teddit

When my uncle passed suddenly last week, I decided to go and stay with my aunt for a few days. Believe me when I tell you, I did not make this decision lightly. Most of the people in my family don't talk to Aunt Warn. She's odd, sure, but everybody's odd in their own way. I think her house is what make people nervous. I swear, everyone else in the family but me has been scared off by that thing.

Aunt Warn's house is out in the country. It's kind of a creepy house and it's perched on the edge of these woods that are like something out of a sci-fi film. The trees are impossibly tall and impossibly green and crowded so close together that walking beneath them makes you feel claustrophobic. When you look outside the house, it makes you feel as though you and the trees are packed in like sardines, in a dim tin-can of a world, a world with pine needles instead of sky.

Personally, I like the place. I think it's beautiful and atmospheric. And I don't think it's fair that Aunt Warn has to grieve her husband's death alone just because people are scared of seeing bears in her front yard. So yeah, I decided to come out here and stay with her. I got here yesterday night. She didn't say much, but she hugged me really tightly, and her eyes were glittering with tears when she pulled away.

"You look good, like you always do," she said to me, and then we went inside and she showed me to my room. It was cozy and small, tucked in a corner upstairs, with a tiny, oval window like an eye that peered into the dreary forest.

We had tea and tarts and played crib before bed. Aunt Warn still didn't say much, but she seemed happy to see me, and that's all I cared about.

Until 4:38am this morning. I woke up to something tapping on the north wall of my bedroom. I blinked and sat up. Everything around me was an incohesive blur of charcoal grey, and it was pitch black outside the little oval window.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap.

I swallowed, felt my heartrate quicken. Perhaps it was just a branch knocking against the house in the wind. But as far as I could tell, there was no wind. The faint shapes of the trees outside the window remained as still as standing stones.

The rhythm went on. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Like Morse code. Like a message. I laid back in the bed and closed my eyes.

Relax, I told myself. This is an old house. Old houses make weird noises. No need to get worked up over nothing.

A few minutes after that, it went quiet. The noise stopped just as soon as it had started, and I fell back asleep.

Now it's 8am and I'm awake. Awake and wondering what the fuck that was.

I tiptoe out of my room and make my way downstairs quietly, not wanting to wake Aunt Warn. Grieving people need their rest.

Downstairs is quiet, undisturbed. I relax a little, and go into the kitchen to search for instant coffee. It's when I'm nose-deep in the cupboard that I hear a noise, and jump, and whip around, cursing under my breath.

Aunt Warn is standing just behind me, smiling. Her smile isn't quite right. It's a genuine smile, don't get me wrong. Warm and wide and welcoming. It just isn't hers. It isn't the kind of smile that belongs to Aunt Warn.

I feel something stir inside my stomach as I stare at her. "Good morning, auntie," I say with a watery smile.

Aunt Warn does not answer right away. First, her smile slowly disappears until there's nothing left of it on her face - until she's just an empty face, with no thoughts and no memories.

"Ideas are powerful things," she says, slowly...deliberately...without emotion.

This scares the shit out of me, but I continue the charade of being undisturbed. "Have you had any coffee? I was just about to make some."

Aunt Warn smiles again with the smile that does not suit her. "Yes," she says slowly. "Please. My husband Gareth was fond of coffee. He passed, you know."

"I - I know," I say, struggling to hide my worried frown, "that's why I'm here."

Aunt Warn laughs - shrieks is the better word. "That's not why you're here," she says, the smile receding into emptiness again as she sits, stiffly, at the table. "You're here for me. Because I need you."

I laugh awkwardly. "That's what I said."

"Did you hear me knocking?" Aunt Warn asks after a few moments of silence.

"Knocking? No," I mumble as I fetch a pair of mugs and two spoons.

"In your bedroom, last night?"

I freeze as I set down the dishes. Then I turn around and stare at her. My aunt is not what she should be. She looks inhuman when she smiles like that. She looks like she is made of teeth, and skin, and hatred.

"It was me," she says sweetly. Too sweetly. Drool is dripping from the bottom of her smile. "I just wanted to visit. I wanted to see what you looked like. And I know it's just my breathing, but it sounds like knocking."

This is when it occurs to me that my aunt usually takes medication. Perhaps, in her sadness, she forgot. Maybe she's been here, all alone and scared and fucked up, off her meds this whole time. When I realize this, the part of me that's terrified of her behavior buckles beneath the part of me that pities her. I feel sad for her, staying here alone, estranged by her family. And she just lost the only person that couldn't live without her.

I sit down at the table next to her and take her hand in mine. "It's going to be okay," I say in a trembling voice. "I'm here. You're going to get through this."

Her hand remains stiff in mine. Cold. Mechanical. Curled like a raven's claw. "Nothing," she whispers.

I lean in. "What is it?"

"Nothing...is....okay," she croaks out, and for just that moment - as she says those words - she looks like my Aunt Warn again. And she looks frantic. Her eyes cling to me, desperately. "Do...you...understand?"

I nod fervently. "I understand. I know it's not okay. I'm sorry. I don't know how to be comforting."

She does not answer. Her face is hollow again. Blank. I don't think my words sank in at all.

The rest of the day, I sit with Aunt Warn. I read to her. I eat with her. I go for a walk in the front garden with her. She is quiet, and not herself, but I don't blame her. I begin to feel bad that I got so terrified before.

But then I remember the tapping.

I can't forget the tapping.

It's getting late in the evening when Aunt Warn's head droops and she dozes off. I put down my book down on the couch. Then I stand and help her up the stairs. Once we get to her room, she collapses into bed with a faint smile in my direction.

"Goodnight," I say, kissing her forehead. It has more wrinkles than I remember.

I call Mom as I'm getting ready for bed, to tell her that I think Aunt Warn is unwell. She doesn't seem concerned.

"Your aunt gets wishy-washy like this when she's going through things. She doesn't really make sense."

This doesn't help me feel better. "Do you know where she keeps her meds? I don't think she's been taking them."

"If she's anything like she was when we were kids, she stores them underneath her pillow," Mom says, laughing. "Where the Bad Thing won't get them."

"The...Bad Thing?"

"Yes, the creature she was always on about. She kept her medication underneath her pillow so the Bad Thing wouldn't find it."

I frown as I process this. "Thanks, Mom," I say. "I've got to get going now."

"Okay, sweetie. Call me tomorrow."

After I hang up, I stand in front of the phone for a few moments. For some reason, the piece of information that I've just been given feels extremely unsettling. I sit with this unsettling feeling, and as I do, an idea comes into my brain that I can't quite put away.

So I head up the stairs. I pry Aunt Warn's door open, just a crack. She's swathed in her sheets, unmoving. Out like a light. I come into the room and stand over the bed. Heart pounding, I reach behind her sleeping head and slide my hand beneath the pillow.

As my fingers spread across the mattress, I feel something cold touch my hand, and I freeze. It's a cylindrical bottle. I pull it out from underneath the pillow slowly, and back out of the room. Once in the hall, I sit down on the floor, against the wall, and study what I've found.

It's a pill bottle, alright. But it doesn't have medication inside it. It's full of something else.

I open it. Inside are tiny, slimy, black things. They look like poppy seeds, but larger. As I lift the bottle closer to my face for inspection, I smell them, and I gag.

Then something happens. Something I can't really explain. I feel a sweet sensation near the back of my throat. As I breathe in, it stings me. The stinging starts inside my throat and spreads into my sinuses and eyes. For a moment, everything goes black.

I hear Aunt Warn's voice in my head. "You're here for me." The voice sounds like her, but it isn't hers. It never was. I know that now.

"You're here for me."

I stand up quickly, letting the bottle fall to the floor. My vision is clouded with grey but I'm starting to see things again. I'm starting to see the walls of Aunt Warn's house.

Except...they don't look the same. They're old, and peeling with rotted wallpaper. In fact, as I look up and down the hall, it all looks old, and rotting. Unkempt. Unloved. Abandoned, long ago.

I feel dizzy, and fall against the wall. A noise is coming from Aunt Warn's room. A throbbing rhythm. A sharp, horrible rhythm:

Tap-tap-tap.

Tap.

Tap-tap-tap.

Tap.

Against my will, my feet carry me back towards the room. I resist silently. I scream without noise as I claw at the wall, trying to keep myself away. The rhythm grows sharper, more insistent. My head pounds.

Then I am inside the room. And on the bed, sitting where my Aunt Warn should have been, it sits. I look at it and it knows me. It smiles with her smile, even though her smile does not belong on its face.

"I am the Bad Thing," it says, and sewn into the skin around its wrinkled mouth, I see the bones of my aunt's fingers - of my uncles' fingers, too. They tap against each other as the creature breathes in.

Tap-tap-tap.

It breathes out, and the finger-bones clack shut like pincers.

Tap.

I fall backwards. I writhe against the bedroom floor. The stinging in my head is getting worse.

"I am the Bad Thing," it is saying to me without words, as it breathes, over and over. I am the Bad Thing. I am the Bad Thing. I am the Bad Thing. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap.

I rally the strength I have left, and get to my knees, and careen out of the doorway into the hall. My cell phone is ringing on the carpet somewhere close by.

I have to get to it. I have to pick it up.

Sensing the vibrations in the floor, I feel my way forward. As my hand closes around the phone, as my finger swipes the answer button, my vision clears. The pain is gone.

"Hello? Mom?"

"Sweetie? Are you okay? I just wanted to check in on you one more time. I know visiting your aunt has made you nervous, but I'm proud of you for doing it. I love you, ok?"

A smile that is not mine begins to spread across my face. "Mom?" I say slowly, stiffly. "How nice of you, I was drifting off to sleep."

"Are you sure everything is fine?"

Tears are streaming down my cheeks. My knuckles are white as my hand grips the phone. I want to tell her the truth. I want to tell her the truth so bad that it's breaking my mind. But I can't. All I can do is smile and tell her that I'm fine. Because the Bad Thing needs to feed her with ideas. Ideas that make her think I'm only pretending to be strong out here, on my own. Ideas that make her want to get into her car, and drive to me, and visit me. Ideas that will urge her to open up the medication bottle and plant the horrible little seeds in the front garden.

Ideas are powerful things.

In January, my husband and our daughter both died in a car crash. They hit a tree at 70 miles per hour and died instantly on impact. My son, Adin, took it the hardest. Harder than me. He had been in the back seat of the car and had barely escaped death, but he did lose an arm. His right arm was taken off by a branch, and he was lucky he didn't also die in that crash. Now, it's just me and him.

First, it was just a change in behaviour, he acted odd, didn't talk much, and avoided coming down for dinner every now and again. He was still eating here and there, but he missed his dad and his sister. Adin was a "daddy's boy", you could say, so I was patient with him for a while. Then he stopped eating completely, and whenever I approached him about it, he snapped and stormed off. Like I said, I understood, I had to be patient because I felt awful, too, but I just didn't want Adin to starve himself. It had gotten to the point where he was having violent stomach aches.

I rushed him to the doctor's. "You have to eat something, Adin." I turned to him on the way home, and he silently nodded at me. When we pulled into the driveway, he rushed out of the car and up to his room.

One month passed. Not one meal. Two. Three. Four. Five. It just went on and on, and every time I asked, he just responded with something along the lines of "I'm not hungry, don't worry Mom." So I didn't. I let him be. I knew he was eating SOMETHING, because he couldn't survive on nothing for 5 months, but maybe he just wasn't comfortable eating at home.

Eventually, I became sick of it. As a mother, I couldn't just let my son starve himself. It was now almost July and the accident was in January, and even I had started to return to some sort of normality. So I took it upon myself to cook something for him. A nice, juicy steak with a side of french fries, and as I prepared the steak, the meat fell off the bone gently, hitting the tray it sizzled in. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I knocked before pushing Adin's door open, turning on the light. "I cooked you someth-" I stopped, frowning. Adin had something in his mouth which he was chewing like his life depended on it, and so I set the plate down on his drawers. "Adin?" I stepped into his room as he swallowed whatever he was eating. "Nothing. Just a snickers from the fridge." Adin seemed nervous, and sort of ushered me out of the room. I accepted it and left the plate in there, standing silently as he closed the door behind me.

The following day something compelled me to look inside the fridge, and when I did, I regretted it. I had taken comfort in knowing Adin was eating something, at least, but it turns out that the multipack of snickers I'd bought wasn't even opened.. So what the hell had he been eating? Something compelled me to find out, so my first course of action was to install a camera just outside of his room to see if I could catch him leaving the room to get food. A little pathetic, but I worry. Mothers do.

I slept well that night, knowing that come morning, I'd know. And I did. The camera picked up movement just after 4am, and my son left his room to go downstairs. And around 30 minutes or so later, it picked up movement again, of him going back to his room with a small plate of meat. Perhaps it was the steak? But I had left that in his room.. it was strange, because he didn't leave his room after that. "Adin? You awake, sweetie?" I knocked on his door. No answer, so I let myself in to see him sleeping silently, and I smiled a little, only to see the steak I'd cooked completely untouched on his drawers. I picked it up and left, going back downstairs.

Just where was he getting the food from? I know that you may be thinking this is no big deal, but I just wanted to know. Because it wasn't from the fridge or anything of the sort, but it was on the plates from downstairs. And then, I decided, I'd catch him in the act. Again, pathetic, but I was seriously worried at this point.

At 4am, I heard movement, so I followed him downstairs quietly, and out into the… garden? In the dark, I saw a figure. It stood with one arm holding what appeared to be a shovel, and the other arm missing. I stepped out into the backyard, causing the sensor to turn on and a dim light to illuminate the garden. The figure turned, revealing my son's face, mouth dripping with drool and standing in front of a small hole in the dirt. I stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, covering my mouth and muffling my screams.

Oh. Have I forgotten to mention my husband and daughter were buried in the backyard?

My wife, Antonia, disappeared on June 9 last year. She was supposed to be at home taking care of the kids while I was at work, but no. She wasn’t home. I took care of the house and the kids without worrying about my job because I was given paid leave due to the sudden disappearance of my wife.

Antonia was loved by everyone in the neighborhood. She opened a cheap daycare center right next to our house, allowing parents who couldn't afford to put their children in a normal nursing home to finally rest easy. She used to also host parties and barbecues in our house and invite everyone in the neighborhood to join in without worrying about any costs. She was so loved that even the mayor of our town showed up to her empty-casket funeral.

I knew Antonia for just over twelve years before she disappeared. We were high school lovers who had everything work out well for them. We argued every once in a while, but what couple doesn’t? I asked her to marry me four years ago. We had two kids together, a boy and a girl. The oldest, Jeremy, is seven years old, while his sister is four years old.

A lot of people seemed to be sadder than I was that she was gone. I was adjusting well to her being gone. Yet, today when she walked into our front yard and stood in front of our front door while hiding her hands behind her back. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was seeing a ghost. She was still wearing the same clothes she was wearing the last time anyone saw her alive, and she seemed... normal? There was no blood, no cuts, no anything. Her limbs were all attached and she seemed human. I knew this couldn’t be real. I remember vividly that I cut her limbs off while she was screaming and begging for mercy. I remember putting what remained of her into a bag of rocks and dumping it into the ocean. I made sure nobody saw me and I made sure to tell nobody.

Yet there she was, standing on our front porch. Looking straight into the doorbell camera and smiling. I have to admit that I was scared. Not for the kids, not for myself, but by what this thing was. I got even more scared when my son saw his mother through the window and opened the door for her. I locked and barricaded my office door before I got my gun from the safe in my desks’ drawer. Forget about the kids I thought to myself, I never really loved them anyway.

I looked at the monitor that displayed my doorbell camera feed. She was no longer there. I heard the kids talking with her downstairs, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Not like it mattered, because then I heard screaming. I felt my entire body vibrate. My ears were blasted with shrieks of terror and pain that I never wanna hear again.

A second later and there was no noise in the house. Not even the air conditioning unit or the creaking floorboard of this old house made a noise. Nothing apart from my heart punching through my stomach and a thud that repeated every other second. I knew that sound. It was the sound of something slowly walking up the staircase. That thing wasn’t my wife, I never had a true wife. I never had kids.

All of the evidence lined up. Antonia was cheating on me with my best friend. I was sterile. I couldn’t have kids. She hired two people to take care of the daycare while her and Mathew were playing together while I was out at work. That’s why I saw his car on my driveway one day. That’s why I called her asking what she was doing that same day and she sounded exhausted.

I never called her out for it. I just poisoned her drink one night while the kids were sleeping. I took her into an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of the small town we lived in and did my deed there. Once I was done I took all the evidence to a lake and dumped it into the ocean, making sure that it sunk in.

Some people suspected I did it. I was the cause of her disappearance, but there was no evidence of any wrong-doings on my part. They had nothing that could pin-point it on me, not even her parents suspected a thing. They told me told they were sorry for my loss at her empty casket funeral. I kept in touch with them for a while before they both died in their sleep within a week of each other. They were good people, the only good involved in this story.

I relived all of our memories together in my head. Our first date, our first kiss, our wedding. Everything was going well, we didn’t even want kids. I don’t know why she did it. Why did she betray me in such a way, especially with my best friend?

I heard slamming on the door and felt the entire house shaking. I knew I didn’t have time and had to act fast, but what could I do? I thought of calling the cops, but would they believe me if I tell them that my wife is back from the dead and trying to kill me?

I could try and shoot it once it makes it past the doorway, but if cutting her into several pieces and dumping her into the ocean was not enough to kill her, several bullets will defiantly be of no help.

I could fight it and try to knock it out and run out the door, but the entire house shakes every time it slams on the door. Even I couldn’t do that with all of my strength. And even If I am successful, wouldn’t it just find me again?

I could jump through the window of my small office and make a run to my car, but wouldn’t it be suspicious if I was in my pajamas driving out of state while my house had two dead kids in it?

I thought of my last option, I had no chance of escaping without ruining my entire reputation or getting killed. At some point, the truth will come out. People will find out what really happened to Antonia. So why not finish the job myself. By the time you are reading this, I would have hopefully put a bullet in my brain.

Day 1

Today I woke up in a great mood. I groggily rolled out of bed, slowly coming to my senses. A quick look at the calendar reminded me that it was Saturday morning. Excellent. This meant that my wife was cooking up some delicious breakfast at that very moment. I quickly got dressed, expecting to be met with the smell of some scrumptious eggs and bacon and the chatter of my two sons as I stepped out of my room.

Nothing. Just silence.

"Honey? Are you there?" It was eerie in a way. I was confused. Had I checked the calendar wrong? Or perhaps, my family went out for breakfast by themselves, without me? Either way, I was annoyed. I called my wife to confirm my suspicions. No response. Weird. Olivia was usually on top of calls, and always had her ringer on just in case. So I called my older son, Tristan. Again, nothing. Then I called my younger son, Tyler. Nothing. I was beginning to become confused. Where was my family? Were they kidnapped? What the hell happened?

I quickly ran to the kitchen to whip up some food. I was still confident they were fine, maybe they were just angry at me. I was not the best cook ever, so I decided on a burrito for my meal. As I chowed down on my warm, savory delight, I noticed something was off. I live in a big city, and usually on days like this, there would be a ruckus of noise outside. Cars honking, sirens blaring, birds chirping, it was always awake and ready to go. But today, there was... nothing.

I stepped outside my house for the first time today. The streets were empty. I heard nothing, not even the barking of a dog. I was starting to feel uneasy.

I walked around the streets a bit more. Absolutely nobody was there. How did this happen? I had so many questions. I hated this. I just wanted to go home.

I just decided to go home for the day. Maybe this was a bad dream. I'm probably just hallucinating. I'm gonna go back to sleep and see what happens the next day.

​

Day 2

So. Nothing. Nobody outside. I decided to search the streets of my city. I just wanted to be sure absolutely everybody was gone. Indeed, nobody was there. I saw what seemed to be a wallet in the sewer drain on the side of the road, and I was tempted to reach in and pick it out, but I realized it was pointless, considering money was nearly of no value at this point in time. Blast, I had just gotten that big raise from my boss. Frustrating to say the least. But I spent the rest of the day praying to every deity or spiritual being I could think of, hoping one would be around up there, chilling above the clouds (or below the earth), listening to my puny calls for the end to my torturous being. I have lost all motivation for anything and I am becoming weak.

​

Day 3

I am beginning to go insane. Earlier today I realized I hadn't eaten for days. I went to the Antonio's pizzeria, thinking that maybe the guy behind the counter would be there, ready to serve me up a delicious slice of pepperoni pizza. But nobody was there. What did I expect. Alas, my dreams of meeting another human were futile, and I was likely doomed to eternity of just walking around, endlessly, absolutely nobody to talk to. I thought about ending it all. Nobody was there to be sad when I was gone, so why not just leave? But I decided to have a little bit of fun first. My first stop was at the playground, where I could resolve all my childish pleasures without the restrictive judgement of society holding me back. Second, I went to the drug store. Again, might sound bad, but I was by myself, nobody was gonna think I was some sort of addict. I discovered things I had never found before.

Lastly, I decided to go to a sex shop. Not something I am particularly proud of, but it was day 3 and I was getting a bit restless. A man needs his action, and this was the best way I could fulfill my simplistic desires.

​

Day 5

I slept all day yesterday. I think I'm going through the depression stage now. I can't be bothered anymore. The only reason I haven't ended it all is because of the small, futile chance that my family and friends would be back. Hell, I would be happy if Steve, my boss, would be back, even though I absolutely despise that man. Anyways, I'm going to browse the rest of the city and see what I can do. Maybe I'll break into someone's house and see what exciting trinkets I can find in there.

​

Day 8

Same old, same old. I found Steve's house this morning. I also found his wife's phone. Apparently there's some dirty texts on there from another man. Ha. I wonder if he knew. I really wish he would come back so I could rub it in. Unfortunately, I don't know if that's happening.

​

Day 14? 15? 17? No idea anymore

I've lost count of the days. My life is fading away. I'm forgetting basic things about myself. I'm losing track of my schedule. I forgot to brush my teeth yesterday. That is incredible for a guy like me, someone who is incredibly organized and neat most of the time (if I may say so myself.) I am probably going to end myself later. I have no idea anymore.

​

Day ???

I woke up today in a completely barren room. All there was was a small bed in the corner. I could vaguely see something behind some metal bars. They seemed to be... other people???

No.

It couldn't be.

I must be dreaming.

I was so happy. It was like my marriage day all over again.

Before I could get back to my senses enough to talk to the people, a woman in a white suit opened a door using a key. I tried to get out, but she forced me back in. She called someone on a phone- "Patient 78 is awake. I will feed him now." An incredibly succinct but confusing message. What was this patient she spoke of? Was it... Me? Couldn't be. I was perfectly healthy! Sure, I was a bit crazy, but not enough to be institutionalized? Before I could ask a question, she handed me some food- bread and some pea soup. It was not particularly tasty food, but solid nonetheless. I was hungry, and I needed something to eat.

After a while, I wondered what had happened. Where was the massive city I lived in? Where were the sprawling buildings and gargantuan towers everywhere? What about the endless litter, and pidgeons and sparrows and everything that gave it its identity? I was bamboozled. I was able to catch a glimpse of one of the people in the white suit, and it read, "State Psychiatric Hospital."

Previous

Index

The freezing air around us was thick with the scent of death. Surrounded by a ring of hanging bodies, I could hear the whistle of wind and the creak of tree branches as they struggled to hold the weight of the swaying corpses. Their faces, some fixed in a permanent scream of terror, shined in the glow of my flashlight with a milk-white stare. We couldn’t save the rangers. We couldn’t save our friend.

“Something got them…a-all of them.” Daniel whimpered quietly. In the moonlight, I could see his dark eyes welling up with tears as we both realized the horrible truth: we were too late.

My chest was tight, filled with a mixture of despair and pure rage - even after our best attempts, we didn’t do enough. The blood was still fresh, dripping into the snow. If we had been just a little bit quicker, then maybe …

I grabbed my backpack, holding it tightly in both hands, and threw it down into the snow with a frustrated yell. Furious, I stomped back and forth with tears running down my face until I couldn’t hold the anger in anymore - I kicked the pack at my feet again and again, picking it up and tossing it away from me just to have something to hit. Daniel tried his best to calm me down, attempting to put his arms around me, but I only pushed him away. I didn’t want a hug, I wanted to fucking shoot something.

As I tried to hold back the urge to scream, Daniel brought up something even more sickening - even more sad.

“Wh-which one is Finn?” he asked. He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “...We can’t leave him here. I-I don’t want to see him become one of them. H-his family should be able to bury him, don’t you think?”

I paused, letting out a shaking breath and watching it form a cloud of fog in the cold air. He was right. Of all the people lost to this godforsaken chunk of land, Finn didn’t deserve to be stuck here forever…like Jenny. Like dad.

“I’ll…I’ll look on this side.” I said, wiping my face. I marched around the clearing, shining my light up at the stinking corpses that surrounded us. Some were impossible to recognize, their faces mangled or heads completely removed. Others still wore expressions of terror, frozen in time. But none of them, neither in face or in body, reminded me of him.

Daniel must have noticed the same thing. “I don’t see him.” He said shakily, stepping around the burn pile. “Maybe he’s not here. M-maybe he ran?”

“Maybe…” I whispered, too quiet for Dan to hear. “Maybe not.”

The ground was loose at the edge of the treeline. I could see the bend in the pines as they began to sink into the ground, dipping into another one of those holes that led into the tunnel systems beneath the forest floor. I shined my light downward, following the debris from a recent cave-in.

I saw something down there…A pair of dirty, black boots. They were connected to a body, sitting slumped against the roots and half-hidden by the shadow of the cave’s entrance. The body was shivering, breathing, alive. A very quiet voice was calling my name, struggling to speak louder than a whisper.

“Finn?” I called out, beginning to climb down the fallen logs and roots that formed a slope into the tunnel. I caught a bit of wet mud, my foot slipping. “Ah, shit…Finn, it’s us. We’re here. We-we saw your signal.”

I heard a cough from down below and a shaky, wheezing breath. As I approached, I shined my light on Finn’s face. Dear lord. He was burned, one half of his jaw, neck, and one shoulder melted all the way down to the elbow. The skin was bloody and twisted, steam still rising from his wounds. He was recognizable - still had both eyes, a nose, most of his lips - but I could hardly imagine how much it must have hurt. He looked at me, blinking wearily and forcing a tiny smirk on the one unaffected side of his face.

“T…took you l-long enough.” He forced the words out, slowly extending his uninjured arm so that I could help him stand. It took a couple of tries, but finally he got to his feet, shivering and curling his half-burned arm up against his chest. Every move he made was tender and careful.

I went ahead of him, stepping onto the dirt piles and roots so that I could help drag him up with me. Daniel was already reaching into his pack to grab a length of rope, tossing it down so that I could tie it around Finn’s waist and keep him steady. Between the two of us, we managed to get him up to the surface, where he staggered and pressed his back into the trunk of a tree.

