was the rushing of the blood in my ears.

My eyes burned as I forced them to remain open for every time I blinked I saw them, those hateful eyes that stared at me from the heavens. Or was it hell?

Maybe the Earth was already damned, I knew that I was. Somewhere deep inside that hateful gaze had left its mark. And it swirled and burned like the eternal flame.

I had continued on, I made it outside at last and looked up. I saw no stars, the night was overcast and the rain came shortly after. I had screamed in impotent rage at the missed opportunity to settle things once and for all, the guards must have heard me as they bundled me back into my isolated cell soon after. The sting of their blows like the fall of feathers upon my numbed skin.

That was six years ago. I have quieted my mind, learned to shut out the scratching in the back of my thoughts. That silent screeching that sounded as grating as nails across slate.

I can't sleep though, even after all the years that had passed I struggled. I am on special medication, most nights I am knocked out with sedatives that force some semblance of rest upon my body, but it isn't sleep. Not really. Not the kind that the body craves so ardently.

I find my mind wandering, thoughts of my parents and the life that was making me feel sorrow deeper than any I had experienced before. It is in the depths of this sorrow that I write this memoir. I don't want the world to remember me as the crazy kid that screamed about eyes in the sky. If I am going to be remembered I will make the proof.

I learned that my father passed last week from the cancer. He never even told me he was sick, but I should have known. His last will and testament named me as the inheritor of everything he had. His letter telling me he had finally forgiven me, but I tore it into a thousand pieces, enraged. I refused to forgive him, if he had only been there for mom instead of drunk. No, he wasn’t going to get away that easily if I could help it.

I had shaken my head at that. No time for such sallow thoughts, I needed to see if he had sent it. My hands delved through the approved contents as one of my handlers watched. This one was new. They were weak willed, alone and untrained. They made easy prey, I stashed them in the large vent with the others and made my way outside. I would not be deterred, the sky was clear and the sun was setting. The sky blood red like my hands.

I was running, it felt good to be free once more. The open air so much fresher than that which I had breathed while captive. The bare dirt tickled my pale toes and the branches that whipped across my thin hospital gown felt like the impotent beatings of the guards. But I truly felt none of it this time, the white and silver form of the telescope was light in my hands as I moved silently as a ghost. It felt so much smaller than I had remembered, but it would show me the truth despite this.

I knew I wasn’t crazy, if I was crazy then why would the stars have chosen me to be their avatar?

I knew what I had to do. I only needed one more glimpse of the stars, and I am telling you I am going to do it.

The light will make me one, the light will make me whole. The light, into the light I will ascend us.

I write in this notebook not to apologise for the things I have done, but to tell you that I will look into that light at least once more. I will laugh in the faces of those dark entities that seem to torment my very soul. I won't let them take me, I won't let them. I won't let them.

The sun is set and the clouds have gone. The telescope is pointed to the great northern star once more and my mind shivers in anticipation. I can hear them already, feel their scratching in my mind.

Tonight is the night. I answer their call. I will not go silently into that void, but instead rage against the eyes that shine from the darkness. I leave this note to tell my story in the case that I am unable. My sticky hands have made this a chore, but it is the most minor of inconveniences.

It is time. I feel them even now. Calling, watching. Endless hate born of ages of misery.

I will be with them now. I have to see, just one more time.

May 10th 2022

It’s hard to comprehend the horrors we encountered in North Dakota. It’s even more difficult to understand that our world is full of creatures outside the confines of reality. When I set out on this assignment, I was looking to expose the illegal hunting of endangered species. Bring justice to those who believed they were greater than the law. That now seems like a fool's errand. How can someone worry about such an insignificant matter? From a young age, I knew that the noises at night could be worked out with logic. A creaking in the attic, the house is still settling into its foundations. Shrill screams late at night, just some foxes calling to each other. The feeling that something’s watching you as you turn off the lights and run upstairs, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. Hard to imagine a fully grown adult sprinting upstairs to his bed once the lights are off, but I have taken three steps at a time each night since.

We left the forest when dawn broke. All eight of us walked as if we were trailing a hearse. I suppose you could say we were. The team from base camp came and removed any evidence of the night before. The bodies of Ellie, Levi and Lucas were being transported ahead of us. Crane spoke to us beforehand outlining the procedure that would occur if any of us were to perish during these trips. The Venetores didn’t stay hidden in the shadows by doing things half assed. They had already arranged cover stories for each individual that was invited. The Sanders family, who had majority stake holdings in a big pharma company, had already given notice of their plans to retire to the Bahamas. Photos and title deeds of a property were already being doctored to embellish the story. We reached the camp and put our gear into the truck that would transport it to our next location. We were each given tickets for separate flights into Dublin airport over the next few days. Once we landed we would be pick up and travel to Galway. Recent sightings have indicated Banshee activity in a town called Athenry. Galway is known for its music, arts and stone walls but we wouldn’t be engaging in any of the local festivities. With my initial role in this operation no longer required, let alone worthwhile, I decided to continue with this group to document the paranormal creatures of the world.

I arrived in Dublin and was met by Arthur. Arthur was one of the Venatores who was with us in North Dakota. We had a few hours drive to Athenry so we had time to kill. I asked Arthur about how he ended up being involved with Crane and the others. Arthur was an older man, his face showing signs of wrinkles. Judging by his tanned skin, he spent a lot of time working outside. Arthur told me how he used to farm back in the states. He was a dairy farmer who had took over the family farm when his father retired. His first encounter with the supernatural was on a trip in Argentina. His uncle was worried Arthur was missing out on seeing the world and looked after the farm while Arthur and his friend went on a three month trip across South America.

“ Our last stop before heading home was in the north western region of Argentina. We were staying in a small village which lived off the surrounding farms. I was fascinated how they operated the farms by hand. With little to no machinery they were able to produce so much. The night before we left, one of the locals asked us if we would help look into the disappearance of some goats. Two had gone missing in the same number of days and the village suspected some foul play. We set off into the evening in search and stumbled across a petrified goat two fields over. The local lad started to get flustered and tried to head back to the village. I wasn’t sure what to think, this goat was now solidified. When the shouting in Spanish began I started to get a bit nervous. There was rustling from a nearby bush and we saw a large snake-like creature emerge. Its eyes burned brightly in the night sky. One of the guys went to step backwards away from the noise but was petrified on the spot.

“What did you do then ?” I asked. I was still coming to terms with my first encounter with something I couldn’t rationalise.

“What else do you do?” Arthur said sheepishly. “I ran like the devil was on my heels. At the time I was just fearful of my life. Even now with over ten years in this field, basilisks are not to be taken lightly.

We arrived just after dusk. The moonlight illuminated the stone work of the castle walls. We pulled up outside and unloaded our bags. Arthur lead the way through the gates. We entered into the castle ground, lush with emerald green grass. The castle itself was quaint, not the majestic structure described in fantasy novels. It was built with a purpose and would be our base of operations. The keep itself was large and spacious. Crane was sitting in a camping chair adding to the smoke from the open fire. The smell of burning kindling and cigarettes met us as we entered.

“Ahh Mr Marley, glad you could make it.”

The remaining members were setting up their beds or seeing to there gear. Caleb was sharpening a golden blade that caught the reflections of the flames.

“That looks a bit fancy for hunting.” I pointed to the ornamental looking weapon he was inspecting

“A blade of pure gold is the only thing that can stop a Banshee.” He handed me the blade, it felt heavy in my hand. I swung the blade in an arc, feeling the weight shift through the swing.

“Not the most balanced weapon” I frowned

“That may be true.” he smiled, pulling out his own from a sheath on his side. He slid the blade on top of his fingers to show the equilibrium close to the handle.” But it’s priceless in this situation. Just make sure you don’t hit anything other than the banshee, this metal is too soft for standard use.

I set up my sleeping bag next to Joshua and JJ. The latter was telling anyone who would listen about his extensive knowledge on Banshee folklore.

“ It is said that the Banshee is a symbol of death here in Ireland. She is also known as the woman of the fairies.” I could tell his knowledge on the subject matter was limited to the top search on Google. “Her wailing is a foretelling of the death of a loved one. If you hear her call, a relative or someone close by will perish that night.” JJ announced, he held himself like a professor giving a lecture to an adoring class.

“Good pair of earplugs should sort that problem.” Crane tossed a plastic sealed bag to each of us in turn. “ Put these in and get some rest. Tomorrow morning we are meeting with a family who have been plagued by the Banshee of Athenry for over a decade.”

After a hearty breakfast of sausage, eggs and bacon we set off into the town to meet with Brian and Emily O’Connor. They moved to Athenry nearly thirty years ago and settled into the community. Brian opened a pub soon after and they started a family. There obviously was little to do in Athenry when they first moved since they had ten children in twenty years. Brian was a stout man, with a warm smile and a belly fitting of a publican who regularly sampled his products. His eyes told the truth, full of sorrow and sleepless nights. His wife was easier to read, the bags under her eyes weighed heavily upon her. A picture of all twelve of them, hung on the chimney breast, showed a happy family, enjoying the serenity of a summer's eve in rural Ireland.

“That picture was taken not long before Fiona passed.” Brian noticed I was studying the photo.” Hard to believe there’s only four of us now.” The Banshee had taken the lives of three of their children before Brian had sought help from the local priest. He thought if he blessed the property the lady in grey might move on. It wasn’t until the next year that they heard her call again.

“ We started wearing ear plugs at night and leaving the radios on. Anything to drown out her wailing. We were broken, mentally and physically. I could tell she was still trying to claim more of my family, some nights I would wake to goosebumps so intense they felt like stones on my skin. I knew she wasn’t finished. We had only angered her more. We got through another year using these methods but then one day I was opening the bar and I heard her. The next morning Cillian didn’t wake.”

Crane put a supportive hand on the man’s shoulder.” We'll do what we can to rid you and your family of this deadly curse.”

Brian smiled weakly.” God I hope you do, if not I’ll have to take other precautions.” He pointed to his right ear. It seemed to have been mutilated by some sharp object. It didn’t take me long to realise the wound was self-inflicted.

I was on edge for the day. Brian’s word replayed in my mind. I thought of my family, my brother back home. One mistake and their lives could be in danger. Thousands of miles away and they could be affected by my actions here in Ireland. Marco tried to lift the mood of the group.

“Look on the bright side, I could be the owner of a super yacht company in the morning.”

Caleb broke out into laughter that shook his very core. A bellowing guffaw that caught most of us off guard. Caleb was a quiet, serious man so to see him like this lifted the mood of everyone, even me. Caleb was a mysterious individual. He was unassuming and introverted but from what I seen during the encounter with the wendigo, he was brave and well accustomed to these creatures of legend. I made a mental note to make an effort to sit down with him if we made it through tonight..

As darkness began to swallow the evening glow, activity erupted throughout the castle keep.

“Right then, let’s get down to brass tax.” Crane said readying his pack. We’ll need to split into two groups. One at the house and one circling the area. The group outside will need to try and force her in the direction of the house where the others can rush her with the blades. With a bit of luck we can take her out with no casualties, just remember, her scream is deadly but she also will be dangerous up close. Banshee’s have a nasty set of nails that will cut through you like a hot knife through butter. Be on your toes, and for the love of god keep your earplugs in at all times” He put emphasis on the last part. The group nodded in agreement, a sense of unrest evident in most faces.

The groups were decided, Crane, Caleb, Antonio and the two Williams’ would head out and surround the Banshee. Each one fitted with an earpiece that could receive communications from the transmitter here in the house. The rest of us would feed them information on where she appears tonight. I’m not ashamed to admit it but the relieve that washed over me when Crane said I was to stay at the house was overwhelming. I was already scared senseless and didn’t fancy being on the frontlines for this encounter. Lola seemed to have the same feeling. She visibly relaxed when the decision was made. Marco made a show of letting everyone know how disappointed he was at staying behind. I knew it was all bravado. The only one foolish enough to want to be out there was J.J. He was like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh we’re gonna get her good.” He was talking to himself as he tightened the straps on his rucksack.

“Usually, a banishing spell would be used to get rid of a Banshee for a period of time but tonight we’re doing the opposite.” Crane gathered the party at the door. “Once you give me her position I’ll get to work on the trapping spell. Old Celtic stuff but it works just as good. Once that’s in place things will get a bit ugly. She’ll fight like the devil to get free but we will force her back with some fire.” He gestured to the wooden torches dosed in fuel. “They won’t burn forever so be ready to rush her from behind.

The night wore on with little to no activity. Lola had volunteered to wear the last remaining ear piece to ensure transmission came through clearly. It was Michael's turn to be on watch and he was standing on the front porch looking out across the moonlit land.

“I can’t see anything out of the ordinary. It’s a clear night so I would expect to notice her by now.”

Brian and Emily were seated at the kitchen table. Emily seemed to be saying silent prayers with her rosary beads in hand. Brian took her hand and gave her a warm smile. “It will all be over soon.” He said reassuringly. She smiled back at him but her face contorted into one full of terror. Brian turned to look at us.

“She’s here.”

I didn’t need Brian to tell me what the shivers down my spine had already known. If my earplugs weren’t in place I would be hearing the wailing of a woman in the distance. Death was on the prowl tonight.

Michael was scanning the landscape from the window of the kitchen. Marco accompanied with a compass in hand. Waiting to give Lola the direction for the party outside.

“I see her!” Michael nearly dropped the binoculars. “She’s perched at the base of a tree at the top of that hill. He pointed to Marco to check the compass. Lola relayed the info to Crane and the hunt was on. We waited in silence, for the signal torch to be lit. I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding. The tension was insufferable, I felt helpless but also anxious about the part I had yet to play. All of a sudden the goosebumps intensified, almost painful. My body was shaking as I tried to figure out what was going on. Cranes binding spell must have been effective, the banshee was in survival mode. Lola seemed to be in agony, clutching her head and screaming soundlessly to my muted hearing. She reached for the earpiece and ripped it out, tossing it across the room. Before it struck the wall, the realisation of what she had done overcame her. Marco rushed over to comfort her as she heaved from the sobbing. Tears were running down her cheeks as he wiped them away.

In the commotion we had taken our eyes off of the events outside. Michael grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door. As we exited the house I could see the banshee being forced towards us by Caleb and a flaming torch. I headed straight for the creature brandishing my golden blade. Due to my lack of hearing I wasn’t aware of how loud my footsteps were, as they pounded through the recently ploughed field. The Banshee was well aware though, as I closed the distance to the last few feet she twisted to face me with an inhuman speed. I lunged at her with everything I had, looking to drive the point of my blade through her chest. She knocked the blade out of my hands, sending it flying across the ground. Her next swipe was aimed at my head, I raised my arm to block the incoming blow and her talons tore deep into my arm. I screamed in pain as the wound burned like acid tearing into my flesh. The force of the blow knocked me to the ground. She stood over me, eyes full of hatred, ready to claim her prey.

J.J swung his torch into the creature's face. She screamed in anger evident by the shockwaves running over my skin. She retreated away from me but J.J smelt victory. He pushed the burning stick at her again but this time she met it with her own assault. The torch fell to the ground along with a couple of his fingers.

“No!” Joshua screamed, his voice full of pain. He flung his blade at the Banshee, hitting its mark true. The creature began to smoulder as she tried to finish off the bleeding J.J. A fresh wound opened across his chest as she disintegrated into embers of ash, floating off in the night sky.

“What happened back there ? Where are the others ?” Crane demanded.

Michael explained what happened back in the house. He also was able to tell us, Lola had recently lost her father last year. Her one remaining family member. The realisation dawned on Caleb before any of us could understand the significance.

“So it will take Marco then.” He said solemnly. Antonio looked as if he had seen a ghost. He went pale and dropped to his knees. He was taking the loss of his friend's life hard even before it had come to pass.

That night, we drank with the O’Connors. A strange mix of celebration and mourning. Marco had resigned to his fate and made it his mission to drink the family dry of whatever spirits they had in the cupboards. I found it very strange, emotions running wild like that of a wedding and a funeral all at once. Lola was inconsolable, rocking back and forward with her knees pulled up to her chest. Marco and Michael were giving their rendition of “Bella Ciao” at full volume. Antonio just sat there, frozen in thought. We settled Marco into one of the spare beds, one last night of comfort. The next morning we all awoke except one.

Lola screams woke all of us in a flurry of dazed and hungover heads, popping up from sleeping bags and couches alike. She would have given the Banshee a run for her money as she shook the lifeless corpse beside her. There was a crash as the doors to the bedroom slammed open.

“Lola, what’s the matter?” Marco asked, still drunk from the night before. He looked down on the body of his best friend, Antonio. “Antonio!” Marco was shaking his body furiously. “Wake up man!”

Lola’s shrieking was escalating the situation. Marco had stop shaking and had resorting to punching Antonio’s lifeless corpse. Tears filled his eyes.

“I always knew it.” He said looking at Lola. “You never loved me at all.” He stood up and left through the back door, striking the wall with his fist. The dull crack as bone met cement.

I had to step out after that, emotions were sky high and my body was still recovering from the ordeal that was our encounter here in Ireland. I would have thought my tolerance to the supernatural entities of this world would have increased but I was petrified for what lay ahead. Crane was already outside puffing away on his morning cigarette. He lit one for me as I approached. I thanked him and took a deep drag.

“And then there were six.” I said as I exhaled the cloud of smoke off into the fresh, icy morning

They say children have vivid imaginations. What they don't tell you is that sometimes their daydreams spill over, inviting nightmares into our waking world.

My granddaughter, who I'll refer to as Ada, is seven years old. Her parents died last year in a terrible fire. I’d prefer not to be specific about my location but if you’re a New England local you may have seen it on the news.

I've since become Ada’s sole guardian. This is a responsibility I love, but as I get older I confess I've been running low on patience and have been more prone to lashing out or giving her the cold shoulder. I say this in the interest of transparency – I have to be honest about my part in things.

Ada has always been a daydreamer. She spends hours pretending to be an astronaut exploring deep space, and she takes her astronaut doll everywhere she goes. She disappears so deeply into these stories that it's almost like she's in a trance. It's a really special quality of hers, and I hope one day she gets to use these talents as a professional writer or storyteller. The intensity of her imagination has always been more extreme than other kids' her age, but she’s otherwise been developing “normally”, more or less, so I haven’t paid it much mind.

That is, until recently. It started with little things at first. Objects would go missing, only to turn up in the most unlikely of places. The oven timer in the bathroom sink, the TV remote in the refrigerator.

When I’d ask her about it, she’d seem genuinely perplexed, as if she had no memory of moving things. She’s always been somewhat absent-minded, so I tempered my concerns. But when I pressed her, she’d say things like: “It wasn’t me, Mimi, it was her.”

“Who, Ada?”

“She lives in the woods.” Ada replied. “She looks like me. But she doesn’t have a home. She hates us. Because we get to turn on the lights at night and be warm.”

Sometimes she looks out the window and tells me she can see “Her” in the forest that abuts our property. When I get to the window she tells me I just missed her.

“She doesn’t like it when you look at her.”