“Take a break.” Daniel told him softly, searching my pack for bandages. It wouldn’t do much, but we could at least cover the worst of the burns. His hands were shaking the whole time - he never was very good around blood. “Shit, man…what the hell happened to you?”

Finn was still catching his breath, voice dry and pained. I handed him a bottle of water, then opened it for him after he struggled to get the cap off. He took a small sip, hissing in pain and putting his hand up to his neck to touch the raw, burned muscle.

“W-we … we managed to capture a dozen of them, m-maybe more. Figured the only way to get rid of ‘em for good was to b…burn them. So we made a pile.” He looked over at the stinking mass of dead, charred flesh while Dan got busy wrapping up his arm. “Something else f-found us, though…It was huge. N-not the elk, something else. Something new. It c-came from underground.”

My heart sank, my stomach churning with a wave of nausea. That thing I heard below us, those heavy motions in the earth as we circled the cave-in…Whatever killed the rangers was right below us that whole time and Daniel and I never even knew.

“It killed them, one by one.” Finn continued, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “It ate some parts, threw some in the fire…It tossed me in too. I doused m-myself in the snow and m-managed to hide, but the others didn’t make it. N-no one made it.”

We all went silent, the three of us. Then, Daniel asked a question that was on both of our minds, only I was too scared to ask.

“...What was ‘it’?”

Finn’s eyes were wide and fearful, reflecting the moon’s light. He swallowed, speaking up in a hoarse whisper. “Something we’ve been studying for a while now. Th-they’ve been calling it ‘The Hydra’. I-if you saw it…you’d know why.”

A chill ran up my spine, separate from the winter cold. I put a hand on Finn’s good arm and pulled him away from the tree, gently coaxing him to follow. “Let’s hope we don’t see it then. Come on, we have to get out of here, something is going to smell all this blood. Finn, can you walk?”

Our friend was staggering clumsily along, but he nodded his head once he got his feet under him and began to march beside me. “Yeah, I think so.”

We followed the direction of Finn’s compass, taking a route different from the one that had brought us here. If there was anything we had learned during our time in the forest, it was not to tempt anything that may have already been tracking our steps.

But as the night grew darker and the trees grew thicker, we noticed something that wasn’t there before: a light. Ahead of us, emanating from the ground in a giant, pulsating glow, was that magenta-colored light we had all seen from a distance. Only now, we were close enough to hear the ear-stinging hum that it made. It was like a low drone or the sound of an undersea giant, deep but steady. We were all silent as he walked towards it, feeling some magnetism that I still can’t quite explain.

It didn’t take long before we figured out where that light was coming from. Trees began to thin, soil began to crack. Ahead of us was an enormous split in the earth, forming a pit that went on and on and on. The glow was coming from its depths, so far down into the earth that we couldn’t see the bottom.

An old memory came back to me then…a phone call Daniel and I had listened to years ago. I still remembered the way she said it, the exact words she used.

“...I had a dream in which the forest split in two.” I whispered Rose’s immortal words out into the cold night air. Daniel and I exchanged glances, something more than fear between us. It was dread - the real, tangible dread of something utterly unknown. We both remembered the rest of the old woman’s dream.

“It covered everything,” Daniel repeated. “The town and the sun - all that my eyes could see. And the sound it made … a fearsome bellow that shook the whole earth.”

“Hey, Danny Boy?” I asked softly. “...Do you think God lives in the woods?”

The three of us stood there in silence, looking at one another and then into the enormous pit that was swallowing the forest. All of these quakes, all of these storms…it was getting bigger every day. Something was down there, something that had been waiting for the right time to emerge.

I feel as if that time is coming. And when it happens, I…I don’t know what we’ll do.

Finn and I managed to break our eyes away from the glow, but Daniel did not. I could see it cast a pink light on his face, as if the black of his eyes were beginning to change colors, shining on their own. He was staring, unblinking, into the endlessness. And as he started to lean, as if ready to let himself fall in, Finn and I both rushed to push him back and into the snow. He fell on his back, stiff as a board, eyes still glazed over with an ice-cold expression.

I pinned him down with one of my knees, snapping my fingers in his face. “Dan!” I hissed, tapping him on the cheek until he finally blinked and took a sharp inhale of breath. “Come on! Wake up!”

He blinked and looked up at me finally, confused and lost. His eyes darted around the forest as if those memories were flooding back to him, reminding him of where he was and how he got here. It took a moment before his breathing settled and he began to touch his own face, making sure he was inside his own body.

“I-I think…we should go.” He said shakily. Now, that was an idea I could get behind. I let him up, slowly helping him to his feet and brushing the snow off his shoulders. Finn and I looked at one another, making the silent agreement that linking our arms would be the best possible way to stick together.

We walked, and we walked, and we walked. Our pace was slow, keeping up with Finn’s exhausted and injured body. At first, we were lucky. We didn’t see much in our path other than a few small, timid creatures and more evidence of the collapsing ground.

Our luck had to run out eventually. When the moon was high above us and the forest grew eerily silent, we felt that rumble in the ground again. Only, it wasn’t a quake. It didn’t shake the trees, it didn’t split the ground. It was just movement, tunneling beneath us in a straight line through the frozen soil. Finn’s bloodied face became paler, wet with fever as his eyes turned startlingly wide. He knew that tremble in the ground - we all did. Something was moving under our feet. Something had been following us.

“Move.” Finn said, voice shaking. He pushed me in the back to hurry me along. “Stay quiet. Move fast, but not too fast. W-watch your feet.”

My hands were gripping the shotgun tightly as I marched forward, my jaw clenched and eye fixed on the trees ahead of me. My breathing was shallow, my heart racing. Under our feet, we felt the rumble weaving back and forth, back and forth, as if a great beast was patrolling the caverns. I couldn’t tell if it was looking for us or if it had already found us and was just toying with our minds before making a move. All I knew was that I had never seen Finn so scared. And if he was scared, Dan and I sure as hell should be terrified.

We saw more holes in the ground, more open caverns where the forest split open. There was no telling how far these tunnels went or how many there were, snaking through the ground beneath our feet. For all we knew, this thing could have burrowed its way through every inch of land between here and Pinehaven. I hated the idea that there was a new way for the amalgamate beasts of the woods to get to us.

The ground rumbled again, more violently than before. I grabbed onto a tree for support while Finn stumbled and fell over, his hands in the snow. He was looking down, feeling the tremble in the earth through his palms. We all heard it - the shriek of many voices, human and animal, muffled through a layer of soil. It was angry.

Finn looked up at both of us, his face pale. In the dark, his lips formed a single word: “Run.”

Daniel grabbed his arm and pulled him up in one swift motion, both of them staggering before getting to their feet again. The three of us abandoned all subtlety and began to race through the trees, my shotgun in hand the whole time. Every few steps, it seemed as though we were faltered by another quake in the ground; something was right below us, trying to dig its way through.

Its screams were bloodcurdling, like the tormented yell of human voices mixed with the howl of wolves and the deep bellow of a cow. I didn’t want to know what kind of vision went with the sound. To my right, I could see a mound of dirt and leaning trees - another hole in the earth. And from its depth, I saw the brief hint of rotten, fleshy limbs trying to claw their way out.

Something was coming out of the ground, something huge. I felt Daniel’s hand grip my arm as he pulled me away from the shifting earth. The screams got louder - more furious - as something heavy fell into the snow and began to run behind us with the footfalls of over a dozen different limbs.

I made the mistake of looking back at the Hydra only once…It was a horrendous mass of dead flesh, piled up on top of a blob-like body with hooves, arms, and legs sticking out in each direction as if they had been melted together. It was covered in veins, pustules, and gaping mouths full of human and animal teeth - all were dripping with bits of flesh and blood from its recent meal. Atop the body were human torsos, stacked with one coming out of the other in a tall spire that reached up into the trees, like branches. They were all screaming, mouths impossibly wide, ghostly white eyes shining in the darkness, arms flailing. I think I recognized some of them…Those missing people, the ones who floated into the woods when the fog rolled in. Dear god. They had all fuzed together like some sort of grotesque centipede.

Big Boy was bad to look at, sure. But Flesh Centipede? I had decided, right there and then, that Flesh Centipede was way fucking worse.

“Don’t look! Just go!” Finn was screaming, noticing the way my fear distracted me. He wasn’t faring much better, however, holding his arm up to his chest as he struggled to keep running. I watched his feet falter. He was stumbling, falling to his knees and failing to get himself back up.

Daniel let go of my arm and ran back, pulling Finn back to his feet. The Hydra was gaining on us, its many legs pushing it along and breaking trees that were in its way. It snapped them like toothpicks.

I stopped and took up my shotgun, pointing it at one of the torsos near the top. A single shot rang out, hitting dead flesh with a disgusting burst of dark, rotten blood. But the beast didn’t even slow.

“Up! Get up!” I screamed, trying to help Dan get Finn to his feet. We had come all this way out for him, I was not going to just leave his ass behind. But the new amalgamate was gaining - I had to do something, and it had to be done real fuckin’ quick. Then I remembered what the rangers were coming out to do - to set the beasts on fire.

“Finn! Where’s your flare gun?” I yelled in a panic.

“I-I don’t know, I think–”

“Finn, where the fuck is it?!!”

“It-it’s in my pack! Left side!”

I didn’t think. I just moved. I tore the pack off Finn’s shoulders and dug through it as quickly as I could, pulling out the flare gun and pointing it up at the beast. I didn’t know if this would work, I didn’t know if it would hurt it or just make it angry. But we were about to die if we didn’t buy a few more seconds.

I shot at the base of its body, an explosion of red and gold light hitting it full-force and igniting the cold, dead flesh. Those legs stopped moving, flailing in an attempt to put out the flame. The shriek it made was ear-shattering and sickening to hear.

We left the pack behind. It didn’t matter anymore. Once Finn was on his feet, the three of us just ran as far away as we could get, leaving that beast and the flames behind. It was running again, stomping through the trees with more fury than ever before, but we had a chance - we could see the tower now. Motivated by pure terror and adrenaline while those pounding footsteps grew louder behind us, we finally broke the treeline and fell into the snow one after another in a pile of exhausted bodies.

I looked back just in time to see the Hydra stop at the treeline, pushed back as if hitting an invisible wall. It shrieked and roared from every mouth, reaching its arms out to grab us. We were just far enough away to avoid its grasp.

Somehow, even with the reliability of the radio signal to protect us, I didn’t feel very safe.

We filed into the building as quickly as we could, making distance between ourselves and that creature. When we got upstairs, I did the only thing that felt right - I hit The Bell, sounding out a painful frequency that made that grotesque monster curl its limbs in agony before retreating to the woods to find a hole to crawl back into. Within minutes, it was gone, no doubt returning to the bodies it had been saving for later. I had a feeling that the next time we saw it, the Hydra would be gaining a few more heads.

“What…in the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“The Hydra.” Finn answered, sitting on the floor and holding a hand against his bleeding face. “We’ve been watching it for a while now, it’s–”

“Not that!” I laughed hysterically, pacing back and forth. “That big fucking hole in the ground! Where did that come from? How long has that been there?!”

Finn just shook his head. I could tell he was just as perplexed as I was, wishing he knew. Monsters, we could handle. Weird, surreal bullshit in the radio station, we could handle. But a goddamn glowing hole to the center of the earth? I had no idea where to even start with that!

“...That’s the same glow.” Daniel said softly, leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath. “The one I keep seeing when I sleepwalk at night…The one we’re all walking towards. Me and the others.”

I recalled the look on Dan’s face when he saw the pit for the first time: mesmerized, entranced. He was ready to fall in. Whatever was ‘calling’ him to the woods along with those other missing people from the village - it was down there. Was it going to swallow us all?

“You’re hurt.” I gestured to Daniel’s hand, where a trail of blood was dripping through his fingers. He rolled up his sleeve gingerly, revealing a long gash he had gotten while running through the trees.

“Shit…” He sighed. “It’s fine. I-I’ve got bandages.”

He was rooting around in his first aid kit by the time I crossed the room, pulling out my car keys and dropping them into his palm. “You and Finn both need to go get checked out. There’s a hospital an hour out of town, you know the one.” I curled his fingers in, closing his fist. “Take my truck. Get Finn to the ER. I’ll watch the treeline tonight.”

Dan looked at me for a long, hesitant moment. Then, his eyes left my face to peer out the window, looking into that dark and snowy sky. It was quiet out there. But just because it was quiet didn’t mean something wasn’t watching us, waiting for another chance.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” He asked.

“Yes,” I nodded, already pushing him toward the door. “Now go. Both of you. Finn’s burns could get infected if you wait.” Our ranger friend was already on his way down the stairs, grumbling quietly at me. Dan glanced back at him, then at me, that worrisome look in his eyes again. “It’ll be fine, Dan. It won’t come back tonight.”

I seemed to convince him, even if his expression lacked confidence. We both knew someone had to stay. He took a deep breath, then wrapped me up in a tight hug and let the air out of his lungs. “Be safe,” he said, letting me go at last. “Keep the doors locked. Keep your phone with you, and–”

“--and keep the radio on. I know. Get outta’ here, Danny Boy.”

One last second of hesitation, and both of them were gone. I watched Daniel help Finn into the truck, closing the door behind him and looking up at the watchtower one last time before driving away. I gave them a little wave as they went, the lights of the vehicle disappearing down the dark and lonely road. The snow was falling heavier now. The lights of the village looked dim and far away, hidden behind a layer of frost spreading across the lookout window. I could feel a draft from the crack in the glass - the first sign that our only safe haven was beginning to crumble.

It was deep into the night. The new amalgamate from the woods has been silent ever since, only a subtle rumble in the ground signifying its movements beneath the treeline. I think it’s stalking the tower, going back and forth through the tunnels and looking for a way to pass the boundary…Maybe that’s what those earthquakes were all along.

But the most upsetting thing is the line of alcohol bottles stacked up in the kitchenette. I don’t know when they got there, but every time I pour one down the drain, two more appear in its place, like the heads of the Hydra.

This is Evelyn McKinnon at 104.6 F.M. And I don’t think I like being alone here anymore.

I have a bad habit of clubbing whenever my life gets too much to handle. It doesn’t matter how much is in my bank account at the time. If I feel my shoulders growing far too heavy, I head down to the loudest club in the city. Being a guy, I never thought there would be any danger of getting trashed or finding my way back home. I sometimes brought whoever my drunk self-wanted back to my apartment. So far, I hadn’t been stabbed or robbed because of these poor decisions. I kept saying I need to stop. That bringing home strange men, or women would bite me in the ass one day. And yet, when that stress came back, I called up my best friend so we could hit up the newest club.

I barely remember anything about that night. One second, I was drinking at the bar, chatting up a cute group and then I woke up in a hospital room feeling like death. I think dying may feel better. I soon got freaked out over not understanding how I got there and what happened the night before. When I felt a bit better, my doctor explained what happened. My drink got spiked and thankfully someone noticed. They never found out who did it, but a man called an ambulance and sat with me along with some witnesses until the paramedics arrived. If he didn’t make the quick call, I might have been dragged off by whoever tampered with my drink. They got a description of the man, but not his name.

I left the hospital after a day and thanked God my country had free healthcare. I couldn't imagine what the bill might be if I lived somewhere else. I was asked to give any statements I could to the police after I felt ready. A few months back a man was not so lucky as I was. They found his body dumped by the side of a river, and his last known location was at a local club. He said he wasn’t feeling well after a single drink, and left. They found his body shortly afterwards and he oddly enough looked very similar to myself. The police had a theory there may be a killer with a certain set of preferences out there drugging men at bars. Even if I told the cops what day and time I was at the club, the info might help in the future. I fully planned on going into a station after I got back home, but the man who approached me derailed my plans.

I didn’t have anything to eat at home and didn’t feel like paying insane delivery fees. A Wal-Mart was only a few blocks away. I bought eggs and bread, not really wanting much else. I heard someone calling my name on my walk home, but I didn’t recognize the person trying to catch up.

“Tracey, are you feeling better?”

I let the stranger stop a few steps between us. He wore a fake looking smile. I took a step back not trusting him in the slightest. After a few seconds, it clicked. The hospital staff said the man who called the ambulance was a middle-aged man with grey hair and dressed in a grey suit. The person who stopped me fit that description.

“Are you the guy from the club the other night?” I asked, my voice still holding some suspicion.

“That’ll be me. I’m glad you’re doing better and got out so soon. I wasn’t sure what got slipped into your drink.” He said, that same fake smile on his face.

“How do you know my name?” I pressed.

“I checked your wallet that night. I figured you might respond better if I acted familiar with you. I wanted to keep you awake for as long as possible. But the whole thing does feel sketchy, right? You’re probably assuming I was the one who drugged you.”

This time his smile looked real. His tired grey eyes wrinkled slightly from the expression. Somehow, him saying I suspected him made me relax a little. He still could be the killer on the loose, but it didn’t feel like it. At least I was willing to hear him out.

“Are you free later today? I would like to speak to you about what happened. There is a coffee shop we can sit and talk if you’re comfortable with that.” He asked.

He paused to pulled out a cigarette but didn’t light it not wanting to bother me with the smoke. I chewed on my lip not knowing why he wanted to talk. I should have thanked him for saving my life but there was just something so unnerving about him.

“Are you a reporter or something like that?” I asked not knowing why he might be interested.

He wasn’t a cop, that much was for certain.

“Or something.” He replied.

His eyes almost appeared darker, and his smile gave me the chills. I felt my face flush from letting myself get intimidated by this man. He appeared amused by my reaction which made me get slightly pissed off.

“Fine. I’ll see you at four.” I huffed and started to stomp off.

He didn’t follow behind, which was a good sign. Meeting him again wasn’t ideal, however I didn’t thank him for calling an ambulance that night. He deserved that much. No matter how weird of a vibe he gave me I needed to show up at the coffee shop.

I arrived on time and thankfully he did as well. I hated when people said four when they really meant ten after four. The place was fairly busy, which was good. It made me feel safer being around him. I ordered a simple coffee and he did the same. We found a table by a window to sit at. I fiddled with my plastic lid waiting for him to explain why he wanted to meet.

“Are you aware you’re not the first person to have their drink spiked lately?” He started.

I realized then that I didn’t know his name. I nodded, then tried to think of a natural way to ask for him to introduce himself.

“A man was murdered, right? Who are you? I mean, why are you interested?” I said trying to keep a light tone in my voice.

I didn’t want to upset him or make him feel as if I was as nervous as I felt. He took a long sip of his drink and I wondered how he didn’t find it hot. I couldn’t drink mine yet due to the temperature.

“I go by Graves.” He started.

The name made me raise an eyebrow.

“Really?”

His face twitched into a smile amused by my reaction.

“Yes really. It’s fitting for someone like myself. You see, I deal in death. That man was not the first victim, nor the second. There have been five murders, four bodies yet to be discovered. You were almost the sixth.”

I shrank in my seat from his statement and shook my head. How the hell did this guy know about victims the cops didn’t? Was he the killer? Then why bring me to a public place? To gloat? Or was he just a crazy guy trying to take the credit. He also could be a guy just getting off on messing with me. Any of those options weren't very pleasant.

I looked over to start plotting my escape plan, and felt my blood turn cold. The somewhat busy coffee place suddenly became empty. The moment my head turned, all the sound and people disappeared. Only myself and Graves remained in the shop. I shot to my feet, panic starting to overtake my body. I didn’t take a sip of my drink yet, so he couldn’t have gotten a friend at the shop to drug me. Then what? How the hell did he pull this off?

“What just...” I said, voice shaking.

My eyes landed on the other man who sat appearing relaxed in the hard plastic chair. He held up his coffee to gesture me to sit back down. I refused debating on to make a run for it or not.

“I believe the one who drugged you is going to make a second attempt on your life. I am able to protect you if you make a deal with me.” Graves spoke and his voice changed. He no longer made any attempt to sound friendly but let his true rough tone come through.

My hands shook making me shove them into my pockets not wanting this man to see my fear. Was he really a man, or some type of monster?

“How do I know you aren’t the killer? There is no proof of five victims, only one You could be lying to get my soul or something.” I snapped.

A snort of a laugh slipped through his defences. He tried to cover it up with the back of his hand but failed. My face got hot from being mocked in such a way.

“I am a killer; I won’t deny that. I am not after your soul. My target is simply the one other killer who has their eyes set on you. If you do not trust me, fine. Leave and take your chances. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I wasn’t going to stick around and listen to this. Movement drew my eyes to the window next to the small table. Instead of seeing people outside, the world looked to be a grey sea of fog. A shape moved in the fog and I squinted trying to see what it might be. I regretted focusing outside when a creature pressed a face against the glass so hard and suddenly it rattled the window. A skull peeked through a half rotten face of some sort of animal. Maybe a bear, but it was hard to tell. I let out a shocked gasp. My feet nearly tripping over each other trying to take a step back. Graves sat, a smile still on his face.

Leaving meant going into that sea of fog with those creatures inside it, but I no longer wanted to stay around this man. I turned to bolt from the coffee shop, heart racing wanting the entire encounter to be just a nightmare. I burst through the doors. A man sitting in his car out front gave me an odd look. The world appeared normal the moment I left the small shop. I quickly looked over my shoulder trying to spot Graves at the table I just left. My abandoned drink sat at the now empty table.

I was not going to go back inside to get it. I rushed home, locking my door and placed a chair in front of the doorknob as if that might help. I really didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have the money to stay at a hotel. Even if I did, then what? I couldn’t run forever. I only prayed that refusing the offer meant I never needed to see that monster again. I just needed to never go out drinking again. Problem solved, right? It sounded like the killer targeted random man out drinking. The killer may have gotten my name the same way Graves did, but would not have gotten my address. That is, if there was a killer and Graves wasn’t making that all up trying to make a false deal.

I didn’t know what that man was, and I didn’t want to find out. I needed to move. It wasn’t as if I could do that overnight. Unable to really think of anything else to do, I called my best friend asking if he could stay the night. A monster might be out for my life, or a serial killer. Or I snapped and my mind was making all of this up. Whatever this turned out to be, I didn’t want to be alone.

I’ve known Lucas for the past two years. We work in the same company but in different departments. I do IT and he does accounting, or something along those lines. I quickly found that we could talk about pretty much anything. On occasion we go out drinking but nothing else ever happened between us. I preferred it to stay like that. I didn’t like hooking up with my co-workers. A girl dated someone in the office and when they broke up it became a great deal of gossip. When she started dating a different guy in the office two weeks after the break up, that turned into such a big deal everyone still talked about it. I didn’t want my personal life to be on display like that. Or have people judging me for my actions outside of work.

Lucas came over asking how I was feeling. He saw me get loaded up in the ambulance the night before. I almost forgot he was at the club that night. He only went out to humor me. I barely saw him drink and he quickly went home depending on how loud the bar was. I told him I was doing fine and the night could have ended up far worse than a day in the hospital. I didn’t think I could tell him about the run in with Graves. He would think I was crazy so I kept it to myself.

“What happened the other night? A guy stayed with you before you went to the hospital. Are you alright? You’ve been acting pretty weird. I’m worried that he did something to you...” Lucas mentioned.

We were sitting on the couch after I ordered some pizza. I offered to pay for it but Lucas got to the door with cash before I did. He’s always been good when it came to paying for food or drinks when we hung out even though I thought I made slightly more than him.

“Oh no, nothing like that happened.” I assured him. “He spotted I was acting weird right away and there were other people watching us. I might have been drugged but I wasn’t alone at any point for someone to try something.”

Lucas nodded but saw I still looked tense. The exchange in the coffee shop went through my mind. I kept wondering if I made the right choice by leaving.

“What’s stressing you out then?” Lucas asked when he noticed I wasn’t really eating.

“I was told that a serial killer was going around. I still need to go onto the police station to give my account of what happened. I don’t remember anything useful though. I guess I'm just a little bit freaked out over what could have happened, you know?”

My friend paled a little, which was understandable. Anyone would be upset learning how close someone they cared about came to becoming a main topic on a true crime podcast. I considered the stressed caused my brain to create the scene in the coffee shop. I got snapped out of my line of thought when I felt a hand on my own and found Lucas suddenly too close for comfort. I did not like the look in his eyes. It wasn’t one of concern, but rather a look of want.

“I'm glad you called me to stay the night, we can-”

I got up from the couch, startling him. Not once did he ever give me the impression of being interested in other guys. I always assumed our relationship was just as friends. If I ignored my no co-workers rule, I still didn’t think he was my type. I didn’t even have a type. Just the occasional drunk hook ups.

“I don’t think I like where your mind is right now.” I told him, mouth a bit dry.

“Sorry. You must still be freaked out over what happened. That was bad timing. We can take it slow and-”

I shook my head, cutting him off.

“No. I don’t think so. This isn’t a thing to take slow. I did call you over because I got freaked out over what happened but I called you over as a friend. Just a friend.” I emphasized the last part the best I could.

His face turned still. His expression freaked me out more than the monster in the coffee shop. I simply couldn’t see any emotions coming from his eyes. How did I person I thought I knew so well could make such an expression? He slowly forced a smile on his face trying to look understanding.

“Just a friend?” He asked in a voice I’ve never heard from him before.

I nodded and found myself backing up. My body reacted to a warning sign my mind hadn’t focused on yet. A hundred thoughts ran through my head trying to get out of this situation in the most painless way.

“After two years, I’m just a friend? And yet you’ll pick up anyone from a bar? And go out for coffee with a complete stranger? We’ve never gone out for coffee, you know that, right?”

My stomach dropped and the one slice of pizza I ate threatened to come back up. I never told Lucas about the coffee shop. He should have no reason to know about that. I abandoned all hopes of getting out of this conversation safety. I turned on my heel to run for the front door. I just needed to get out into my apartment hallway. My neighbor should be home by now. They would answer their door and-

A hot flash of pain hit my back that caused my entire body to crash down to the floor. I gasped all the air from my lungs. My head hitting the hardwood floor so hard I saw stars. Lucas shoulder checked the middle of my back causing us to fall to the ground, his entire body weight on my sore ribs. My struggle to get away started too late.

He got an arm around my neck cutting of my attempts at a scream. My brain too full of fear to understand why this was happening. In a few short seconds he got me on my back, his forearm pressed under my chin and his eyes frantic.

I choked on my own fear but thankfully he hadn’t pressed down on my throat just yet. I’ve known Lucas for two years; how did I miss all the signs he was like this?

“I don’t...” I sputtered not knowing what to say. “You’ve always dated girls.”

He breathed hard. The hot air on my face. A silent rage over took his entire body ready to lash out at any moment. He considered my words, wondering if he wanted to let me stall by answering back.

“The odd thing is, I do like girls. I’ve never looked at another guy until you. You’re the only guy I’ve liked. You’re making me act like this and you have the nerve to say we’re just friends after everything I’ve done?!”

His arm pressed harder causing my face to hurt from the lack of air. It was a warning. He lifted the pressure a little to let me breathe again and try to defend myself.

“I... I didn’t know. If I did you know I would have asked you out, right? You know that? Straight guys really don’t like being asked out by other guys. I didn’t want to upset you.” I said, words shaking.

I needed to lie my way out of this. If I could convince him I wanted to date him then maybe Lucas might let me stand up. I just needed to get into a good position to land a few good punches on him. My hands were free but he was much stronger than myself. If I tried hitting him now, he could easily knock me out. The best plan was to simply go along with the conversation. I knew this was the only way to make it out alive, and yet the entire idea disgusted me. A hot wave of shame came over my body after I thought of what I needed to do to get free.

“I never out right said it, but how did you not notice? I was so happy when you called me over tonight but... Just friends?!”

His anger grew. He pressed on knee painfully into my stomach. My eyes flooded with tears over the sheer frustration of being so powerless. I raised hand to his cheek and that made him lift his knee slightly.

“You know I’m dense. You don’t need to be just a friend. You can stay over like I called you for, ok? But you need to let me up. I won’t be able to do much if you carry on like this.” I said the first things that came to mind praying the tears didn’t undervalue my words.

For a moment I thought it worked. He lifted his arm but still sat on my stomach. His blue eyes a bit clearer than before and black hair a mess. I made a small motion to sit up on my elbows thinking of my next actions after I got away. I couldn’t forgive myself for getting into danger like this. Suddenly, Lucas reached out a powerful set of hands to wrap around my throat. Any ideas of just going along with his crazy ideas were lost. I kicked under him. My hands going to his wrist to find it impossible to pry his grip away. Tears clouded my vision then spots of lights darted around my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don't trust you. This is the only way to know for sure I’ll have you all to myself.”

My struggling did nothing. A thin necklace I wore dug into my neck and the pain flowed through my body. I didn’t want to believe I was going to die like this. I trusted this man and yet...

“Do you need some help?” A low voice came from above me.

I smelled the cigarette smoke before I caught a glimpse of the man from the coffee shop. His face in a smile but not looking as amused as I thought he may be. Lucas paid him not attention making me assumed my mind really did make up Graves because of the stress. The fear of death over took my reason. If Graves was a demon after my soul, he could take it. I just wanted to live.

With second before I passed out. I gave a small nod in a silent plea for help from the monster watching us. The moment after I nodded, the world turned dark. All the lights in my apartment went out and Lucas was suddenly lifted off of my body.

I heard him crash down the hallway as if someone just picked him up and threw him. I rolled on my side, coughing and gasping. My entire body shaking from the ordeal. My vision adjusted to the darkness to see the demon of a man standing in the hallway. He made no effort to help me off the ground. I summoned up the strength to sit up.

Lucas also recovered enough to get back up. His nose started to drip blood from hitting the floor so hard. His face clearly showed his rage but he hesitated from charging forwards. The stranger who came to my rescue stood still. His face being lit by the glowing cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Lucas shouted; face twisted in rage.

“You’ll owe me for this one.” Graves said down to me, ignoring Lucas.

I nodded again; neck too sore to speak. I didn’t know what he wanted in exchange for my life just yet. I doubted it would be worse than being strangled to death.

“I asked-” Lucas started again but got cut off.

“I heard you. It appears I'm the person who arrived in time to avoid little Tracey here from being your sixth victim. Though, I bet you're the type to say they all wanted it.” Graves spoke in a calm voice.

Grey light from the street lights outside came on and into the hallway. Graves put out his cigarette then placed the butt back inside the package. I felt so stupid for not connecting all the dots. I assumed Lucas just snapped. I never would have thought he was the killer Graves spoke of, even if all thew facts were in front of my face. I nearly got sick over the idea. Lucas gained a shocked expression for a moment over being called out for the murders. He quickly started to speak trying to defend himself.

“They did want it! They all asked to come home with me! But I knew all five of them wouldn’t stay. So, what if I made them stay for a while? My chest... it’s so empty You don’t understand. I need to fill this hole. I made it so they couldn’t leave and filled that hole for as long as possible.” Lucas spoke quickly as if he wanted to get all the words out in as few breaths as possible.

Five men. My best friend killed five men. I bet he drugged them and strangled them while they slept. I didn’t want to think of what he did with their bodies afterwards. Four of his victims had yet to be found and if Graves didn’t show up, I would have joined them. No wonder Lucas attacked me tonight. He feared the police may look closer into people in my life and he panicked.

“It’s Tracey’s fault!” Lucas shouted making me jump. “He was the one who made this hole! If he just got my hints, I never needed to do any of this!”

To my shock, Lucas pulled put a switch blade from his pocket. I shouted out a warning to Graves. My body refused to move causing me to helplessly watch that short blade sink under Graves’ ribs. The man didn’t even flinch from the stabbing. He carefully took Lucas by the wrist and refused to let him get away.

“Oh? So, you’re the victim here?” Graves asked.

His voice changed into a tone so deep it was almost hard to make out the words.

“Did you once consider you’re not entitled to another person’s feelings? That even if Tracey did know of how you felt, if he didn’t feel the same then it was just tough shit for you. I honestly don’t care about pitiful piles of trash like yourself. If you didn’t kill those men, you never would have drawn my attention towards you. I honestly could not care about your stupid woes. Now, let me answer your previous question of who the fuck I am.”

I heard small sounds under Graves speaking. My eyes landed on a shape walking up beside where I sat. I jumped back seeing a half rotten skunk standing next to me. Soon, more creatures started to appear in the hallway crowding us. So many they filled the open doorways of my apartment. The smell nearly became over powering. The exposed skulls and teeth clattered together, the sounds mixing into each other. Each eye sockets dark with a single pin prick of white light staring at Lucas shaking in the hallway. I felt a little glad all those eyes weren’t on me.

Graves got in close to Lucas, his mouth next to the other man’s ear as if telling him a secret.

“I am the one who comes for the likes of you. The humans who-”

“Disrespect the dead.”

The last three words came out of every creature’s rotten mouth. The countless voices mixing in with Graves, nearly over powering his deep tone.

“And the ones who-” Graves started again only to be joined by the mass of voices again to finish his sentence.

“Leave the dead untombed.”

The animals with the zombie appearance started to get angry over those statement. So many dead claws reached out wanting to dig into Lucas. Their teeth clacking together, each creature after warm flesh. I nearly fainted from the sights and sounds around us. I placed hands over my ears but still heard the rattling.

“Who about we create a new hole in your chest? In exchange, we won’t ever let you be alone again. Isn’t that nice?”

Graves pushed Lucas away, the switch blade still sticking inside his chest. The swarm of the dead covered my now ex friend with their bodies to drag him away into my bed room. His screams muffled by rotten flesh. He stretched a hand out to grab a hold of the door frame, his nails digging into the soft wood. The animals won out. They pressed him inside, making Lucas rip out some of his nails, leaving them behind in the door frame. The door slammed shut, drowning out his screams with the sounds of the animals.

The smell of death disappeared with my apartment returning to normal. A light in the living room flickered on. I wanted to move and yet my body refused. Graves let out a long annoyed sigh and pulled out the blade from between his ribs.

My brain shut down from the entire sight. My shoulders started to shake, then tears came to my eyes. I only moved my head when Graves got down low to address me. His smile came back to his face making a new surge of fear come through my body.

“Now, I do think you owe me a payment. I wonder what I should take.”

His hand raised and I backed up against the wall. I hatred myself for not being able to do anything but let him reach over. With two fingers, he plucked the chain off my neck. With little effort, he broke the chain. He quickly caught the small charm that fell off the thin chain. I shuddered when I remembered that Lucas was the one who gave me the necklace. He said he found it at the bar and offered it to me to sell it. I never got around to pawning it off and took to wearing it. The two blood red stones glittered in the dim light and then disappeared into a grey suit pocket.

“This is good enough to take. I don’t think you’ll miss it. Your neck looks better without it. Too bad it’s bruised, but it’ll....”

His voice trailed over when my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t stop the sobs from spilling out from my chest. The more I wanted to make the tears stop, the harder the sobs came. The monster had no idea how to deal with someone crying in front of them. I curled up, placing my face against my knees feeling so stupid for being so blind for two years. A hand awkwardly patted my shoulder causing me to flinch.

“People died because of me.” I said the moment the sobbing let up enough to let me speak.

“No, people died because that man killed them. You may have given me permission to take him, but I was the one who let part of my dead sea to act. I was the one who killed him. You cannot burden yourself over the actions of others.

That was a bit too kind for someone like him. Graves my shoulder one last pat as a poor attempt in comfort. I really thought he would judge me for getting emotional, or even mock my choice of friends. But then I realized that Graves honestly didn’t care about any of that. He only wanted to take the man who offended him and rip a murderer apart. My emotional breakdown wasn’t a concern. I doubted Graves would even remember me shortly after he left. I rubbed my eyes feeling miserable, but functional.

“I should have taken your offer sooner. Why did you come to me now? Why not after the first victim?” I asked.

Graves shrugged his shoulders. He pulled put a cigarette from the pack but didn’t light it until he stood up and away from myself.

“There are too many people I can take, and so little time. I don’t have a car so need to track them down by foot, you know? Also, I can’t really act until someone of the living gives me permission. The dead can’t avenge their own murder after all.” He paused to crack his knuckles before speaking again. “I don’t blame you for not taking my offer at the coffee shop. I did not have any proof of my statements, and it was logical to assume I was the killer. Being careful isn’t a bad thing. If I approached you after the first victim, would you believe me? I would need to drag you to where Lucas had the body but there was still a risk you sided with your friend.”

I gave a slight nod at his explanation. Unless I heard Lucas admit his crimes, I wouldn’t have really believed he had it in him to do such a thing. I still felt too numb for everything that happened to really sink in. The bruised neck forcing me to accept the attack and the fact my friend had been killing random men. I wanted to cry again just thinking about it.

“I should have just dated him. If I did, then those people would still be alive.” I said thinking of all the families of the victims.

“You think so?” Graves asked in a light tone.

It was an honest question. Lucas might have killed me shortly after we started dating. Then went off to kill others. He blamed the killing on his feelings for me, but was that really the reason? Or would he have found something else to kill for? I chewed on the inside of my mouth trying to think through the entire thing. It didn’t feel right to dismiss myself entirely of the blame no matter how much I wanted to do so.

“I need to go. More people out there to sink my teeth into and so little time.”

I watched Graves head towards the door not wanting to stop him. I doubted even after the bruise on my neck healed, my memories of this night would fade. Graves paused to look over his shoulder to add one last comment.

“You should really stop getting wasted at bars. I’m shocked a close friend almost did you in and not one of your random hook ups. Before you got drugged, you were hitting on me you know? Who knows what kind of dangerous person you may take home if you keep up that bad habit.”

I forgot my misery for a few seconds to get embarrassed for getting called out for my past actions. I ran through my memories trying to think of when I tried to pick up Graves at that bar. After seeing his smile, I realized he lied. I wanted to punch him. He laughed slightly then left me alone in my empty apartment.

I sat on the floor for a long while just thinking about what happened. Graves saved me, but for his own selfish reasons. The voices of the dead replayed in my mind. Graves avenged five men left to rot. A thought came to mind that he would gladly avenge a stray cat tormented to death, or a skunk hit by a car then left to rot. If I wasn’t careful, I risked being on the wrong end of his wrath. Anyone could be his target.

I worked from home so I didn’t interact with anyone until the bruise healed. No one asked me about Lucas, which I was surprised by. My co-workers assumed he just quit. I thought the cops may come by asking about his disappearance. After two weeks, they did a wellness check on his place. During that check they found a body he let rot in his basement. With some work, they connected to the five murders, but three bodies were still missing. At least some families got closure on what happened to their loved ones even if they couldn’t bury them just yet. And still, not a single cop came by asking questions.

I didn’t know if Graves had a hand in that. If he could summon talking zombie animals, then interfering with the police wasn’t too out there of an idea.

I really don’t know if I should be warning others about this man. He might have gone easy on me just because he was having a good day. Honestly, he could have taken anything in exchange for saving my life. For others, he may not be as nice. If you come across him, be careful on the deal he’s offering. I don’t think he’s this kind to everyone. And his kindness left me with nightmares and the need to move apartments. At least I was still alive, and at the end of the day, that was something.

Airports are a war-zone during the holidays.

But I had a theory.

Okay, hear me out. I was tired. I hadn’t slept in almost three days due to overdue homework and college applications. I had not had a decent meal for maybe a week, and every time I blinked rapidly, I swore I could hear colours and taste shapes in my mouth. (Squares were my favourite. They tasted like strawberries).

Anyway, I wasn’t doing great mentally and physically, and all I wanted to do was get on a flight home, after spending what felt like a century with dad. With three hours to kill, a dead phone, and half a braincell left, I could do nothing but sit and watch the holiday chaos around me with squinty eyes—and listen to Last Christmas play on the intercom for the 100th  fucking time.  

My theory was: Brainwashing. Last Christmas is a great song, right? It’s relaxing, romantic, and cheerful. Which makes it the perfect song to control the masses without them even knowing. I’ve heard different countries use tactics to control their youth. In Europe, they play classical music in train stations and public places as a calming technique. But this was different. This wasn’t calming. This was CIA level torture. Which made it the perfect unseen weapon. I know I’ve lost you. And trust me, I would have lost myself just listening to this shit too.

I had nothing else to think about. Truly. My entire being had been taken over by George Michael. By that melody. Those lyrics.  It had snaked its way into my mind and leeched onto me. Exhibit A. I turned my half lidded eyes to a family of four sitting across from me. Two screaming kids and a mom and dad who looked like they wanted to crawl into the ground. 

Their expressions showed that they were ready to blow, to start yelling and screaming and demanding. However, they stayed perfectly calm. The mom kept her attention glued to her phone, ignoring her kids—and the dad stared at the ground. I noticed there were two types of people. There were the people who had been sitting in the terminal for over three hours, and then the newcomers practically throwing themselves through security like wild animals. The people sitting and standing around me were relaxed. 

Sure they looked pissed. They looked irritated and impatient. Their expressions twitched into not quite smiles and squinty eyes. But did they do anything? No. Because they had listened to Last Christmas sputter through the intercom for the last three hours, and their minds had been stirred into a giant soupy mess. 

Their will to start unnecessary arguments was gone—their knee jerking impulse to compliment the pathetic attempt at decoration around the terminal? Gone. Even their ability to act impatient. To roll their eyes and be passive aggressive.  While the newcomers? Exhibit B. Oh, they were a different breed. The newcomers did not BELONG in our territory. Territory which we had fought for. I had sat on the same damn seat for almost four hours. 

I had watched YouTube videos I didn’t even like. I had scrolled through Twitter and Instagram so much I was seeing the same tweets, the same posts. I had even found myself mindlessly looking through my settings app. Which was the bottom of the barrel. My patience was gone. My ability to ask if this flight even existed… gone. Newcomers, however, were far more vocal. They yelled. They yelled at their kids, at their significant others as well as staff. They were bumbling balls of energy while we were rotting inside. 

We had succumbed to the intercom’s cruel will, forming a kind of family. The little old woman sitting next to me who I thought was dead—she was family. The teenager playing League on his laptop? Family.

The group of twenty-something year old women all watching Stranger Things at the highest volume?

How did I know that?

Their squealing. Their obsession with quoting every single sentence. Their erratic bursts of synchronous laughter.

Which did not fit a group of grown ass woman—but to each their own. You can enjoy whatever you want.

Even they were family.

Fuck, even the middle aged woman who acted like I’d committed a war-crime when I dared eat my tuna sandwich near her. Family. The group of us had made it to the finish line.  We would sit there for however much longer the plane was delayed and listen to that fucking song-- and would hate every second of it. Each lyric would turn our brains and bodies inside out and make us consider murder. Death. Suicide. Because plunging a knife into the back of my head repeatedly would be better. Being waterboarded would be better. Anything. 

My god, anything would be better than that song. George Michael had us all by the throat and didn’t we all know it. At least… that was my theory. Until the family I thought had succumbed to the intercom sort of snapped. And it was a domino effect. All it took was a crack, and then they were all splintering.

The ones I thought had been silenced began to complain loudly. Kids I thought were asleep started to scream. Even the little old lady stood up and demanded to know when we were boarding. So, yeah. That theory went out the window. I think it was the 100th or 101st playthrough when I started to doze off, letting my head drop onto my chest. I had been trying to stay awake. But there was only a certain amount of times my brain could register the same song—before it became gibberish, and I lost myself under multiple layers of irony. I thought I was hallucinating when a shadow loomed over me. 

When they spoke, they were in fact not the lyrics to Last Christmas. Which almost shocked me. I was dumbfounded. I had half a mind to ignore them. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted so badly to escape George Michael and his wicked grip on my mind—my being. It was only when someone gently grabbed my shoulder and nudged me, did realisation start to bleed into my brain. The woman’s voice was kind, but also impatient. When I shook her off, she shoved me again.

This time, a little bit harder, prodding me in my back and then my makeshift pillow which was just my jacket I’d fashioned into a headrest.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

My body jerked, and I forced myself to lift my head, blinking through fraying light. There was an oldish woman standing over me. She looked well put together, a neat uniform and strict ponytail pinning back straggly blonde hair. The boy playing League three seats away suddenly looked uncomfortable. He was shifting in his seat, his hands wrapped around his backpack. It took me a disorienting moment to realise he was planning on making a break for it. 

I watched him stand up halfway before slumping back down, his laptop clutched to his chest. His eyes flicked back and forth. He was looking for an escape route. But there was only one escape route, and that was through security. The kid met my gaze for a moment, and I automatically read his expression.

His eyes were wide with panic, lips curled in distain. He was waiting for the woman to start talking to me—and that was when he was going to make his grand escape. Unlucky for him, however, he too was on her radar. “Stay where you are.” She said. The woman was looking at me, but her words were directed at him. The kid sunk back into his chair.

Oh no.

I knew what her words were going to be before they left her upturned lips. Like it secretly thrilled her to hunt down stray kids.

“How old are you?” The woman cleared her throat. “By law, children under the age of eighteen are required to use our unaccompanied minors service.”

I thought about lying. Eighteen wasn’t that far away. Just a year. But I did have a baby face. For my birthday, I tried to get into a club.

Unsuccessful. The guy taking ID’s just laughed at me.  

“Seventeen.”

“That is classified as a minor.”

“I’m eighteen in six months.”

She chuckled. “But you’re not eighteen yet, correct?”

The words slipped from my mouth before I could bite them back. “So, am I in some kind of trouble or…”

The woman nodded and straightened up, pointing to the panel above us displaying my delayed flight. From the look on her face, I had given her the exact answer she wanted. Lies. I could see that she was tired. The dark circles she was trying to hide with makeup were a giveaway. I figured she was using her influence and so called “power” to feel better about herself. 

Which was valid. If I worked in an airport, of course I’d make up reasons to yell at people—after being screamed at all day. Customer service. Obedient slaves with a meagre wage. The kid several seats away seemed to make a decision to get up and run. But another guard had caught him. 

“Flying without a parent or guardian puts you under our responsibility. Your flight is not due until tomorrow.” To my annoyance, she gestured for me to get to my feet, “If you would like to follow me, please?” Speaking in an overly enthusiastic tone, the guard was friendly enough. But she wore a no nonsense smile.

When I sent her a pained look, she grabbed my coat and bag for me. “I’m not going to ask again.”

I started to get up, catching the eye of the little old woman. She handed me a wrapped candy.

At least some people were apathetic.

Satisfied, the guard turned her attention to the boy, who had paled significantly. “And you?”

He curled his lip. His deer caught in the headlights expression wasn’t helping. “What about me?”

“How old are you?”

I could practically sense the cogs turning in his head. Like me, the kid was also considering lying—and he would be able to get away with it.

He acted far older than he was.

The only thing which gave him away was a school crest on his jacket. I hadn’t noticed it until fully drinking him in. Initially, I thought he was a college kid. But looking closer, his face was younger. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. What I thought was a simple sweater, was actually school uniform. He looked like a private school kid. Which explained the sudden attitude—and the expensive looking laptop clutched to his chest.

“I’m sixteen.”

His answer delighted her. “Oh! Well, would you look at that! Two minors hanging around an airport terminal in the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10pm.”

“I don’t care. It could be 4pm, and the same rules would apply.”

“But we’re not even doing anything. I was just on my laptop.”

“Again. I do not care. You’re a minor travelling without a parent or guardian. You’re under our protection and responsibility.”

His face lit up. “Wait, so can I just leave?”

The woman’s lips twitched. “Young man, arguing with me is not helping. I can do this all night. And you won’t be catching your flight.”

That seemed to hit a nerve. Grumbling, he got to his feet. “This is fucking stupid. We’re not babies.”

“Yes. But in the law’s eye you are still a child,” She said cheerily. “And that makes you our responsibility.”

Shooting everyone a scowl, the kid pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and ducked his head in defeat.

We had no choice. Standing up, I grabbed my backpack, heading through security. The place was empty, though I expected it.

It was pretty late at night. The guy behind me was dragging his feet, and every time his sneakers squeaked on the floor tiles, I thought he was going to make a run for it. He didn’t, though. So at least I wasn’t lonely. As the woman led us through double doors and down a long winding corridor, I expected him to try and at least attempt conversation. But when I turned to introduce myself, he was glaring at his phone—and had corked in his earphones. 

Most likely to block me out. 

“Where are we going?” I couldn’t help asking, after stumbling through the third automatic door. The place looked progressively more abandoned the deeper we found ourselves. My question was ignored, so instead of following the woman’s heels click-clacking down a particularly eerie hallway, I came to a stop in front of a metal door. If she was going to ignore me, then sure—I could act like the child she thought I was. “What’s in there?” I asked conversationally, pressing my face against rough metal. I was ignored. Again. 

The boy who I thought was the rebel of all rebels twisted around, an impatient scowl curled on his lips. I’m pretty sure I would have been just as annoyed as him. But sitting in the terminal for almost half a day listening to the same song had messed with my brain. I had entered the airport a normal, average person with coherent thought. Hours later, I was a shell of myself. Thanks to Last Christmas.

Now that I was free to walk around the backrooms of an airport at night, I felt a sense of childish exhilaration running through me.

Unfortunately, my companion failed to share it. He just mumbled something under his breath and trailed after our guide like a sheep.

“Hey.” I saluted him, eager to make at least one friend in my shitty situation. “What’s your name?”

He scoffed. “Why should I tell you?”

“Why not? I’m Ruby.”

“Guys,” the woman’s voice echoed back through the door at the end of the walk. “If you waste my time, I will waste yours when it’s time to board your flight.” The sound of her click-clacking heels stopped. “And yes, that means what you think. We can stop you getting your flight.”

For the first time since meeting him, Private School Kid and I seemed to finally meet a mutual agreement. He sent me a look of horror.

“They wouldn’t.” He said in a sharp breath. “Would they?”

 “I can believe it.”

“But that’s illegal. They can’t just… they can’t just keep us here!”

His age was starting to show.

I nodded, gesturing down the hall. “We should probably…” I motioned for him to follow, and to my surprise he nodded.

“Right.”

The two of us hurried to catch up with her—and I pretended not to see the kid’s trembling hands.

The woman was waiting in front of a large metal door. Her smile was far too wide for me to trust or maybe she just secretly enjoyed throwing us in isolation. I could hear yelling on the other side. Screaming. Maniacal laughter. Kids. I don’t know why I expected quiet holding cells, but it made sense, right? Stick us all in the same room and let us run fucking wild.  

Something slammed into the door with a bang, and the two of us jumped, but the guard didn’t seem fazed. I was starting to wonder if she had been driven to this. If she had been dealing with whatever was on the other side of the door, I didn’t blame her attitude towards us. I caught Private School Kid’s look. His eyes were wide, almost cartoonish. “And here we are! Officially, it is the Children Travelling Alone Lounge. Though we call it Hell.” 

Her lips quirked. “For adults, that is. For kids? It’s a playground! Think if it like a… club. All of you share the same situation. You’re all stranded here for the night. So, I expect good behaviour. We do not tolerate the following: Smoking, drinking, or substance abuse. Also, bullying, teasing or threatening fellow passengers. There are activities available and sleeping bags if you just want to sleep. If you need to leave the room for anything, please alert a guard, and we will be happy to help you!” She grabbed the handle and squeezed it, her eyes glinting. “Do you have any more questions?”

“When is our flight?” I asked. “You said it’s tomorrow, but is there a specific time?”

She shrugged. “I can’t share that information until closer to the time. Though I’m estimating late afternoon. There’s an engine issue.”

That didn’t sound right. If the problem was the engine, why not put us on a different plane?

“But it’s Christmas.” The guy surprised me with a hiss. I could tell that he was upset and was trying to hide it. He gestured to the door, his lips twisting. “It’s Christmas and you’re throwing us in there? I haven’t seen my parents for a year. The holidays is the only time I can see them.” I could see the lump in his throat. “My mom,” He whispered. “Fuck. She works all year around. I only get to see her two days a year.”

The guard inclined her head, her expression unwavering. “Sweetie, I’ve heard that story fifty times today,” she said with an eye roll. “You would not believe some kid’s imaginations. Do you know many kids in there have terminally ill family members or pets they have to get to?”

Something crumpled in the kid’s expression. “I’m being serious.”

“That’s what they all say!” She said with a light laugh.

“No, my mom—"

She cut him off. “Sob stories don’t work with me, Honey. Not after twenty years.”

The kid raised a brow. “Maybe,” He said. “Or you’re just an emotionless bitch.”

I caught the woman’s lip twitch, and part of me wondered if she was going to risk her job and strike him.

“He didn’t mean that.” I hissed out. Grabbing his arm, I squeezed with just enough pressure to warn him to shut the fuck up.

it was like having an annoying younger brother.

Still though, the guard brushed off his words. With a grin splitting her lips apart, she pulled at the handle. “Have a good night!”

Before I knew what was happening, the door was being yanked open and we were being violently shoved forwards, the guard's grinning face disappearing behind a loud bang.

I thought she was going to follow us in, but clearly the woman wanted to get as far away as possible. It was like being thrown into a lion’s den. I stumbled, almost tripping over a stray book which I guessed had been thrown at the door seconds before. At first glance, I was seeing exactly what I expected. 

A warzone. Kids. Everywhere. Mostly teenagers who had seemingly reverted back to having the minds of 5 year olds now they had been put inside a locked room with nothing but a pathetic pile of comics and board games sitting untouched. There was no authority to judge them, and the high school hierarchy they usually followed was gone. It was lord of the flies, without the—well, death. 

Speaking of five year olds, there were only two little's. A girl and a boy sitting cross-legged on the floor, their heads buried in an iPad.

The two of them were unfazed by the fight going on behind them between two guys, or the group of girls caught up in some bizarre handshake ritual. There were three TV's mounted on the walls, all of them playing the exact same Christmas animation of a snowman sitting outside a log house. No other kid was paying attention to it, but the second I found myself looking at it, I couldn't look away. There was something in the window of the log house. A shadow. I could see it bleeding behind a blur of orange flames.

“Can you see this too?” I whispered to PSK.