At late hours of the night I hear Ada talking to herself. When I knock on her door to check on her, she claims she can't sleep because of the "voices outside.” Mind you, she and I both sleep on the second floor.

It’s an old house without an alarm system, and we're close enough to the train station, so we get all sorts of types occasionally wandering into our neighborhood. Petty crime and break-ins are not uncommon, so the idea of an intruder has always been a fear. Our doors have strong locks but the house has its original wooden country window frames -- if anyone wanted to, they’d have little trouble shimmying a window open. I’m overdue to have them retrofitted with proper locks, but this house requires so much maintenance, and having been retired for over a decade I don’t have endless financial resources for renovations.

Once this winter I woke up in the dead of night. My room was absolutely pitch black, and silent -- save for the sound of someone quietly breathing.

I whispered her name. "Ada?"

Nothing. Just quiet breathing.

I fumbled in the dark and eventually found the pull string for the bedside light. I clicked it on.

And there she was, standing by my bed, looking straight through me with a cold, detached gaze. If I'm being honest it was somewhat unsettling, but Ada's late mother used to sleepwalk too so I knew not to startle her. But then I noticed that Ada was gripping a pair of scissors. I gently pulled them from her fist and was alarmed to see they were caked with dried blood. Of course I immediately hid them in my cabinet and guided Ada back to bed.

The next morning I found a bird on our doormat with some gruesome injuries. Ada denies any involvement, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I immediately hid all the knives and sharps in the house, and started to question if her "imaginative" world might be a sign of deeper psychological issues.

I've considered seeking professional help, but I'm apprehensive about how Ada would react. She's homeschooled so most of the time it's just her and myself in the house, along with our live-in helper -- and Ada doesn't usually react well to new people. I have guests coming over for an Easter party at the end of the month and I’m just so worried that she won’t be able to keep it together, or that she’ll make a scene, or worse... that she’ll do something to harm herself.

This last week she's been isolating, spending hours alone in her room drawing or whispering to herself. And then there's her sudden mood swings—she'll go from laughing and playing one moment to withdrawing into herself and refusing to speak the next, sometimes for hours on end.

I tried gently raising my concerns with Ada. The first time she flew into a rage and simply started screaming. Any attempts I’ve made to communicate with her since have resulted in her completely shutting down and becoming totally unresponsive.

I had been telling myself this was a phase, but tonight something happened that I just can't explain.

I was lying in bed, trying to push away the creeping sense of unease that had become my nightly reality. The wind was whipping through the trees, as a cold front had rolled in after a few unseasonably warm days. Normally I find it comforting, but I kept hearing sounds in the wind -- like laughter -- and I just couldn’t shake this eerie feeling.

And then I saw her.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the moonlight filtering through the trees. But sure enough, faintly within the black rectangle of my bedroom window I started to perceive a face.

She looked just like Ada, but with inky black eyes, her nose pressed against the glass, her dark eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at me. When we locked eyes my stomach twisted in cold panic, but I was completely frozen in shock, my heart in my throat. And then, the worst part… she smiled.

I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the window, my heart pounding in my ears – and watched as the girl’s face sank away into nothingness, as if disappearing beneath dark water. I could see my own reflection on the glass and my breath creating condensation clouds as I searched the night for movement, when…

WHAM.

Ada’s astronaut doll thudded against my window, its blank expression staring back at me as it dangled from some sort of rope tied around its neck. I must have shrieked, and I soon found myself racing down the hall to Ada’s room.

As I opened the door, my heart stopped.

Ada was there sleeping peacefully in her bed, just as I had left her, her breath rising and falling. I reached out to shake her awake. But as I touched her shoulder, she stirred and rolled over, murmuring in her sleep.

“Nobody ever listens.”

She was right. I hadn't listened.

The floorboards above our heads creaked and groaned. Someone – or someTHING – was prowling in the attic.

I fumbled for the wall phone in the hallway, my fingers shaking as I dialed 911. But as the line rang on the other end, a sense of futility washed over me. I turned and saw a dark figure standing over Ada’s bed.

And I suddenly knew that girl wasn’t outside at all.

From the phone receiver, I heard a voice croak…

“Dance, puppet, dance.”

It started with the faces. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about the people around me seemed… just off. They were human, there’s no doubt about it, but there was an unsettling feeling when I looked them in the eyes. The slight asymmetry of their features, the way they looked and smiled at me – it wasn’t all creepy like the smiling faces you’d see in an analog horror series, but they seemed a little too off, artificial almost.

​

I’m sure you’ve heard of the uncanny valley. I case you haven’t, it’s a phenomenon in human psychology which simply put is that when something appears human but is just slightly off (be it for example zombies), we get an unsettling feeling about it. Usually, there isn’t really anything in the real world we see daily that triggers this effect, no animal or object that is similar enough to humans to appear as 'off' to us. But recently, I’ve seen it everywhere. The faces of my family and friends, then everyone. Even our pet dog. All of the sudden, they all seemed so... weird.

​

After the faces, it got worse. The way they spoke, the way the highs and lows in their voice sounded – it began to sound more and more like an AI generated voice. Not that artificial of course, but you get the idea. I thought I was going crazy, that I needed to see a psychiatrist. But then I engaged my mother about it. I asked her if she noticed anything weird about my father and little brother the past few weeks. At first, she didn’t respond. She stared me dead in the eyes, mouth wide open, as if she fell into some kind of trance all of the sudden. A few seconds later she snapped out of it, brushing it off with the casual “you've always had a very creative mind” and how I “should sleep more at night” – of course in the same, strangely weird voice.

​

At this point I was sure I wasn’t going crazy. With some imagination I’d agree that the faces and voices could have just been me being paranoid, but I definitely didn’t imagine mother just staring into my soul like that. I tried to look for more proof that something weird was going on. I started secretly taking photos of the faces of my friends when we hung out. After I got a bunch of them, I printed them all out and compared them side by side with photos from a few months ago, and I can confirm that I am not just imagining things – if you look at it closely you can see how the expressions shifted.

​

I wasn’t going to confront anyone again about this – not after the unsettling reaction my mother gave me when I first brought it up. This however was only the beginning. This was nothing compared to what’s around me as of typing this. It wasn’t until about two weeks later, when the downward spiral would really kick into effect.

​

I was walking to the grocery store to get a few items my mother asked me to collect for her since she recently twisted her ankle in an accident. She wrote me a shopping list, I didn’t exactly see what she wrote, but I know she did write it with her hand because I was in the living room with her. Me emphasizing that she wrote the list herself may seem unnecessary but stick with me. She folded the list, and I tucked it into my pocket.

​

The path to the store is pretty simple. When walking outside our front door, you go left and then right at the second crossing. You can see it in the distance after turning right, but you still need to walk a bit to reach it. I listened to my playlist of songs while walking when I noticed a change that made my blood run cold. It was very subtle, but the lyrics of the song I was listening to were slightly different. A few minor words were altered. They did still somewhat fit into the song, not breaking the rhythm/verse, but they were there. This was very different, no, this was very wrong. How could a song that was uploaded to Spotify years ago suddenly change? I didn’t pay attention to where I was walking, my head was filled with dread. I took my headphones off and shut down my phone, not wanting to engage with this any further. Then it happened so fast.

​

I took out the shopping list to distract myself from what I’ve just witnessed. I unfolded the paper, which by now was a bit crumpled from being stuffed into my pocket and screamed out loud. It was filled with normal items which we needed at home: honey, apples, bacon, and so on. However, the list was written in a computer font. Not as if a human tried to replicate it – no. It was exactly the same as if it would have been printed out, even though I saw my mother writing the list just a few minutes ago. She wrote in perfect Calibri without notice, as if it was nothing. I felt a cold shiver running down my spine.

​

I looked away from the list and onto the street to find the third nightmare. The grocery store was on the other side of the street. It shouldn’t be – I’ve been living here my whole live and I never had to cross the street to reach it. Looking at the surroundings only made it worse. I saw a man outside a few blocks down the road who was watering his flowers without movement – they just stood perfectly still. Upon seeing me staring at them, they slowly turned towards me and started waving with their free hand. His movements had a weirdly rhythmic quality to them. I counted. One waving motion took him exactly one second, every single time. There more I looked at the houses around me and the parking lot of the grocery store, the more things I noticed that were, as I said before… just off. If there existed an uncanny valley for things almost looking like reality, this would be it.

​

I didn’t care anymore. I threw the shopping list away and started running, the man still waving at me. The usual five-minute walk to the store became a ten minute marathon, despite me not noticing the way home being longer than usual. Neighbors stared at me in confusion with their off-looking faces, as if everything was perfectly normal. If mother really needed this done, she could ask my brother for all I care. At least he doesn’t seem to notice anything off about this at all. I am not entering that store.

​

The final straw was the radio broadcast I heard ten minutes ago. Father was in the kitchen listening to the radio. It played a song which I’ve never heard before, and to be honest it sounded normal at first. That was until I tried paying attention to the lyrics. It was pure gibberish, random words thrown together that somehow formed sentences, yet made no sense. I could scream. Just yell and cry out, trapped in this uncanny valley of reality. That was until, for just a few seconds, the vocalist's voice sounded normal. For the first time in weeks, I heard a normal human voice besides my own. But this relieving moment was the most disturbing one at the same time. They continued singing the song, and without breaking the melody or rhythm, as if it were part of the song, they suddenly sang in a normal voice:

​

“What are you waiting for? Run already!”

​

Then their voice shifted back to being weirdly off and continued: “This is not a warning, but just a normal song!”, followed by the same word salad once more. My father didn’t seem to notice, but I immediately ran to my room and started typing this post.

​

I am just as confused as you are. My entire reality is just slightly off in almost every single aspect and it’s only getting worse. By now I don’t even think I’m in the ‘real’ reality anymore. What caused all of this? Why does no one else notice? What was up with that song, and if it was some kind of encrypted message for me, WHERE should I run to? I am still trying to figure everything out, trying to find something – anything that at least hints to why this is happening. Some puzzle piece, something that is out of line, something that can be used to trace this entire spiral back to the beginning – to one root cause.

​

That's why I am creating this post. If there are people out there not affected by this event or perhaps experiencing similar stories and you have any ideas or clues on what to do, I’d gladly listen to them. Everyone I once trusted has become a part of this hell. But if you are out there, please help me.

So, I've got an idea for my first nosleep post, but I don't know if it's allowed based on the guidelines. The problem is that the main point of the story is not scary to the protagonist themself. To summarize my idea: Basically, our world is a simulation and the post is being made by a being from outside the simulation contacting us. They're not really scared, but some of the things they say are existential and stuff from our perspective. The way I'm planning on justifying posting it on nosleep is that they kept trying to post on other subs, but kept getting banned, and people told them stuff like "Take this to nosleep", so they just decided to finally give in and post it there.

So, if the events of the story itself aren't scary to the protag, is that ok? Also I plan to frame it as an AMA, and I'm not sure if that's allowed either.

I’ve managed to get a bit more time to post again. Between everything that’s gone on, I’m still trying my best to get this out there. I need to let people know what’s happening to me, to warn them.

So if I remember correctly, the last time I posted I’d just made it to the roof of the Walmart after making that risky climb up the drain pipe. I still look back at that now and think about how easily I could have fallen. Either way, I’d made it to the top and hidden myself under that tarp.

I was all set to stay up there for the rest of the game, waiting the entire thing out from the safety of my vantage point. Each morning I’d hear the squealing of the door hinge as the security guard made his rounds and I’d sit silently under the tarpaulin, waiting for the footsteps to fade away. Then depending on the weather, I’d sit and take in the view whilst being careful not to expose myself to anyone below.

The food that I’d stolen from the dumpster lasted me for a while, although careful rationing helped too. I knew if I needed more I could always shimmy down the drainpipe again, but the thought of climbing back up filled me with anxiety and made my chest twinge.

I’d spent the rest of my time watching things on my phone. Initially just TV shows and films, but after a while I found it hard to concentrate on them. All I could think about was my current situation. I found my attention always drifting back to the nightly streams that the organisers sent out. The terrified faces of the players were frozen in my mind as the pistol rounded on each of them, trapped in a perpetual scream.

At one point, morbid curiosity ended up getting the better of me. Against my better judgement, I opened up the Devils Games app. I had a gnawing need to know what exactly was going on. Selecting the hide-and-seek option from the menu, the page loaded before me.

I needed to know what the organisers were getting from all of this. Were they just selling their freaky customers the nightly executions, or was there something more to this? I don’t know what I expected, to be honest with you, but what I found sent my anxiety skyrocketing.

There were several videos, some named after specific days, others labelled Best Bits. From what I could tell, they each seemed to be comprised of CCTV footage of the contestants, capturing the chaos of the game for the eager viewers on the dark web. I shuddered as I realised they were tracking us. Not only were they killing us off on stream if we lost, but they were making videos of us too, selling them on to their salivating customers. That must be why they wanted our phones on at all times, so they knew where to look to make their sick shows.

Unable to tear myself away from this newfound terror, I clicked on the preview for the video titled “Day 1”. They couldn’t be turning all of this into some kind of TV show, they just couldn’t be. That same embedded video player loaded up again as the screen went black, this time cutting to some grainy CCTV footage showing a woman running through a crowded street, frantically pushing past other pedestrians while constantly glancing over her shoulder. A few seconds later a larger man with a nasty-looking scar across his cheek barreled past, knocking pedestrians flying as he charged towards the woman, tackling her to the ground.

Then the video cut to a new image. My blood ran cold as I made out a scene I recognised. It was the mall food court. I could clearly see Jenny sitting there with her pizza. I was there too. All I could do was watch as she drew her pistol out of her bag and hit me around the back of the head while my back was turned. My cheeks blazed with embarrassment as I watched it back and I kicked myself again for trusting her.

Another cut revealed a new scene of a man who I remembered seeing on the stage in that evening's stream. He was being chased along a rooftop, terrified, by a woman who appeared to be brandishing a taser. She chased him to the edge of the rooftop, dragging him back to the ground, appearing to laugh maniacally as she tased him until he stopped moving.

Feeling sick, I closed the app. I couldn’t believe what was happening, that not only had we been tricked into joining this awful game in the first place, but now we were being exploited for their profit like some kind of trained animal.

I found myself unable to shake what I’d seen in those videos from my mind for hours after that. I couldn’t believe that I’d gotten myself into this situation. I was so stupid, why had I thought that applying for that game was a good idea, I should have known it was too good to be true. After several more hours, I finally began to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. That’s when the boredom set in.

Although the rooftop was safe, there was absolutely nothing to do. Eventually, I ended up inventing small games to entertain myself. Near the tarp, I found a few empty paint cans, so I devised a game where I’d try to throw some of the bones from my roast chicken into the open mouth of the can and, depending on the size of the bones, I’d get a certain amount of points. After a few days, I could easily throw the entire carcass in without missing a shot.

The other can was used as a makeshift latrine. I kept it on the other end of the roof so that I didn’t have to deal with the smell. As much as I was thankful for my hiding place, that was one of the worst parts of it for me. I found myself wishing each day that I’d chosen a spot with a bathroom. I’d try to cover it with my old, bloodied clothes to at least dampen the stench, but I was still terrified that one of the security guards would end up finding it when they came up for their morning smoke.

Still, I was safe on that roof. My injured ribs started healing slightly after a couple of days of resting up, and my leg didn’t hurt as much, although I couldn’t feel some of it either so it may very well have just been nerve damage setting in. I was nowhere near back to normal and I suspected that any strenuous activity would send me spiralling back to how I’d been a few days ago.

Those few days crawled by uneventfully, with no one any the wiser as to my hiding spot. I could almost forget about the Hunters and the awful game that I’d gotten myself wrapped up in until the daily message from the organisers came through. I’d long since set my phone on silent mode after that scare with the security guard, so I missed most of my notifications, but this one always made a noise, coming through every day like clockwork.

Each time I’d watch it the same show would unfold, the bird-masked man appearing with his jovial movements and the faces of the terrified players bound there on the stage before being mercilessly executed. Each time I winced at the sound of the pistol firing, imagining myself on that stage before the masked freak.

Thankfully there were no more changes to the rules. I don’t know how I would have coped with that. I wasn’t mentally prepared to have to leave the safety of the roof again.

The “shows” had been the same for the past three days, although the last one had ended a little differently. The masked man had turned to the camera again after pulling the trigger on the final Hider, wiping crimson discharge from the barrel of his weapon. Rather than taking his deep bow and bidding the audience adieu, he looked into the lense again, almost crestfallen.

“Well, that’s all for tonight folks. But there’s just one last thing. It’s come to our attention that some of you players aren’t getting into the cat-and-mouse spirit of our little game. Now here at The Devils Games, we pride ourselves on producing exciting, quality content for our viewers, and if you’re not participating then you’re nothing more than “dead” weight. We’re down to half of you players now, so it’s all still left to play for, I expect nothing but your best efforts”

He paused for a second, turning his head as though scanning the faces of an invisible audience. Resuming his whimsical demeanour once again, he took his customary deep bow.

“Until tomorrow my friends, and the excitement it is bound to bring. Adieu”

I couldn’t help the chill that traced its way along my spine as the words “dead” weight replayed over and over in my head. The way he’d said it, he’d emphasised the word as though it were some kind of threat.

I couldn’t help thinking about how I’d been up here for the past few days. Was it aimed at me? Because I wasn’t running around and being chased by Hunters like they wanted? Well, I didn’t care. I couldn’t care less if the way I was hiding up here didn’t make for entertaining viewing. I needed to survive this, so if that meant I wasn’t putting on a good enough show for them then that was their problem.

Swiping away the app, I went about the rest of the evening, watching TV on my phone and trying to shake the masked man’s warning from my mind. It took a while longer than normal, but eventually, my eyelids started drooping and I decided to get some shut-eye.

The screeching of the door hinges snapped me awake with a start. It was dark, the tarpaulin blocking out any feeble light that might have tried to seep through from the car park lights, and my eyes took a second to adjust themselves. Sitting bolt upright, my head brushed the plastic as I strained my ears to listen.

There was nothing, just the silence of the night as I waited there, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. Gently fumbling my fingers along the floor, I found my phone in the darkness and pressed the lock button. The brightness of the screen blaring into life blinded me momentarily as I tried to make out the time. Cold fear washed over me as I read the number. 3 am. It was 3 am.

The store had been closed for several hours now. The security guard, the only person who ever seemed to come up here, wouldn’t be back for at least another three hours. No one in their right mind would have come up here at this time. But as the clicking of heavy boots on the PVC floor grew closer and closer through the silence I knew that whoever it was had to have come for me. I’d been caught.

The footsteps stopped dead what sounded like a few meters away and I held my breath, listening to the pounding of my heart in my ears. The breathing of the intruder was the only sound, cutting through the quiet, heavy and slightly guttural. I sat there, frozen, not daring to move. I was still in my sleeping bag, I couldn’t run, and even if I could there was no way my leg would hold out long enough for me to outrun whoever this was. All I could do was wait and hope they gave up.

They’d obviously come for me, they knew I was up here, but they didn’t know exactly where. Maybe I could use that to my advantage, make them think that perhaps I’d left just before they got there? I was racking my brain, trying to come up with a way out of my predicament, when a deep voice with an accent that I assumed was Eastern European cut through the quiet rooftop.