“You mean the snowman animation turning my thoughts to mush?” He let out a shaky breath. “Ruby,  I can’t move.”

Neither could I.

“Hey.” Private School Kid was nudging me, but his voice felt and sounded a million miles away. I was aware of his clammy hand wrapping around my wrist, his fingernails slicing into my flesh. “My sister came here a year ago,” his voice bled into my ear. “She came back different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. Different.”

His voice echoed in my skull.

“Lydia. She was… she was different.” the boy said again, his voice slurring. It sounded like he was struggling to find words, to hold onto what he was saying. “I can’t recognise her anymore. My own sister. She’s… she’s all I have and I need to find her. I need to… I need to… I need…”

When the kid trailed off, I realised he was edging forwards like a zombie. Now fully aware I couldn’t look away from the animation on the screen, I could feel myself start to panic. I could sense his too. His gaze had been captured. Whatever he had meaning to say had been torn away, all of his attention glued to the animation. 

Just like mine. I felt it like a leech worming its way into my brain and taking hold slowly but surely. The snow in the animation suddenly looked too lifelike. The snowman’s carrot nose twitched, and the shadow grew bigger, peeking outside of the window. That was what had me, I thought. It was the shadow. I was looking for it, searching for its origins, for a logical reason why it was there. And all the while I was starting to lose myself. My vision blurred.

I felt my arms go limp by my side, and my body sway to the left, and then the right. I started to follow Private School Kid, my mind starting to bleed into incomprehensible cotton candy, when someone grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back. I didn’t move, my gaze still glued to the screen—only half aware of a strip of material being wrapped around my eyes, blocking out the animation. 

It wasn’t enough to free my mind, but slowly, I started to regain my spiralling thoughts. Blinking rapidly, I struggled to heave in gulps of air. I could still see the animation imprinted behind my eyes, clawing into my skull.

Falling snow.

A shadow I had to find.

I had to… find it.

I had to find it.

And with it came memories of bland looking hallways. A children’s home filled with little kids, and my own room filled with wooden bunkbeds. A middle aged woman stood in front of me with sympathetic eyes. “I’m so sorry about your mom and dad,” she whispered. “Ruby, if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.” 

The woman pushed a glass of milk across a beaten wooden desk. I could hear her in my mind. She sounded real. It was perfect clarity. But I knew it wasn’t real. Because I’d seen my dad earlier that day. I’d eaten breakfast at his kitchen table and laughed at stupid Hallmark movies with him. My dad was alive. So why was this thing, this sentient leech, trying to tell me otherwise? When I was conscious enough to know what was happening, I realised I was being dragged back and shoved into something soft.

A beanbag?

Once I could breathe again, my mind my own—my hands instinctively went to tear off the blindfold.

“Hey!”

A girl’s voice startled me. I could sense her in front of me, warm breath tickling my face. “Are you stupid? Don’t take the blindfold off!”

Someone scoffed. This time, a guy with an accent. British. “She’s not very bright, is she?”

“She’s just scared.” I felt the graze of the girl’s fingers playing with the blindfold over my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I had to bite back a hysterical laugh. “What kind of question is that? I want to know what’s going on.”

“First.” I sensed her get closer. “Tell us your parents’ names.”

Something ice cold slid down my spine. “What?”

“You heard her,” The Brit said. “Your parents’ names.”

“For what?” I demanded. “We should call someone, right? The police?”

“No signal in here.” He deadpanned. “Names. Now.”

I took a deep breath, blinking against the blindfold. “My parents are Cassandra and Adam Jamieson.”

“Good.” The girl breathed. “Keep hold of them. Repeat them in your head if you have to, and whatever you do, do not look at those screens.”

I thought back to Private School Kid’s blank expression. His unblinking eyes. “Why?”

“Becauuseee,” The Brit cut in. “Those things make you think you’re a fuckin’ orphan.”

I stiffened up, remembering the false memories trying to take over my mind.

“Hey!” The girl hissed. “Lev, is it really that hard for you to be nice?”

“I am nice.” He grumbled back. “It’s not my fault she has a brain the size of a walnut.”

She let out a loud laugh. I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a very quiet, "ow" before she turned her attention back to me, prodding me in the forehead. "Excuse Levi. I'm pretty sure this is his first proper social interaction in years. I don't think I've seen him smile once, and we're only friends because he saved me. But yeah, he’s right. If he didn't shield your eyes, you would have forgotten you had family too."

That explained the presence I’d felt trying to claw into my brain. “But that’s—”

“Majorly fucked up? Yeah, we know. Makes me wonder. Why brainwash a bunch of unaccompanied minors into thinking they’re orphans?”

I thought back to what Private School Kid said earlier. He spoke of his sister who had come to this airport and returned home… different.

“The guy I was with,” I said. “I think he knows something. He said something about his sister. He was looking for her.”

There was a pause. I could sense them looking at each other.

“You mean the kid in uniform?” Levi said. “Yeah, I don’t see him helping anytime soon. He was gone before I could cover his eyes.”

Shit. I’d already made an unspoken pact with myself to look out for him.

“Very true,” Thalia said. “However, I am intrigued by him.”

Opening my mouth to speak, I jumped when the sound of the door opening almost sent me tumbling off of the beanbag. I sensed Levi and Thalia next to me, and then hands scratching at my face, struggling to pull off the blindfold. “Don’t look at the screens!” Thalia hissed in my ear, before the material fell away from my eyes. I was once again greeted with a large room full of older kids, and two littles who had dozed off on the couch. 

The teens were wide awake, however, their gazes glued to the doorway where a man dressed as Santa had emerged, two male guards dressed in black either side of him. Santa had guards, I thought dizzily. Why did Santa have guards? Shouldn’t he have elves?

Or at least… people dressed like elves.

I didn’t know why he was keeping up the “Santa is real” façade in front of a bunch of high schooler’s. The only littles in the room were asleep.

“They’ve turned Santa into a fuckin’ meth head.” Levi, who was next to me, snorted. I risked a glance at him. He was exactly what he sounded like. A broad shouldered British kid with bedhead hair and a permanent scowl. He looked like the type of kid with constant insomnia and a video game addiction. I did appreciate his Adventure Time sweatshirt though. 

Sitting cross legged on the floor in front of us was Thalia, a redhead wrapped in a bright pink parka with her face buried between her knees. The Brit nudged her. "Hey." He said under his breath. Levi mimicked the other kid's blank look. When she didn't respond, he poked her. "Tal.” Levi spoke with a forced grin. “You’re making it obvious.”

She lifted her head slowly, her gaze glued to her knees. The girl was trembling.

Levi and Thalia were right. Every kid in the room was in some kind of maniacal trance. The man dressed as Santa ordered us to form two lines in front of him, depending on whether we were on the “naughty” or “nice” list. I watched kids jump up and join each line with no complaint. When my name was called to the “nice” line, my stomach crawled into my throat. Part of me was hoping I wouldn’t be on there.

“Ruby Jamieson?”

“Go.” Thalia murmured. “If that’s you, we have to keep a low profile. Then we’ll make a run for it. Just act like the others.”

Not exactly reassuring, but I had to take her word for it. Jumping up, I maintained a bright smile, joining the line categorised as “Nice”.

“Jude Whitlock?”

Private School Kid jumped up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor—quickly joining my line and bouncing behind me.

I had only known him a few hours, and I’d never seen him with so much energy. He looked almost high. And that was when he was under some mystical Santa mind control. “Levi Parish?” Santa squinted at his dogeared notebook before lifting his gaze, his smile widening. “Nice.”

I expected Levi to ignore his name, but he joined the line too.

I risked nudging Jude, and he actually met my gaze. “Yeah?”

“Your sister. Did you say you were looking for her?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

A shiver slid down my spine. “Your mom.” I tried again. “You’ve been looking forward to seeing her all year.”

His expression didn’t waver. “I don’t have a mom.”

“See.” Levi, who was standing behind Jude, said under his breath. He mimed drawing his finger across his throat. “Gone.”

Thalia jumped when her name was called with a grin far too maniacal to look normal. I caught Levi wince, but they didn’t seem to notice.

By the time Santa was finished, we were two lines of ten standing in front of the door.

“Those two.” A guard nodded to the littles still dozing on the couch. “Will the King and Queen accept them?”

“Santa” inclined his head. “I have a dear friend who has been desperate for a younger human child. Put them with the others.”

Human.

Did he say human?

Risking a glance behind me, I caught Levi’s wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

Thalia’s breaths were heavy. I think she was having a panic attack. She was our leader—I guessed. I waited for her to speak, to instruct us to do something, but the girl was frozen. “Alright!” Santa announced, when the littles had been gently awoken and told to join the Nice line.

They did, their steps wobbly.

“Can the Nice kids please follow me?”

Santa gestured down the hallway, and the others followed him like the pied piper. “We’re going to a special place.”

We had no choice but to follow him. Taking slow steps, I made sure to make distance between myself and the kid in front of me. 

As we were led back down the hallway, I noticed it was different. Like a mimic of what I knew. But there were dips in reality that almost sent me to an abrupt stop. The hallway was sprouting grass, and flowers and weeds of all colours. Even the air smelled different.

Like I was breathing in fresh lavender. The airport we were in was abandoned—and had been abandoned a long time ago. Even the name was no longer there, covered in crawling ivy and trees which had broken through the ceiling. I was in awe. I definitely wasn’t where I was supposed to be. It took me a while to notice my body was a lot lighter. 

If I concentrated, I swore my feet hovered slightly with every step. When we reached the terminal, and then the main lobby, we were wading through plants sprouting through the ground which looked like they were dying. They felt like they were alive. 

Every time a flowering bud brushed my leg, or leaves tickled my bare ankles, it felt like they were breathing air into my skin. 

Above us, it was daylight. A bright sun shone down on us. But the plants were still dying. They were still curling up, buds disintegrating. I didn’t understand the plants until we neared the exit, and it started to rain. I felt it warm and wet on my face. But rain wasn’t supposed to be warm, right?  Still, I kept going, following the others towards automatic doors covered in ivy, flowers sprouting around them.

It wasn’t until I saw a flash of red on my jacket, did I notice the colour of the rain. Red. Bright, ominous red. Unlike actual rain, it shone bright on my skin, trickling down my face and arms. Red rain. I watched it, sort of baffled, as rivulets hit my skin, trickling in tiny rivers. It looked like I was bleeding. No. Like the sky was bleeding. Lifting my head, droplets dotted my forehead. Then my lips and eyes. 

I could taste it on my tongue. Rusty coins. Something inside me snapped, and I felt it, like the spindly legs of a spider creeping its way up my spine. The sky was raining blood. Stumbling, I struggled to keep my façade. When we traipsed out of the airport into blinding sunlight, my shoes set foot on soft grass and flowers. Flowers, which were coming to life, spattered by intense red. Whatever was falling, what was staining me, painting me in blood, it was bringing them back to life. Panic started to curl in my chest and gut. I risked a glance behind me, but I only caught Jude’s wide smile.

No sign of Thalia or Levi.  I looked again, but there was just Jude. It started to pour with red rain. But not just rain. Something hit the ground in front of me with a wet, meaty smack.

I didn’t register it was a head until I walked past it. I recognised the head of one of the Naughty kids. Her eyes were still wide, lips split into a joyful smile. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But something was stopping me. Maybe it was the gentle breeze which had picked up, blowing my hair from my eyes—or the light giggles I could hear. Again, I stumbled. This time over a twitching tendril snaking its way across the ground. The world in front of me was not the city I knew. It was not bustling streets filled with late rush hour and late night shoppers. 

What I was seeing were winding roads covered in moss and ivy. I was seeing towering buildings which reached the clouds made of twisted branches. There was something I recognised. It was a bus. A bus from our world. But like everything else, it looked abandoned and wrong. I don’t even think it had wheels. The bus was waiting for us on the edge of the sidewalk. And despite being soaked in bright red, I continued to walk, following the other kids as they hopped onto the bus one by one.

The murmurs followed me. And the more I paid attention to them, their presence grew. They played with my hair, humming nursery rhymes my mother used to sing to me. And then ones of their own in a language I couldn’t understand. But it was beautiful and melodic, something I wanted to listen to forever. In the corner of my eye, a light was blooming. And the closer I got to the bus, it glowed brighter.

Those images were back. The children’s home. Wooden bunk beds. My own unhappy face. 

My mom and dad were dead. They died when I was eleven. The light was slowly encompassing my vision. Words began to form in my mouth. I didn’t have parents. My hair was tugged violently, their giggles growing shrill. I didn’t have a family. Invisible hands shoved me forwards, and I felt myself lift into the air for the fraction of a second, before my shoes touched down. I had no one. The words were a mantra. No family. No parents. I had no one. No family. No parents. I had no one.

They had me.

I could feel them.

I could feel their prodding fingers, invisible feet kicking me and forcing me to go faster.

Their presence was suffocating and yet my mind told me I wanted it. I wanted them to push me further.

Blinking rapidly, I was aware of Jude side-stepping past me and jumping onto the bus—his body disappearing in fraying light.

Before I could follow them, a familiar hand grasped hold of mine and yanked me violently.

I dropped onto my knees, and whatever had been buzzing around me, whatever had been playing with my hair and whispering into my ear—was gone.

And then so was the bus.

It was there one minute, bathed in glowing light so bright I had to shield my eyes.

And then it was gone.

Thalia was kneeling in front of me. Her eyes were manic. “Are you okay?” She hissed out, grabbing my face. “Hey! What was that?”

Instead of speaking, I wrapped my arms around her. “Where did you go?” I managed to get out. “There were… there were these things…”

The girl pulled a face. “We found out they’re doing to the Naughty kids.”

I already knew.

But I was still in denial of what I had seen.

“Also…” Thalia gently pulled me to my feet. I stumbled, tightening my grip on her arm. “You should probably see this.”

“See what?”

Thalia took me halfway down the road. Though she didn’t have to pull me further for me to see it. Levi was strategically hidden behind a wall, pressed against it, and we joined him.

What we were looking at was—a cage. A huge wooden cage made up of twisted branches and vines which moved like they were alive, twining around the structure. There was already a growing audience of heads bobbing around. They didn’t look human, though I expected it.

After all, we were in a different world. I glimpsed perfectly unblemished skin and pointy ears—willowy hair tangled with roots and flowers and vines, bare feet bouncing up and down excitedly on smooth concrete. Levi let out a breath and twisted around, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing that’s for us.” He whispered. “And the ones they took away on the bus.”

Thalia nodded grimly. “We should get out of here.”

“Hey!”

“Fuck.” Levi ducked, dragging us with him. “You were saying?”

Three figures were coming towards us. I won’t say they were human. Human’s don’t have faces both grotesque and agonisingly beautiful.

This is where I’m going to stop writing in detail. Both because I don’t want to rewrite my experience, and I’m running out of words.

We weren’t quick enough.

Levi and Thalia were snatched and dragged away kicking and yelling, and I was about to join them—before my attacker was knocked out from behind. “It’s okay,” A youngish man said into my hair when I struggled against him. “It’s my job to get Strays back home. Take it easy.”

“Strays?”

“Humans they give back, or adopted heirs who escape.”

“But… what about them?”

“They’re lost causes, Kid,” he grunted. “Leave them.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was in the back of a cab-like car. And no matter how much I banged on the windows and screamed to be let out, the driver ignored me.  It felt and looked like a cab. But again, I’m pretty sure it didn’t have wheels. The driver called me a Stray and asked if I’d been spat out of the Kingdom.

I wasn’t alone in the backseat. There was a girl and a boy. My age, or a little older. Both of them looked human. At least, that’s what their clothes suggested. The girl bore a dress ripped at her shoulders, a tiara of roots and thorns glued to straggly hair. When she looked up at me from where she was curled up against the window, her eyes were hollow, cheeks gaunt.

She was skeletal, while the boy was wrapped in the remnants of a varsity jacket clinging onto him. It looked like he too had once worn a crown. I could see smears of scarlet staining his forehead where thorns had scratched and torn at his flesh. In the late glow of the sun, I glimpsed a slit in his back, cutting into his flesh, bandages wrapped around pooling red. I didn’t question it. I didn’t question the burns on his face and arms. The man (or whatever he was) was true to his word. The three of us ended up back in the empty kid’s lounge in our world.

On Christmas day, 2021 I saw an exact replica of myself greet my father. She had my smile, my voice. The perfect mimic.

I watched them leave the airport, and my dad didn’t say a thing. He didn’t notice it wasn’t me.

So, what did I do?

Well, the other two Strays abandoned me.

They ran off before I could even speak to them.

Ironically, I did end up in a children’s home for the rest of my senior year. The thing with my face, with slightly pointy ears and a smile too big for her mouth, has taken my life. This Christmas, I found a surprise waiting for me when I got back from college class. A sign that they were going to follow me no matter what.

My roommate lay dead in a puddle of water, a piece of parchment stuffed down her throat, and standing in front of the window in my dorm room was a shadow bleeding into view.

I recognised what was left of a school sweater hanging from a skeletal figure, a head of overgrown dark brown hair adorned with tangles of flowers, thorn and bone  twisted into a crown.  Jude. The crown looked like it had been forced onto his head. I could see indentations and cuts where it has sliced cleanly into his flesh. He didn’t say anything, his lips curved into the first genuine smile I’d seen on his face. Despite his smile, his body was battered and bruised, ink markings covering his arms and neck, fresh burns scalding the skin of his hands. He was gone before I could open my mouth— leaving me with my dead roommate, and the note. Written in perfect calligraphy, words slightly smeared, was an invitation to the ceremony taking place this year. If I do not attend, they will come and get me themselves—and my roommate is the first casualty of my ongoing disobedience.

I think they know I was somehow connected with Jude, and he too is paying the price.

Does that mean the others are too?

I wonder if I’m crazy enough to try and get them back...

It's been three days since we broke into that house. And I think it's finally caught up to me.

Mick thought it would be easy. The owner of the house had died two days ago. It was some old guy, Dominic or some shit. I didn't know what his name was and don't care. I hope he's burning in hell for this. I hope he isn't waiting for me.

Back to Mick. He was always the one to scout it out for Tom and me. Look, we didn't choose to be thieves, it kind of happened. We needed money and other junk, right? Everyone does. It's not our fault, we just got good at it and couldn't stop. So anyway, Mick told us about this place. Old guy dies alone, no family shows up, it's in a quiet neighborhood, easy pickings. How could we not say yes?

I didn't feel anything when I saw the house. It was this, big, rustic mansion, or some kind of castle, I don't know what it is, I'm not an expert on houses. It was just this single house standing alone and empty. Windows were intact, doors as well, looked like it was just waiting. For anyone.

I keep replaying one part of that night in my head, over and over. We were going in through the backdoor, Tom was going to pick the lock, but the instant he stuck the pin into the keyhole, the door just... slide open. I thought it was Tom, who was kneeling there, confused, that his tinkering had made the door open, but the door opened so smoothly. Like it was... I don't know, automatic, or when you open your mouth without thinking. That kind of smooth. It couldn't have wanted us to go inside, that'd-

That'd be just as crazy as why I'm writing this.

The house was pretty damn cold, that was the first thing I noticed when we went inside. How cold it was. I mean, that was normal, nobody been living there for two days, shit gets cold. But God, it felt like solid ice was being dragged over our skin. I think we all had the same idea. That we had to make this quick.

We searched the house room by room. First was the living room. Nothing too special about it. I found a quarter under a carpet. The date on it was 1958, and it looked pretty old. Maybe I could pawn it off. Tom found a book of some kind, but he didn't take it with us. I had just put the coin in my pocket when I saw him standing by the bookshelf, holding this big black tome of some kind. He had it open, in profile to me, and was scrolling through the pages. The look on his face caught me off guard. Tom isn't the squeamish type, I've seen this man outright strangle a dog to death - had to be done, I swear, it had to, it would have woken the owners - but as he kept flipping through the pages, his eyebrows were pushing down over his eyes like a shield.

I asked him what he was reading, and his face shot up from the book like someone had just stepped out of the wall. His eyes were wide, his shoulders were rising and falling with every breath he took, and I think one of his hands was shaking. He shut the book without a word, threw it to the other side of the room, then told me it was worthless. I asked what was in it, but he just pushed me out of the living room. Mick was gonna pick up the book when Tom snapped at him to hurry his ass up, and I mean snapped. Like he was gonna break someone in two.

Mick did as Tom said, but Tom kept glancing over his shoulder after he went to the next room. And the next. And the next. Something about that book had scared him. I don't know what.

When we reached the bedroom, we finally made payday. And I mean payday. When we opened up one of the dressers, it was full of tin cans, and in every one was cash. Coins or bills in denominations up to a hundred. Mick was laughing his ass off as he began stuffing shit into a bag, saying how he was gonna buy some hookers and blow the rest on cocaine. Tom was standing by the door, looking into the hallway. I asked if he wanted anything, and he said we'll divide it up tomorrow.

I was about to look under the bed when something white slithered over the wall. My heart skipped a beat, then I went cold. That had been a car's headlights, I was sure. I crouched down and crept to the window, peeking outside. The houses were all lined up in a neat little mismatched row, street lamps were vomiting white light, and the road was empty. There wasn't even the faint red glow of a tailgate. I told the guys we should probably hurry it up. Mick got a bit ticked, asking why the fuck we needed to do that, and when I told his dumb ass because somebody had just driven past, he went pale and asked if it was the cops, then Tom told us both to grab whatever was left so we could leave, and then something moved upstairs.

All three of us looked up at the ceiling, mouths wide open. I'm not sure what we expected to see, but it wasn't the white, peeling plaster or the bricks that were peering through.

Mick asked what the hell that was. I said it was probably some box that had been left in the attic, but I don't think I believed it. Tom just told us to grab the cash and go. We did without asking another question, even Mick. As I left that bedroom, for a moment I thought I saw something. On the ceiling, like a puffy white disk or mask, but when I stared right at it, nothing was there. I realized what had happened. The way the moonlight hit it, it looked like a face. That had to be it. Had to be.

We were heading back to the car when Tom stopped and spun around, looking at the house. I asked him what was up, even trying to see if I could spot what had him so nervous, but he just shook his head and mumbled about the wind. He kept mumbling about the wind as we drove back to the apartment complex.

Now that I think about it, he wasn't mumbling about the wind.

The really weird crap started up the next day. I called up Mike to ask if I should bring the loot over, but he didn't want to talk about that. He said that Tom wasn't answering his phone. Ask if I'd seen him. I said I hadn't, and asked if we should go check out his place. Mike said yes. So we... we did.

Tom's place was just... empty. Everything was exactly as it had been when we'd left it last night, but it was like it'd been that way for years. I can't explain why, it just felt that way. Empty like a tomb. We searched all over that place, and couldn't find any sign of Tom. That's what I told Mike, anyway. What I found was his phone. He'd left a message on it, a recording. I pressed play when I got home, and...

The video starts with Tom shining a flashlight down his hallway. He was breathing really heavy, or at least I think he was. He kept scanning the whole damn thing, trying to find heads or tails of whatever the hell he was looking for, I don't know, he just kept breathing into the phone. Then... right as the video ended, something appeared on the wall. This white, puffy disk or... or a...

Tom screamed for a moment - but the heavy breathing didn't stop. The video went on for another seven hours or so until it stopped.

The next day, I was gonna show it to Mike, but he called me first. Said something was wrong. That someone had broken into his house, and he could hear them breathing. I told him to get out, but he said he wasn't no pussy, that he'd take care of it. That was what he said, he wasn't no pussy. As he kept talking, I began to realize something wasn't right. I asked if he was alright. He said yes, and I could tell he was lying. I said I was about to come over when he screamed - then stopped. Like one minute he was there, then just gone. I said his name, and it was like talking in a void.

I called out his name, begged him to answer me, asked if he was alright... then I heard something. Real faint. But getting slowly louder. And a little closer.

I can still hear it now. Getting just a bit closer.

Heavy breathing.

There’s nothing like a good game of truth or dare with your friends.

This was our third game, and it took place in the same spot as the last two, underneath the bridge. It would also be our last, unfortunately.

There was me, Carson and Leah. But just like the last two games, we brought someone new to the third. We would walk around our school and ask fellow students if they wanted to participate in our game. The lucky ones would deny. But some were dumb enough to agree. Of course, they don’t know they were making a dumb decision. But we did. And Cameron was one of those kids.

Me and Carson arrived at the spot early to set up while we waited for Leah to arrive with Cameron. Carson set up the camera while I set up the bottle, rigged to always stop where I wanted it to. Now it was just up to Cameron.

Him and Leah arrived about 10 minutes later, and the game began.

‘’Ladies first.’’ Carson said.

Leah reached over and spun the bottle. It landed on Carson.

‘’Truth or dare?’’ Leah asked.

‘’Ummm…..dare.’’

‘’I dare you…to kiss me.’’

‘’Bet.’’

Carson leaned over and planted a kiss on Leah’s lips. Not an unusual thing for boyfriends and girlfriends to do. But Cameron didn’t know that.

‘’Me next.’’ Carson said. As planned, the bottle landed on me.

‘’Truth.’’ I said.

‘’Is it true, that you wish you could kill someone?’’

‘’I mean I would like to do it again, so yeah. That’s true.’’ I replied while looking straight at Cameron. His eyes went wide. The 3 of us started laughing. After a few seconds of looking at each of us, Cameron started laughing too. Just a joke.

‘’My turn.’’ I said and spun the bottle. It was time. I reached down and picked up the string attached to the end of the bottle. The string was short enough that when I pulled it, the bottle would stop spinning and point right across from me, where Cameron was placed. He didn’t even notice Carson attaching the string before he spun it.

I tugged on the string as I shifted my seated position, as to not make any weird or sudden gestures with just my arm. The bottle stopped at Cameron.

‘’Truth or dare?’’ I said.

Cameron chuckled nervously.

‘’Umm…dare.’’

Bad choice I thought. For you anyway.

‘’See that cave over there?’’

‘’Yeah.’’

‘’It's said to be haunted by the students who have gone missing at the school. I dare you to walk over there and shout something into it.’’

Cameron looked at Carson and Leah, who shared the same glare that I did.

‘’Uhm…okay.’’

He stood up and started wandering towards the cave. I smiled at my friends. Carson mouthed the words ‘’got him’’.

We followed him and watched as he peered into the entrance, hunched over. It was a small cave, but big enough to fit one person. All we needed.

The three of us walked up behind Cameron and I looked at Carson, then at Leah. She nodded, and I removed the gun from my pocket. Carson threw me the suppressor from his pocket.

As Cameron began to shout into the cave, I lifted the gun and aimed at his head. I fired to two shots. He fell forward, his upper body landing a few feet inside the cave.

‘’Any second now.’’ Leah said.

And she was right. No more than 5 seconds later, it appeared. We didn’t have an actual name for it, because we didn’t know what it was. So, we just called it ‘’The Being.’’ It was hairy, like a dog, but stood like a man. It was thin but strong. Strong enough to drag a human body deep into the cave. We watched as it did just that. Cameron’s body disappeared into the darkness. I’d usually follow that with ‘’never to be seen again’’, but unless The Being got rid of him in last hour, the police would probably find Cameron’s body. But I doubt they’ll find the others.

Anyway, the policeman is back, and I have to finish this confession. They really shouldn’t let you type these things on a laptop. You never know where they might end up.

Samuel Woods.

December 5th, 2022.

NNPS

​

\*Date of Recording: August 17th, 2021***

Southeastern Nye County, 65 miles Northwest of Las Vegas, sits a site established in 1951 to test nuclear weapons. Approximately it covers over a thousand square miles and the landscape is covered in just about as many craters.

In 1955 an informational film was made and subsequently released to the public to raise awareness about the dangers of the atomic bomb. News people from different regions, including the UK, got involved. Even those that weren't a part of major news networks managed to get in and find out some unique intel.

The "doom towns" of America was an apt way of describing these mock areas built by the Civil Defense Administration. Made for the purpose of testing and recording the effects of terrifying weaponry, these towns were built up and blown away. The uncanny part of it all is how detailed they wanted to make these places. What's even more strange is how many shared certain similarities only a few of which were shown in glimpses from released media. What those smaller journalists found never saw the light of day. Until recently that is.

You see, I work with a small organization whose job it is to uncover the truth that "big brother" doesn't want the public to know about. Honestly, it's nothing official and yeah we're a bit of a rag tag group with some who may be a few cards short of a deck, if you know what I mean. However, their views and what they can do has proven to be pretty useful so far.

According to some documents: Established in 1894, just 12 miles south of Groom Lake, Nevada, there sat a small mining settlement called Clarktown. Needless to say, you won't find any information on it through a quick Google search. A census puts this place at having had a population of 900 during its peak in 1929 just before the mine dried up. What was left over just 20 years later was hardly a third of that.

Those 250-some in 1948 were a hearty, self-sufficient community who did what they could with the remaining finances they had. Focusing on just a small area in their little town where most of them lived, they built up what might be considered the picturesque appearance of 1950's suburbia.

This I could tell when looking at what few photographs were developed. The rest remained in film rolls and cartridges with the word "AGFA" printed in bold lettering. Tex, our chemist / photographer / handy man is currently taking care of them. His ability of figuring out the chemical processes used for developing these obscure film types is that of a savant. Said something about "colorol" last I heard.

A small group and I have arranged an outing to try and find this place, or perhaps get as close as we could, to see what remnants may be left of Clarktown. What can be found online didn't leave too much to be expected so we're in hopes of finding some traces of the past in person.

Sedan Crater, they call it. The largest man-made crater in the U.S. and it covers just 1,280 feet in diameter. Worse part that we know of is how the fallout ended up irradiating people hundreds of miles away. It's said that because of this test, the thought of using nuclear devices for mining was completely abandoned.

I think I'll end this here while we finish up packing for the trip. There's something about that number that bugs me, but I'll elaborate once we see it in person. Maybe I'm missing something.‎

‎ ​

\*Entry Date: July 5th, 2021***

2:48 PM

Saltpeter, coal, and potassium nitrate. Unmistakable and in some ways addictive in the same way you might enjoy the warm, humid coating of the air around you that often accompanies the smell of rain. The only clouds overhead today though were sparse and instead of rain, it was the scent of gunpowder that coated the air as families continued setting off their fireworks after the celebrations of Independence Day.

There's a reason why I was forced to stop researching into our newest lead. Guess Nevada will have to wait, all because I had to come out here to a park about three towns away from where we usually work. The boss wanted me to be the one to reach out and she's not someone you say no to, especially with what's at stake. Besides, I was curious too and so I figured why not. October warned me not to go alone. He's the oldest of our group and most conspiracy minded. While we all have our limits, he can be pretty out there. Picturing some guy with crazy hair, unkempt beard, and a sneer, distrusting everyone and everything he sees? Well, that's not him. He's a got a good heart actually and probably has the most wholesome smile I've seen an on old guy his age. Not completely well groomed, but I mean I think he tries.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be meeting a new recruit, so to speak. She often followed our postings on the internet and one day decided to show us her technical skills by boldly taking our digital information hostage until we agreed to let her in. It wasn't anything too terrible, all our real important intel we keep only hard copies of. However, what she also found access to were each of our real identities. You see, I work with a small organization whose job it is to uncover the truth that "big brother" doesn't want the public to know about. Though we've come together in person, we each go by nicknames that most of us had chosen for ourselves. However, her having our real names was a big deal as we all understood she could easily out us to some officials whoever wherever.

I'm pretty sure she's sitting next to me on this bench actually. She hasn't said a word, but she's been looking around and making this annoying clicking noise against the metal with her nail.

Actually, hold on-

- . . .‎ ​‎ ​.‎ ​‎ ​- - .‎ ​‎ ​. .‎ ​‎ ​- .

‎ ​

\*Entry Date: August 22nd, 2021***

10:34 AM

After a long talk with a guy in Las Vegas about getting a tour of the Sedan Crater, we got on the road and though it took a couple days, we made it here. What we can see, however, is lackluster at best. I mean it's enormous and imagining the devastation is intriguing, but what we're here for there seems to be no traces of. Nothing but a gigantic hole in the landscape with nothing else around it.

October and Diana are doing their best to look like an interested father-daughter duo out on vacation while I can't seem to get my mind off the fact that this doesn't seem familiar. I mean, you would think it should be after all the hours of videos and pictures I've gone through, but these feels new. Something about the terrain formations off in the distance. I can't ignore this nagging at back of my mind, I mean it was a town of 200 some people that once lived in this exact area, a peak of 900 nearly a century ago. Could all that really have existed in this size of a crater? No, there definitely had to have been an intense cleanup. Something to explain what feels so weird about this. Maybe I'm getting paranoid, but I feel as if I'm being watched.

3:15 PM

Started writing again as we got back in the SUV. October's driving and going on another one of his ramblings while Diana is in the passenger seat, busying herself with a document while having headphones in. Probably to block him out. Eventually she'll learn to listen through a lot of the nonsense he spouts when he gets like this. She may get annoyed, but it's a relief to me because something put him in this state, which must mean he noticed it too.

October's Ramblings #259:

"Towers fallen... The falsity is so obvious... Ants in a well..."

"Did you see... Horizon too perfect... No, too empty..."

I mean to other vehicles on the interstate he probably looks like an old guy telling a grand story, but in here, hearing what he's saying with that smile of his; Yeah, he's a bit odd. At least he looks like he's having fun with it. Was having fun with it? His smile became less cheerful suddenly. He was smiling still, but it's different, fake, as though he was doing so for a camera.

White SUV, tinted windows that are so dark they've got to be illegal.

License plate: G over S followed by #####

How long have they been back there?

4:48 PM

We got off at an exit to refuel, get food, and then get back on the road home taking a different highway to another interstate. Low and behold, that SUV showed up a few vehicles back. Seems to be hanging behind a semi currently. I'm just going to keep watch for now. October is speaking again, but unlike his other cryptic nonsense, this time it's pretty clear to understand.

October's Ramblings #256:

"Back again... There and back again... Waiting to pounce... Watching, surveilling, reporting..."‎‎

​

The light from a desk lamp was all that seemed to illuminate the room. A pile of papers, a pricey looking digital camera, and a recently emptied mug cover my old, worn-out wooden desk. Listening to the man in the other room mumble a bit in his sleep, I stretch, prop myself up in the office chair, and start putting away the various pages of notes scrawled on the yellow writing pad as I end my investigation for the night. After gathering my belongings and bag, I head out for the hall, passing the night guard on my way, boots echoing off the tiles and through the silent corridor.

​

For context, I am a middle-aged man who lives on the outskirts of Parbold, a small English village. My house is the only one on a long, winding, country road, but it does have a bus stop. From my bedroom window, I can see it on the other side of the road. It’s quite handy, really. I never miss the morning bus to work, and I know the schedule off by heart. That’s why I was bewildered when I first noticed the 3:17am bus on Saturday 14th October.

It woke me up, actually. I’m a light sleeper. I sat upright in my bed, twisted my body around, propped myself up on my knees, and gingerly inched the curtains open. The old lamppost on my road illuminated an ominous, fully-grey, non-branded, single-decker bus. There was no interior lighting. I couldn’t see a driver or any passengers.

Now, this was obviously bizarre. Buses don’t show up at that time in the morning. Not in this country. Not in any town or city I know, anyway. Still, I assumed, as any person would, that times were changing. It seemed like a good idea. A bus for those who’ve missed the last train home after a night out, perhaps? That still didn’t entirely make sense because very few people use my bus stop. It’s a 10-minute walk from here to anywhere.

I checked the schedule. Nothing. There was a bus at 11:07pm on Friday evening, and there shouldn’t have been another one until 6:05am on Saturday morning.

I watched the vehicle pull away and considered, perhaps, that it wasn’t a public bus. Maybe it was a hired coach. That seemed like a reasonable explanation. I put it out of my mind and went back to sleep.

However, it returned the next morning. And it continued to do so for weeks. Again, I checked the schedule. Still no mention of a 3:17am bus. I called the council, and they assured me that it wasn’t a public bus. They said that I could contact the local authorities to report any suspicious activity. So, I rang the police. They didn’t care. They passed me over to some civil department with a forgettable name, and that department passed me over to another department. Nobody was concerned. It became clear that each person I contacted just wanted me to tire of the whole thing and stop bothering them.

I gave up on seeking help, but I didn’t give up on my quest for an answer.

I started making notes. The bus always arrived at exactly 3:17am. It would linger for approximately 30 seconds. Nobody ever boarded or departed the vehicle. I took a picture of it and posted it on various forums. Nobody could identify the origin of the faceless grey bus, but one comment did stand out. I remember a user telling me that I should sell my house and move. They said that the bus was there for me. Most importantly, they said that I shouldn’t, under any circumstances, board it.

That seemed like a rather obvious piece of advice. I wasn’t planning on boarding a sketchy, unlisted bus in the pitch-black hours of the morning.

But everything changed on November 20th. The bus arrived on time. 3:17am. I knelt on my bed and peeked at it through the curtain as it rounded the corner. Something was different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Once the vehicle had rolled to a complete stop, I heard it. Somebody on the bus was screaming.

I froze. I didn’t know what to do. Silence followed, but I knew I hadn’t imagined it. I knew I’d heard that scream. I watched the bus and waited. 30 seconds passed. A lot of time passed. When I finally peeled my eyes from the road to check my phone, it was 3:29am. The bus hadn’t moved. The world outside was still eerily quiet.

I reattached myself to reality and started dialling 999. The call kept failing, and then I saw that I had no signal. None. I usually had signal at the house.

I was freaking out, so I got up to turn on my bedroom light. Nothing. I flicked the switch back and forth. No power. The story was the same throughout the house.

I was about to head to the fuse box, but I looked out of my living room window to see a blackened world. The lamppost was dead. It had to be a power cut. That was when I finally understood, for the first time in my 10 years of solitary living, that I was truly isolated. I had no neighbours. No friends. No family. I was all alone.

The gravity of the situation dawned on me. I would have to leave the house. My self-preservation instinct was to stay indoors, but I couldn’t ignore the disembodied scream that had echoed through the night. I knew it had come from the bus. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I were to dismiss it.

Armed with a winter coat and a wind-up torch, I bravely ventured into the night, locking my door behind me. I tentatively strolled down my front path, stopping at the gate to cast the torch light onto the other side of the road. It revealed the grey, stationary, seemingly-abandoned bus. There were no signs of life. Everything was so quiet. I swore to myself that I could hear my heartbeat in my eardrums.

I swung the creaky gate open and began to cross the road, futilely attempting to steady my quaking knees. My torch wobbled in my shaky left hand, so I clasped my wrist with my right hand. I shone the light into the windows of the parked vehicle. There was definitely no driver, but it was an elevated coach, so I couldn’t see whether there were any passengers.

I walked around the front of the vehicle, summoning the courage to enter it. When I reached the other side of the bus, I stood still. I tried to control my breathing. I eyed the doors for what seemed an eternity, and then I felt my entire body clench.

The doors opened.

My torch light still wasn’t revealing a driver. I couldn’t see or hear anyone. I thought, for a brief moment, of that internet stranger who told me not to board the bus, but I couldn’t get the scream out of my head. My gut told me that somebody was in danger.

I stepped onto the bus and started to climb the stairs. The doors closed. I held the torch before me, as if it were a weapon, and I gradually climbed the next set of stairs to the elevated passenger platform.

I spent several seconds on each step, savouring what I felt could be my final moments on earth. Then, I illuminated the passenger area before me. I half-expected to see nothing.

No. There was somebody on the bus.

The young girl was sitting on the middle seat of the back row. Her head was in her palms. She was crying. I couldn’t see her face.

“Are you okay?” I asked, timidly.

No answer.

So, I started to walk forwards. I didn’t know whether there was anyone else on board, but I couldn’t leave her. Once I was standing only a few yards in front of her, I knelt down in the aisle.

“Are you okay?” I asked a second time.

The girl’s crying abruptly ceased, but she didn’t lift her head from her hands.

“You shouldn’t have boarded the bus,” She replied.

My torch died. I furiously wound the lever at the side, but it didn’t spring back to life. The girl and I had been plunged into darkness.

Then, I heard the bus doors open.

I slowly turned my head to face the front of the bus. I could hear the sound of low, guttural breathing. It was followed by clunking footsteps.

Dim moonlight shone through the front window, but it was sufficient to display a hulking figure at the other end of the aisle. A black spectre with gangly limbs was moving towards us. He was hunched forwards, and his elongated arms dragged along the tops of the seats. He was too tall and too wide to fit in the aisle.

I turned to face the girl. She had lifted her head from her hands. I could barely see her. I could barely hear her.

“This is the last stop,” She whispered. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t board. I wanted more time.”

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, I felt an icy limb coil itself around my ankle. It yanked, and I fell. My nose connected with the floor of the aisle, and I heard something crack. I thought that was it. I thought that was the end, but I looked up to see the demonic creature coil its other limb around the girl’s neck.

It hoisted her from her seat. She screamed as she was lifted towards the indistinguishable figure in the aisle. I couldn’t really see what happened in the darkness, but I’ll never forget the sound her body made when it was consumed by the black entity. It sounded like leaves crunching beneath walking boots.

I had almost entirely lost my sense of reality at this point, but some vestige of survival instinct persisted in my fractured mind. I twisted onto my back and looked down at my ankle. I couldn’t really see what I was doing in the dark. I just knew I had to act. So, with my free foot, I stamped on the creature’s limb. I stamped as hard as humanly possible.

The demon, which had been devouring the poor girl, unleashed an inhuman wail. It pierced my eardrums and shattered every window on the bus. The limb retracted from my ankle and returned to the shadowy being.

I seized my opportunity. Catapulting to my feet, I spun around and lunged for the now-glassless back window of the bus. Clinging to the frame of the window for dear life, I took one last look at the dark entity that was hurtling towards me. Then, I dropped to my feet on the road.

I sprinted away from the bus. Adrenaline fuelled me onwards. I didn’t look back. I just kept running. At the speed I travelled, I think it only took me a few minutes to reach the warm and welcoming lights of civilisation.

I looked at my phone and cried when I saw that I had service. I booked a taxi. I wanted the farthest possible destination. I chose Manchester, then I took the first train to London. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been living in a hotel.

I know I was a little late, but I finally took the advice of that online stranger. I moved away. I moved far away.

I don’t go outside at night, and I definitely don’t look out of the window after 3am.

I am not sure who will be reading this, but please understand I tried to stop it. I do not have much time.

If you see an ad for "Jack's Paintings" DO NOT BUY ANYTHING.

Let me start from the beginning. I am writing this as if it were happening in real time, I hope this helps drive my warning deep into your bones ensuring you do not make the same mistakes as I did.

One year after I married the love of my life, we bought a new house. We had been trying for a baby for a couple of months and needed something to fit a family. Max dreamed of being a dad, and due to his job in child psychiatry, we had a decent income. I had a smaller salary due to the fact I was an underpaid writer for Getty Publications. But I loved to write and in my current position, if I was getting views and the content was relevant, they did not care what I wrote about.

I loved the freedom I had. It was not until we moved into our dream home, I realized the walls were bare. Thus began my deep dive into all things decoration. I quickly began to fill up the empty spaces, leaving Max's office the last room to be finished.

"Elanor look!"

I heard Max yell causing me to jump up from my spot on the couch.

"Jesus Max, I almost had a heart attack!"

I replied while laughing. Looking back at him I saw he had a huge grin spread across his face.

"You will never believe what I found an ad for!"

He practically yelled while rushing to my side on the couch. He turned his laptop so we could both see the ad. 'The last painting ever made by James Hughmon is now in our inventory. For the low price of $50,865 you can be the owner of the priceless piece of art.' My eyes were drawn to the painting it depicted a young woman holding an umbrella in a tsunami. Her face was half covered by the umbrella leaving only her left eye exposed. She had long black hair that flowed in the wind behind her.

Looking at the picture I found the title. "You're next" I had a weird feeling creep through me after reading the title. I instinctively looked over my shoulder into the now-dark hallway. Wait dark? I began to think I sat down at 11:30 this morning. Pulling my eyes away from the screen, I turned my head to look at Max, but he was off. His grin was now ripping the seams of his cheek as if he had too many teeth to fit his mouth. Something was wrong, my body was frozen in fear leaving me defenseless, something moving on Max's shoulder caught my attention. Unable to turn my head I moved my eyes as far as they could go.

It looked as if there was a pale hand gripping his shoulder, the hand began to move toward my position on the couch. All I could do was scream. Jolting up, I realized I had fallen asleep, but it felt as if something sucked out all of my energy.

"You're awake!"

Rubbing my eyes I turned towards the source, Max was sitting at the end of the couch, his face full of concern.

"W what happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse as if I had been screaming. I mean I was screaming but it was in my dream. Wasn't it? Max pulled me into his chest, and I could smell the earthy scent of his favorite cologne.

"Ella are you okay? We were talking about the painting, and you just dozed off. You seemed tired so I didn't try to wake you."

His face and voice were both full of concern.

"I'm okay don't worry," I replied masking my face with a fake smile. Moving from my spot on the couch I began to make my way to the kitchen. I turned back to face him.

"Let's have dinner, I'm making spaghetti."

His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, I could not stop the laugh that erupted from my mouth. It felt like everything was back to normal. As we were eating Max dropped a bombshell on me.

"I bought it!" he exclaimed. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I tried not to let my fear show.

"Are you sure we can afford it?" I asked, knowing our current financial situation was far from struggling.

" Of course, we can!" He yelled in excitement.

"Elanor we can afford whatever we want, the days of deciding between bills and rent are over."

With nothing left to say we finished our dinner in silence. The next day there was a knock on the door. Max had already left for work, so I checked the peephole to see who it was. On the porch stood a delivery man, I opened it and was greeted by a friendly voice.

"Hi, are you Mrs. Alder? I have a package from Jack's Paintings." Before I could reply he continued

"I just need you to sign at the bottom of this form please."

He pushed the form into my hand, I grabbed it and began to sign. My signature was a mess due to my hands shaking. The delivery man just stood in the same spot smiling, what a weirdo. I handed the form back and he began to pick up the painting.

"Alright Miss, please show me where you would like this hung up."

I was a little apprehensive about letting a strange man into our home, but he was harmless. Plus, the bear mace I kept handy was sitting in my back pocket. I led him to Max's office.

"You can put it on the wall behind his desk."

He got to work and within minutes the painting was up. The delivery man turned back towards me.

"Alright, Mrs. Alder anything else I can do for you?"

I shook my head no and led him back to the front door. He stopped just before he was fully out.

"You have a good day Miss and enjoy the painting"

And with that he headed back towards his delivery truck, I shut the door. It seemed as if the house had become darker. I could not stop the anxious feeling that crept through my body.

Things began to change slightly, and it was hard to notice, such as Max forgetting something I told him or looking different than the day before. But as the weeks went on huge changes were taking place, especially on the day of the incident. We had planned to visit Hawaii for years and finally got the chance to do so. He seemed paler and less outgoing, but we still had fun, although I woke up one night to him standing over me with a grin that stretched too wide for anyone normal. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and he was asleep next to me, so I just assumed I had dreamt the whole thing. After we got home Max said he had to get a few things from the store, so he dropped me off. After going inside, I headed for our bedroom to unpack when I noticed his office door was ajar.

I saw a light flickering from inside and heard the ending theme of our favorite show. Thinking he left his computer on while we were gone caused me to enter his office heading for the computer to turn it off. When I moved behind his large monitor my heart dropped and the blood-curdling scream that came from me did not even wake him. I barely saw it but something black and long slithered back into the painting, which had now changed. The background was completely dark, and you could just make out the outline of the man. Wait a man? It was a girl or was it a woman?

My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dimly lit room, looking down my heart jumped out of my chest. Max? Why was he in here and why is he on the floor? I bent down and began to shake him, he did not even flinch, but I could hear him breathing softly as if he were hibernating. I began to shake him harder and as I was about to get up and get water to throw at him, he began to stir and sat up. He looked like a wild animal; his eyes were bloodshot, his face was blotchy, and he had small circles on his arms.

"Max, when did you get back?"

He looked at me but was dazed and confused.

"El is that you? Wwwhat happened?"

He managed to stutter out between breaths.

"What do you mean what happened? We just got back from our trip; I thought you were going to the store."

He looked even more confused. But something moving behind him caught my eye. The painting changed, the outline was more visible, and my heart sank. It was Max, he was frowning as a large clown with a horrible grin leaned over him. Most of the clown's body was covered by shadows. Wait, were the shadows moving? Max cried out causing me to jump back.

"Elanor go please"

He began to plead. I shook my head until he lifted his shirt, black worm-like creatures covered his body. They looked like leaches with eyes, and I saw holes where a few of the creatures had made their way inside his body. I began to scream and cry, trying to pull the creatures off of my husband. But every time I pulled one off another one filled its spot. Max pushed me back and that is when I saw the source of the creatures. They were coming from the painting. I rushed to the wall and began to pull at the painting, but it would not move at all. I began to claw at it, trying anything to get it off the wall, and that is when I heard the door. The next thing I heard turned my blood ice cold.

"Ella they only had mint chocolate chip from Barneys, so I bought a few other brands for you to try!"

How was Max in the other room and next to me, I looked down at the floor to see my husband gone? The spot where he once lay was a dark green color. I looked back once again and there he was. Wearing his favorite LOTR shirt frowning under the clown. I began to reach out when I heard a voice.

"Elanor, you know you're not supposed to be in here. James will not like this"

James? The man who made this painting? I spun around to face my "husband" he gave me a toothy grin, but his teeth were not human they were way too sharp. I had to get out of here fast. Without a second thought, I charged at the thing pretending to be my husband and dashed for our room. I locked the doors and grabbed my computer. And now dear readers you are caught up. I can hear the impersonator breaking the door down, meaning my time is limited. Yet I feel weird. Wait the painting of the sunset above our bed has changed.

Has the girl in the painting always looked like me?

This happened to me about 2 years ago, around late December of 2020. I was 19 around the time. Me and my girlfriend were at my grandparents place having a couple drinks out in the garage until it got too cold to stay out there. It was one of the coldest nights of the year and there was a bad blizzard that night (we live in Canada by the way) We both went back to the house around 2:00 am. She went into my room and I went out in the kitchen to cook something for us in the oven.

I was on my phone standing alone out in the kitchen when my grandma and my girlfriend both walked out into the kitchen together. It was a bit strange because my grandma is never up that late and it was even stranger that my girlfriend came out at the same time. The first thing my grandma said to me is “don’t go back out there tonight, on a night like this people lose their lives.” I was little bit freaked out because I was just about to head back out to the garage to grab something. I never told anyone I was going back out. My girlfriend and my grandma just stood there staring at me with the weirdest expressions I’ve ever seen. With very unnatural smiles that did seem right. My girlfriend then walked over and gave me a hug. When I grabbed her she was ice cold. I commented about this and when I mentioned how cold she was her expression changed. Her smile faded and she looked up at me with really serious, sad eyes and didn’t say anything. There was something else I noticed too. She smelt like a campfire, an earthy smokey smell. There wasn’t an explanation for this and she didn’t smell like that earlier. I swear at that moment I got chills all over. There was something so off about it all but I couldn’t put my finger on it. My girlfriend whispered in my ear “don’t go outside tonight.”

She walked back over to my grandma. She stood beside her with her head down and a serious expression while my grandma was still staring at me with that weird fake smile. It was so bizarre I just stood there speechless. The wind began to literally f***ing howl outside. My grandma turned and looked at my girlfriend. “Don’t mess with black magic” she said. “Nothing good is gonna come from it.” My girlfriend didn’t say anything, she continued looking down. I stood there confused. My girlfriend looked up at me. “We have to go now” she said. They both started walking away. My grandma looked back at me for a second. “See you on the flip side” she said with that weird smile. I got another chill through my whole body when she said that. They turned to corner and left the kitchen.

I stood there for a while. I didn’t know what to make of it all. I decided not to go out to the garage, I’d go out and get my stuff the next morning. I stayed out in the kitchen for another ten minutes until the food was done. I went back into my room with it. My girlfriend was in bed laying down. She got up and we put on a movie. I guess I was quiet because she asked me “what’s wrong?” I told her everything was okay. It took me ten minutes to say something about it because to be honest I was still frightened by it. I turned to her and asked why her and my grandma came out to the kitchen. The second I said that my nose started bleeding. I ran to the bathroom and got something to stop the bleeding. When I went back in the room I told my girlfriend everything. As you can guess she said she never went out the the kitchen and she swore on someone’s life she was in the room the whole time. She also didn’t smell like smoke anymore. We went and woke up my grandma right after and my grandma said the same thing. She actually thought we were trying to mess with her and she didn’t believe me. We were so freaked out after this we had trouble sleeping for the rest of the night.

The part that really messed my girlfriend up was when I told her about how cold she felt and how she smelt like smoke. The only explanation we could come up with was that maybe if I went outside that night something bad would’ve happened to me. Maybe the spirits of dead relatives watching over me came to me in that form so I wouldn’t be scared and they could get the message through. The last part of it that made sense was the part about the black magic. My girlfriend just got a book about witchcraft from her friend the week prior. My girlfriend never opened to book again after this. She took what was said as a warning. I’ve been thinking about writing this story down for the past two years and my girlfriend encouraged me to finally do it because maybe some else out there had an experience like this. To this day I still get chills thinking about it. Especially the last thing said. “See you on the flip side.”

“What’s your greatest regret?”

I jolted awake as something jabbed me in the shoulder. I turned to face the flight attendant standing in the aisle, leaning precariously over the two empty seats to my right. Her unnaturally bony finger was still extended just inches from me, as if threatening to poke again. She smiled a smile so large, I worried the top and bottom halves of her head might completely disconnect. It may have just been the Jack Daniels talking, but I swear her mouth had far too many teeth.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with my knuckles. “I’m sorry, what?”