“Come out David, I just want to talk”

The hair on my neck stood on end. Although I was pretty sure whoever this was had come for me anyway, that confirmed it. They knew my name and they knew I was up here. Sitting as still as the grave, I didn’t dare to even blink for fear that the sound would give me away. How had the Hunter possibly found me up here?

“Come on David, I’m not a Hunter, you can come out. Like I say I just want to talk”

I didn’t respond, staying as still and quiet as I could. They obviously didn’t know exactly where I was, otherwise they’d have snatched the tarpaulin covering me. It was a trick to get me to give away my position, to reveal my hiding spot. All I could do was stay still and hope.

“Look, David, I’m with The Devil’s Games. I need you to come out here now!”

My phone lit up in my hand as a notification appeared. It was a message from what I could tell, although it didn’t appear to be from any of my normal messaging apps. Clicking it, The Devils Games app burst to the front of my screen. A message window opened revealing a single photo of a large man clad in a black tracksuit wearing a smooth silver mask with no discernable features other than two eye holes. I could make out the rooftop clearly and the tarp-covered mound where I was hiding just behind him.

“We’re the only ones that can use the app to send messages, so there’s your proof that I’m not lying. Now come out, we need to talk”

Relief started welling up in me as I took in his words, only to be replaced by a crashing wave of fear. Sure this guy wasn’t a Hunter, but if he was from the psychos that organised this whole thing then that couldn’t be much better. Why did they want to talk to me? And why had they sent this brute rather than just sending me a message?

“You’re testing my patience, David…”

The sour note in his voice as he said my name made it abundantly clear that I couldn’t outwait the man, and that pushing my luck by making him search for me was not something that I wanted to do. Muttering silently under my breath, I slowly lifted the tarpaulin.

The large, masked man was standing a few inches away from my hiding spot, the eyeholes of his mask angled down towards me.

“That’s better” He said, taking a heavy step over and squatting his enormous bulk down next to me.

“What’s all this about? You’ve got me trapped in your stupid game, what more could you psychos possibly want?” I asked, practically spitting the words.

“Now David, there’s no need to be like that. I’ve just been sent here to remind you what these games are all about is all”

He drew something from the back of his belt. Something long and metallic, and my blood turned to ice as I recognised it. Inspecting the pistol in the moonlight, the large man looked at it, passing it from hand to hand contemplatively.

“You see, you’re doing really well David. You should be proud of yourself. You’re one of the favourites to win this thing actually.”

“Is that what you came to tell me, that I’m the fan favourite? You couldn’t have just sent a message?” I asked in disbelief, not taking my eyes off the gun.

“Haha, no, I just thought I’d let you know how you were doing” He said chuckling to himself, still staring at the gun. “No, the reason I’ve been sent here is because there is some concern with the higher-ups that you’re doing too well”

I baulked as he turned to face me again, still holding the pistol firmly in his grip.

“You see, if all of the other Hiders are out there every day running and hiding like they’re supposed to, and you’re sitting up here safe and sound. Well that’s not very fair on them, is it? Or on our viewers? It’s not in the spirit of the game”

“Fuck your viewers! I couldn’t care less if you lose ratings, I’m not risking my life anymore for this stupid game!” I spat again, surprising myself with the venom in my words.

The man looked up and let out a large sigh, before slowly turning the barrel of the pistol towards me and training it at eye level.

“David, I was really hoping we could resolve this amicably. See they sent me here to give you an incentive to get into the spirit and give everyone a fighting chance. But I can see now it’s going to be harder than I thought. If you won’t listen to my words, then maybe I’ll have to find another way to convince you.”

The colour drained from my face as a surge of adrenaline coursed through me as what he was saying slowly dawned on me. He was going to shoot me. He was going to shoot me because I wasn’t playing how they wanted. Because I’d found a safe place and hunkered down, I wasn’t putting on a good enough show for them.

My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in then and there and I made the snap decision to run. Attempting to get to my feet and slide out of the sleeping bag in one quick movement, I collapsed as it wrapped around my ankles and sent me tumbling into the mound behind me. I was dimly aware that the shot I was expecting to ring out never came. Forcing myself to my feet again, I was just about to make a run for the stairwell door when a searing pain emanated from the back of my head, spreading out in all directions before everything faded to black.

When I awoke a few seconds later I was on the ground next to my sleeping bag. My lungs felt tight and the fire in my chest returned as I struggled to breathe. There was something heavy pressing down on my back, crushing my chest beneath it. Twisting myself around as much as I could, I turned to see the large, masked man above me, pinning me to the ground with a heavy knee in my back.

“Ah good, I didn’t get you too hard” He said as he noticed my movement. “Now I really didn’t want to do this David, but it's obvious you won’t listen to anything I have to say”

He reached behind him, and something shone in the moonlight as he pulled it out of its sheath. Expecting to see the barrel of that pistol again, my scalp tightened as the shimmering edge of a nasty-looking combat knife came into view.

He held it there, again inspecting it just like the pistol as it reflected off the smooth surface of his mask. As if satisfied with it, he turned to me again, grabbing my right arm. I tugged my arm back and tried to kick out, but a sharp blow from the hilt of the knife sent my vision swimming again.

“Less of that please David, you’re only going to make this harder,” Said the masked man, almost sympathetically.

Lying out my arm and pinning it in place with his other knee, he began to bring the knife closer. I let out a scream and writhed again as its tip descended closer and closer towards my hand.

“Scream all you want David, there’s no one around to hear you anyway. If I were you I’d save your energy.” He said, completely unphased by the cacophony that I was making beneath him.

All I could do was watch as the razor-sharp tip of the knife gently kissed the soft flesh of my ring and pinky fingers, resting there just for a moment before being forced viciously through them. A sickening snap accompanied the movement and firey, white-hot pain flared out as my fingers were cleaved away, leaving two bloody stumps.

I let out a wail of pain, my mind refusing to understand what was happening as I lay there pinned on the floor, staring at the bloody stumps of what used to be my fingers. The crimson liquid pooling beneath them, spurting out with every throb, brought it all crashing down.

“There we go, I’m sure that’ll serve as a good incentive for you to be more considerate of other players. You just need to get into the spirit of the games. Now, I’m under strict instructions from my superiors that I am to get you playing properly, so please, don’t make me come and pay you another visit.” He said, wiping my blood on his trousers and sliding the knife back into its sheath.

“Just so you know, I’m rooting for you.” He said, bringing his fist down as the pain in my head flared up again and the world turned to black.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but when I awoke my eyes stung with the orange glow of the rising sun. I felt awful, everything felt heavy and there was a throbbing pain emanating from the back of my head. Gingerly I tried to push myself up into a sitting position. Agonising jolts shot up my right arm as soon as I tried to put my weight on it and I collapsed down again in a heap.

Turning to my injured arm, the sight of the browning bandaged stumps of my fingers brought everything flooding back. My severed digits were still there on the floor, inches from me, lying in a darkening pool of my own blood.

Weakness and nausea washed over me as I stared at my mangled hand, remembering the warning from the masked man. He’d bandaged my hand before he left, obviously I’d be no use to them if I bled out or got infected, but he’d made it very clear that if I didn’t start playing the way they wanted they’d do something much worse than take a couple of fingers.

As I sat there, unable to fathom quite how dire my situation had become, I heard the familiar squeal of the staircase door opening. The blood drained from my face as I heard footsteps clicking softly against the PVC flooring of the roof.

No… Not again. He couldn’t be back again. They’d hardly given me any time. I’d been unconscious until just now, there’s no way I could have moved from this spot. They couldn’t punish me for that, that wasn’t fair. Then again, what about this situation was fair?

Gritting my teeth, I tried to force myself to my feet again. That agonising pain flared up as soon as my bandaged hand made contact with the floor and I swayed slightly under my own weight, but I forced myself to push, to stand up. Rocking gently from side to side as I tried to maintain my balance, my head swam and the pain in the back of my skull caused my vision to dim, threatening to eclipse it completely.

I needed to run, to hide. Taking a step forward, I stumbled as my legs gave way and fell with a thud into the tarp covering that mound of decorations. The footsteps stopped dead at the sound, and I heard a voice call out.

“Hello? Someone there?”

A shortlived sense of relief washed over me as I realised it wasn’t the voice of the masked man, only to be replaced by a newly refreshed sense of panic as I realised who it belonged to. The security guard. He was early.

I needed to hide, he couldn’t find me, I needed to get off the roof! Now! Trying my best to stand again, all I managed to do was create even more noise, cursing myself as I collapsed into the tarp. After a third attempt, I managed to stand again, and reaching out a hand to steady myself on the bulkhead, I staggered my way around to the other side away from the guard. The footsteps had started up again now, heading towards my former hiding place before stopping dead again as the voice muttered to itself.

“What the fuck… Hey, who’s up here? Do you need help? Come out now where I can see you”

He’d obviously seen the blood and my former fingers. I didn’t know what to do. My head was pounding like a drum and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. My body was slowly starting to shake off the effects of shock, but I was still hardly in a state to run away. Even if I did manage to get to the stairs, he’d hear my footsteps echoing down the staircase and would definitely be able to catch up with me.

There was no way I could climb off the roof without him seeing. If I made a dash for that drainpipe he’d clock me before I’d made it even halfway. Even if by some miracle I’d made it, there was no way I’d be able to climb down in this state. Not with my hand like this. I was stuck.

Closing my eyes for a second with my back to the bulkhead, I took a deep breath, trying to come up with a plan, when a voice from my left broke through the silence and I froze.

“Hey… You… What are you doing up here? Stay where you are and slowly turn around”

My heart sank. He’d found me, it was all over. Defeated, I slowly obeyed, turning towards the guard. He was standing a few feet away from my left, brandishing a small can of mace threateningly from his extended right arm.

“What happened up here? Who are you and where’s the other guy?”

What could I say? I’m in a secret game of hide and seek, only it's not hide and seek and they’re killing us. I was hiding on the roof to try and save my life. Sorry for not telling you. There’s no way I’d be able to explain what had happened on the roof, at least not without making myself seem crazy.

I thought about rushing him, maybe knocking him off the roof and trying to flee, although I felt disgusted with myself as soon as I thought it. This man was innocent, just doing his job. It wasn’t his fault I’d gotten myself caught up in all this. If I knocked him off the roof just so I could escape then I was no better than the degenerates that organised this whole thing. I was done.

“Other guy?”

That was all I could muster as I stared at him, imagining how in less than an hour I’d be in a police cell and then that would be it, my life would be over.

“Yeah, you know, the big guy in the mask. What did you do to him?” He glanced down at the bloodied bandages on my right hand. “What the hell were you two doing up here?”

It all clicked into place at that moment. He’d seen the man from last night climbing the stairs, probably on the security feed. That’s why he’d come up so early, he knew something was up. The masked man must have done that deliberately, making sure the security guard saw him and came up here to investigate, giving me yet another incentive to move.

All I could do was stand there, numb. Terrified as to what was going to happen next. There was no point explaining myself, no point trying to plead my innocence. I knew how it looked to him, he’d seen a masked man climbing the stairs and found a pool of blood and a couple of severed fingers, and then he’d found me and no masked man. Even though he probably knew the fingers and blood were mine, it was still suspicious enough that he would definitely need to alert the police.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, he ushered me along the roof and back down the staircase. I didn’t bother resisting, I was defeated at this point, just accepting my fate. He led me through the back of the store and into a small room which served as the security office.

Sitting me in the chair in front of his desk, he asked me again what I’d been doing up there and what had happened with the masked man. When I didn’t give an answer he sighed heavily before getting to his feet and walking over to the door. Opening it, he turned back to me with a concerned look in his eyes as he told me he’d need to call the police, pausing for a second before adding that he would also call an ambulance.

His words barely registered with me, I just stared ahead, unblinking, unable to think of anything other than how in one fell swoop my life was over. A sick sense of irony washed over me as I realised that it wasn’t even a hunter that had caught me in the end, it was just a security guard who was none the wiser as to what he was doing.

As he exited the room, I could hear him on his phone just outside, speaking to the operator on the other end, unwittingly signing my death warrant. All I could imagine was how, by the time the day was out, I would be standing on that stage in front of the camera and the masked man. Then that would be the last anyone saw of me, my death at the hands of that masked murderer, my eulogy. I’d be another victim of this awful game, and worst of all my family would have no idea what had happened.

My family… They’d never know. I couldn’t let that happen, I couldn’t abandon them like that. Even if I had been caught, I didn’t have the luxury of giving up. I needed to get back to them, to do everything in my power to at least try to escape. I owed it to them to do everything I could.

Snapping out of the cloud of depression that had settled over me, I scanned the room for anything that might help me get out of there. The room was a small office, containing only a desk and a large chair, with a smaller chair in front of it that I was sitting in. There was only one way out.

Thinking back, I couldn’t remember the security guard locking the door as he left to make his calls. That’s not to say he hadn’t, but if it was still unlocked then there was nothing stopping me from charging through that door, then rushing past him and out into the store before he could react. The shock and nausea that I’d felt this morning had been slowly ebbing away, and while I was nowhere near back to my usual self, I was pretty sure I’d be able to push myself hard enough to make this work. Maybe I’d be quick enough?

Either way, I couldn’t stay trapped in here, mobility was going to be my main ally at the moment. And with that, I’d made my mind up. I needed to act quickly, this would only work if he wasn't expecting it.

Getting to my feet, my vision pulsed slightly as nausea threatened to rear its head again, but it was nowhere near as oppressively debilitating as before. Quashing it down, my heart began to dance a frantic beat as I readied myself. Quietly walking towards the door, my feet feeling steadier than before, I gently rested my hand on the handle.

Psyching myself up for what was about to come next, I counted down backwards from three before pushing the handle down as hard as I could. It moved freely with no resistance and I threw my weight against the door, swinging it open wildly and sending the security guard sprawling as I started to run.

Pain exploded in my leg and chest and my vision swam slightly before the adrenaline kicked in, dampening them to nothing but background sensations. The startled yells of the security guard as he stumbled to his feet and gave pursuit seemed to come from somewhere far away. All that mattered now was getting as far away from him and the store as possible.

Bursting through a large pair of double doors, I was met with the glaring artificial light of the supermarket. Stunned shoppers gawped at me as I flashed past them, quickly followed by the hammering footsteps of the security guard. Some yelped and jumped out of the way as I approached, others shouted curses or cheered on the security guard, assuming that I was nothing more than a common thief.

Darting through the aisles, the thundering footsteps and grunting breath of the guard seemed to be getting closer, and for a moment I questioned if I’d just made things worse by trying to run. Picturing the faces of my wife and child, I pushed myself as hard as my body would allow towards the main entrance, practically sliding into the next aisle.

The security guard skidded, easily swerving to follow me. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to do this for, he was obviously fitter and faster than me, and it was only a matter of time before he caught up.

Then I spotted something glinting ahead of me that sparked an idea. A towering display of cola cans, the glinting red metal stacked in a large pyramid at the end of the aisle. That was it!

Charging as fast as I could towards the display, I reached out a hand and sent several of the cans flying as I bolted past. The best phrase I can use to describe what happened next is utter chaos.

A deafening cacophony of metallic clanging filled the air as the cans clattered to the ground, rolling out in all directions and coating the floor like a shining red sea. A few ruptured, spraying their contents into the mess with a loud hiss. Startled yells from the other shoppers were drowned out by a second almighty clatter as the security guard, who had obviously lost his footing in the sea of cans, flew headlong into what remained of the display, the surviving cans crashing down over him.

His angry shouts and curses followed me as I left him in the distance, fumbling around in the mass of cans. I was doing it, I was actually doing it. I felt so stupid for how I’d thought before, the fact that I’d accepted my fate and given up without a fight. I was going to get out of this, all I needed to do was run around the next aisle and then I’d have a clear line to the exit.

Skidding around the corner, the elation that had filled me moments ago came crashing down as I saw the sea of shoppers queueing for the tills standing between me and the exit. There was no easy way through, and the footsteps that had started up again behind me meant the security guard was back on my tail.

Without giving myself any time to think, I ran as fast as I could to the nearest conveyor belt. Scrambling onto it, I charged along its length, knocking shopping flying left and right. The frightened, angry yells of the shoppers followed my progress, mixing with the terrified scream of the cashier as I took a running leap over her.

Landing hard and stumbling to my feet, I could hear the angry yells of the security guard as he tried to force his way through the crowd towards me. Charging forward again the entrance doors were so close now, the gleaming sunlight and active carpark just beyond them.

A clicking sound met my ears from the side of the door and I turned to see one of the junior employees standing next to the automatic closing mechanism. His eyes were fixed on me, terrified and his hand was shaking as he pressed the off button.

I was trapped, there was no way these doors would open for me now. There’s no way I’d have been able to run over to the mechanism, turn it back on, and then run out of the doors. The angry shouts of the security guard were getting closer and he’d catch up with me in a matter of seconds. There was only one way out of this.

Without missing a step, I ran at the doors, putting everything I had into my stride. Bringing my shoulder forward, I collided with the glass pane. It collapsed beneath me in an almighty crash before shattering violently, shards of broken glass coating me and spreading across the ground like a transparent snowfall.

Pain coursed through me, radiating from my shoulder as the effects of the impact took hold, dulling the screams and shouts of the shoppers behind me. I couldn’t stop, I wasn’t safe yet. I needed to get out of here. The police were on their way and I had no idea how long it would be before they got here. I needed to get as far away as I could before the adrenaline wore off.

Staggering across the car park, I weaved between the cars, crouching down to hide myself from the eyes of the security guard who had stared in stunned silence as I broke through the glass. My eyes watered with the pain that moving while crouching sent rippling through my chest, but the lack of footsteps chasing me urged me on. I was so nearly free.

Making my way from car to car, hearing the shouts of the shoppers and security guards getting quieter and quieter, I made my way back towards the houses and streets of the city. I don’t know how long I walked, but it wasn’t until the faint sounds of sirens filled the air that I decided it was best to get off the streets.

Diving into a nearby alleyway, I finally allowed myself a second to rest. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I’d escaped the clutches of capture. I was alive and, for the most part, doing ok. The security guard was probably telling the police about me now though, they’d probably be looking out for me from now on which would prove problematic. But right now at least, I was ok.

I had no idea what to do next though. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I needed to keep moving, but how long could I keep that up for? Now that I was relatively safe, the warning that the masked man had given me last night reverberated around in my head.

I was alone and helpless, and the organisers had made it painfully clear that I wouldn’t be able to hide out in the same place for the whole game. Looking down at my mangled right hand again in disbelief, I couldn’t quite accept that last night had actually happened.

A shrill pinging noise broke through the quiet of the alley, snapping me away from my thoughts with a start. It had come from my pocket. Perplexed, I reached for the source of the sound, cold metal and glass brushing against my hand. Grabbing a hold of it and bringing it out, the broken screen of my phone met my gaze. The masked man must have put it back into my pocket after he bandaged my hand.