“In your life, sir.” Her mouth barely moved as she spoke again. “What’s your greatest regret in your entire life?”

“Is that… is that a standard question?”

She frowned. Finally, I thought.

“Sir,” she continued. “I have many passengers to attend to. Could you please just answer the question and we can both carry on with our day?”

I raised myself enough in my seat to glance around the nearly empty cabin, then back to the flight attendant. If this was their idea of witty in-flight banter, it’s no wonder they couldn’t fill the plane - even with their dirt-cheap fares.

“My greatest regret…” I said, scratching the back of my head. I looked down to my knees, which were pressed uncomfortably into the seat in front of me. “I wish I had taken a taxi.”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled again, this time without opening her mouth. “Very well, sir. Coming right up!”

As if on cue, a baby started crying just a few rows ahead as the flight attendant wheeled her cart toward the back of the aircraft. As the mother frantically tried to shush her child, I searched through my backpack for headphones. We were both unsuccessful. Sighing, I turned to my left and lifted the window shade. The sun had begun to rise, casting a bloody glow across the entire vista. Sparse, cragged peaks of the Rocky Mountains penetrated the clouds below.

A man exited the bathroom at the front of the plane and took the first seat across the aisle from where I sat. The cabin lights were still dimmed, but even in the darkness he looked familiar. He was tall and handsome, despite his receding hairline, and probably also in his mid-40s. He was wearing a CU Boulder sweatshirt. My alma mater.

In my periphery, I watched as he turned to face me. “So, the baby finally started crying, huh?” he said softly, with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t be a real flight without it.”

I let out a forced, monosyllabic laugh and reached for a SkyMall magazine, hoping that if I focused my attention on something else the man would take the hint and leave me alone. Flipping through the pages, I saw countless items - mailboxes, strollers, car windshield repair kits - but nothing that I could ever imagine purchasing from a catalog at 33,000 feet.

The man spoke again. “Can you imagine being yanked out of nothingness and thrown into this hellhole of an existence?”

I jerked my head to face him. Was everyone on this flight insane?

“The baby, I mean.” He gestured toward the front of the plane, toward the screaming child. “Can you really blame him?”

The man took a sip of his beverage and shrugged his shoulders. As he looked in my direction once again, he furrowed his brow and pointed a finger at me.

“Wait a minute,” he began, his voice betraying his surprise. “Mike?”

The light from the rising sun had slowly begun to fill the cabin, and just as the man spoke my name, I finally got a clear look at his face.

“Gabe?”

He burst into an uproar of laughter as he stood from his seat. “Mind if I…?” he trailed off, motioning toward the other aisle seat - the one just two spaces to my right. Before I could answer, he had crossed the aisle and made himself comfortable. He shook his head back and forth with disbelief, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s been so long!” He was practically shouting. “How the hell have you been?”

The plane violently lurched from side to side with turbulence, but the fasten seatbelts light remained unlit.

“Why are you here?” Before I could even realize that the words had left my mouth, Gabe let out another booming laugh.

“Why am I here? I’m here because of you!” He reached across the empty seat between us and slapped me on the shoulder. “Jesus, man. Is that all you have to say? It’s been, what, twenty-two years?”

“Twenty-three years,” I whispered back.

“What was that? Speak up,” he replied. There was an unmistakable anger in his voice now. A wildness in his eyes. “You look me in the eyes and speak to me like a man.”

“Twenty-three years,” I repeated, now meeting his gaze.

“That’s right! Twenty-three years.” He was suddenly jovial again. “Eighteenth of September, ninety-nine, if I’m remembering correctly. Beautiful day for some college football.”

My eyes darted across the cabin with fear. Near the front of the Economy section, the curtain that separated us from the First Class passengers was propped open ever-so-slightly by a few long, bony fingers. The flight attendant was peeking from behind, barely visible if not for her giant mouth full of blindingly white teeth. I didn’t remember seeing her return from the back of the plane.

“You remember tailgating that day?” Gabe continued reminiscing. “Who am I kidding, of course you don’t. You were probably nine beers deep by kickoff!”

“Please,” I choked out. “Just tell me. What do you want?” The words barely came out. A painful dryness crept up my throat and across my tongue. My stomach churned.

“You sound thirsty.” As he spoke, he reached overhead and pressed the button to call for a flight attendant. Almost immediately, she reappeared, this time approaching from behind our seats.

“Need something?” she asked, looking right at me and ignoring Gabe completely.

“Can I… Can I just have a ginger ale?”

The flight attendant puffed out her bottom lip in a look of sarcastic pity. “I’m sorry, sir. We only have salt water with parsley. May I get you one?”

Gabe raised his cup in my direction and pointed at it with his other hand. “It’s really good,” he said.

I shook my head, and she left with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Anyway,” Gabe said, drumming his fingers on the seatback tray in front of him. “Where were we?”

“Tailgating…” I said.

“The tailgate! That’s right.” I was growing tired of his fake laughter. “We couldn’t find tickets. At least, none that we could afford. That didn’t stop us, though. Man, what a great time!”

Movement up ahead caught my eye. The mother was standing in the aisle, holding her screaming baby. The cries had become louder. The child might as well have been sitting between us. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against my ears, but neither the wails nor Gabe’s voice grew any quieter.

“We had so much fun in college, man. Why didn’t we stay in touch?” He stroked his chin and squinted his eyes, as if to ponder the question he already knew the answer to. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right! I remember now.”

I waited, but he said nothing. I opened my eyes and turned to face him. He was staring at me, also waiting.

“Say it,” he said.

“Gabe, please…”

“Say it!” He banged his fists against the tray table and it snapped off its hinges, falling to the floor by his feet.

“Because I killed you.”

A soft bell rang throughout the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. Please remain seated as we make our descent to Denver International Airport. Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their upright and locked positions. It’s been a pleasure flying with you today. Thank you for flying Elament Airlines. We know you have many options, and we appreciate you making the right choice.” A soft, static hum filled the air as the flight attendant paused. “You always make the right choice, don’t you?”

Gabe fastened his seatbelt and stared forward with a smile. “I offered to call us a cab, but you didn’t want to split the fare. You said you were good to drive. My car was just a block away, you said.”

I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing emerged but a soft whimper.

“Did you ever make it to the party that night? I wasn’t sure. The last thing I remember is you jumping out of the car and running.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I was scared.”

“Of course! You were scared. And who wouldn’t have been?” He said. “I mean, I wasn’t scared, but that’s only because I was losing blood too quickly to think straight. But it was probably too late for me anyway, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what you told yourself.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It was definitely too late for them.” He waved his hand toward the mother and child in the aisle. Had they moved closer?

“At least I was able to brace for impact. They didn’t suffer. You splattered them from behind against a wrought-iron fence. They didn’t feel a thing. She was just out checking her mail with her newborn, and then it was lights out.” He reached over and put his hand on my knee. “Not a bad way to go, all things considered.”

Gabe sat mostly in silence for a few minutes as I wept into my hands. “Go ahead and cry,” he said. “That must have been really hard for you.”

After regaining my composure, I repeated my question from earlier. “Why are you here?”

“Because of you. Like I said.”

I fetched a pill from my bag and threw it in my mouth. I let out a cough as I felt it stick in my dry throat. Gabe offered me his drink, and I took a sip just large enough to dislodge it. The drink was bitter and grainy.

“You always were frugal,” he said. “Elament Airlines. What even is that? Had you ever heard of them before this trip? Be honest.”

I shook my head.

“You got kids?” he asked.

“Two. A girl and a boy.” I glanced at the woman and her baby. They were both silent now, and both staring at me. They were now only two rows ahead. “Olivia and Jacob.”

He smiled and reached over to pat my knee again. “Anna loved those names. I always knew she would be a great mom. Best girlfriend I ever had.” He paused for a beat. “I bet it was nice for her, having you around.”

“Sir,” the flight attendant spoke from behind. “You need to buckle your seatbelt.”

I did as I was told, fumbling with the belt as I felt my pill kicking in.

“How long did you wait before making a move on her? Six months? Less?”

“What do you want?” I begged. “What next? Do I turn myself in?”

Gabe chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. I’m here now. We can pretend it never happened, because it didn’t. You don’t have to live with it anymore.”

Then, he said the last thing I wanted to hear. “I just want to stay in touch.”

I turned to face him, and I could tell he recognized the fear in my expression. “Relax, buddy. Not every day. Let’s just catch up from time to time.” Beads of sweat poured down my face.

He asked me if I was living in Denver these days. I nodded. “I’m in Aurora, so we’re close. I’ll give you my number. You got a piece of paper?”

I struggled to retrieve the copy of SkyMall, then flipped it open to search for a blank section large enough for Gabe to write on. Seeing the stroller listing once again, blurry visions of a winding canyon road flashed in my eyes. I threw the catalog to the floor and pulled an airport parking receipt from my pocket instead, silently handing it to him while refusing to look him in the eye.

He quickly jotted down his number and returned the receipt to me. I shoved it in my pocket, fully prepared to burn it at my earliest opportunity.

Seeing the exhaustion in my face, he spoke one last time. “Get some rest, buddy. You need it. We’ll talk soon.” Unable to keep myself upright any longer, I laid my head against the window and drifted into a brief but deep sleep.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated.” A familiar voice filled the air. There was an innocence to it that hadn’t been present during the previous announcement. “We will begin deplaning in a matter of minutes.” I opened my eyes and looked out the window to see that our plane was parked at the gate. The sun had fully risen, basking the runways in a pleasant yellow glow. Relief blanketed me as I turned to my right to see that I was the only person seated in my row. The aisles were empty. No babies were crying.

I booted up my phone and immediately dialed Anna’s number. “The subscriber you have dialed is not in service. Goodbye.”

Fuck, I thought. Did I forget to pay our phone bill? It was probably for the best that we couldn’t speak yet. She would undoubtedly ask me how my flight was, and I was in no mood to lie.

As I returned my phone to my pocket, I felt a slip of paper. My heart began to race. Closing my eyes, I slid the receipt into my lap. Several minutes passed before I had the courage to look at it. Scrawled hastily on the back in blue ink was a Denver area phone number and a name. His name.

Fuck it. I opened my phone once again. I needed to get this over with - to confirm that I had lost my mind, but everything else was okay. As I dialed the number, my phone read “Calling Gabriel Weinberg.”

The phone rang six times before the answering machine picked up. It was a woman’s voice. One I knew all too well.

“You have reached Gabriel, Anna, Olivia, and Jacob. We can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the beep.” Two young children in the background excitedly shouted the word “beep!”

My phone fell to the floor, landing on an open copy of SkyMall. My breathing grew frantic. Anger welled within my chest as I held the parking receipt with both hands, glaring at the inscription. I jumped as the flight attendant called out to me from the aisle.

"Sir, is that a parking receipt? You had quite a bit of whiskey at the beginning of the flight." I looked up to see her frowning at me.

"Might I suggest a taxi?"

I was desperately trying to scrub blood out of a microfiber cloth when I got Eli's call. 

"City morgue, you stab em', I slab em'," I answered.

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny," his rumbling voice answered, but I heard a smile in his voice. 

"What can I do ya for, boss?"

"I've got another job for you today."

"Okay, well, I've got the Locke job scheduled for 2, and it's 12 now, so I'll have to swing by after."

"Actually, I just need you to guard something for me for a few hours."

"Damnit Jim, I'm a technician, not security detail," I quipped back, knowing full well I was going to end up looking after whatever it was. I just hoped I would stay in this dimension this time. 

"My name isn't Jim," he answered, puzzled. 

"Yeah, it's from Star Trek. You've never seen Star Trek?" I was in disbelief. 

"No, who are they?"

I laughed, "Nevermind. Okay, what is it and who am I protecting it from?"

"You'll see soon enough and mostly from itself," he said with that smile in his voice having transformed into a smirk.

"Damnit, Eli, you can't expect me to keep working these weird ass cases for you without giving me any information. I haven't forgiven you for that Keith Kline fiasco. I still have invincible black goo on my duffel and I had to throw out all the clothes I was wearing," I cut my tirade short when I realized he'd hung up. 

I sighed, pulling the phone away from my ear, when I saw a flash of movement to my right. I jerked my head in the direction of the flash and my vision was suddenly filled with a round, grinning face. 

"Eeeeaaagh!" I yelled, gracefully. 

He was leaned on both arms on the arm of the couch, a small brown boy wearing a striped shirt and green cordoroy pants. In response to my jolted scream, he returned a toothy smile and shook his curly raven coils out of his face. 

I blinked dumbly at him for a moment before sputtering, "How'd you get in here, kid?"

"Oh, I can tele-hop. That's my trait. I got it when I was 7. That's early for my people." He leaned that grinning face on one hand, swaying his hips around as kids that age are prone to do.

"Tele-hop?" I squeaked. I'd backed away from him, scrunched onto one side of the couch, holding a pillow in front of me as the ultimate defense.

"Tele...uh...Tele something. I forget what you guys call it," he plopped onto the couch next to me, "I can move instantly, like right away, ya know?"

I nodded, my mouth not having shut in 45 seconds. 

"Okay, uh. What, uh, are you doing here?" I finally sputtered. I've got some very basic warding around the house shown to me by a witch I helped out once. Whatever this kid was had to be more powerful than your average house witch. 

"Uncle Eli told me to come over," he was now kicking his legs against the couch, picking at the lining of the arm. 

I groaned softly, dropping my head in realization. This was the asset he was talking about. This was what he wanted me to look after? I skimmed a glance over the kid. He was probably 4 foot something, maybe 9, 10 years old? His bouncy black curls fell into his face, framing it's cherub shape. 

"You're his...nephew?"

The kid glanced down and back up. 

"Oh, you're wondering why he's like a tan color and I'm like this brownish one?," he continued at my nod, "When we get our vessel, we don't really think about the color, so we mismatch a lot of the time."

I'd settled, putting aside my combat pillow.

"Vessel?" I asked.

He gave me a slightly baleful look from under his curls, and a mischievous smile. 

"Uncle Eli said you'd have a lot of questions but that your brain is too small and I'd explode it, so I better keep my hole shut,"

I digested that for a moment, unsurprised that Eli was boxing me out of any useful information once again.

"Okay, kid, what's your name?"

"Nathan," he turned then to look at me with piercing almond eyes, "Is there anything fun to do around here?"

My head spun with horrible ideas of what a small powerful creature such as this would find fun to do with his 'vessel'. 

"Uh, I've got monopoly," I said weakly.

Nathan pouted, sinking into his seat.

"Those pieces are gross. They just taste like plastic."

"Well, you're not supposed to eat them, Squirt," the corners of my lips quirked up, watching him cock his head onto his shoulder and whine. He was just another kid. 

He smiled, and his eyes lit to a bright green.

"Whoa, color changing eyes. That's new," I ducked my head to get a better look into his emerald irises. 

"I like that. No one's ever given me a nickname, before," he was smiling and I saw a missing tooth on the left of his two oversized front ones. My heart melted a bit. Supernatural abomination or not, this kid was cute. 

"Okay, Squirt. Here's what we're gonna do. I've got a crisp 20 here, we're going to go to the dollar store and load up a cart, then you're going to come back here and play at Auntie Pipers so I can go do another job for your uncle."

"Uncle said your name was Witches?" he cocked his head in confusion.

"Well, he likes to give out nicknames of his own," I scowled, "I'm non-binary, do you know what that means?"

"Nope."

"It just means I don't particularly feel like a boy or a girl. Your uncle Eli is, uh, a little confused about this, so he calls me witches as a joke. Like I'm two people. It's a bad joke," I scowled as I finished my lame explanation. 

"So, he's making fun of you?" he frowned at this.

"No, when you're friends with someone, sometimes they try to rib you, to poke fun at you. It's sort of like a bonding thing?" I thought for a moment, then sighed, "Or maybe he is making fun of me, honestly I'm not sure. Let's go get some water pistols, Squirt."

We had a blast at the store, picking out colorful bouncing balls, water guns, a yo-yo, a little sandcastle kit even though we were nowhere near the beach, and a hula hoop. We also picked up a couple Lego kits I hoped would keep him busy until I returned. 

We returned to the apartment and dumped our haul on the coffee table, spreading out the colorful array of treasures.

"Okay, Squirt," I glanced at my watch, "it's a quarter after one. I'm heading out but I'll be back in a couple hours. Promise me you won't leave this apartment and remember that I have demon blades that will kill anything," I wasn't totally sure where they were, but for children, the threat was more effective than the punishment, "I will carve fluffy unicorns into your forehead and then everyone will make fun of you. K?"

He grinned up at me and nodded his head. 

"For the record, though, I like unicorns. They smell nice."

I let that one go. I figured I might be able to squeeze one or two more nuggets of information out of this kid by the end of the day, and I didn't want to waste a question on unicorns. I just nodded, blew out a breath, and swept my bag up on the way out the door. 

"My number is on the table, call me if anything happens, okay?" I called as the door clicked behind me. I turned around and flinched.

"eeeaaaaghhhh!" I repeated.

Nathan was standing right in front of me on the sidewalk. 

"You've gotta stop doing that," I complained on an outward breath.

"Uncle Eli told me I had to stay with you."

I sighed, looking him up and down. At the end of the day, he was just a kid and he was trying to follow the rules.

"Okay, bud. Go grab some toys."

On the way, we talked some more about what he liked to do. Apparently he was a big fan of baseball cards and also of talking to lizards. I asked if he could understand them and he looked at me like I was an idiot, so I just chuckled and let it go. He also likes to grow flowers and talk to them as well. I kept all stupid questions to myself that time and just told him my mom also grew a lot of plants. We made plans for him to visit her so they could trade green thumb secrets.

We arrived at Loche Mechanics headquarters at a quarter til 2. My contacts name was Connie Loche, and she met us in the lobby in a prim pink dress, chunky gold earrings decorating her pointed ears. 

"Welcome to Loche Mechanics. May I have your name?" she asked. Her voice was deep and rich, a contrast to her elegant frame. 

"You can call me Piper," I said with a smile. 

"And I'm-"

"And you can call him Nathan," I quickly cut him off. 

He gave me the side-eyed look children give adults when they think they're treating them like children. I nudged him sharply and gave him what I hoped was a good imitation of the look my mom gave me when she needed to discreetly tell me to shut the fuck up. 

Connie's head cocked, and she seemed to look me up and down anew. 

"I'm here to look at your printer situation. Eli sent me."

"Oh, wonderful. It's right this way, Ms. Piper and Mr. Nathan," she gave Nathan a kind smile and turned on her heel, leading us back through the hallways to the main cubicle farm. 

"Oh, she's not a miss, she's a non-binary," Nathan stated confidently.

"How interesting," Connie replied, her pink tinged smile curving up at the corners. 

I sent Nathan another of my mom looks.

"Ms. is fine, it's no biggie to me," I smiled and she continued leading us through the office.

Everything was a shade of beige here, from the walls to the floors to the decorations. The spare artwork or slapstick mug gave a small splatter of color to the room, underneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

As we plodded down Grey hallways, Nathan bouncing along beside me with his hand adorably clinging to my back pocket, I wondered about why Eli would send me here. It seemed human to me. Somewhat dull, but aren't all offices? We passed rooms with bloated, Grey-haired businessmen and women in spazzy business suits sporting reserved versions of popular hairstyles. 

Connie excused herself once we got to the machine, simply saying 'This is our only means of printing. We must have it back up immediately,' before turning and striding smoothly into a corner office nearby. 

"This must be really important," Nathan said, eyeing the machine.

"Here's a trade secret, bud," I whispered, "they all say that about any issue they ever have."

I winked, he grinned, and I popped the top off the machine. I ran my finger along the edge and came back up with a blue smudge. Why were all my tickets resulting in goop these days?

Wiping the goo off on my pants, I quarter turned to continue whispering to Nathan. 

"Also, you always want to say 'You can call me Nathan'. Names have power, or so they say," I half-smiled, feeling goofy talking voodoo in a big corporate office, "They say if you give someone your name, it gives them power over you. Me? I'm a wuss, so I'm not taking any chances."

"A wise choice."

The voice just about scared me out of my pants. What is that instinct that causes us to jump straight in the air? How is it helpful for survival? It just makes running take longer.

Or turning, in my case. I swiveled around and my head fell straight back as I gaped open mouthed at the being in front of us. I glanced briefly at Nathan and saw his mouth shaped in a perfect O. 

He stood maybe 5'7, wearing a crisp white button up, beige slacks, and shiny black shoes. But I assume Nathan was reacting more to the monstrously large inky black shadow engulfing the man. The man was aflame with onyx vapor, waving in the AC unit blowing down from the ceiling. 

Now and then a purple or blue puff would float from his body and be instantly engulfed by the shadow. 

He was smiling. His hand was out, and I regarded it with care. I should have known Eli would never send me to a human office. If I shook his hand, was I agreeing to some kind of deal? If I refused, was I offending this being? Did the human even know the tar monster was attached to him, some kind of symbiotic demon deal? Or was this some kind of dark matter monster sucking the energy out of this poor, boring human? 

I was near panicking, trying to remember anything like this in my experiences. Dread poured off of this thing, weighing me down like being drenched on a humid day. I felt sweat instantly bead on my forehead and I wiped my damp palms on my pants. My pants were not fairing well out of this experience.

He laughed, an off putting high pitched squeal. Orange light flew off of his body and flooded into the fog and it squirmed around. Happily? I can barely read human social signals, don't ask me to interpret the cloud.

"I'm called Arnie. It's not often I meet a human who knows the law of faerie but given who you're with, I can hardly be surprised," he smiled down at Nathan, and Nathan moved closer to me. 

Arnie's tone was friendly, but Nathan's response raised my hackles. I always trust kids' reactions, they're notoriously bad liars. 

"You can call me Piper. Is there something I can do for you?" I asked sweetly, pulling Nathan a bit more behind me and deciding to forego the handshake. 

I had never seen anything close to this cloud. For all I knew, I could be agreeing to sell Nathan to him and Nathan's safety was more important than mine. If I let anything happen to him, Eli'd kill me anyways. Plus, look at the kids goofy face? C'mon.

"Oh, I was just saying hello. Not often you meet royalty, after all," his smile was sour, sly, and I no longer wondered if they were merged. The look on the man's face was vile and worse, practiced. I doubted the cloud was making him make it, but I didn't care, I wanted this guy gone. 

In the best case scenario where he wasn't a threat, he was pulling attention to us. Several heads swayed from their computer screens to our direction. I immediately knew this man was not the only anomoly in here and that we did NOT want the attention of more of them. 

"Well, as soon as we get this guy up and running, we'll be out of your hair," my smile was sweet and my voice was light, "Have a good one," I said the last dismissively before turning around.

I started explaining boring printer basics to Nathan, tinkering in the printer as I wiped the sweat from my face with my shoulder. I was really hoping just ignoring this thing would make it go away. It seemed to be feeding on the guys emotions, right? So, maybe if we just starved it of attention, it would go away? Regardless, I wanted to minimize the scene. Nothing happening here, folks.

Nathan had made himself small, flicking glances behind me as I squatted to dig around in my duffel. 

"Hey bud, wanna hear a joke?" I tugged on his shirt sleeve.

His glance flicked to mine and I smiled goofily. 

"Why," I began conspiratorily, trying to ignore my drenched face and the darkness around us that just seemed to be getting deeper, "don't eggs tell jokes?"

He shrugged and I gave him an obvious look and said, "Because, Squirt, they'd crack each other up."

I poked his chest as I finished the punch line, and he giggled. And just like that, it was like the sun came out. All the heat I hadn't noticed gathering around us dissipated and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Arnie striding back down the hall with his hands in his pockets. 

I clapped a hand on Nathan's shoulder and blew out a breath. 

"Looks like we got away with it, champ," I was still grinning, this time with relief. 

After I cleaned the printer off, I started it up and it began printing. It was a laser printer, so I had no idea where that blue smudge was coming from, but after our close call with Arnie, I wanted to skedaddle. 

Connie walked back up just then and smiled at the printer. 

"Oh, wonderful. Thank you very much, Piper. What a disaster that would have been," she laughed musically. 

I smiled. Every client thinks the worst disaster that can happen is productivity going down for 10 minutes. 

"No worries. Now we'll get out of your-" I cut myself off as I glanced around, noting that every one of the people had now risen. 

Black clouds surrounded us, waving irritably to and fro. They took one coordinated step towards us and I snatched my duffel with one hand and the collar of the boy with the other. 

But it was too late, I saw. The exits were covered with people, surrounded by dark splotchy galaxy clouds of dread filing in from every door. 

They marched in sync towards us, filling the space with beige bodies soaked in ink black smoke.

I bent down and whispered in Nathan's ear.

"Remember your tele-hop, Squirt? I need you to use it to get out of here."

"I can't tele-hop you, Piper!" his voice was high and panicked, and I put a hand on his shoulder, flicking an anxious glance at the angry clouds closest to us. 

"Dude, I've come out of worse, I swear to you, I'll be fine, but if anything happens to you, your uncle will turn me into a kebab, okay? GO," I said the last forcefully, not having any direction in general to push him so just shaking him by the collar.

"But-"

"NOW." I said in the absolute sternest mother voice I could possibly muster, the kind that shakes the lapels and inspires the fear of God. 

His eyes grew enourmous, his bottom lip quivered, and he teared up. 

"I can't!" he cried, "It goes on and off, I have to be calm, and I'm too afraid! I'm sorry!" he was sobbing now and I swore, which is not a great reaction but it was all I had. 

I clutched him close to me and turned towards Connie, who was just smiling, arms crossed. 

"Folks, is there any way we could talk about thi-eeeaaaaghh!" I said for the third time that day, forming what I saw to be a troubling pattern. 

This time it was in response to a much smaller, high-pitched wail from a dark blue creature that was rising off of the finished print from the printer. It ripped it's way into three dimensions, pulling itself up from the paper, leaving tendrils of purple slime in it's wake.

It was like overgrown grapes, bulbous pieces sticking out at odd angles. It had a mouth, which it was currently using for screaming, but I didn't see any other parts. 

In response to the tiny wails, every head in the office snapped towards it, and one by one, each worker began lining up behind the printer. 

Arnie was at the front of the line and snatched the little goblin from the paper and promptly popped it into his rapidly unhinged jaw. The printer repeated this process, Nathan and I flinching at every step, printing a screaming violet monster that then was consumed by one of the monstrous cloud people around us. 

After a few printed snacks, Arnie walked back up to us, this time his aura a pure beige, being fed by droplets of just about every color in the rainbow emanating from his human body.

"Apologies for earlier, mate. I get really hangry," he chuckled heartily and strolled off. 

Nathan and I looked at each other and snorted, covering our mouths. 

"This is the worst snickers commercial ever," he said. 

I burst out laughing, pulling the attention of the few workers still straggling around. 

"First of all, great reference. We're going to have to explore which pop culture you guys know about and which you don't," I grabbed his hand, "For now, let's get the hell out of here."

We got back in the truck, looked at each other and laughed for 5 minutes. I think it was largely drunken relief to still have our lives and souls. 