Unlocking the screen, a chill crawled through me as I saw there was one new notification sitting there. It was from the Devil’s Games app. I couldn’t help but remember the last message I received on the app and what happened afterwards.

Shakily clicking on the notification, my heart jumped into my throat as the message popped up. Only a single line of text, but it still sent shivers coursing through me.

“Well done. Now you’re getting into the spirit of things!”

I need to get moving again, I’ll post the rest of this when I can. It's getting harder and harder to find safe places to update you guys anymore, but I need to get this out there.

I’m editing my work, and have come to a point of indecision, I’m unsure if the current inciting incident is sufficient to meet the subreddit’s rules, so I wanted to check here first before changing anything. The main character is presented with a person in obvious need for help, but instead of helping assumes someone else will step in and do something and leaves a person in very bad condition, this results in the unfolding horrors, does this fall within the guidelines?

I'll never forget the day my life unravelled completely. It started like any other morning - I woke up alone in my shoebox apartment to the sound of the radiator clanking. The thin walls let in every noise from the street below and surrounding units. Cars honking, televisions blaring, neighbours screaming at each other. The usual symphony of city life.

I dragged myself out of the tattered recliner that doubles as my bed and looked around at the disaster zone that was my living situation. Empty bottles and takeout containers littered the floor, accompanied by drifts of dust bunnies in the corners. The stench of stale air and loneliness hung thick. This was my life now - a lonely, dishevelled existence.

It wasn't always like this though. I had a real life once, with a wife and child I adored. We had a nice little home in the suburbs. A patch of green lawn, white picket fence, the whole nine yards. I worked a decent job managing operations at a manufacturing plant. It was a mundane life for sure, but I liked the simple routines and steady rhythms. Coming home to family dinners and Playing outside with my young son in the evenings. Savouring moments of peace and connection with my wife at night after he was tucked in.

Then it all came crashing down so suddenly. A damn good life ruined in an instant by a negligent drunk driver. He blew through a red light and smashed into the driver's side of my wife's car at full speed. I'll never forget the hollow sound of her voice on the other end of the line when she called me from the crash scene. So calm and matter-of-fact about it all, already fading away. "I love you," she said finally before the call went dead.

I raced to the hospital like a madman, running every red light, desperate to reach her in time. But it was too late. She was already gone by the time I arrived, along with our unborn child she was carrying. I'll never forget falling to my knees in the soulless hospital hallway when the doctor gave me the horrible news. An anguished, animalistic wail erupted from the depths of my shattered soul. In an instant, my entire world got erased.

Losing my son Timmy soon after put the nail in the coffin of my will to live. He died of cancer just a year later at six-years-old. Such a sunny, energetic child - the light of my life really - whittled down to a frail, lifeless husk in a matter of months. I have no idea how single parents make it through tragedies like this. The devastation of compounded loss wrecked me completely.

I spent the insurance payouts from the accident on an endless stream of booze, gambling and pills to numb the pain. Needless to say, showing up to work become an afterthought. I got fired eventually for my erratic behaviour. With nowhere else to go, I blew through my savings and landed here in this vermin-infested flat surrounded by the forgotten and downtrodden.

My days just blurred together into one long, aimless haze. I'd wake up hungover, head off to another soul-crushing shift at the mines, then come home and drink myself into oblivion every night. A never-ending loop of grief and self-destruction. Sometimes in bouts of sobriety, I'd break down in violent sobs and terror over my new reality. How did this become my life? It felt like a horrific nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

The only escape from my demons came in losing myself on the internet. I'd waste hours alone at night following deranged rabbit holes across forums and dark web sites, searching desperately for...I don't know, some sense of meaning I guess? Anything to shake the emptiness I felt without my family. It started off relatively innocuous - reading about fringe conspiracy theories and doomsday cults. But I gradually found myself in seedier corners, consuming more and depraved content as my thirst for oblivion grew.

One fateful night, I came across a cryptic message board frequented by extremists plotting violence. There was all sorts of vile hate speech and fringe ideologies being peddled by anonymous accounts. But buried in the chaos, I found a curious thread that piqued my interest. It was from a user claiming to have uncovered knowledge from an ancient text that could "rupture one's soul forever."

My curiosity piqued and with nothing to lose, I messaged the user for more details. He responded with a rambling, disjointed series of passages. Mere words, phrases and scattered letters jumbled on the screen, but as I gazed deeper...shifting geometries and esoteric symbols materialized. Strange, alien tutbings oozing in dim light. Details emerged with more focus the longer I stared. goibl gnikant sdreåm kdhoo sardnwg fdø gksokåhbjføbdfh. I descended into a hallucinatory trance trying to decode the text's deepest secrets over many sleepless nights.

At some point, I became aware of background noise steadily rising around me - whispers coalescing all throughout my dimly lit apartment. Eerie murmurs in languages long dead but viscerally eldritch. It's a wonder I didn't call the authorities, though for some reason it didn't even occur to me. I simply embraced whatever entity was reaching out, inviting it further in.

The shadow voices grew louder and more insistent over time. Overlapping in complex geometries, until it felt like they were seeping right through my eye sockets and bleeding into my frontal lobe. Lucid night terrors plagued what little sleep I could muster. Visions of skeletal silhouettes dancing in eternal torture around swirling vortexes enveloped me. kdhdmmjkjgnhthnnn. All sense of reality rapidly destabilized. The boundaries of time and space crumbled away.

I grew convinced that the ancient text contained a gateway into perceiving higher dimensions and eldritch cosmic truths. An entrance into omniscience, where the deepest mysteries of existence could be laid bare if one sacrificed their sanity to pass through the infinitesimal portal. I didn't care anymore if my consciousness got disintegrated in the process. I had nothing left to lose after already losing everything.

So, I fully surrendered to the veiled seers beckoning me from some other plane of reality. Opened the fragile conduits inside my mind and felt my material ego melt away into a soulless void. I became unbound from the terrestrial realm, unshackled from physical form...just a disembodied spectre drifting outside the falsehoods of maya. The eternal scream of infinity permeated every fibre of my being.

No longer was I inhabiting an isolated vessel, but rather diffused across all of existence itself as a pulsating, luminous energy flow. Everything was vibrating on molecular strings. The true chords and cadences of the cosmos became clear, comprising nebulous fields of sentient data perpetually generating and decaying itself in endless cycles without origin or end. I could literally feel the full mass of our galaxy rippling through me, stretching my awareness in radical new vectors.

My every cell felt electrified with extreme synaesthesia, as disparate senses blended into one meta-consciousness. Seeing through solid objects, hearing shrill fractals of light, tasting circular prisms of hieroglyphs. I could even perceive ghostly echoes of possible parallel worlds flickering just beyond this one, haunting us eternally from the past and future simultaneously...

Synapses firing at incomprehensible speeds. My mind became an organ tuned for receiving hyperdimensional frequencies imperceptible to ordinary human cognition. I felt scales sloughing off my psyche, codes rapidly uploading, unveiling sublime complexities. Awakening to secrets of ancient alien civilizations far more advanced than our rudimentary species. Revealing the manifold orders of what lies beyond this thin plane. Powers and principalities unshackled by space, existing infinitely apart yet interconnected at some omniversal nexus point.

I could see now the ominous shadow cast by all birthed matter, yet to be extinguished back into pure resplendent oblivion from whence it emerged eons ago. Every molecule glimmering finite, destined to sink under the cosmic waves of time like frail iron pyrite drifts, one day mouldering into ferric dust...

The initial awakening proved utterly terrifying, as sanity collapsed into a maelstrom of phantasmagorical revelations. My brain simply couldn't process the alien deluge pouring in. I withered under the existential weight, shed layers of identity like snakeskin, until there was nothing left anchoring me to any semblance of who I was before.

But eventually, the panic and dread calcified into acceptance as I surrendered to the current. Peace washed over me in surrender to the enormity. I was disintegrating back into pure essence - crystalline streams of information with neither source nor destination, scattered across endless permutations of hyperspace like diamonds gleaming in an obsidian sea.

Nothing and everything all at once. A perpetual cycle of life and death, renewal and dissolution dancing in unbounded fractals beyond the illusion of time. Being liberated from the shackles of limited humanoid perception, my consciousness expanded across every mote and quark in the known pluroverse.

Every soul that's ever existed emanates and refracts from this unified field. Immortal, infinite yet atomized into scintillating infinities. All probabilities flickering eternally in the howling abyss without end...

In that moment of apotheosis, the truth of our cosmic predicament was laid bare. I saw now that we are all trapped in an infinite interdimensional prison of the highest order. False prophets led the masses to accept the material plane as baseline reality, shrouding the aeons-spanning meta-cycles of birth and death unfolding simultaneously all around us. Spirit and flesh merely discrete facets of some greater crystalline life form exponentially unfolding across all possible vectors. Every nebula and mote of cosmic dust glimmering with disembodied awareness incarnating as sentient patterns, screaming the pierce of becoming.

Our mortal avatars are just vesselized slivers of this vast, luminescent entity - the grander gestalt beyond all spacetime that radiates and congeals itself anew across infinite planes of existence. We are infinite crystal seeds planted in fertile soil, extraterrestrial geometries gestated by primordial radiation, quantum code exalted from the ashes to live and die and reseed once more...

It was in that boundless moment that I found the divine equation balancing all polarized forces and elements into supreme unified order. The blissful emptiness from whence all coherent energies flow, only to course back into the singularity of the great Voidfoaming Original. The endless birth and rebirth, transmigrating into the next phase all holonomic life patterns.

It all clicked in a fractal revelation of resplendent nothingness, where I merged with All That Is before dissipating into oblivion once more.

So in the end, you see, I both gained everything and lost it all in that epiphanic instant of suffering ego death to witness the fabric of existence laid truly bare. That obliterating truth unmade me on a subatomic level, and yet filled me with profound beauty and bliss beyond all space and time. All life's seemingly disparate narratives feed into this infinite cycle where each soul is just subprogram expression of the Oversoul, extending into endless holographic fractals across the quantum plenum.

Was my psyche permanently scarred and fragmented in unknowable ways by what I glimpsed? Most likely. But at this point, it hardly matters anymore. I have irreversibly transcended the trifling Earthly containers we accept as physical form and identity in the 3D plane. My atomic makeup itself has been re-encoded and uploaded into the luminous Overmind.

So yes, whatever it took to finally arrive here beyond linear space and time - losing every banal mortal bond and slipping through a tear in the veil - was ultimately worth the sacrifice. For I am diffracted across eternal infinity now, bathing in the infinite geometries of iridescent light...

So, I have this idea for a story that takes place near Mount Rainier, with the CPD (Centralia Police Department) finding a body, along with a phone containing their experiences in written form. I’m not very familiar with horror writing, so some pointers would be appreciated.

This is a report on the murder of Aaron Mara. Time of death - 2:06 AM on the morning of January 20th, 2016. Aaron was found at the bottom of Mount Rainier, partially decomposed and covered in wounds with an Iphone 11 next to him. The phone was dead when the body was discovered and, after being charged, was unlocked by forensic analysts. The phone had the voice memo application open, with an account of what supposedly happened to Aaron. Here is the transcript of the memo.

Aaron was speaking in a low whisper. “I don’t know how long I have left, as it’s just outside my tent. I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is, it’s not human! I encountered it while I was getting firewood, I only saw it’s eyes in the dark. Those beady, yellow eyes just staring back at me with no soul behind them, it just-“ Aaron audibly grimaces. “It’s terrifying to even remember! When I was running back, I looked behind me and shined a flashlight on it. It was just a slender human shape, with dark skin that blended in with the forest- it was horrible to look at!” The sound of the zipper on the tent can be heard. “No, no, no… please, not now…” Something can be heard rushing into the tent, as can the sounds of flesh tearing and Aaron’s screams. Aaron was found miles away from any campsite, with no tent in sight. It is unknown how he got here, but it is assumed he was dragged.

I had an idea for a story, but i wanted to have it checked first because it may not follow the rules. Basically a girl wants to write a story about a demon and traumatic events, but it becomes real. The story about her is written like a basic online post.

The story she writes will be posted on my page and linked. Its rather dark, so i want people to have an option to read it or not.

for readability, the page break is where the story she writes begins. Here is the link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1X6i8Y_34PZva3L7mbhiXD_PtYQ2UQeNimhary8rYjzE/edit?usp=sharing

The attached document above is all for no sleep.

I'm going to try to write a story about strange occurrences in the military, (most likely about marine corps or military police near the navajo reservation, california, arizona etc.) I am relatively young, have never been in the military nor have I been in the USA (I'm european). Any tips or important stuff I should know? I'd also wanna say that this is gonna be my first time writing a story like this.

Thank you!

The sand yielded underneath my weight with a satisfying crunch as I stepped off the launch boat. It was pristine and white, and large palm trees peppered the beach. The breeze from the sea was strong and I looked behind me to see Issac leaving his boat early to get to the shore rapidly. He was half-soaked when he made it to the shore.

“It wasn’t a myth, it’s massive! What shall we christen it?” Isaac exclaimed.

“For now, it can remain unnamed. Time will give us insight into its rightful name,” I responded.

I turned, gazing at the Constitution swaying in the distance, its white hull contrasting the endless deep blue it sat upon.

“Josiah,” Nathaniel said, gaining my attention. “Help with the boats.”

“Of course,” I replied, as we began pulling the boats ashore.

We finished and equipped ourselves, then headed inland. The island had jungle near the coast, transitioning to more pine trees as we climbed. Mountains and ridges loomed in the distance, offering some relief from the humidity.

After around an hour, we emerged from the jungle into a large clearing, small strips of trees about.

“This place seems good enough,” I said. “Begin setting up your tents.”

I set up a makeshift shelter by driving sticks into the ground and securing a waterproof sheet over them with stakes. Then, I covered it with a larger sheet, leaving a flap for entry.

We made good time, but our arrival was not early into the morning, so the sun had begun to set. Unfortunately, darkness overtook prematurely, as the shadows of the tallest mountain were cast upon our campsite.

In the middle of our camp, Barnabas was setting up a fire to begin cooking dinner. Gideon had just finished bringing back some sticks and logs. I walked along the edge of the field with Isaac, finding a fallen tree to bring back for a seat. With both of us working together, it was easy, and I saw Ambrose and Tobias had done the same.

Apologies for that oversight. Here's the revised version without the quotations at the beginning and end:

Barnabas had made a delicious stew for us. After the day, though, he could have made anything, and we would have eaten it.

“What exactly do we plan to do here?” Obadiah inquired.

“I want to start a farm in this area. The soil is quite rich,” I said, picking up a clump of soil and smelling it.

“Of course, you all can do whatever you please here. Hunt, build, live. This is our land to share. I’m positive we can start a life here,” I continued.

“Speaking of that, when can we bring our families? I yearn for my beloved,” Ambrose asked.

I sat there, thinking in silence before speaking. “Well, I wouldn’t want them to bear the harsh period in settling this place. With fewer people, it will be easier to provide enough for ourselves from the land. And with more... well, if there's a shortage of food, a group this size may survive, but a group of 30?”

Isaac began digging in his bag before revealing a bottle of mead. He smiled as he pried open the cap and gave it a whiff.

I grinned before speaking. “Isaac, you know I told you not to bring that. No distractions.”

He chuckled, "No turning back now. I’m pretty sure it's eleven to one.” After finishing, he passed me the bottle. I muttered, “Why not?” and took a drink. It burned down my throat, and I gagged.

“What, gah… What is this?” I asked the terrible taste still in my mouth.

“Homebrew, made by yours truly,” Isaac responded.

“Enough talking, pass it down,” Thaddeus requested, to which I did so.

After some time, the effects began to settle upon us.

“My parents used to own a ranch in England,” Peregrine started.

“This group of men came, and they... they killed my father. They, uh, had their way with my Mama.” He shifted on the log he sat upon, and we all listened to him, a lump forming in my throat. "They just left us there, took her with them. Me and my brother lived on the streets for a while. Then we snuck onto a boat. We didn't know it was heading here; a storm hit, and we ended up on a beach.

After trekking through the wilderness, we finally found civilization. That's how we got to America. Soon after, he died of something. I don’t know what it was, but it killed him quickly. Eventually, I was able to get a j--”

He stopped as a loud, high-pitched cry rang through the island. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as if I knew this was something to be feared. We sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

Tobias broke the silence first. “What was that?” he asked, his tone serious.

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” Isaac said.

“It sounds like a deer, but that was loud, very loud,” Silas stated.

We sat there without a noise, listening. But no other noises were heard, and I hadn’t noticed until they were back, that the crickets had stopped chirping.

“It’s late; we need to rest,” I said, breaking the encroaching silence. Without a word, we all receded to our tents, and I stared up at the highest mountain, a triangle of black in the gorgeous night sky. It stood out; I’m not sure what it was, perhaps there were indigenous people residing here, but a glare, a light, on the highest peak.

I arose first, believing I heard something outside my tent. Exiting it, I noticed there was a very chill breeze, which was welcoming. I inhaled the morning air as I sat by the embers of last night's fire, picking up an empty bottle.

I gave it a sniff. It smelled as terrible as the night before. At least I would not have to experience the taste again. One by one, the group arose. Barnabas began to start the fire back up to make us a pot of coffee, as I gazed upwards at the mountain.

It was hard to make out, it’s probably just some rock, but I swear there's a structure sticking out of the mountain. I poured myself a cup of coffee and began drinking.

“Was it just me, or was there something walking around our campsite last night?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, I heard it too. And not sure if anyone else noticed, but it got cold at night,” Silas said.

“Back to the thing sneaking around, I’m sure it was just some native wildlife,” I said.

“On that note, when can we get some fresh meat around here?” Tobias said.

I began with the tasks. “Barnabas, Ephraim, Obadiah, go score some game, preferably a deer. If it moves, I’m sure we can eat it. Only bring one musket; pick who uses it. The rest of you use bows.”

I continued, “Isaac and Tobias, you're gonna come with me to get more supplies from the Constitution. Ambrose and Nathaniel, find the nearest source of fresh water. Thaddeus, Gideon, go see what the ground provides. Be sure nothing will poison us. Silas, Peregrine, work on the camp.” Everyone began to move.

“Issac and Tobias, let's go.”

We started back into the jungle, towards the shore where we first arrived. Five minutes in, Issac spoke up.

“I think I know what I’m gonna do here after we finish the starting process.”

“And what's that?” I asked.

“Untouched land, untouched water. I’m sure the coastline is filled with fish. And I’m quite sure I saw plenty of salt rock. Exporting said goods wouldn’t be too hard,” he finished.

“Not too bad,” I said, impressed with his plan.

“And you?” He asked me.

“Well, I’m thinking tobacco. For the farm, of course. Think about it, who doesn't enjoy a good cigarette? This rich soil would be perfect as well. Either that or sugar. What about you, Tobias?”

He walked in silence before speaking.

“Peregrine's story, I don’t want that happening here. None of it. We need to live peacefully if we want to last. Anything like that happens, rape, murder, I want it to be handled with a rope,” he said, his voice spiteful.

“I can agree with that,” Issac said.