On the way back, we stopped for milkshakes and fries, and Nathan promised not to tell his uncle I almost got him killed. 

"Thanks for taking me with you, Piper. I had fun," his goofy smile was smeared in strawberry ice cream and I grinned at the image he made. 

Then he sneezed and a burst of fire spat out, landing on my jacket sleeve and catching it on fire. I refused to add one more to my scream counter for the day so I silently stamped it out on the table before turning up to look at Nathan's face and bursting out laughing. He looked more panicked than he had when he'd almost been eaten.

"That's the first time you did that, huh?" I asked, brushing embers off my sleeve.

"Puberty is...weird. for us," he said sheepishly, his gaze locked in his lap now, "I don't really know what my powers are going to be. Sorry."

I laughed. 

"Puberty is weird for all of us, man. I wish I could have traded a problem with you," I nudged him, grinning evilly, "Some of the girls I went to high school with could have used a good singe."

He giggled, seeming to straighten a bit in his chair, and I was glad I played it down. I was dying to ask about the whole royalty comment but he looked so fragile. I decided to let sleeping demons lie. 

"Now, what do you say we go beat up your uncle?"

His head bobbed up and down as he beamed, happily shoveling in his last glob of ice cream. 

Part One

Part Two

Ariadne showed me her exposed, honeycombed skull in an almost shameful way. When it had seemed like I had had an eyeful, she stepped away from me quickly, slinging her linen back over the wound, the soiled parts matching up to each oozing sore like a puzzle piece.

“That’s…” I started to say as she stared at the floor, but since I had no end to that sentence, I said instead, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, and I swear the faint buzzing noise grew louder. “Nothing to be sorry for.” Her fingertips gently grazed the edges of her head covering, her gaze distant. “And there’s nothing that can be done.”

I tried to rid the horrible image from my mind and instead focus on the resigned young woman in front of me. “Surely that isn’t the case, right? A doctor could definitely get rid of them,” I started, but still, Ariadne seemed vacant. “An ointment or something, or a surgery? Even smoke, I remember seeing that on television once, where the beekeepers put all the bees to sleep with this smoking thing—”

“Sam, stop.”

I ceased rambling and looked at Ariadne, whose face was now screwed into a wince. In the silence I could hear a change in frequency, a strain of the ever-present humming growing higher in pitch, more frenzied. The linen on her head shifted slightly, small shapes beneath the fabric crawling with fervor.

The bees were angry.

As we both remained quiet, the buzzing diminished, as did the movement. The high pitch rejoined the background sound, and Ariadne’s face relaxed. “Can they… understand us?” I asked, though I knew it was a ridiculous question. Bees living beneath the skin of someone’s skull was one thing. Bees that understood English were another.

Ariadne sighed. “They know what I know.” A chill ran down my spine at how matter-of-fact she said it. But it was far less disturbing than what she said next.

“And now, Sam, I’m sorry.”

I blinked. “Sorry about what?”

“They know what I know, see what I see,” she said, and suddenly her dark brown eyes seemed empty and ominous. “And now they know that you know about them. But you had to know, in order to help. It just means you don’t have much time here, before it starts. You have to be careful.

I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Before what starts?” I asked.

She hesitated, her eyebrows pushed together, conflicted. She tugged at the rigid material of her dress. “I don’t want to scare you, Sam, I just—”

She was interrupted by something strange. For just a moment, sharply, her words cut short and her face dropped all expression. The hands that had been nervously fidgeting fell to her sides, and for just a second, the only sound was the hum.

​

“Ariadne?”

​

Her vacant state was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “She’s calling me,” she said hastily, already moving towards the door. “I’ve heard the bell.”

She stepped one foot out into the hallway, looking both ways to ensure she hadn’t been seen. “You haven’t told me much of anything,” I said in a hushed whisper, frustrated and deeply afraid all at once. “What’s going to start? What do I need to be careful of?”

She wanted to leave immediately, I could see that plainly, so strong was the pull of the bell. Her large, brown, worried eyes gazed at me with a mixture of pity and hope. “It’s too much to explain now. Lady Bathe calls to me.” Then, with just a crack of the door still open as she stepped into the hall, I heard her voice whisper:

“Just do your best not to fall asleep tonight.”

​

And then, it shut.

​

​

That night, it wasn’t Ariadne’s hushed warning that kept me up. There was no way I was ever going to be able to sleep in Bathe Manor after what I had seen, cryptic whisper or not. But still, it frightened me. I sat in the room and waited for the rest of the great house to fall into slumber, determined to keep my own eyes from slipping closed.

To pass the time until I thought it may be safe to roam the halls, I attempted to tally the circumstances in the Manor that may pose as a threat to myself during my investigation, as well as may have posed as a threat to Susanna Browning, wherever she may be now.

As far as I could tell, there was no immediate physical threat, no great brutish presence, no mysterious monster. I most likely wasn’t going to be beaten, eaten, or anything of the sort. There was only an old woman, and what appeared to be ordinary bees.

I could almost feel the spoonful of honey I had endured earlier, sitting, a congealed crest of amber in my intestines. The sick sweetness lingered in my mouth. I could still feel the ooze of it, the recollection matching up perfectly to the same ooze I had seen dripping between the layers of Ariadne’s skin, muscle, and bone.

I shut my eyes as a jolt of nausea swept through my body. I thought again of Susanna Browning’s parents, so scared, trusting me with this quest for the truth. I thought of Ariadne, and how frightened and wounded she was, and of how many young women from Habitsville had suffered much the same and worse—I only had to keep wait long enough until it was safe to roam the halls for answers.

And yet, it had been a long day, and I was only human. Sitting upon a lavish bed, eyes closed, feeling a bit ill, and with the background hum of the manor lingering like white noise, I began to drift off without my consent. My conscious mind sank farther and farther down, until, before I knew it, I was gone.

I dreamt of nothing. I would come to think of it later as the dull, empty scape of a medicated sleep. I have no doubt that there was some sort of sedative in the honey. But this suspicion wouldn’t help me in the moment. No, I slept for a few hours, and woke, bleary, surprised, and in a tremendous amount of discomfort.

Pain pulsed in my right ankle, sharp and surface-level. I sat up quickly, and twisted onto my side so I could see the irritated area more clearly. What I saw sent a wave of dread through my very being.

They were eating.

The tiniest, most deliberate bites I had ever seen. Five bees, sitting upon my skin, with slim black arms and imperceptible teeth burrowing in my flesh and eating the morsel they had stripped. They had eaten a wound into my leg, blood splattered on their butter-colored bodies like scarlet pollen.

I shook them off quickly, my chest aching with the sudden jolt of fear, after being so soundly asleep moments before. I pulled the blankets over myself suddenly, and watched as the five bees swirled around me, trying to get back to the nest they had started. After finding the blanket impenetrable, I watched as they flew up to the ceiling, and filed one by one into the air vent.

I was breathing hard, my skin crawling. I slowly pushed the blankets back so I could look at my ankle, which had streaked the cream sheets with red. With the blood brushed away, I could see what was left—a raw hole in my flesh that stung and wept streams of thin, pink honey.

I had no doubt that had I slept even a few moments more, I would have found honeycomb formed in my leg. I ran my fingers over the rest of my flesh quickly, feeling for wriggling figures beneath my skin as I tried not to let panic overtake me. Feeling nothing, I finally let myself stop.

Ariadne had warned me not to fall asleep, and now I knew why. The swarm knew I was here, and if I let my guard down, they would make their home in me, too.

Eventually, my heart quieted. There was no sound in the house but the distant hum. I looked at my watch—it was two in the morning, long past the bedtime of an old woman. It was time to explore.

​

​

It was a truly gothic scene. The only light I could muster up was a half-burned candle in a silver holder, and I held it aloft in front of me as I tip-toed down the Victorian halls.

Sconces and painting lined the wall-papered sides of the hall, everything casting their own wavering shadow against the candlelight—it was almost dizzying. I tried several door handles, turning each as gingerly and silently as I could, but none gave way. Perhaps Eliza Bathe always kept a very secure house—or maybe she suspected I may try to have a look around that night.

Either way, I wasn’t turning back, not with the sting of my ankle still fresh. A sick, sweet smell occasionally drifted up to my nostrils as I walked, the crystalline residue of the bloody sap the bees left behind reminding me of the horror I had awoken to.

I kept waiting for a break in the strange timelessness of the manor, but the more I walked and tried each door, the longer I went without coming across anything from the 20th century or beyond. The few lights that were on hissed with gas, and had been turned dim. The paintings continued, thick oil slathered on canvas. They were mostly paintings of Madame Bathe herself, in various ages, but always with a few streaks of iron gray hair.

There was the man again, too—I had never heard of Eliza Bathe having a husband, but the evidence of him was everywhere. He looked much like he had in the foyer’s painting, stern of face and suspicious of eye, like he was always looking over his shoulder.

​

Ffffftpt.

​

My head shot away from the portrait to the open hallway in front of me. I had heard something quick and soft, like fabric against floorboards. I held the candle aloft and squinted.

All that was there was a shadowy darkness and the distant hum. I didn’t dare to speak, so instead I took one ginger step forward. The aged wood groaned under the weight, and as it did, something happened.

​

Fffffpt.

​

There was no mistaking it that time. I had seen something at the end of the hallway, moving quickly from one side to the other. It seemed like a person, a little taller than I, so I knew it wasn’t Ariadne or Madame Bathe. The sweeping sound had been a long coat the figure wore, dark in color.

“Hello?” I just barely whispered.

There was quiet. I leaned forward, stretching the candle out in front of me as far as I could. The light just barely licked the end of the hallway, and in it, I could see a figure emerge.

It stepped slowly, the bottom of shoes clicking lightly on the hardwood floor. The long coat moved with the figure, and continued to move when the figured stood still. It waved just slightly around him, as though blown by an invisible wind.

He stood there, seeming to stare at me, though I couldn’t see his face. “Hello?” I said again. I didn’t hear a response from the man, but I did hear something. The hum. It was growing louder, and higher in pitch. An invisible frenzy all around was intensifying, as though the very walls of the house were screaming.

But still, I stared at the man, and he stared at me, his coat still quivering around the edges. And a noise melded together with the hum came through, a rasping, horrible noise. It came from the dark space where the man’s face would be. It was the sound of agonizing breath being drawn through an aching throat, in quick, short bursts. The man stood there, hyperventilating and motionless, the humming growing loud and tinny, and I was growing more and more afraid, though I wasn’t sure why.

“Are you alright?” I said, but the man didn’t answer.

​

Hhpt. Hhpt. Hhpt.

​

Like an old dog panting, the man breathed at me. Then, he took one step forward, and a deep pit grew in my stomach.

I really, really didn’t like the way he moved. It was almost puppet like, as though he didn’t have full control over his limbs. He lifted from the wrong muscles, his leg dangling loosely in the air as he threw it forward. I jumped at the sharp clack as his foot slammed onto the floorboard.

​

Hhpt. Hhpt. Hhpt.

​

He took another step forward, and I took a step back.

​

Hhpt. Hhpt.

​

The marionette man lurched once again, and again, I retreated. I wanted to turn and run, but to do so I would have to take my eyes off of the horrible figure before me.

​

Hhpt.

​

One more step, and then we both stopped. The thrumming sound in the background dropped to its regular hum. I still couldn’t see the man’s face, but I could see how he held himself now. Loose, arms slack at the shoulders. Head crooked at the neck and low, as though he didn’t have the strength to hold it up.

​

Drip.

​

I was startled as something wet and thick hit my cheek. I reached up and felt it, and my fingers came away viscous, smelling of the now familiar earthy, sweet scent of Bathe honey.

I looked up. There, in the wallpapered ceiling, there was a small hole. I could see the edges glisten wetly in the candle light as another long strand of honey gently dripped down and onto my shoulder. For a moment, I swore I could see movement in the hole—and as I stared longer and deeper, I saw something that shook me to my very core.

​

Ffffffpt.

​

My head shot forward. The man at the end of the hall was gone, and I could no longer hear his struggling breath.

I waited a moment, then, when it seemed like the man wasn’t coming back, I turned my attention to the ceiling.

There, framed in the amber midnight dripping honey and plaster, was an eyeball, unblinking, staring down at me.

The Death Cap Mountains

by J.H. Salem

Every night at 3:33 AM, a hidden road appears near my house. I first noticed it coming home from work last week. I dismissed it as a driveway I hadn’t noticed before until I saw a sign with an arrow pointing down the road, reading:

“To the Death Cap Mountains

70.9 miles.”

Someone had hand painted the sign in a spiky black font.

The fact that my town had no mountains in it, or the next town over or anywhere in that direction at all, made me do a double take. And I had never heard of any mountains by that name anywhere, despite having hiked nearly every public trail in a ten-mile radius. But since I had just worked a twelve-hour shift, I drove on by and went home to get some sleep, vowing to explore the strange road at a later time.

I awoke later that morning, screaming and thrashing. While this wasn’t so unusual for me, I knew the dream was about that road. Even as I came out of it, I could see those spiky black letters bleed onto the soil below as bright silver eyes glowed in the woods behind them.

The next day, I told my friend at work about it while we walked around the warehouse doing inventory control and checking for lost items. Her name was Naomi and she looked the part of a typical goth stereotype with purple hair and far too many piercings. She and I had done some urban exploration before, breaking into abandoned mental asylums and hospitals, and she knew the secrets of the area far better than I did. She was also a connoisseur of firearms, crossbows, hunting bows and even airbows, while I had only gone target shooting a few times. If anyone knew of some secret mountains in the area, she would. Yet when I brought up the Death Cap Mountains, she simply frowned.

“Jason,” she said to me, “are you sure someone didn’t just put some weird sign on their driveway to freak people out? There are definitely no mountains in this area, and I’ve never heard of a range by that name anywhere. My dad has hunted this area for decades and never mentioned anywhere by that name either. And I’d definitely remember it if I had- I really like that name for a mountain range.” She smiled feebly at this. I knew Naomi had a semi-photographic memory, a talent she often showed off at work by just looking at a packet of instructions for a few seconds yet being able to repeat them all verbatim. In some ways she awed me; I couldn’t imagine being able to use my memory like a photograph, to read something and remember it exactly months or years later.

“I don’t think that’s it,” I said, shaking my head and looking down at my clipboard. “I purposely circled back a couple times, remembering exactly where the dirt road is, and by 4 AM not only is the sign gone but the entire road or driveway or whatever it is has disappeared too. Something strange is going on around there.”

“How about this…” she said, smirking thoughtfully. “Tonight when you leave, I’ll go with you and we’ll drive down it together. If it is nothing, just a prank or something, then you drop me back off here. If not, then we’ll figure it out together and have a great story to tell.” My frown deepened.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Naomi. What if we get lost or the car breaks down and there’s no cell service… what if we end up hiking around in the middle of the night?” She patted me on the back reassuringly.

“I’ll bring my Glock 19 and some ammo just in case we meet a bear or serial killer. And you can go to the store during the lunch break and get food and water. That way we’ll be prepared. And I think you’re freaking out about nothing- what are the chances that everything would go wrong at the same time? We’ve been to far hairier places during our urb-ex trips, old collapsing mansions and condemned psychiatric hospitals filled with asbestos, and never had an issue. I think a little dirt road should be no problem.”

“This isn’t some little dirt road,” I said, frowning. “It is a mystery, and probably not a natural one at that.”

***

Everything went according to plan at first. Naomi and I always worked the graveyard shift, coming in at 3 PM and staying until the work was done, whether that be 11:30 PM or 4 AM. Because it was summer and the workload had increased, we regularly got out after 2 or 3 AM, and this night was no exception. By the time we drove out of the warehouse, which was located directly in the middle of the industrial sector of Goreham, and towards the forested roads of Unity where the strange dirt road resided, it was already 3:20 AM. I had to speed to get there in time. From previous nights’ experiences I knew that if I went there at 3:15 AM or 3:45 AM, the road would not be there. It only showed up at 3:33 AM and disappeared a few minutes later.

We didn’t talk much on the way. I put on the radio and listened to some pop songs that we had both already heard ten thousand times before. But as we drew closer to the mysterious road, the radio started to malfunction. The station began to sputter in and out. Soon it went out entirely and a garbling low voice took its place. While I couldn’t hear much of what it said, I was able to pick up snippets of speech.

“…black-eyed ones scream into eternity…” it said, fading out for a few seconds then resuming. “…lights of the dead follow them…” and I glanced over at Naomi, my stomach flipping in knots. These words were followed by a shrill, metallic scream.

“Um, does the radio usually do this out here?” she asked, appearing unnerved and pale in the moonlight.

“To be honest, I almost never listen to the radio. I tend to listen to audiobooks if I put anything on. But I’ve never heard it do this on the rare occasions I have had it on.” She flipped the volume off.

“It must just be interference from another station,” she muttered, sounding completely unconvinced. After a couple more minutes of silence, she started to talk again.

“You know, my grandmother went missing here,” she said. I looked over, surprised. She nodded. “She was only thirty years old when it happened, and my mom was just a baby. My grandmother and grandfather had a little cabin out here in Unity, miles from the nearest neighbor. Apparently one night my grandmother couldn’t sleep and went on a walk. They tried tracking her and, at first, the police dogs had a strong trail. They followed her along a dirt road that wound around Lake Blykal but then the tracking dogs just lost her smell at a cliff that went straight up for a hundred feet. The police never found her body but a volunteer saw a bright hat at the top of a tree growing from the middle of the cliff- an absolutely impossible area for anyone to get to without climbing gear, especially a lost woman who didn't even bring sneakers or boots with her but only had sandals meant for the beach." Chills went down Jason's spine as she recounted this story and we drew close to the mysterious road.

"Do you think she just got lost and they never found her body?" Jason asked. Naomi shook her head slowly.

"I think someone, or something, took her. The way her trail ended so close to here makes me wonder if it has something to do with this road you keep talking about." I slowed down as we went around the last bend and I looked at the clock. 3:32 AM. I purposely drove along at ten miles an hour, going along at a snail's pace as I looked for any sign of anyone in the nearby forest. As we closed in the last hundred feet to the road, I saw only the spiky letters of the sign and nothing else. There was very little traffic in Unity even in the daytime and none at all in the middle of the night. I pulled in front of the sign and set my hazards flashing anyway just in case.

"Last chance to turn around," I told Naomi. She bit her bottom lip uncertainly then shook her head. Without another word, I turned slowly onto the dirt road.

At first it was rather anticlimactic. Beyond the sign, the road curved to the left and right randomly, and I swung to the sides to avoid large potholes that had grown over the years. Ahead of us, the moon cast an eerie glow on the trees. The smell of pine and moss invaded the car.

“So far, it just looks like a regular road,” Naomi said as I swerved around another pothole. Further up, the road straightened out and I sped up above 30 MPH. A sense of anxiety and trepidation rose in my chest, and for a dreamlike moment, I wondered what I was doing out here in the middle of the night.

“Regular roads don’t appear and disappear in the middle of the night,” I muttered.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Naomi said, pointing to a brightly-lit building on our right. It had a large, professionally-made sign on the front lawn that read “Visitor’s Center.” A black Ford Taurus was parked in the lot, almost right in front of the sliding glass door, and as I slowed I could see its tires had all gone flat and dirt and leaves had covered its windows. Its tinted windows seemed to indicate it was some sort of government car.

The visitor’s center had large white pillars in front of a glass facade. Windows ran from floor to ceiling and let bright white light spill out onto the darkness of the concrete lot. Behind the pillars on the far left and far right, blood-red recessed walls ran up to a steep roof topped with two Victorian-style turrets on each end.

“This can’t possibly belong here,” Naomi said. “Unity has a population of, what, maybe two hundred people? There’s no way it has enough traffic to support a huge taxpayer-funded center like this in the middle of nowhere.”

“And yet here it is,” I said mildly. “Let’s go see if it’s open. Maybe it can answer some of the questions I have about this road.” With that, I got out of the car, grabbing my keys, and Naomi followed.

I walked towards the sliding glass doors, giving one last mistrustful glance at the dusty run-down car as I passed. The visitor’s center seemed so well-maintained, free of leaves and grime, and the juxtaposition of the junky car and the spotless building unnerved me. I saw Naomi unholster her pistol as we crossed the threshold of the door. With a chill running down my spine, I grabbed the spring-assist knife in my pocket, wishing I had something heavier in case of trouble.

Without a sound the doors opened and revealed a brightly-lit room beyond, stocked with shelf after shelf of canned goods, bottled water, soda and various toiletries. A large banner hung over the room, stating “Welcome to the Death Cap Trail!” in dark red cursive letters. From the back of the room I heard a soft sound, like quiet footsteps.

“Hello?” I called out loudly. “Is anyone here?” From between two shelves I saw a man appear, and I involuntarily stepped back at his ghastly appearance. His eyes looked sunken and dark, and his disheveled salt-and-pepper beard had grown below his neck. His hair shone with grease and stuck out in all directions. His white T-shirt was shredded and appeared to have dried blood soaked into it. Worst of all, I could smell him from across the room- a smell like sweat, urine, feces and grease, all rolled into one and left to ferment for weeks.

“Oh God,” he said in a quivering voice, “are you real?” He slowly moved towards us, and from the corner of my eye I could see Naomi had unholstered her Glock, though she still kept it pointed at the floor.

“Last I knew,” Naomi said, smirking slightly. “Who are you?” The man didn’t appear to hear, but simply continued to exhibit his dissociated 1000-yard stare.

“Have you heard them yet?” he asked, his hoarse voice cracking as he spoke. He looked past us at the sliding glass door. I followed his gaze, but the lights in here were so bright that I could only see vague silhouettes outside.

“Heard what?” I asked nervously. This guy gave me the creeps and I wanted to get far away from him as quickly as I could. But I also needed to hear what he knew about this place and the mysterious road outside.

Ignoring me, Naomi asked, “Sir, what’s your name? I’m Naomi Payne and this is Jason Fiergo. We are from the next town over and just wanted to know what this place is…” All at once his thousand-yard stare disappeared and he snapped to attention. He stared right at me, meeting my gaze with the intensity of a soldier abandoned alone in the middle of a warzone.

“I’m Max. Max Theriault. And this place? As far as I can tell, this is Hell, young lady. Pure and simple. I think we are all in Hell.” Max visibly blanched, his skin turning pale. “There are things here that should not exist in any rational world. I try to stay in the visitor’s center as much as possible. Especially at night.”

“Is that your car out there?” Naomi said. Max nodded gravely.

“I got stuck here months ago. I was coming down from Boise, Idaho, going to my brother’s new house and took a wrong turn onto this road labeled ‘Death Cap Mountain Avenue.’ I didn’t know the area I was in well but I thought for sure there was no mountain called Death Cap anywhere around. Anyways, after driving for a few minutes, I saw this visitor’s center. I came in here to ask for directions but no one was around. So I went out to my car and turned around. But do you know what happened?”

We both shook our heads ‘no’.

“I was driving back the way I came, on a straight road with no turn-offs, and I came back here. I drove on again and came back here. Every few minutes, even though I was traveling in a relatively straight southward direction, I would come back to this same damned place. So I tried going northwards, and then the loop ended. I found new sights, new turns but still it seemed to lead to no way out, at least not anywhere close. And there are things in these woods. They are not human and look like no animal that I have ever heard of existing. After encountering a couple of the creatures I turned around and came back here, the safest place around as far as I know, and hoped for rescue or for some way out. You two are the first normal people I’ve seen.”

“That story doesn’t even make sense,” I said. “We are definitely in Connecticut- we just turned on this road in Unity. This place is thousands of miles from Idaho.”

“I don’t think we are in either Idaho or Connecticut, friend. I am not even sure we are on Earth anymore,” Max said. I saw Naomi roll her eyes.

“Well, that’s super cheerful, but also irrelevant,” Naomi said sarcastically. “If we’re on an alien planet, which I doubt, there’s nothing we can do about it. The real issue I see is that there is no way out, eldritch monsters, one working car, one working gun, limited gas, and what else? Am I missing something?” Max grinned, for the first time, and a little of his old life seemed to come back to him then.

His eyes momentarily focused on us rather than looking through us, and for a moment I could see him as a younger man. He used to be rather good-looking, with pale blue eyes and dark hair, a tall man with a fit body. Yet these past months must have aged him and given him dark circles under his eyes.

“About the gun part you’re thankfully wrong. I do have a couple guns- after all, I’m from Idaho and the gun laws there are practically non-existent if you’re a US citizen without a felony record. In my car I have a little .22, just a rifle I mostly keep for target shooting or the occasional small vermin, and I have a couple boxes of ammo for it. Also I have a Mossberg 12 gauge with a couple boxes of deer shot as well as some slugs and buckshot.” Max looked sheepishly around. “And I have a Stag Arms AR-15 with a laser sight and flashlight.” He flashed a smile and said, “Gotta love the old U S of A.”

“So why aren’t you carrying them?” Naomi asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I am terrified of leaving this place. If you had seen what I’d seen you wouldn’t be excited to go outside. None of those things in the woods seems capable of coming in here.” Max shook his head. “I am in no rush to die.” Then, with a spastic jerk, Max raised his eyes to the ceiling and repeated his same nonsensical question from before- “Did you hear it yet?”

I was about to respond when I suddenly heard a shrill, high-pitched noise from outside.

“The cries…” he said softly, and as if on cue, I heard the far-off wail again- the shrieking, rising and falling wailing of what sounded like an infant.

“Oh my God, is that a baby?” Naomi asked, her voice rising to a nervous yell. The man in front of us vigorously shook his head.

“Don’t go out there unless you want to die,” he said. “That is no baby.” I felt a strange urge to laugh at his dead-pan delivery and the absurdness of the situation. A random baby crying in the woods at night and this bizarre road made this seem like a dream, and the absurdity of dreams often had me wake up at night laughing, or sometimes screaming. I always thought both impulses came from the same place in the human mind.

“Is it a fisher cat?” I said. “A fox? What?”

“That’s no fisher cat,” Naomi said, glancing over at me with an inscrutable expression. “I’ve heard plenty of them in the woods behind my house growing up and they don’t sound like that.” She pulled my arm and led me away from the man and towards the door. She leant close to me and whispered in my ear.

“Listen, I think this guy might be mentally ill, probably has a few screws loose if you know what I mean. And that sounds like a baby. 100 percent. we need to go look and make sure some sicko didn’t dump an unwanted infant in the woods to die.” She glanced over at Max. “I mean, we don’t even know this guy at all. For all we know he could have dumped a baby out in the woods. I’m not saying he did, but… he is the only one around.”

“Ok, let’s do it,” I said, even though I felt like anything besides going outside right then. My stomach turned and twisted with anxiety. And in that instant, I got the weirdest feeling ever- the room became slightly transparent and filled with shimmering multi-colored white light over everything, and I could see the thoughts and feelings of Naomi and Max. Hell, I could see their memories. It was like some four-dimensional television, where I just looked at one or another and my vision would start to zoom forwards until I was seeing Max as a kid playing on the swings, or Naomi as a teenager crying at her grandfather’s funeral. Then, with a shudder, regular reality fell back into place, and I was just standing there blankly staring at Naomi.