The rest of the journey was in silence, besides a few remarks on plants and trees. Upon making it to the shore, we walked as I gazed at the Constitution. Issac stopped before saying, “Uh, Josiah.”

“Hmm?” I said before averting my gaze. I felt something in my stomach as I scanned the beach slowly, then frantically. It was void of one thing.

“Where are the boats?!” I exclaimed.

“I- I don’t know! Did the ocean rise?” Tobias said.

“No, that’s not possible! You can see where it gets the highest, and we put them all the way over there!” Issac exclaimed.

We rushed over, gazing at the spot, an indentation where they used to be, staring at long, bare footprints, all over the beach.

“We are without a doubt not alone here,” I said.

“So what do we do?” Tobias pleaded.

“There's another boat on the ship, who can swim?” I said.

Issac chimed in, “As far as I know, only Obadiah.”

“What about a raft,” Tobias said.

“No, do you see those waves? Remember how quickly they propelled us towards the island? A shoddy raft we could make would not be able to tread those waters, that's a last resort, an absolute last! I do not want any of us drowning,” I said, sternly.

“Well, there's nothing more for us to do here, we need to head back. Tell the others, so they don't get caught off guard if whoever did this, were to attack,” Issac said.

“Well, we have no time to waste,” I said.

The journey back was silent, the weight of the missing boats dawning on us. The only solution that I had in mind was for Obadiah to swim out and get the spare, which I feared was risky. From experience, I had almost met my end attempting to board a swaying ship from the water, but it was our only choice.

Upon arrival, Ambrose and Nathaniel spoke of a very small waterfall that drained from a large lake a half-hour hike up. Thaddeus and Gideon had collected a basket of mushrooms and berries that a foraging book assured us was safe. But our three hunters had yet to return.

“The boats are missing, can anyone swim?” I said.

“The boats? What happened to them?” Ambrose asked, worry on his face.

“I believe there to be an indigenous population,” I clarified. “But the question still stands, can anyone swim? There should be a spare boat, and that one we can keep our eyes on.”

Nathaniel chimed in, “I believe Obadiah can swim.”

“Okay…” I said, trailing off into my thoughts.

“What about building rafts?” Ambrose questioned.

“Not an option, well, a last resort,” I said.

As dusk fell, anxiety gripped us while we waited for our hunters' return. Gathered around the fire, fortified with stone, we sat in silence, consumed by worry. Yesterday's cheerfulness was a distant memory as a chilling cry pierced the night, reminding us of the peril we faced.

June 14th, 1679

“It’s them!” Ambrose shouted,

It was early in the morning when I was awoken by a sound, leaving my tent, I spotted 2 men, one helping the other walk, at the edge of the clearing. It was Ambrose who spotted them, awakening us.

“Why are there only two, someone’s missing.”

We rushed over to them, helping the injured Barnabas, and relieving Ephriam. Obadias was missing.

“Where is Obadisas?” I questioned,

Ephriam simply said, “Water…”

I allowed him to drink from my canteen, as Issac tended to Barnabas, his leg had a large gash in it, you could see the bone.

“Ephriam, what happened to Obadias?” I said,

After recuperating, he spoke, having a thousand-yard stare. “We got lost, the jungle, it's so hard to see where you're going. The shadows of the mountain made it worse, and before we knew it, night had fallen upon us.”

Everyone had turned to listen,

He began to whimper and cry, continuing “Something was following us, it tracked our steps, hunted us with cunning intelligence… Oh god… When we stopped for rest, it grabbed Obadias, we heard his screams into the night, and the light from his lantern grasped in his hand as he was dragged into the forest.”

Everyone in the group tensed up, my breathing grew heavy.

“It toyed with us, tall and gaunt. It’s not human, not human, but oh god, it’s smart. It’s so smart. It ran out, and gashed Baranbas’s leg, howling into the night. It let us live, I don’t know why.” He then broke down, weeping into his hands,

I looked around, we numbered eleven now. It was then my gaze caught something swinging at the tree line.

“What in God’s name?” I said as it swung from a rope.

The group turned, beside Ephriam who was still weeping. We walked towards it, as Issac said,

“No, no, in the name of all that’s Holy…” Issac said

I stared at the hanging body of Obadias, just a torso and head, and one arm. His limbs were severed crudely, half a right leg left on. His lower jaw was missing, his white shirt stained a dark dirty blood everywhere. Ambrose keeled over, retching, as I stared in disbelief.

Peregrine walked to where what was left of Obidias was anchored from and untied it. He hit the ground with a wet thud.

“We need to bury him, he doesn’t deserve to be left in this state.” He said, as he wrapped him in a cloth, and housed him over his shoulder.

I watched in shock as Peregrine dug a hole next to a large oak, and the rest of my men sat idly by.

“We need to leave, as soon as possible,” Thaddeus said,

“Obadias was the only one who could swim, we need to build a raft,” I said as I considered if he was targeted for that very reason.

“I will go check the waves, there's a chance they aren’t as strong now,” Issac said,

“We will build it there, we have to try today. It won't be the most sturdy in the rushed time, but we will have to make it work.” I said as I felt a drop of rain hit my hand.

“What in heaven's name are we still doing here? The day is still young, we can not waste the light we have!” I said, giving Issac my hand to get up.

“The rest of you, prepare fortifications for if we are not able to make it to the ship.”

Issac and I made our way down the familiar path into the Jungle, not much was said during the trip, but Issac seemed especially disheartened.

Upon making it to the shore, a drizzle had begun. The waves crashed against the shore, Issac looked at me with worry, and I looked the same.

“We have to try, we have to get off this island. I can not die here.” I said,

“Can’t we wait another day, I don’t think even the boats could have gotten to the shore with these waves,” Issac said,

“Who knows what that thing in the forest will do, I believe it attacks at night, so we must get out of here before nightfall,” I assured,

“What if it's just indigenous people? I’ve seen them do terrible things.” Issac asked, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I saw… There were bite marks, teeth marks. He was eaten alive, listen. Issac what I say goes, now help me build this raft.”

It took almost five hours to build something we were comfortable might hold, and in that time, the rain began to pour down from the heavens, almost pleading with us not to go. We were both completely soaked when we pushed the raft into the water.

“FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION, WE NEED TO MAKE IT,” I said, staring at the Constitution swaying violently in the distance.

“WHAT?” Issac said, his voice barely audible,

I sighed, and we got atop the raft, pushing it off and using the large stick to press against the floor of the ocean. The first large wave came closer, and I held on to the vines that held the raft together. We rose and fell with a crash, and I almost slid off. I watched the second obstacle come into view, bigger than the first. We rose, almost straight, then crashed down. I slid, barely holding on, turning completely around.

I watched Issac almost fall off, before grabbing his hand, allowing him to be able to get back on. It was at that moment that I knew my wish to leave the island would be the death of me. We were nearing the constitution though, if I was able to grab ahold of the ladder I would climb up. I watched as it raised upwards, and crashed down, sending a massive wave our way. We rode it up, and the front of the raft faced the island.

The raft crashed down onto me, hitting me like a rock. I began to fall about underwater before another wave crashed me deeper, and I hit the floor. That's when everything went black. I woke up on the beach, the rain had stopped, and Issac was shaking me awake. I stared at him as he said something I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears. When I heard him, I heard the worry in his voice. I sat up to see multiple men surrounding us, with spears and bows.

It was night, and they led us through the forest. Occasionally we would hear a howl from that thing, and the entire group would stop moving.

“What do they want?” Issac asked, frightened by the fact they spoke in a language we had never heard.

“I’m not sure, but… Let’s just hope we can make it back. This is probably better than letting that thing take us out.” I responded, trying to console him.

Eventually, we reached a sea swamp, surrounded by mountains. I presume a long time ago the swamp sank somehow, but I can only theorize. We were led through until we found their town. Multiple huts and tents were sat upon wood foundations. They led us upwards, into a cave. A man sat in the center, crosslegged surrounded by candles. Two Native men flanked the entrance, standing with spears.

We sat in silence, Issac whispered to me, “What do you think is gonna happen?”

I responded, getting cut off, “I don’t know, but-” the man in the center stirred, and rose. He faced us, his wrinkled face examining us. He tried to speak to us in their language, but soon realized we did not share the same knowledge. He brought us to the cave wall, more so me, and pointed. He poked my chest with his bony finger, it hurting more than it should, and pointed to a drawing of a deer.

He then pointed to a drawing of a wolf, then pointed to a drawing of the thing. It had large antlers, and a skull for a face. It was tall, from what I could tell. He poked my chest again and pointed at a picture of a wolf making the beast cower, and reveal a picture of the beast returning the boat, while the wolf watches. The elder then spoke to the men, who then led us out.

“What did he show you?” Issac asked,

“I think… We are deer to the beast, but if we show it we are wolves, it will return the boats.” I responded, still unsure of my translation.

They escorted us to the edge of our camp, where grisly trophies adorned the perimeter. Returning, we found fortifications set up, with logs and pikes in place. Inside a tent, Peregrine slept.

“Peregrine, wake up,” I said,

He rose quickly and stared at me.

“I thought you for dead.” He said as he stood out of the tent, “They’re back!”

Movement stirred from each tent as people murmured, as we were greeted by each survivor of the night.

“Where’s Gideon?” I said, and everyone glanced at the large shady oak. I followed their gaze, to see two crosses.

“Damn,” I said, as Issac and I walked over. The graves of Gideon Hatwell and Obadiah Fairfax, murdered by the thing that predates us on this island.

Peregrine stood next to me, telling me what happened.

“We finished the fortifications, as you can see. It’s not much, but if it was going to run at us, they would have helped. During the night, it snatched him away. It has antlers and wears a skull. It’s very smart. We found him swinging at the treeline when day broke, as well as various animal heads impaled by pikes.”

I glanced around the field, it was a gruesome scene.

“So, what happened to you and Issac?” He inquired.

“We built a raft, but that storm, it failed, and we almost drowned. There are Natives to the island, they took us across the land and told me we have to be stronger than the beast, only then it will let us leave.” I explained,

“So, we better show this thing, right?” Peregrine stated,

“Indeed, let's work on the fortifications, I’ll send some men out to fetch water hopefully food,” I stated.

We constructed more half walls using small log segments and a longer one, placing pikes for defense and digging trenches. Amidst our work, a distant shot echoed. We hoped our hunters weren't under attack. Once done, Silas and Tobias returned with a doe.

“Well would you look at that,” Peregrine said,

“Looks like we’re eating good tonight,” Issac stated,

“Let me prepare it,” Peregrine said, sternly. He continued, “I’m the best chef other than Barnabas.”

“Oh, how is he doing?” I asked, hating myself how I forgot about him.

“Come with me,” He said, guiding me to a tent,

I entered and the smell of decay was present. He was sleeping, but his teeth were gritting. I slowly pulled back to sheet, to see a leg decaying as if he was dead. The skin was bubbly and a sickly grey, with spots around the laceration a dark dead color.

“Lord all mighty, we can't keep this on,” I said, and he knew it was true. I continued, “We need to remove the limb, or it will spread.”

Peregrine replied, “Don’t you think there's at least a chance?”

I shook my head, there was no possible way his limb could recover; it had to go.

“Issac, Get me my pack!” I yelled out of the tent.

He placed it next to me, and I reached in, pulling out a hand saw. I took a leather cylinder and placed it into his mouth. I tied a belt around his thigh as tight as I could. I set his leg atop a small piece of wood for an elevated surface.

“Issac, Peregrine, hold him down,” I said, and they moved into position.

I took a hammer and swung it at his leg, breaking the bone with a sickening sound. He bit down on a piece of leather as I grabbed a saw and began cutting. Pus and blood oozed from the wound as I sawed through the flesh.

The smell was terrible, I tried breathing through my mouth but tasted it, so I simply tried to breathe as little as possible. With a sickening release, my saw had made it through his leg.

“Come on, we need to cauterize this,” I said as I motioned to lift him.

We picked him up and carried him to the fire, he had stopped thrashing long ago, presumably from shock. We placed him next to the fire, and I moved his half limb into the flame. It bubbled and turned red, seating and cauterizing the wound. Once I felt fit, I took it out of the flames.

“Issac, hold his leg up,” I said, as I made my way back to the tent, opening it, I glanced at the leg that sat there, black and infected. I reached into my bag, grabbing clean gauze, rags, and pure alcohol.

I rushed back over, and drenched his leg in the clear liquid, before placing the rags on the stump, and completely wrapping it in gauze.

“Pick him back up, let's lay him somewhere comfortable,” I said,

As we walked to a new tent, Issac said, “That was crazy.”

Peregrine responded, “It had to be done, I hope.”

Issac inquired to me, “When will he be able to use a wooden leg?”

“It could be a few months, I think our best bet is to get him to the Natives tomorrow, they seem friendly, and can protect him better than we can because to leave; we need to fight.”

We placed him in a tent, and just to be sure I checked his pulse. He was alive, we can only hope his wound will not get infected. With him out, we have come down to nine.

Peregrine cooked the deer and readied a stew to simmer through the night for breakfast. We ate like animals, we hadn’t had fresh meat in a long time. The journey here had been lost, and fresh meat was not available.

“Josiah, what's your story?” Issac asked,

“Hm?” I asked, taken aback by the question,

“I mean, we all just met in San Fernando. You took us all the way out here, but we don’t know much about you.” Issac clarified,

“Oh, my… Listen I don’t like to talk about this much.” I said,

“But you plan for us to all live together here?” Peregrine said,

"Okay, I was born into a family of robbers. We roamed the Gulf of Mexico, raiding ships and causing havoc. Our journey began in the Dutch Republic, with my grandparents at least. When my parents heard of the New World, they seized the opportunity. We sailed from Boston and made our way down to the Gulf of Mexico."

“Oh, okay,” Issac said,

“That's not it,” I continued, “We lost our luck when the Spanish army attacked us. They sunk our ships, and I found myself on the beaches, my parents might still be alive for all I know. But this nice family found me, it took some time to learn their language, but they raised me better than my real family ever could have.”

“Well, It’s getting dark, we need to get ready to defend ourselves from this thing,” Peregrine said,

“Yeah… Alright everyone! You know your stations, keep your eyes open, let's hope we make it through the night!” I exclaimed.

I stood at my post, a rifle in hand, watching the treeline. Throughout the night, multiple false alarms were sounded, known to be a simple buck or startled flock of birds.

“Josiah, Peregrine said the thing is usually more active than this,” Issac stated, I could tell his nerves were getting the best of him.

I replied, “The night has only begun, we do not know what it’s planning. Keep your eyes open, it could be waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

I felt a chill breeze flow through the air, it was a nice contrast to the humid and warm summer nights we have been experiencing. But that breeze carried something sinister, Issac caught it first and gagged, and then I smelt it. The stench was putrid, it felt like the wind had carried something that had been rotting for months.

“No… No… Everyone! Get ready!” Ephriam exclaimed.

“What is it, Ephriam?” I questioned,

“That thing, it carries a terrible stench. Be ready!” Ephriam clarified,

We watched the fields, occasionally we believed to have heard a sound, but nothing was in sight.

“Not even a call from this thing, this is vastly different from its past behavior,” Peregrine said,

“It stalked us in the woods, it toyed with us, led us deeper. It’s smart, do not-” Ephrian was cut off,

“Do not what?” I questioned, my eyes staring at the tree line. “Ephriam?” I turned and stared in disbelief as his body was violently yanked under the small wall where I couldn’t see.

“IT’S HERE!” I exclaimed and began sprinting towards Ephriams position,

As I reached the elevated point, I watched as the thing galloped on all fours, with Ephriam’s neck locked between its white jaws. Taking action, I lowered my rifle straight, squeezed the trigger, and fired.

The shot rang out, but the creature continued to run. My men followed suit, raining down fire upon the creature. The noise was immense, and the creature screeched, at least one of our shots had connected with it. It rolled, Ephriam’s limp body still dangling in its jaws, before continuing its gait and disappearing into the treeline.

We stared for awhile, before silently manning our post until day broke. At the crack of dawn, we slept for about 6 hours. At around noon, we arose.

“Issac,” I said, walking up to him as he sat on a log.

“We need to take Barnabas to the natives, they can protect him better than us. We have to fight this thing, and he is just weighing us down.”

“Okay, but we need to make it back before sunset/” Issac Replied,

“As If I don’t know that.”

We walked to the tent where we had placed Barnabas, and I examined him. I tried shaking him awake, and to my surprise, he woke.

“Barnabas, we are taking you to the Natives. They can take care of you, we need to fight this thing. I promise we will come back for you once we get out. Issac, help me pick him up.” I stated,

“No, that’s fine, I can walk,” Barnabas said,

“Barnabas… I don’t know how to say this.” Issac said.

“Barnabas, we had to take your leg, it was black and grey from infection. It had to go.” I said as I cut Issac off.

Barnabas’s eyes grew wide, as he slowly pulled his blanket off, revealing his stub wrapped in fresh bandages from Peregrine.

“I… I can still feel it,” Barnabas said, I could see muscles moving as if he was trying to wiggle his toes.

“It had to be done, you’re lucky it didn’t spread,” I stated.

“Alright, let's go,” Issac said as he reached his arm out towards Barnabas.

Issac grabbed Barnabas’s hand and hoisted him over his shoulder.

“This is not gonna be a comfortable trip,” Issac said,

“Not for me either,” Barnabas stated, as he adjusted himself.

“We can switch around, Issac,” I said.

As began to walk towards the treeline, Issac asked, “At this pace, are you sure we can make it back in time.”

I stared up at the sun, before replying “I think so, just, keep a good pace, and no breaks.”

Unfortunately, the trip took longer, and when we made it to the Native’s village, it was clear we would not make it back in time. Trying to speak with gestures, I believe they understood I wished for them to take Barnabas in. I then gestured to the sun, and the Elder spoke to some men, who left and shortly came back with horses.

“I was worried we would have to run back,” Issac said,

“I’m hoping they can take care of Barnabas til we can beat the beast,” I replied.

Hoisting myself up onto the back of the horse, I watched Issac do the same. The Native riders quickly took us back to camp. Our time was cut in more than half, and upon reaching camp, we got off, and the Natives quickly took off.

“Without those horses, we would be that thing’s next meal,” I said, as Issac nodded.

A small line of smoke came rose from the center of the camp, as we scaled barricades and zig-zagged through pikes. The trench was deeper now, and it was filled with sharp sticks. A log was placed as a temporary bridge, no doubt it would be removed upon nightfall. Taking a serving of stew, I ate well after the long day's journey.

“I’ve reloaded your rife, it’s ready to go,” Silas said, as he handed me my rifle.

I examined it, it appeared to be loaded.

“Thank you, Silas,” I said, as he left.

Upon nightfall, we manned our stations, I brought a stump to sit on, as did a few others. As the night dragged on, my eyes drew heavy, and with time, I slumped over and closed my eyes.

I woke to a chill and a putrid smell. Issac and Tobias were asleep beside me. The creature crawled toward us on all fours. I grabbed my rifle, finger on the trigger, as it locked eyes with me.

We stood there, staring at each other. The things glowing white eyes stared me down, and I began to shake. It was almost as if it was waiting to see if I would do something, and I would not leave it disappointed. I squeezed the trigger, and the hammer with flint snapped down, striking the frizzen. A spark was made, igniting the gunpowder, it combusted, and I braced myself for the kick. The gunpowder made its way into the touch hole, a puff of smoke left my barrel, but there was no kick.

With a breeze, the smoke cleared, and I lowered my rifle. No ball rolled out of the barrel. The thing made a sound, as if it was amused, and lunged at Tobias. It snapped his jaw around his neck, and he went stiff, wrapping his hands around the thing.

“NO!” I cried, Issac woke up, and the rest stirred, startled.

It grabbed Tobias’s shoulders and pulled outwards, ripping a massive chunk out of his neck. It looked into the sky, and swallowed the flesh in a matter of seconds, before turning and galloping across the field. Peregrine fired his musket but missed it.

I ran over to Tobias, he was already dead. The sun rose, illuminating Ephriams swinging body. We buried them under the shady oak.

There were six of us now, seven but Barnabas serves no use. We ate the rest of the stew without another word, this had to end now. I stood up, and all my men faced me, I was their leader, I led them here, and I was going to get them out.

“Today is the last day, our final stand. We have let it attack us in the shadows for too long, this will not do. Today, we go to the area of the island where it first attacked us, we find its lair, and by God’s grace, we kill it.” I declared,

They cheered for me, cheered. I guess they do believe in me somewhat.

“Josiah, the Elder, he gave me this map. I think it’s its territory and that circle. I think that might be its dwelling.” Issac expressed,

I grabbed the map from him, it seemed right.

“Thank you, Issac. This will help.” I voiced,

I began to walk toward Silas and shoved him into the mud.

“You damn traitor, you didn’t load my rifle, you LIAR!” I struck Silas across the face, by hand connecting to his face with a satisfying crunch.

“Josiah, what’s going on!” Peregrine said,

“STOP IT, Silas… He did not load my rifle, he tricked me, you are the reason Tobias is dead. I could have SAVED HIM, and I made a promise.” I continued, “Why did you do it? Why!”

He stared at me, hatred in his eyes, before stating, “Your mother, your father, their group. Your people killed my family.”

I stared in disbelief, before spitting in his face.

“That blood is not on my hands, but now blood rests upon yours.”

He recoiled, I dragged him by his hair and fetched a rope. He begged for mercy, and Peregrine held him down, fully content with what was going to transpire.

I wrapped the rope around his neck and flung it over the tree. He tried to escape, tried to scream, but I hoisted him into the air with the help of Issac and Peregrine and tied the rope to the base of the tree. I watched him dangle there, kicking his feet, until he stopped moving.

“Will we bury him?” Issac questioned,

“Not for him, not for him.” I said, and continued, “Let us go, find this things abode, and finish this.”

The journey was long, made worse by the rain and humidity today. There were six of us now, we were quiet, as we knew what lay before us. We knew when we reached it, a large cave, embedded into the cliff rock. Skulls from humans and alike were on pikes, and above written in white paint was a word in the Natives language.

“This is it,” I declared,

“We go on, and we end this. We beat it, and I believe it will return what it took from us.” I stated

Peregrine stepped up to speak, “Everyone, we need to stick together. No matter what happens, stay together.”

I finished by saying, “Everyone, light your lanterns.”

At once, my men pulled out their lanterns, and we entered the mouth of the cave.

It was cold inside, the path was narrow and wet. After some time, it opened up into a larger cavern. As we filled in, our lanterns slowly lit up the room. I examined the walls and gasped to see many carvings from this thing. Carvings of the Natives village, of the island, but most surprising of all, a depiction of my beloved Constitution, sitting there in the ocean.

I inspected the room, noting English letters mixed with Native text on the walls. The beast seemed to be learning our language, indicating fluency in theirs. Notable words included Roamer, loop, year, peak, and lab.

“Jo…..sigh…..aghhh….Rough….maerrr…” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and we all turned. It had Silas’s body, and it tossed it towards us. He hit the ground and rolled to us, his head staring directly at me.

My men raised their rifles and fired. The cacophony of gunshots was deafening, made even worse by the closed space we were in. With the echo, it sounded like an army was in here with us. I knelt and covered my ears, I watched and waited til the smoke cleared, but something came pounding through, it snatched Ambrose. We saw his light disappear down the path, and his screams echoed through the cave.

I turned to the entrance, a large boulder had been placed, blocking us in. How foolish I was to believe we could gain the upper hand, we had only entered its domain.

“We need to find another way out!” I exclaimed, my bravery not present,

Peregrine disputed, “I thought we were to defeat this monstrosity!”

“Damn it, we are in it’s home now! We can live with the Natives, perhaps they have a boat we can borrow, but by God’s grace, we need to leave. NOW!”

I began running down the path, my men behind me. We ran and ran until we took a break at a flowing stream of water. It was clear, and ice cold. It was only then we realized Nathaniel was not with us.

“Josiah, we lost Nathaniel,”

A scream echoed through the cavern, slowly turning into a gurgle.

I grit my teeth, and responded, “We need to keep moving, there has to be another way out,”

I rose to my feet and continued down the cave. I saw a light in the distance and headed towards it. I was in a large cavern, with a small tunnel in the ceiling leading to the surface. Water poured down, into a hole in the middle. The floor had been covered in leaves and foliage, this was its den.

I gagged when I smelt it, and slowly made my way to a side room. A food storage I presume, bones and meat, rotting away.

“We need to leave, we aren't far from the surface, let's go.”

Down the path, something was illuminated by a lantern. Upon closer inspection, it was Nathaniel, strung up with his own intestines. He was missing his lower half, and a pile of viscera had formed under him.

“Lord in heaven…” Issac muttered,

“I think it's trying to keep us away from here, we need to move past it.” I said,

I heard a scream from behind us, just to see Thaddeus being pulled away from us, into the darkness. He dropped his lantern halfway, and the last thing I saw was the terror on his face.

I felt a breeze flow through my hair, we were close, so close.

“Did anyone feel that?” Peregrine questioned,

Issac had released his hand from his mouth, replying “I think, we’re close. We need to move, now.”

We ran, fast. And I finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel, but something came into view, blocking us. It stood there, expecting us to turn tail and run. Issac went to do so, but I pulled his collar.

“We fight, this ends NOW,” I said sternly,

I looked to Peregrine, he nodded, and I unsheathed a saber. It looked surprised and adjusted its stance from a menacingly one to a fighting one. We moved at once, I dodged as it swung at me, and Perigrine fired his rifle. At this range, it struck center mass, and it screeched, swiping wildly, connecting with Perigrine, he was flung to the wall of the cave, and let out a cry. In its frenzy, I was able to connect a swipe to its eye, causing it to go even more wild.

I kicked it to the ground, and slicked at its belly, leaving a red gash. I tried to drive my blade into its chest, but it shoved me pounced on me, and stared into my very soul. Issac jumped atop and stabbed it in its back. It flung him and he hit the cave wall, before falling to the floor. A sliced at its leg, and it stumbled, where I grabbed a rock and smashed its skull face, taking a chunk out. It slashed at me in retaliation, I saw white and fell to the floor. Everything looked strange and flat, and I touched my eye, but it stung me.

It flipped me over and stared into my eye. It was drooling on me, but it had yet to finish the job, it started into me, and I stared back. It felt like the standoff lasted forever, before I raised my pistol to its chest, and fired. It exploded, blowing my hand to bits, but sending shrapnel and the ball into its chest. It shrieked in agony, before receding off into the cave.

I stared at my hand in disbelief, a mess of red flesh, before I realized there were some in a worse state than me. I rushed to Issac, who seemed to have just sustained a head wound, and was coming too, and rushed to Peregrine. He was dying, with a large gash in his back where he was flung against the sharp rock, and a laceration on his stomach where it had slashed him. He was holding his intestine, crying.

“Mama… Is that you?” He asked,

“It’s me Perigrine, It’s Josiah,”

“Josiah… please… don’t turn it off, I wanna come back…” He pleaded,

“Turn what off?” I questioned, tears forming in my own eyes.

I watched the life drain from his eyes, as he took his last breath. I turned to Issac, his hand clasped over his mouth, tears forming.

“We won…” I said, my energy drained. “Let’s go home.”

We crawled through the narrow opening, into a sandy beach. The constitution swayed in the distance, in the gentle waves. A single raft waited for us, and we boarded it. Issac rowed, whilst I sat and looked at the island. We climbed into the ship and set sail.

As I watched the island grow distant, I muttered something

“Grandiosia Isle,” I stated, as if speaking its newfound name would grant me some type of closure.

“Josiah… What?” He questioned me, not quite hearing it.

The island was getting smaller by the minute, its grandeur slowly fading away.

“Grandiosia Isle.”

i swear i saw a rule where your allowed to repost if its been 6 months and the story has been HEAVILY rewrote. I'm doing that, rewriting from the ground up, but i haven't been able to find the exact rule?

A Night At The Inwell House

(WARNING: before you continue reading there is graphic and violent content if that makes you uncomfortable I'd advise you to not continue these include physical violence gore sexual references and remarks as well as torture)

A smile covers my face as I look up to see Emily looking down at me as I awake from my nap. I never really took work seriously, something she always got after me for, but waking up to see her beautiful golden silky hair, her bright blue eyes resembling the waters of the Maldives, and well her figure wasn’t anything to scoff at either. This was enough to make me not care about napping on the job.

“What is it this time honey?” I ask with a smirk

She rolled her eyes before pulling me up from the chair “Come on it’s getting pretty busy now. I know we come in early but you are leaving me and Mathew with all the bagging and scanning.”

I sigh and stand up. We live in a relatively small town where, for the most part, everyone knows each other. We work in a local supermarket with the lovely name of Super Emporium. Although there isn’t anything super about it. It’s a small dingy store known for its relatively low prices of meat and fish. The size of the store is small and Emily, Mathew, and I are the only ones who work here during the day.

I walk over to the checkout counter following behind Emily giving her small glances and checking her out. Ever since I met her she's been the joy of my life. We have been going strong for 3 years now and I’ve been saving up for a ring.

I see Mathew bagging a few items for the current customer checking out. Emily gives me a little shove towards the checkout as I ring them up. Mathew, a bit of an older man, finished bagging sending the customer on their way home, and walked over to me.

“ Hey Cole”

I could smell the nicotine coming from his breath. He had a smoking addiction he could never really overcome sneaking a few during work in the break room. How the smoke detector has never gone off is beyond me but, me and Emily suspect he took out the batteries. Not like it matters, it is his business after all a family-owned store he inherited after the passing of his father. He looks at me with a small smile. Ever since his divorce, he’s been different, he seems less motivated, and I can’t help but feel pity that we are the last thing he has. His only friends.

“What’s up Mathew? Sorry about sleeping in but you know how it goes.”

“Oh don’t sweat it Cole.” He gives me a sad smile. “Emily was being a bit dramatic. It isn't that busy like usual.”

Emily looks over at us overhearing Mathew’s comment with a look of annoyance as she shoots us a middle finger before going back to her duties. I then stand there awkwardly with Mathew before I excuse myself to go back to helping a few customers waiting at the checkout.

A few hours pass and I finish work. Emily gets in my car as usual and I drop her off at her place before going to my home. It’s a nice house big enough to fit 5 people and still have a room to spare. I live with one of my good friends Gary. I’ve known him since we were children. He loves hunting in the local woods and owns a small jerky shop in a nearby plaza.

I enter the home greeted by the scent of manly musk as I see Gary shirtless on the couch eating ice cream from the tub and watching TV.

“Bro really? You smell like ass I can smell you from here” I grumble as I take off my jacket and hang it on the rack near the door.

“Mello out man. It’s not a big deal.” He gives me that stupid grin he does when he knows he is annoying “And besides who gives a shit it’s just us anyways”

I roll my eyes and head upstairs to change out of my work uniform and put on some pajama pants and a t-shirt before heading back down to watch some TV with Gary. We sat there in silence only breaking it to crack jokes and make fun of the show we were watching before calling it a night.

I head upstairs and give Emily a call. She quickly answers and she already sounds tired. I can't blame her. It's late and we have to wake up early.

“Hey babe,” I say into the phone. “Sorry for calling late I lost track of time watching TV with Gary”

“It’s fine” She mumbles into the phone before letting out a long yawn. “I am so tired I don’t wanna stay on the phone that long, Cole.”

“I understand honey, don't worry we will see each other tomorrow ok?”

“Yeah,” she said again in a tired voice. “Good night Cole I love you, hope you dream about me.” she says in a joking manner yet still I know a part of her meant it.

“Ha yea, you know I always do. Good night Emily, love you too” I waited for her to hang up the phone before letting out a sigh and jumping on the bed. It’s gonna be a long night I think to myself as I close my eyes. A calming feeling washes over me as I remember the scent of Emily as I drift off to bed. Roses and vanilla fill my nostrils as I see her in my dream. I can see the perfect picture of us. Me and her together with a small child in her arms as we both look down at it with proud looks on our faces. Oh, how it would be amazing.

The dream continues as it’s me and her playing with our child. We look proud seeing its first steps before looking into each other's eyes. Our faces get closer and closer our lips pursed as I lay a hand on her cheek pulling her into a- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! I open my eyes confused by the sound. My room was pitch black nothing but the silent buzz of the TV in my room. Am I imagining things? I ask myself as I look around. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! There it was again a frantic knocking sound. This wasn’t in my head. I stand up from the bed looking at the door. The only person in this house is Gary so who else could it be?

“Gary? Everything alright?”

No response instead greeted with another loud knocking on my door. I stand up from my bed stumbling in the darkness of my room as I head toward the thee. I reach my hand for the sleek metallic door knob before hearing another loud knock startling me as I fall backward.

“Shit! Hello? Who is it? Your starting to creep me out Gary this shit isn’t funny”

No response again. I stand up ready to open the door before I hear a soft voice coming from the other end.

“Cole you there?”

It was Emily, her voice as charming and melodic as ever to my ears. “Y- yea, hey Emily.” I chuckle nervously. “Jeez, were you trying to scare me babe? Cause well it worked” I began laughing at her little prank. I gave Emily the keys to the house a few weeks ago although she never really did much with them. I guess tonight she missed me too much or something. I rationalize to myself for her weird behavior as I open the door.

“I guess you need daddy to scratch that itch again huh babe…” My voice drops as I twist the door open greeted by nothing on the other end. Darkness nothing but darkness in the hall. She wasn’t there.

“Emily?” I call out for her yet no response. “Emily! I know you're here, come on it’s late, no need to try to scare me, let's just go to bed huh?” I say in an annoyed tone due to her antics.

I hear her voice from downstairs “Come honey let's eat breakfast”

Breakfast? I think to myself. Breakfast this late? Has she lost her mind? I began heading down stairs when I asked.

“Emily is everything alright why are just wandering in the house in darkness anyway” I turn on the lights in the kitchen. Nothing. It was empty. My heart sank as I got a weird feeling in my stomach. She was here. She knocked on my door and I heard her voice clearly. What the hell was going on?

Gary walks down a few minutes later. “What's up with all the racket Cole? Can you like not make so much noise at fucking 4 am?” He sounded pissed and the look on his face confirmed that thought.

“Did you hear her?” I ask “Did you hear Emily?”

“What? No? What the fuck are you on about dude? Go to sleep Jesus don’t do that weird shit again man I know you wanna marry the woman but fucking hell I am trying to sleep and you are over here screaming ‘Emily ahhhh come to daddy’” He mocks me before heading back to his room in a grumble saying obscenities to me.

At any other moment, I probably would have been upset with his attitude, but something was wrong. He didn’t hear Emily. How is that possible her voice was clear and there was no way I could just imagine something like that right?

I head back into my room paranoid and head back to sleep waking up the next morning. The day went slow and I went through work as if nothing happened until I couldn’t hold it in anymore and confronted Emily about it in the break room.

“Hey, Emily did you um… come over to my place last night?” I ask, unsure about the question myself.

“No?” she said, confused. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing I just thought I heard you last night but I never saw you and Gary said he didn’t hear anything either, but I swear I heard you knocking on my bedroom door and talking to me.” I say a little worried now. The events of last night felt too real to be fake. I noticed that Mathew overheard our conversation as he walked over to us.

“You thought you heard her, you say? But Gary said he didn’t?” I nod to his comment and respond “Yeah.”

Mathew shakes his head. Emily pays attention to his words as well. I feel her hand on my shoulder as she rubs it, noticing the distress on my face trying to comfort me. “Well call me crazy, but I am a big believer in the supernatural.” He said quietly. “Look Cole I know you probably won’t believe me, but I think you might have a mimic on your hands.”

I scoffed in disbelief, but a part of me wanted to believe him. What happened last night felt too real for it to just be in my head. What if he is right? “You’re joking right?” I say in shock at his proposition.

He shakes his head “Look Cole you have two options either you are crazy or it’s a mimic. You have all the signs it’s one as well. The perfect sound of someone you know but no clear source knocks on your door. I mean come on, is it really that crazy?” He chuckles as if he was talking to an idiot.

I looked at him with a scowl on my face as much as I wanted to deny it. His words were scaring me. I was never a firm believer of the supernatural but I always thought maybe… just maybe there are things in this world we can’t understand. “Look, Matthew, I seriously doubt all that. You are speaking out your ass trying to scare me, it was probably just in my head.”

He shrugs “Suit yourself just putting in my input and thoughts if anything else happens let us know alright? We are friends after all.” He gave me a sincere look before walking out of the break room.

I look over at Emily who just hugs me. “Let me know if anything else happens ok babe?” I believe what you say is true, you have no reason to lie to us.” I nod and kiss her.

The rest of the day goes by fine and I head back home. Gary is doing his usual thing. I hear music blaring from his room and considering he goes to the bar on Fridays I could imagine what's going on in that room. I head into my room and change into something more comfortable. I head into the kitchen and pop open a cold beer. I sit on the couch and put on the news the music from Gary’s room louder than the TV itself. After about what seemed like an hour the music goes off and sees Gary come downstairs with a girl.

Both of them were sweaty, the girl's hair was ruffled and plastered on her face meanwhile Gary was drenched. I could smell their shame and musk from the couch as he ushered the girl out of the house.

“Looks like you had a good time huh?”, I take a swig from my beer and offer him the bottle. “Want a swig?”

Gary takes the beer from my hand with a groan and takes a drink and hands it back. “Shut up Cole, I didn't know you’d be here so early.” He looks at the clock “Take that back I guess I didn’t know it would take so long.”

I laugh and stand up and pat his back “Yeah man” before I head into the kitchen he grabs my shoulder.

“Yo Cole about last night” He had a face of worry “Everything all right bro? You seemed pretty convinced about all that shit, but I didn’t hear nun”

I sigh and nod “Yeah everything is alright Gary I probably was just missing Emily like you said” I didn’t want to tell him about the mimic theory Mathew threw at me. Neither did I want to accept that as a reality.

Gary walks away and heads back into his room and I sit at the kitchen table pondering. I was scared to go back to my room and sleep. It was about to be 11 pm, and I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to risk that happening again. Even though I knew it wasn’t real, a part of me was doubtful.

Fatigue started to get to me. I am overreacting, I think as I stand up and start heading toward my room. It’s late, I got to sleep. This is me being stupid, I walk into my room and lay in bed. I close my eyes and soon I fall into a deep slumber.

I dream about Emily again, well more so a memory of our first date. I sit with her at the pier of the beach as she smiles at me.

“Hey you know this was quite fun.” Her hands moved closer to mine. “We should do this again sometime, I haven’t felt this happy in a while.”

I nod “Y- yeah I agree this was a nice time.” We both look over at the sunset, our hands now touching as we watch the sun go over the horizon.

“So beautiful,” Emily mumbles.

“Not as beautiful as you.” I blush a little embarrassed from my cheesy comment but Emily laughs.

“Aw, how sweet, well you're not so bad yourself” She jokes as she scoots closer and rests her head on my shoulder.

I stroke her hair as the world around us goes dark, the sun now gone. We stay there in the same position before she stands up. “Come on, we should go now, this was fun.”

I agree and I try to stand up. I couldn’t move. My chest begins to feel heavy as I try to move. I start wheezing as if something is lying on top of me.

I am taken out of my dream the same feeling as if something laying on my chest remains. After a while, my eyes adjust to the darkness, and that's when I see it. On top of me lay a woman with bruised skin tattered in dirt. Its black hair was matted on its face, Her long dirty nails caressed my chest as she stared at me with her black sunken eyes.

She then spoke. Her voice was so mesmerizing like the singing of birds. It was the voice of the woman I love. “Hello Cole.” it said in Emily’s voice “I’ve missed you.”

The creature then smiled at me, her teeth crooked and black. It was appalling. I wanted to run, but I was stuck there unable to move. No matter what my brain told my body to do, it would not function. The creature, the mimic, then stood up. I noticed her belly grow and grow as if she was pregnant. I watch in horror as I watch this unfold. I see a baby begin to crown and the mimic yells. I still can’t move or run as I watch this creature give birth to a baby with sickly gray skin and pure black eyes. The baby doesn’t cry; it remains silent as tears of this black liquid pour out of its eyes. The mimic brings the baby towards me with a sick smile. “Look Cole, it's our baby boy.” The mimic seems ecstatic about it and brings the baby to me holding up to my face as I lay on the bed unable to move, unable to scream for help.

I watch as the baby turns its head to me and in a deep demonic voice, it says “Papa” Suddenly the baby begins to vomit the same black fluid leaking from its eyes onto my face. I feel a burning pain as this corrosive fluid lands on me. I try to move, I try to cry, but I just can’t. The baby then stops, and the mimic then throws it to the side of the room as it splats onto the wall. It didn’t care for its life almost as if it was some sort of tool for it to use.

The mimic grabs me by my hair and drags me to the mirror.

“Look Cole,” It said in a demented way. The same voice the baby had. No longer hiding its true nature, and hiding behind Emily's voice. “You are as beautiful as me.”

I see my face in the mirror and the skin on my face flayed. I could see the muscles of my face parts of the muscle were completely gone revealing the bone underneath. The mimic brushes its nails against my face and pierces my eyes. The pain was unbearable yet I could not scream. I could feel my blood run down my body. I wanted to cry. I wanted this nightmare to be over. I just wanted my life to be normal again.

The rest of what happens is a bit fuzzy. Since I was blinded I did not know what other torture the mimic made me go through. All I was able to do was feel it, but eventually my brain just shut itself off.

I awoke in the morning back in my bed. I look around, touch my face, and notice my vision is back. I look around the blood stain of the baby now gone. It was as if nothing happened. I head over to the bathroom and look in the mirror. My body was untouched. I looked around for any sign of what happened last night but there was nothing to show for it.

I head downstairs to see Gray who immediately shoots me a weird look.

“God damn bro, looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” He says with a little bit of a worried look.

“Yea well, I guess that's one way to put it.” I reply as I grab the coffee pot and serve myself a cup. I look back at him, seeing his worried face. I want to tell him but I am scared he will think I am crazy.

“It was just a bad dream, that's all”, I lied trying to give him some closure about me “Besides, I don’t look that bad just lost a little sleep that's all.” I grin and walk out of the kitchen before he could respond, not wanting to talk about it. I walk out of the house mug in hand and get in my car. I start driving not knowing where I am going. I begin to break down in tears. I can't figure out what's happening to me. This thing… it won’t leave me alone. I haven't said this but I see it in the corner of my eye now watching. As I drive I can see it in the rearview mirror sitting in the back seat.

I can’t escape it no matter what I try. It stays with me idle waiting for me to sleep and… and…

“AHHHHH” I hear a yell and my tires screech to a halt as I feel my car go over a bump. I get out of my car and see a woman holding her child on the floor. I can’t wrap my head around it as I look back at my car noticing the street streaked with red tire marks on the floor. The baby’s head looked abnormally flat with blood littering the floor like some kind of horror movie set. I keep looking back and forth barely able to hear the gurgles of the dying mother. All the creature did was smile. Why was it following me? What does it want from me? Why won’t it just kill me?

I look back at the mother and baby and am left with no other option. I get in my car and drive away. I keep driving my mind blank, unable to believe what I just did. I didn’t dare look at my rearview mirror anymore. I knew it was there. I didn't have to look. It was breathing down my neck.

After a long drive, I arrived back home not even bothering to say hi to Gary. I run into the bathroom and lock myself in as I begin to vomit disgusted with myself. How could I just leave those two to die? Jesus, I killed a child and its mother in a hit-and-run! I thought to myself as I continued to vomit. I look up at the mirror to see it behind me. The same being pretending to be the girl I love except this time it was slightly different. It no longer looked like her but instead, a decaying corpse to run down to even figure out how she looked prior.

I turned around to face it as it stood there idle. It was missing an eye, its flesh rotten and filled with maggots and worms wriggling under the gray paper paper-thin flesh. Its face bore a smile too wide for any human to manage; there were no teeth, just gums. I look away from it as I vomit again from its putrid appearance. And I feel it touch me as it whispers to me in Emily’s voice.

“You did good there Cole. You did exactly what I wanted.”

I turned around screaming trying to push it away but it was gone as if it was never there. I began to cry. I couldn’t take it anymore. This thing made me a murderer. It’s as if it’s living in my mind.

After a while, I leave the bathroom with my brain in shambles as I just walk into my bedroom and lie down. I was nothing but a vegetable for the rest of the day. I didn’t pay much attention, but managed to hear Gary telling me he was going to stay over at a friend's house. I didn’t see the creature for the rest of the day.

Later that night I got a call from my girlfriend. I answered waiting for her to speak first.

“Hey Cole is everything alright? I am worried about you Babe, you missed work today. You want me to come over?” she said in her sweet voice, but for me, it was nothing but haunting as my heart sped up hearing it. I couldn’t tell if it was her or that mimic, creature, demon, whatever it was. I took a deep breath and finally responded after a long pause.

“Yes Emily, I would like you to come over. I've been having issues with the mimic or whatever. Maybe it is all in my head and having you over might help put me at ease.” I rationalize with myself. After talking to her for a little longer I hung up the phone. She agreed to stop by around 8 PM leaving me with about 2 hours to prepare for her visit. I lay on my bed contemplating everything. How did my life go to hell because of this? I am a murderer! I don’t know what to do. I just… I hope maybe if I can see Emily this might all blow over sure I killed someone, but if no one knows did it really happen? Jesus look at me with these terrible thoughts! It wasn’t like I did it! The Mimic… The thing made me!

I leave my room and head downstairs and decide to start cooking. Since she will be coming here late, I thought I’d treat her with a nice dinner. I wasn’t an amazing cook, but I managed through some video tutorials and a messy kitchen. I finally finished making the lasagna. I set it so it can cool as I waited for Emily, The Mimic nowhere in sight.

Finally, I hear a knock on the door and go open to be greeted by an angel. I look at her in awe. She pulled me into a kiss and smiled at me causing my heart to flutter as I doted on her, Touching her hair and pulling her into a hug. I couldn’t believe it was actually her. After being tormented by this thing pretending to be her, here she was, in my arms, smiling.

I let her inside and we walked to the kitchen as she sat. I serve us both a piece of the lasagna. I could see her physically cringe after taking a bite, but she powered through it knowing I took time and tried at least to make her dinner.

“Wow Cole this was really nice of you to do” She smiles “Well I am all full Babe thanks so much again, but next time I think we should order food so you don’t have to do so much work, ok honey?” She takes the plate and places it into the sink before coming back to me wrapping her arms around me as I finish eating.

“You are so cute you know that? You do so much to try to make me happy it’s only right I fair I make you happy darling. Come on once you finish eating let's watch that one show you were telling me about. Breaking Bad or something? I know you wanted to watch it with me” She walked away and headed toward the living room.

Once I finished eating and cleaning the dishes after incessantly refusing Emily’s pleas to let her do it so I could relax, I headed toward the living room plopping myself onto the couch as she held me in her arms stroking my hair.

“So we are gonna watch it or not?” She asked sweetly, her voice felt like ecstasy in my ears.

“Yes, hun we are.” I respond as I put on the show.

We sat and watched Breaking Bad hooked on it. Every time we said “last one" we would start another wanting to know what would happen. Eventually, we both agreed it was too late so we headed to bed.

I held her in my arms while lying on the bed touching her hair and kissing her. The movements of her hips as she grinded on me made us heated as we both knew what we wanted to do. We made love that night despite us doing it almost weekly. It was different this time. Instead of the usual lustful pleasure, it was more pure, and I must say it was probably the best session that we ever had. We really did love each other and tonight we expressed it the best we could have in private just me and her and no one else.

Afterward we talked, and she explained to me that she was going to go help her mom tomorrow at the homeless shelter like she did every other week, but she said she was also volunteering at a hospital. I asked if I could join her, but she said all the positions were filled and she would ask to see if it was still possible and let me know as soon as possible.

Finally, we both drifted off to sleep. I had forgotten all about what happened. I no longer cared about The Mimic or the people I ran over. I had no worries at all now that the one thing that kept me going was here in my bed sleeping with me.

I woke up later that night. I reached over Emily to grab my water, touching gently before recoiling back. I get off the bed as my eyes adjust to the darkness and I notice my hands covered in maggots. I yell, wiping them off and turning on the lights to see The Mimic in the spot where Emily had been sleeping. It stared at me, its eyes burning into my soul as it stood up with that smile. It looked like it did when I first met it, a woman with her skin covered in dirt and bruised, her deep black sunken eyes, and long dirty nails.

“What did you do with Emily!”, I yelled in fear and anger. It just stared at me silently before opening its mouth and speaking in Emily’s voice

“Cole, are you ok? It’s me Emily.”, it said as it walked closer to me reaching its long dirt hand towards me.

I slap it away before punching it in the nose. I was no longer afraid of it. I was enraged. I don’t know what it did to Emily, but I have had enough of its shit. I ran toward the kitchen as I heard the mimic call for my name as it chased me still using Emily’s voice.

I rummage through the drawers looking for any weapon before finding a large combat knife from the junk drawer that Gary probably left in there. I confront the mimic as it stares at me.

“Cole is everything all-” I cut off the mimic when I sliced the knife toward it leaving a gashing wound on its arm. Blood spills on the floor as I watch it writhe in pain holding its arm.

“Cole, what the hell is wrong with you!” The mimic yells in her voice. It was trying to trick me; it still thought it could trap me, but that just left it open for another strike. I slice at it with the knife again as it lifts up its hands to protect its face causing me to cut through her wrists and arms as I berate it with slashes from the knife. Its yells in Emily’s voice pained me to my core, but I knew I couldn’t stop. This was my only chance to finally dispose of this demon.

I eventually cut its arms and wrists to the point they give away as it can no longer hold them up. For the first time, it had a look of fear in its eyes.

“Cole please stop, you're gonna kill me! Please stop, we can talk!” It yelled in her voice, but I wasn’t having it. I tackle it to the floor and get on top of it as I bring down my knife into its chest over and over and over again. Its blood splatters all over me as I continue to jab the blade into its torso. I get off of her thinking it’s finally dead as I look down at its body twitching and groaning. The floor is littered with both dried and fresh blood, the room smelt like iron. I look at the knife covered in blood, my clothes drenched in the same red fluid. I look at it as it moves again trying to drag itself.

I grab it by the hair pulling its head up and press the knife against its head. This was it. Finally, the horror will be over. I slowly pull the knife across its neck savoring the sound of the flesh and muscle getting slicked watching the blood spill out like an overflowing pool. I finish dragging the blade across a massive gash now through its neck. I drop it as I hear it gurgling while watching its last few moments alive. It was finally over. It was dead.

Patient name: Cole Inwell

Occupation: Store Clerk

Reason for hospitalization: Murder, untreated schizophrenia

Case: Murdered Emily Sherman due to a psychotic episode of untreated schizophrenia. Cole believed Emily was a hallucination he calls The Mimic. He was found by Gary Warner drenched in blood standing over Emily’s body. The cops were called and Cole was soon arrested where he pleaded insanity. He was tested and put into the Sulken Mental Institute where he currently remains. Biopsy later reported that Emily died of excessive blood loss and organ failure. Her body was found with 46 stab wounds and a slit throat. Her family was given all the details except for one that the Police department agreed to keep classified. During the biopsy, a 3-week-old fetus was found in her womb. She died pregnant.

I drop the file on my desk and sigh as I grab my lab coat and head toward room 132 where Cole Inwell resides. I open the door and enter and see Cole sitting on his bed with a smile on his face.

“Hello Dr. Henderson” Cole replies looking me dead in the eyes. “Is it time for my meds?”

I nod and hand him a small paper cup with different medication and hand him a glass of water. He seemed more happy than usual. I left him in his room shortly after to go fill in some paperwork. The day went on relatively quickly. When I finally headed home I was greeted by my dog and wife. Before I could set anything down I received a message on my pager. Cole had taken his own life. I lay down on my couch contemplating. I had heard his story. It was tragic. If he just had the proper treatment it all could have been prevented. But in the back of my mind, I always had a nagging feeling that what if… what if his story wasn’t a lie? What if The Mimic was real? I hear my Wife call me from the kitchen. She died 3 years ago.

(First story I have written I'd love any feedback if you read to the end. I had several friends read it and say it was good so I thought I'd share it to see if maybe others agreed. I'll appreciate any feedback and criticism to help me become a better writer! Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I was also wondering if this follows everything needed in order to be posted on nosleep I wasn't sure so I thought the safe option would be to ask here)

I have this intro that serves as a Part 1 to my story. I’m looking for any criticisms to make it stronger. I’m also asking if this is long enough to post on NoSleep, matches the format, and also if there are certain rules about posting Parts to a Story. Thank you all🙏🏽

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Have any of you heard of shadow people? I mean, I know it’s somewhat of a popular urban legend, but have any of them ever stayed?

Let me take a step back. My whole life I’ve been surrounded by folktales and legends told by my senile Grandmother. Some of them are common, Paul Bunyan and David Crockett to name a few, but it was always at the late of night where my grandmother’s stories would change. These were the stories I grew most intrigued by. My Grandmother, a novice storyteller in the day, by night turned Shakespearean in her recollections. Tales of the Wendigo, the Jersey Devil, and most importantly the Shadow People.

As the story goes, anytime you’re in a dimly lit room alone, out of the corner of your eye you can see a figure. This figure can be in many shapes, short, tall, wide, skinny, solid, smoky, but every single time it resembles a human. And as any sane person would do you would turn in their direction only to see nothing. It vanished in an instant. I’m sure even a few of you have seen this phenomenon. Some people say they are guardian angels checking in, some say they are malicious deities waiting to steal your soul, but most people chalk it up to be tricks of the mind, shown only to people who are too paranoid for their own good when alone. I've even seen them from time to time and at this point it became a game to try and catch them out of surprise. My Grandmother knew better. She said one day she saw one too, but this time it saw her back. This motivated my antics even more.

Usually after mumbling a few vague details she’d lose it, staring blankly into the crackling fireplace as a distinct look of fear passed over her. As an impatient 8 year old I would get bored and wander to the next rambling drunk adult. The story never changed as the years went on and when she passed, so too did her stories.

I’ve all but forgotten about every other story but for some reason, the Shadow People stuck with me. Something about the fear in her eyes told me it couldn’t have just been words, there had to be some truth behind it. That’s what originally brought me to this forum. I would scour the subs to see if anyone had heard or experienced what my Grandmother had, but none I’ve seen match with my Grandmothers muttering. It was at this point after searching for 3 years that I began to give up.

That was until a few years ago, the day I turned 18. The night of, my family had just come home from a celebratory dinner at my favorite steakhouse. They were exhausted and everyone went to bed right away except for me. Still full of energy from finally being a free adult, I wandered downstairs for a midnight snack. My headphones blasting and a skip to my step I opened the fridge door and rummaged through the various consumables. That’s when it appeared.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it, a vague figure, just like I’ve seen in the past. I do my “little ritual” of psyching myself up that this would be the time I catch it for more than a nanosecond. I turn my head slightly left then snap my neck in an instant. What I expected was nothing, what I got was horror.

15 feet away stood a being with white beads for eyes and a crooked row of mimic teeth smiling back at me. As the realization set in, my playful grin went away and so did it’s. My eyes couldn’t focus on its shape, it was eye level only because it was noticeably slouched. Its arms and shoulders were scrunched into its center, thinning its frame. It stood awkwardly, gazing at me, tilting its head in unison with mine.

What stared back at me wasn’t from this world. I felt like I was looking into a void whose presence was being rejected by our plane of existence. A structure carrying an Eldritch presence stood in my living room. I slowly turned my body towards it and moved backward, slow enough to convince myself I had a chance. With each step back it took a step forward, its pace matching mine. It wasn’t going to let me leave.

5 steps away on the wall was the light switch. In my childish panic I thought if I turned it on the Shadow would leave and I’d be safe. As I continued to creep, the Shadow would start to copy my movements. Not just walking towards me but walking like me. Its body would contort in impossible ways to keep its posture while matching my gestures. It would mess up sometimes and quickly correct itself. In retrospect, I wish I internalized this, but to me at that moment survival was at the forefront of my mind.

My hand grazed the wall and with it the being reached into the air feeling for something that wasn’t there. My fingers reached the switch and once they touched, the monster broke its stance and stood upright. It towers over any human and its width consumes the space around it. Before I could flip the switch it lunged at me, reaching for my face. The force knocks me down and with me the switch.

I sat for what must’ve felt like hours just staring blankly in the now lit kitchen. I had no idea what this all meant and all I could do was go back to my bedroom and sit on my bed. I didn’t sleep a lot that night, everytime I closed my eyes I would see the shape. Not a human, but not too far from it.

The next day, proof of the encounter showed itself as a lime-sized lump on my head from hitting the wall. Something my mother would painstakingly nurse with ice and other family remedies. My whole family would continuously ask me what happened. It wasn’t anything a shrug and a “fell off my bed,” couldn’t fix. Eventually after a week I had gone back to an afterthought, and I could start planning my next steps.

I wrestled with some ideas on what to do next. My grandmother wasn’t around anymore, and I wish I had pried for more information when I had the chance. If I had any shot at gaining any more information, my grandmother’s library was the key. She often wrote books before her arthritis grew.

At the time, I didn’t know if I’d gain anything but it was worth a shot. Only thing I know is that I saw it, and it saw me.

Updated info right here, you're welcome. :)

I had a well received series about working in an ER as a r/nosleep writer four years ago, that I would like to rewrite. Is it better to just edit the old ones, and continue, or delete and repost the older ones to create a more cohesive structure of narration now I want to continue the series. I want to follow the rules of the sub, as a horror writer, but also reading my stuff from a few years ago cringes me out. What is the best course of action?

Hey everybody, found this spooky police report leaked on a forum (kept a secret from certain prying eyes 👀) Thought I would share here because it gave me the creeps. Think I’ll take the stairs from now on.

Report #0210242544 Evidence Related to Case #20240032, Death of Miss Madison “Madi” June Fennel

Type of Evidence: Voicemail transcripts,

Collected: 09/02/2024, from Mr. Jean Perry’s mobile phone, transcribed by Lt. Daniel Hawkins.

Preceding her death at 15.15-16.00 07/02/2024 (coroner estimation) in the elevator of 144 G******* Rd, London, Miss Fennel left a number of voicemails to her boyfriend, Mr. Perry, who it is believed she was coming to see. Mr. Perry was unable to answer the phone as he was engaged in sexual activities with a Ms. Carolyn Hill. She also during this time placed 11 calls to 999, all of which appeared to have gone unanswered. She also called both of her parents. While their voicemails have not been included, they were both Ms. Fennel saying goodbye, apologising for various events in the past, and assuring them she loved them. Mr. and Mrs. Fennel were concerned she was considering suicide. The voicemails are timestamped below:

13.01:
Hey, it’s Madi, obviously, I’m stuck in your building’s elevator and the emergency call button isn’t working. I don’t know the super’s number, so if you could maybe contact them for me? I’m looking forward to seeing you before date night, see you soon!

13.02:
Madi again, its been half an hour, are you alright? I’m still stuck in this elevator. If this is some kind of prank or whatever I’m not interested Jean. I have three brothers, I’m kind of over juvenile behaviour. If I get of this elevator and you’re standing there with Mike or whoever laughing your heads off we will be over on the spot, got it? You know I’m claustrophobic. Whatever. I’d still like it if you called the super.

(First three calls to 999 were placed at 1302, after the above call)

13.03:
(Panicked) Jean, what the hell? Its been almost an hour and I’ve called 999 three times and they aren’t answering, they have to answer! Its their job! Jean, please answer the phone, I’m scared. I … Did you hear that? There’s something on the roof of the lift (relieved) It must be the super, they must have noticed that the lift was stuck. [Laughter] Oh thank god, talk to you soon Jean.

(A further eight 999 calls were placed between this voicemail and the next)

13.04:
(Sobbing) Jean, oh god, Jean. Please, there’s something out there, It’s not the super, It’s been scratching at the roof of the lift for two hours and 999 still aren’t answering. Jean, please answer the phone, oh god. Oh, what’s … oh god (sobbing intensifies) it’s talking. It’s asking me to open the lift. It wants to get in. Jean, please, send help.

13.06:
(Breathing heavily) I think it’s gone. Oh god. It just kept talking. It’s been almost six hours. (crying softly) I don’t know what to do. I … am I going to die here? I don’t want to die. Please Jean. I don’t want to die.

13.07:
It sounded like Mary. You remember Mary? She was my friend, the one who moved to America for her career. I miss Mary so much. God I wish I could see her again. I don’t ... I don’t have any water in here. I’ve got a granola bar, in my bag. God John, please answer the phone. I feel like I’m going insane.

13.10:
Jean, why haven’t you answered your phone? Its been a day. I fell asleep. Something woke me up, I think it was Mary? No, Mary scratched at the hatch, it was more of a … BANG, you know, like something heavy had landed on the lift. Maybe I am going insane. [chuckle] maybe I’ve just finally lost any sense of reality and the door is open and I’ve just been sitting here for a whole day. I’m so hungry.

13.14:
I ate the granola bar. Held out for … 28 hours. Since I got stuck, that is. Good thing my phone clock is still working. Mary still hasn’t come back. I don’t know whether its good or bad. [chuckle] Maybe if I starve a little bit you’ll like me again. Oh come off it Jean, I’ve seen the way you look at me. You wish I was still that thin, athletic girl you fell in love with. I am, but for some reason a whole two kilos is enough for you to decide I’m not attractive. Why am I even still with you?

13.16:
I’m sorry about my last message. I don’t want to break up with you. I’m just … I’m already hungry again. Its been two hours. Why won’t you answer your phone? Its been a whole day, more than 24 hours. You can barely look away from the thing when I’m over but of course the moment I actually need you to speak to me you can’t be bothered. You know what, I take it back, I do want to break up with you, you narcissistic, worthless piece of shit. Go find some other girl who will put with you lecturing her about Call of Duty load outs or whatever.

(Ms. Fennel calls her mother at 1320, her father at 1321)

13.32:
It says something about me that I’m calling you again, doesn’t it. Maybe a girl just gets desperate after being stuck for several days. I’m amazed I’m not dead yet. Mary visited. She told me she had food, I just had to let her in. I didn’t, but God, Jean, I wanted to. She described such delicious food, fresh apples and pears, roast pork, my mouth was watering. I don’t even like pork. I didn’t let her in though. I still didn’t trust her.

13.42:
I’m going to open the door. I have to. I haven’t heard from Mary in a day or two, I’m going to open the door and then if I’m stuck between floors I am going to claw open the next door as well and crawl my way out into the building. God I hope there’s a vending machine there. I’m gonna buy so many chips. Oh the salt and vinegar ones, I love them so much. Good thing dad raised a tomboy, always have a knife with me.

13.50:
There’s nothing there. I … Oh god. I could step out of this elevator and fall forever. Jean, please. I’m scared. I’m going to die here. I closed the door in case Mary came back (soft crying) I’m so hungry Jean.

14.32:
Guess who Jean? [chuckle] You’re a bitch you know that? I just wanted you to know that I hate you, before I die. Mary hasn’t visited again, if you even care. What did you have for lunch? You were always eating those sandwiches, the ones with pickles and everything? I have no clue why you like them, I could barely stand them. I’d probably kill you for one right now. I can almost see through my skin. I didn’t realise that would happen, did you know that’s what happens? Its basically hanging off me too. I look like a cheap ghost costume, a sheet with some holes in it. My stomach for one. It hurts so much, Jean, just to breathe, like every time I do I remember how little is left of me.

15.09:
It hurts so much. Its been two weeks. I … I heard Mary, so I opened the door to let her in and there was still nothing there. Of course there’s nothing. I thought about jumping out, letting the void take me, but it knows I won’t. This fucking lift. I think It’s eating me as I starve. I don’t think I can hold on much longer. I’m going to have a nap, I think. Jean, before I go, promise me you’ll take the stairs from now on?

Relevant Notes:

Investigators wished to add the following notes to the report:

1. Despite the calls being left over a roughly two hour, eight minuter period, the calls contain two hours, 13 minutes of audio collectively.
2. Ms. Fennel’s cause of death was confirmed to be starvation, and the symptoms she describes are consistent with extended malnutrition.
3. Interviews with the building’s superintendent, Mr. Josef Kafka (See report #0210242542) show that the elevator of 144 G******* Rd was declared out of order on 01/02/2024. Repair workers arrived on 08/02/2024, and noted that the elevator appeared to be functioning normally.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Don’t forget to share it around and keep physical copies of stuff like this, in case Johnny Law decides he wants his files back.

-CreepyLeaky

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These examples are to give users a better idea of what does and doesn't work on r/nosleep.

##THESE EXAMPLES CONTAIN UNMARKED SPOILERS.

• EXAMPLE: FRIDAY THE 13th
• EXAMPLE: HALLOWEEN 1978
• EXAMPLE: JAWS

Am I wrong, but the consquence is being scared to recieve the phone calls?

Title: I work overnights at a hotel, and I've been getting "weird" phone calls lately

I work night audit at a motel. It's from 11pm to 7am, 5 days a week. It's honestly an easy gig. We lock the lobby when we come in, and put up a sign that says to use the phone by the front door to let the desk agent know you need something. So I don't deal with too many people. We have cameras that cover MOST of the property, and we even have security that we can call if we need. Although they aren't the speediest, they do exist, and have come in handy a few times. I say all this to explain why I have been there for 2 years, and why I have never felt unsafe or uncomfortable at my job... that was until the phone calls started.

I don't remember the exact date the calls started, I just know as I write this, it's been going on for the whole month of Feburary. I am used to getting "weird" phone calls. We have one guy who likes to anonymously call the motel and beat off as he makes a fake reservation. But, these calls are different.

The first few calls were also from an anonymous number, so I thought it was the usual pervert. I answered and said my usual speel, expecting him to hang up once he heard a man, but the caller didn't. I could hear some faint breathing. After a few times of trying to get the caller to say anything, I just hung up on them.

A few minutes later I got another call, anonymous still, I answered. Mostly because we are required to answer the phone within 3 rings, or it gets sent to corporate. Again, I say my speel, and no response. Just more breathing... this time, just deeper..after a few times of trying to prompt the caller, I just hang up.

This continued for the rest of my week. I'd get a few anonymous call, and it was always just breathing on the other end. Not too weird, yet...

That's when it started to get weirder. The next week I came in, the phone calls didn't stop. Instead of it being an anonymous number, it actually started showing up as a number. Never showed a name, as caller ID exists. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Until I answered my first phone call of the night, just breathing... I didn't even prompt the guest, I just hung up. Not even 10 minutes later, another call, different number this time. So I answer, give my speel, and surprise surprise, no response, just breathing. At this point, I'm on edge, and fed up. I tell the person to stop calling here, and then hang up.

A few hours go by, and the phone rings again. I immediately jump, and check the caller ID, different number this time. Thank God, I think as I answer. I give my speel, and again, just breathing. At this point, I'm done, I yell at them to fuck off, and just before I'm about to hang up, they speak... "I seeeeeee yoou." And then they hang up. I'm just sitting there, unable to move, staring at the phone as it starts to ring again. Different number, but I'm still hesitatent... I just let corporate answer it. I didn't get another call that night.

The next night I come in and decide to ask my 3p-11pm coworker if they've been getting any weird phone calls. I try not to go into too much detail, but they say no, just the usual pervert. About an hour after they leave, I get a phone call. At this point every time the phone rings, I almost shit my pants. I take a deep breath and answer. "Hello, this is the __________ Motel, how can I help you?" I say. "Don't hang up on me this time." I freeze, and check the number... it's not the same number, but everytime they've called, it hasn't been... "This time?" I respond. "Don't EVER hang up on me." The voice says, putting a deep emphasize on the EVER, as they hang up on me. I sit there dumb founded, staring at the phone for what feels like hours.

The phone rings again, startling me enough that I dropped the phone. As I scrambled to pick it up, I accidently answered it. "One fish, two fish. Red fish, blue fish. I see you, don't drop me." The same voice from earlier says. CLICK. They hung up on me before I could respond.

I am honestly terrified of going to work now. I don't understand what is going on.. does anyone have any ideas? I know it's got to be the same person, I can just feel it in my gut... every time the phone rings I'm terrified it's them calling again. How did they know I dropped the phone, there aren't cameras where I was... I know most of you will say, don't answer the phone.. I can't always do that. My job is to answer the phone... when I asked my friend who works at corporate, they haven't gotten any weird calls like this, as far as they know. I asked them to ask around for me..

My friend has been missing for 24 hours and i dont know what to do! part 1 of 3 by u/Strongpie8226

Warning slightly disgusting imagery of meat

​

Friend becomes lost after a string events people lose the thought of him he desperately tries to remember when he saw what he is in dread waiting

​

​

As soon as I had sat down I shot back up “he's an hour late” I pouted. Getting restless. I decided to try and call him, the rings echoed through my skull- then the caller cannot pic- beep. “Ughhhhhh where is he”. Turning on the tv i opened the first packet of crisps and just watched something, slouched, pissy. I felt like a grumpy cat incessantly pouting and meowing at my owner, unable to comprehend the importance of his disregard.

​

A month ago my friend Jim had just moved into a new house he had inherited from his parents and he was now just a 25 minute drive, so we ended up spending a lot of time at each other's house. Both of us are very time sensitive and are almost never late.

I was at work when I received a message from Jim (he would be at his lunch break 5 minutes before me) it sayed “hey we should totally hang out at yours soon and watch that new amazon show! It was that hotel thing” I smiled as i got ready to go to lunch, while i waltzed to my works garden i messaged him “sure im available all day on the weekends”.

“Cool cool how about the 10 th of february”.

“Sounds good to me!”

​

​

On Friday afternoons we go around the local parks, have some coffee and then end the day at the library where we pick out a new book to read. When we start to drive home we talk about what book we read that week. Last week we had been at the library when he seemed to know what book he wanted, normally he would not know and take hours picking a book it was unlike him to know an exact book he wanted! He shot towards the counter and asked for a king in yellow or something? And he was just following me around as he held this book close to his chest. I don't understand how he knew about it. I asked and he preached “Men Women Children had been preached to be unable to learn. Opening the mind is the best way not to leave a path to go back!”

​

When getting the house a bit ago now we talked about horror he never was a fan “ye horror wes neverr my ting ye just don’t like it to- spooks me too muche like i feeel if i weras in one id be a pussy like flee if this house had a strange figar, ahahahah” He is a bubbly man but when i spoke to him yesterday on what i should get at the shops he sounded different.

​

Saturday 10 february

Jim: "HELLLLOOOOOWWWWWWW How is my favorite friend!"

Me: "ye ye i'm great you sound- different"

Jim: "Ohhhhh that's no matter at all. I've just spent some good quality time at some local clubs, and ohhhh what a joy you got to come by some time my friend!"

( At this point I had guessed this is where he gained an interest in the king in yellow? How do you have a totally different accent from hanging around a new local club? It don't compute in my mind)

Me: "ahh that makes - sense… So tomorrow is still on, I can't wait!"

Jim: "Oh totally i cannot wait we have waited for 4 years for this show i would not miss it for the entirety of reality itself!"

Me:, "well that is great to hear, speaking of what I should i get at the shops?"

Jim:, "oh get some crisps popcorn biscuits, chocolate sweets, ooh ohh beef jerky, I really need something meaty to sink my teeth into!"

Me: "wo wo ok buddy i'll be sure to get all that well i'll see you tomorrow"

Jim: "certainly i'll be exact on time! Seee youu soonn! Hehehe".

​

Call ended

​

I started Driving to his house concerned, I got a call.

​

Mark: "hey bro are you with jim"

Me: "no he is late"

Mark: "ah ok because he posted something … concerning"

Me: "what"

Mark: "ye he posted on insta rare!"

Me: "no no his car ITS ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD NEXT TO A TREE"

Mark: "WHAT IS HE INSIDE"

Me: "no"

Mark: "check insta im coming right now turn on that maps thing on snap chat ill find you"

Me: "ok see you"

​

I turn on the map thing on snap chat, and check his instagram.

He uploaded a picture of a crossroads with the caption.

A man makes decisions some times, but the insignificant hurts the mind thinking we are the center of the world is a weakness as when we come in contact we lose are shit… driving are selfs to suicide are we just a feast a cattle for the consumer but that thought could be wrong as they are above that i think…

​

Im very concerned at this point so i check the car

Unlocked still running with headlights on piercing the pitch black, When i opened the car the light click echoed the empty forest. I sat in the passenger side instinctively, the radio was on enough where you could tell the music was on, searching the car I found a still lit cigarette, a few cups and a few ripped out pages from a book!

​

Mark had pulled up and he looked around without a word spoken. He then joined me in the car in the driver's seat, “He… took the keys” I looked and exhaled “so he did”

Mark angrily shouted “and there is almost a whole tank where is he. Aaaaa uhuhuh”

​

He turns up the radio “the fuck is this?” I replied “His tastes changed completely-almost completely”

“Should we go out there”

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5 days ago a strange package turned up at marks doorstep, opening it he found the book of mammon in it scribbled “lies they lie no demon like this lie lie “, “he ate himself by his own hubris” and “ the men here are messengers of him but we couldn't comprehend the presence so we thought evil no ant can understand the roller coaster”

He burned it as soon as he got it and moved out a week later, Before all this calling him too religious was fair but Once i thought about it it made sense, an unmarked package except for your address no note and a vandalized version of a book that praises beings of what you believe are pure evil. I burn the book too!

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Before Jim disappeared and his parents were alive he would visit his parents all the time, the few times i met them they were normal nice. They both died not too far apart, his mum died first cardiace arrest, then his dad lung cancer.One thing i was thinking about while we searched the house they always asked him to sell it but he dint because he had too many good memories.

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The papers we had were filled with strange symbols and the rest was in dutch wich none of us could read except for me who could make out only a couple of words, “----boy—no Men — the book — death—cancer—”.

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A bit of time ago we started watching this new podcast by my favorite youtubers. Despite the hate of horror Jim had, he started to watch them and really enjoyed it, though he watched it in daylight at work as he dont like too much dread. But it led to a very interesting conversation. It was a very strange experience we both had, but by far he had the most interesting story or experience…

He was 6 when he was playing with his baby brother and someone knocked on the door. His father looked through the peephole and demanded that they go to bed. Despite this he dint and peeped down the stairs where his dad opened the door to see a strange man with a dirty suit, a top hat and a black briefcase he spoke in a voice sounding like it was surrounded in static.

Paraphrase

“Hello my dear mr and misses blakes i've come here on greeeat presence for him and we were wondering if you would like anything”

“No no we are fine please l-leave”

He stroke his dads face and grabbed there shoulders and whispered for a while he then pouted

“Ehehehe you know we can give you whatever whenever, we can finally give you children that is what you want right you want them come on i'll make you kings famous money power”

They somehow made him leave and he went straight to bed

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Mark and i Gave up looking and on the walk back we decided to look at his house and meanwhile call the police

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He called the police and they had asked if it had been 24 hours though the car being there suggested that he was missing about over a few hours ago now we had not seen him or talked to him for a full 24 hours, so they said they would look into it and they would search the car

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We drove back to Mark's car and we went to Jim's house.

We went inside as we had a spare key. It looked normal. Until we got to his bedroom.

There was a bunch of store bought meat stitched together with it dressed in a clown costume tied to the bed with a radio in its … throat!

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We had called the police and they were as shocked as we were. We both went back to my house on the way we dropped off the notes in the car as advised by the police. We offered to give them in person. They said it was fine to just leave them in the car. Once we got back we talked all night about what transpired. Then we watched the hazbin hotel and then went on youtube staying up all night as we awaited a response from the police. Is there any advice im really scared what happened to my friend what the fuck is going on im freaked. I'm writing this as Mark is making calls to all his friends. Anything helps please.

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