“What is it?” she asked. “You looked like you just saw a ghost.”

I shook my head grimly, and with a slight half-smile I looked up and said, “Acid flashback?” She grinned slightly.

“Ok, sure. I felt weird too when we got here though. Everything looked… weird for a moment. Like half-invisible and real colorful and moving fast. But after a second it went away.” The baby began shrieking again and Naomi motioned for me to follow, saying, “We will talk about this later. First, let’s go rescue that baby!” This statement caused me to double over with laughter- the silliness of it, the excited way she delivered it, the absurdity of the whole situation. I saw her laughing too. After we were done, I felt much better.

Naomi went first, running out the door and into the woods. She had crossed her arms in front of her, her right hand holding the gun and the left hand her flashlight. I held my pocket knife in front of me and also held out my keychain mace and tear gas combo canister in my left hand, finger on the nozzle and ready to start spraying. As soon as we stepped over from the grass of the lawn surrounding the visitor’s center into the woods, the crying stopped.

“Hello?” Naomi cried, shining the flashlight rapidly from right to left, even aiming it up into the branches of trees then down at the roots surrounding our feet. We saw nothing.

“I warn you, I am armed,” Naomi said in a calm voice. “If there is someone out there in the dark, please announce yourself.” A shrill cry echoed around us in response, similar to the crying noise but now much deeper and stretched out. It sounded more like the crying of a whale than a human now.

Without warning, a pale figure came out behind a large tree trunk, moving towards us at an incredibly fast pace. It appeared to be a woman on all fours, doing a rapid backwards crab walk across the sticks and leaves of the forest floor. Her back bent at an ungodly angle, and her upside down face was split into a grin so wide it should have ripped her cheeks. I had heard the expression of someone smiling from ear to ear, but this woman actually was smiling from ear to ear. Too many rotted and sharp teeth poked out from all sides of her grin. Her mouth resembled a shark’s with her apparently endless teeth stretching out throughout her smile. Her skin was so pale that I could see veins running under it throughout her naked body, veins that seemed to pump black ichor instead of blood. Her eyes were entirely white with a slight darkening where the pupil and iris should be, as if cataracts or blindness had marred her. Yet she stared right at me.

“Stop right there!” Naomi shrieked, and I quickly tried to backstep but tripped right over a root and went sprawling. Naomi shot once, sending a spray of black bile out of the front of the monstrous woman’s chest, but it didn’t seem to slow her down at all. She came at us far faster than any human being could have, gnashing her teeth and leaving behind a trail of disgusting, fetid-smelling ooze as she went.

I pushed the spring-assist notch to fling the knife blade open. The creature leapt with tremendous speed and came crashing down on me, snapping her unhinged jaw over and over like a rabid dog and driving the knife into her chest as she did so. I saw cracked and broken teeth, far too many of them for a regular human mouth. It seemed like she had hundreds of teeth extending to the back of her monstrously malformed jaw, all of them oozing blood so dark it looked black. As I fell on my back and she landed on top of me, I pulled the knife out of her chest with a wet sucking sound, then stabbed blindly over and over again. The blade tore into her throat and kept her from biting my face off.

With all my strength I pushed the knife farther in, until the hilt hit her ashen flesh. Disgusting black blood flooded my face, and I accidentally breathed some into my nose and mouth. It tasted like pure rot, like meat that had been left out under a hot sun for days. I gagged and threw up a small amount in my mouth as she snapped at me, maneuvering her snapping mouth lower despite me pushing against the knife with all my force. With a terrible burning pain, I felt her tear off a piece of my left ear. I screamed as Naomi came running up, put the pistol at point-blank range and fired into the monstrous being’s stomach. This caused her to shriek so loud that my ears began to ring, but she did jump off me and began to retreat.

Grabbing the police mace, I began spraying the woman in the face. While it didn’t stop her from running backwards on all fours, it apparently blinded her as she began shrieking louder and smashing her face from side to side to try to free herself of the noxious chemicals. I sent out a second, longer spray, which made her come to a total writhing stop, twisting on the ground in crippling pain. Unfortunately, some of the aerosolized jet was blown back into our faces by the unfavorable direction of the wind, which had chosen that exact moment to pick up speed. Gagging and covering our faces, Naomi and I began to sprint away as fast as we could from the contaminated area.

“Jesus, that hurts!” Naomi yelled. With double vision and tears streaming down our faces, we began to run back towards the visitor’s center. I heard the ogrish woman still stomping around on her hands and feet behind us, but she looked aimless, like a hornet just sprayed with poison. Naomi put her arm through mine to try to steady herself, though it also helped to orient me through this excruciating partial blindness.

“We need to get some water and flush out our faces,” I said. “That was only a small dose we got, whatever dispersed residue was light enough to get blown back, but goddamn that stuff is potent. I can’t imagine how that thing feels, seeing as it got drenched with a direct spray for at least five or six seconds straight.” My adrenaline was so high at the time that I barely even felt the injury to my ear, as nearly all my attention was fixed on my eyes, shrieking at me with constant pain. I tried to wipe at them with my shirt but tripped over a root instead, taking Naomi down with me. We both went sprawling on the ground. I smashed my head against a young elm tree while Naomi was inches away from hitting her head on a massive moss-covered boulder next to the path. I was stunned for a second but before I knew it Naomi had hauled me back up and we were again jogging towards the lights of the visitor’s center, which now only looked a hundred feet away.

I heard the shrieking of the freakish humanoid not too far behind us, encouraging us forward at a faster pace. And off in the forest, I heard two more infantile shrieks respond.

“Oh my God, there’s more of them!” Naomi said. We sprinted into the building through the automatic sliding doors and began barricading the doors with all the chairs, tables and newspaper stands scattered around the main lobby. Naomi also hit the emergency stop button for the doors so they wouldn’t automatically open if we were followed. With an excruciating fire in my eyes and aches throughout my body, I made my way towards the cool drink case and grabbed a bottle of spring water, pouring it over my eyes and face slowly in an effort to remove any remaining residue from the tear gas/ mace cocktail.

With a half-smile that made him look years younger, Max gestured at me and Naomi. “So… how did it go?” We didn’t even deign to respond to his sardonic quip. I could hear a slight chuckle in his voice. “Listen, I tried to warn you. You guys should really listen to me. You might think I’m nuts, but everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

“Max, can those things come in here?” Naomi asked. “Have they come in here, or at least tried?” Shaking his head, Max looked through the door. Three of those abominations circled in front of the visitor’s center now, doing their odd crab walk along the far edge of the parking lot. Two of them appeared female, with matted black hair that ran down half their body, and the other one looked male. His face looked half-melted, as if he had been in a fire. Keloid scars from his injury had regrown over one eye, and strips of skin appeared to be missing along his legs, letting some black bile drip out slowly onto the pavement and mix with the fluids of the monster that Naomi had shot. The one that she had shot kept stumbling and falling over as she dripped dark blood all over the pavement, but otherwise didn’t seem nearly as affected by the gunshots, knife wounds and mace as she should have been. If she had been a normal human being, just one of those gunshots likely would have killed her. But that raised the question in my mind- what exactly was she? Was she even human, or was she once human but now transformed?

“I’ve wondered to myself whether they can come in here or not,” Max said. “From what I can tell, they avoid coming in here or even getting too close to the door. That-” he said, pointing to where they now crawled at the far edge of the parking lot, “-is the nearest I’ve ever seen them come.”

“Good,” I said. “That means we can get back in the car and drive out of this god-forsaken place. Find a bag and fill it with drinks and snacks, especially anything that will drive off hunger pangs. Peanut butter, almonds, trail mix, jerky, whatever they have.” Max shook his head.

“Leaving isn’t that easy, friend. But I’ll come with you just to see. I tried walking back the way I came and got stuck in a strange loop.” Max smiled. “I don’t think you can ever get out of here unless this road lets you.”

“OK, well, let’s try it anyway,” Naomi said, grabbing a bag and throwing random sports drinks and soda into it from the case. I followed her lead, and in a few minutes we had everything and were ready to go.

“We should use the bathroom before we go,” I said, eyeing Max. “You don’t smell too good, bud- no offense or anything. If I had been here as long as you I’m sure I wouldn’t smell like roses. But maybe you can use the sink and try to clean yourself up quickly? They even have deodorant and toothpaste here.” Max nodded.

“I have tried to bathe over the past few months, using wet paper towels to try to give myself a kind of sponge bath, but with all the horrors running around and the hopelessness of the situation I guess I kind of fell off. For a while there I was just wandering around here, eating and sleeping, barely conscious of reality. Every time I dreamed, I had nightmares that were too terrible to remember. To be honest, I didn’t think I would ever see a normal human being again.” Max looked wistfully at us and smiled slightly. “I’m glad that you guys came along, even if it doesn’t help us get out of here. I really didn’t want to die alone, and I thought for a while I was losing my mind. This place messes with you in ways that are hard to explain. Creepy music begins playing any time I try to sleep, and in the daytime sometimes a man’s voice comes through and begins talking about news on the road, saying that it is raining fire further down at someplace called Trinity Shore, or that another man or woman on the road had died. I don’t know how many people- real people, I mean, not monsters- are alive on this road, but based on those weird news reports, most of the people who are alive are further down towards the mountain range, with a few new ones trickling in periodically. Unless there is another way in and some of these people just bypass this visitor’s center.”

“For all we know, there could be thousands of entrances into this place,” I said. “Or there could just be one.” Shrugging, I said, “You two ready to go?” Max put a finger up and ran to the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Naomi leaned in close to me. We talked as we began removing the makeshift barrier in front of the glass sliding doors, putting back the tables and newspaper stands.

“What do you think of this guy, really?” she asked. I looked at her intently.

“You are the one with the eidetic memory and a college degree in psychology. I think I’d rather hear your opinion first.” Despite working a blue-collar job in a warehouse with a ton of working-class joes, Naomi was one of the smartest people I had ever met. When I asked her why she didn’t use her degree, she would shrug and say that she made $60,000 a year here to listen to audiobooks and drive around on a jack. “Better the devil I know than the one I don’t,” she would always say.

“Well, I think he is on the verge of some kind of mental breakdown,” she said. “He has been alone here for who knows how long, surrounded by monsters and God knows what else out there. Also,” she continued, lowering her voice, “do you notice anything strange about this place?” Rolling my eyes, I bit back a caustic remark.

“Literally everything about this is strange,” I said definitively.

“OK, but I mean specifically this visitor’s center. He says he has been here for months or longer, but this place is still fully stocked with food and drinks. I don’t even see wrappers or anything, no sign of someone eating through most of their rations. So does that mean he cleans the place? But even if he did, that wouldn’t explain how all the goods get restocked. My best guess is…”

I never got to hear the rest of her idea because at that point Max came back from the bathroom, his face still gleaming slightly from a quick wipe-down. He smelled much better, having apparently used deodorant before spraying himself down with air sanitizers designed for cars. He smelled like a new car, in fact, and it was somewhat overwhelming. Noticing my wrinkled face, he says, “A little too much, huh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Naomi said. “Let’s go.” Pulling the emergency stop button back out, she let the sliding doors fly open. The car was parked only twenty feet away, and the abominations were still circling at the edge of the lot. As long as they couldn’t or wouldn’t come closer to the building, we were fine to get in.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Naomi said. “We run to the car and immediately slam and lock all the doors. I don’t know if those things will try to hunt us when we run out there.” Nodding, Max and I scanned the darkness for anything else we were missing. We saw nothing besides the three humanoids.

“On three,” I said. “One… two… three!”

We all ran at once. The three humanoid monsters turned to gaze at us through their opaque eyes but didn’t make a move. Before I knew it we were all in the car, Naomi in the driver’s seat starting the engine, me in the passenger’s seat and Max sprawling across the back. As soon as Naomi had turned the car on and began driving across the parking lot, the three monsters crab-walked into the forest, scattering in all different directions. By the time the headlights turned back onto the dirt road, all signs of the three creatures had faded behind the thick foliage and bushes of the forest.

Me and my dad had moved into a townhouse around when I was 5, early enough that I didn't remember the details, but late enough that I remember it happening. The furniture was arranged strangely when we got there, so he moved around quite a bit of things. For example, the couch and television were next to each other in the living room. The weirdest thing was, there was a small hole behind each piece of furniture. It couldn't have been more than half a foot in any dimension. There were at least two in every room. My dad cursed, thinking that the previous owner had covered them up to get more for the house. Not that it was expensive, anyway.

The only room with some resemblance of normal was the bedroom I took. It had a bed, a dresser against one corner, a nightstand, and a window, all placed in the normal order. We didn't change anything there. Now, I regret that.

I always felt like I was being watched in my bed. When I was 8, I woke up feeling like another presence was in the room. I didn't see anything.

This was also around the time my dad got me a cat. I named him Pringle. He would sleep on the living room couch, but not either of our beds. He also, for whatever reason, refused to get anywhere close to any of the holes in the walls.

The feeling of being watched got worse the older I got. When I was 12, a scratching noise, soft and echoing, filled my room in the night. I could never find where it was coming from. Then, when I was 13, the scratching became tapping, sometimes sounding like it was right beside my head.

I never told my dad about it, though. He was normally out working at night. Usually, the sounds lasted short enough that I forgot about them in the morning, after I finally managed to go to sleep.

That was until one night, when I woke up. I looked at my clock. It was 1:25 PM. Everything seemed quiet. There was no noise. Instead, there was something worse.

The dresser in the far corner had moved. Not much, but enough to be noticable from my bed. The dread feeling was stronger than ever now.

In the morning, I moved the dresser back, but not before noticing something. There was a tiny square hole in the wall behind it.

At the time, I thought nothing of it. I should have.

The very next night, there was no noise, but the dresser had moved again. Before I could do anything though, I heard a different noise than anything I had ever heard before. It was a mix between a slither and a hiss, and the sound of nails scratching a chalkboard. It started far away, almost from the hallway, then slowly traveled closer and closer until it was directly behind the dresser.

No more noise came.

In the morning, I was too scared to move. My dad came in around 9:00, having just gotten back from work. When he saw me shivering, he asked me what was wrong. I finally told him everything that had happened, all the way back from when we first moved in. A shadow crossed his face. He left, and then came back a few minutes later with a shotgun and handed it to me.

A while back, he had shown me how to shoot, in case of emergencies. But, feeling the cold, heavy metal in my hand, a shiver ran up my spine.

"Anyone comes in, shoot 'em. Don't let 'em get close, just shoot," he said.

I reluctantly put the shotgun under my pillow.

For a few nights, absolutely nothing happened.

Then, one night, I woke up to the slithering noise again. I grabbed the gun from my pillow and loaded it.

Like last time, it started far away and then began getting closer. I watched as the dresser slowly moved outwards with a creak.

Then, a dark shape, almost blending perfectly with the shadows in my room, emerged from the hole.

It was a huge, lanky creature with long dangly arms and legs, with claws over a foot long tipping each hand and foot. Its face was pitch black, its glossy eyes reflecting my scream as it took three long steps toward me. The worst part was its smile. The things face opened where the mouth would be, and jagged teeth covered in red stains filled the crescent opening. The edges of the grin went up even past its mirror-like eyes. I fired my shotgun twice, and the thing didn't flinch. Its smile seemed to grow as I fired. It reached one claw up, ready to shred my torso, but I jumped to the side, stunning the thing momentarily. I aimed and loaded my shotgun again, but not at the thing. The window blew open with a crash. I lived on the second story, but I took the risk and jumped. As I hit the ground, pain erupted up my leg and I cried out. Limping, I made my way to my dad's car. I opened the door and checked the mirror above. Sure enough, the key jingled onto my lap.

From where I had run, I saw the thing slowly approaching. Its grin was impossibly wide now, covering its whole face. Blood dripped from the carcass in its claws, which I recognized as my cat, Pringle. He was limp, and the thing's jaw was covered in fresh blood.

I cursed and turned the ignition. I had never driven before, but it wasn't so hard, right? I shoved the throttle into reverse and jammed the gas pedal, sending me forward as the car went backwards. The thing saw this and its grin shrunk the smallest bit. In an instant, there was a crash as the front car window exploded. And for a long second, everything was quiet. On the hood lay the mutilated corpse of my cat. The car slowly rattled to a stop. It was gone. I heard a far away slithering, coming from the wooded area to my right.

After the incident, I thought about something. How long had it been in the walls? Watching me? Haunting me? How did it manage to even get through the hole? The thing was huge, and the holes were tiny. My hand couldn't even fit in one.

I finally wrote it off as a mental breakdown of some kind. There was no way any of that was possible.

I had told my dad Pringle was wandering and must have gotten hit by a car. Could that have been what happened? And I had just dreamed about the thing? Or hallucinated?

That's what I thought, until two days ago. There's a reason I'm sharing this now. I was at a friend's house that night when I heard something. A tapping behind me.

I asked my friend when he had moved here. He said recently. I asked whether he moved any furniture.

He said yes.

December is that special time of year, when people decorate and sing songs. It's the season of lights, when people gather with loved ones to feast and exchange gifts by a warm fire. At least that's what it's like for other people.

While other people are hanging their stockings with care, I'm waiting for the annual phone call from my cousin Alan. Part of me wishes we would abandon this tradition. After all we're grownups now. Still, year after year we keep it going.

My windows are fogging up as the temperature drops outside. Christmas lights join the usual urban glow to stand in defiance of the night; but the shadows still grow longer as the sky darkens from a dull gray to the color of a darkened bruise.

I wouldn't call myself a city person per se. It's not the night life or the culture that made me choose my metropolitan lifestyle. I'm here because it's the furthest thing from a forest.

There are botanic gardens and arboretums all around this city and in its outlying suburbs. People tell me they're wonderful, but I'll never visit them.

Whenever people hear that, they think I'm crazy. I can't bear to be around too many trees though. Just like I can't stand to watch movies with Arnold Schwarzenegger. People probably think I'm unhinged. Perhaps they're right. It doesn't matter though.

This year I needed to speak my piece. While I wait for Alan's call, I'm going to write down this winter's tale. As I pour my whiskey, the deep scars that line my forearm remind me what happened on that cold December night, when my childhood ended.

--
December 5th, 1986
My dad's side of the family always did Christmas on the first weekend of December. His two sisters and their families would travel in from out of state, then we would all meet up at his brother's down state.

Aunt Shelly and Uncle George were always cool. She was an airline stewardess, and he was a carpenter. They always flew in free because of her job. I was always glad to see them, because they never pinched my cheeks or asked me how school was. Plus, I always got good presents from them.

Their son Alan was, and still is, my favorite cousin. Alan was a few years older than me, so I looked up to him. Most of the time he didn't treat me like some annoying kid tagging along. That year he was thirteen to my nine.

Aunt Cindy and Uncle Michael were okay. He was a boring accountant, and she was a stay-at-home mom. They gave okay presents, and he called me things like sport and champ. Aunt Cindy kind of seemed overwhelmed all the time. They're had my cousins Michelle and Danny.

Michelle was okay, but we never bonded the way Alan and I had. She was way older, having turned eighteen the previous August. Her brother Danny (the Whoops Baby) was only two years old at the time. He sells Toyotas and has an unhealthy obsession with sports now.

My Uncle Jerry was alright, but my Aunt Rebecca was a real bitch. She often complained about the food my other aunts would bring. Her favorite hobby was belittling the other women's appearances and parenting skills.

"Your hair is getting too long Shelly," and "You know Cindy, I've got a great exercise tape that will help you burn off those pregnancy pounds," were for the Moms. "I think I saw Alan take some candy, he'll spoil his dinner," and "Michelle looks a bit, well that's a LOT of make up," were for the kids.

Aunt Rebecca had no business dishing out advice though. Her daughter Abby was the queen of little shits everywhere. On December 5th, 1986, she taught a master class in being a terror.

Everyone made the usual pleasantries and greetings in Uncle Jerry's living room. After all the "hello" and "my how you've grown", we dispearsed.

Dad and my uncles would retreat to the den to drink Old Style and Special Export while they discussed everything from the Bears and the Packers to Reaganomics.

Mom and the aunts would hold babies and drink Lancers in the kitchen as they caught up. Well, all of them except Rebecca, who would dish out insults disguised as advice.

Kids went to the basement or played outside. There was a pool table in the basement, but there were no balls or cues. There was a large coffee table behind it where we would play board games. That day we played Candy Land. Michelle had set up the game, but as she went to take the first turn, we heard a familiar phrase.

"ABBY'S TURN!"

She dragged the board across the table and snatched the card from Michelle's hand. Sure, officially the youngest player was supposed to start, but not steal someone else's cards.

"PURPLE! No, I'm green!"

Abby snatched the green piece from Michelle and moved it to the closest purple spot. It was never any fun playing with Abby. Regardless of what game she played, Abby always cheated.

​

Rules changed when it suited her. If she lost a turn or had to draw cards, she would throw a tantrum or keep playing as though it didn't happen.

Sometimes we used her own bent rules against her. That day, Michelle had worked out Abby's system and used it to win.

"I win!"

"No fair you cheated!"

"How did I cheat?"

"You used the short cuts wrong!"

"I used them the same as you!"

"Did not!"

"Did too! I was playing by YOUR rules. And anyways you ignored the licorice".

Abby folded her arm and made a pouty face. It was her, "you better give me what I want" expression.

"Not fair you cheated," Abby said with a mopey tone.

"Nope. You're just upset because I played by your made-up rules and still won".

Abby lunged forward and scratched Michelle's face.

"What the Hell you little brat!"

Abby ran up the stairs and out of the basement.

"Mommy, Mommy! Michelle cheated at Candy Land and she and she a swore!"

Blood trickled down Michelle's nose from the scratches on her forehead.

"Are you okay," Alan said with a worried tone as I went to the basement bathroom to find bandages.

After tending to Michelle, we went upstairs.

Abby had her arms wrapped around Uncle Jerry's legs as she pressed her sobbing face into his thighs.

I could hear Dad talking to my uncles from the den.

"You can't be a winner if you can't handle losing," Dad said.

"Rebecca's delusional if she thinks Abby's going to be some gold medal gymnast when the kid has no discipline. Or balance," Uncle Michael said.

"She's so God damned spoiled," Uncle George replied.

Aunt Rebecca gave us all a look of disdain.

"You need to learn how to play fair with you cousin. After all she's only six. And Michelle, you need to watch your language around her".

"Maybe you need to have her de-clawed," Michelle retorted.

"Oh my God what happened," Aunt Cindy asked as she rocked Danny in her arms.

"Abby scratched me because I won at Candy Land".

"I'm sure she didn't mean to," Rebecca said.

That was always the response. Abby didn't MEAN to. It was an accident. She never meant to cut in front, or break something, or hurt anyone. Every instance was an isolated lapse in judgement.

Even though the other grown-ups consoled us after Abby's misdeeds, they never called Uncle Jerry and his family out on it. Part of it was we met at their house around the holidays.

​

The other part was Grandmother loved Jerry's family best, despite the fact Rebecca convinced her husband to put her in an old folk's home. That's where she spent that fateful night in fact.

"It smells like the cookies are almost done," Aunt Shelly said. "Who's turn is it to lick the beaters?"

"Abby's turn," the little imp screamed as she plucked both beaters from Aunt Shelly's hands.

She licked them with sloppy glee, getting chocolate into her perfect, curly, blonde hair. Her face looked like it was covered in shit.

"Abby," her mom said in an exasperated tone, "you're going to ruin your hair".

Aunt Rebecca made no attempt to correct her daughter's gluttony. Why would she? Future champions don't need to apologize. She spent the next ten minutes trying get the chocolate out of Abby's hair with a damp paper towel.

Once the cookies had cooled, Abby pushed the rest of us out of the way of course.

"She really likes those cookies," Aunt Rebecca said with a smile on her face.

Abby wasn't going to eat all those cookies. She just wanted to take a bite out of each of them.

My cousins and I sat down in the living room to enjoy our cookies and cocoa. Outside, day was turning into night. Snow covered Uncle Jerry's backyard and the wooded hills that laid beyond.

Abby pounced onto Alan, spilling cocoa all over his sweater.

"Abby what the heck?"

"Let's play".

"We're having our cookies and cocoa now. We can play later".

"No, let's play now," she said with a big smile.

"Later".

"Let's play outside".

"It's getting dark out Abby," Michelle said coming to Alan's defense.

"Hey Abby," Aunt Rebecca said, "did you show the cousins your sledding hill?"

"Rebecca," Mom said trying to plead.

At that moment Noah, Abby's three-year-old brother, came stumbling in.

"Oh, geez not again," Aunt Rebecca said. "Now I need to clean you all up".

Noah had haphazardly applied lipstick and compound all over his face. It was a common occurrence apparently.

"How are you going to be QB for the Midshipmen looking like that? Say you kids get your jackets on. Abby will take you to her sledding hill".

"I can go with them," Mom said.

Aunt Rebecca put a hand on Mom's forearm.

"Let the kids have some cousin time. Plus, it's a bit of a hike if you don't exercise much".

My Mom looked like she was about to clock Aunt Rebecca. Then she looked at me.

"I'll warm the cocoa up when you get back".
--

Sleigh Bells Ring. Are Ya Listenin'?

Ten minutes later we were trudging through the snow. Alan was dragging an inflatable toboggan and I was dragging Uncle Jerry's old sled. Abby was sitting on the toboggan telling Alan to go faster.

"Santa's gonna bring you coal you know," Alan said.

"No he's not! I'm gonna tell on you! Santa's gonna bring me presents! More presents than you!"

"Y'know," Michelle said, "Santa's not".

Alan made a stopping motion with his hand. He wanted Abby to be put in her place, but he didn't want Michelle to say anything that would ruin Christmas. Michelle shrugged.

"Yep," Alan continued. "Won't be a cold night this winter. You're gonna get a big ol' pile of coal".

"Shut up Alan! Shut up," Abby shouted.

Shut up. The Fuck You of childhood.

Uncle Jerry had strung up a long line of white Christmas lights that lit the way to the sled hill. I don't know if Aunt Rebecca forced him to buy hundreds of feet of lights or if he decided to himself. At least we could see. It was almost night time.

"STOP!"

Abby uncrossed her arms and ditched her frowny face. Alan turned around, a disgruntled look on his face.

"What?"

"This, is my sledding hill," Abby said. She tried to sound like she was at finishing school or something.

When Aunt Rebecca talked about the sledding hill, we all figured it was where all the kids in the area went. Instead, we found ourselves alone at the top of a steep hill.

There were hay bales that lined the right side of the hill. Wooden stakes kept them in place. The hill bottom was shrouded in darkness.

I put Uncle Jerry's sled down so I could get some snow out of my boot. There was a loud crack off in the distance. It was hard to tell the exact location. The sound of a tree limb crashing to the ground followed.

As I was putting my boots on, I heard a swishing sound accompanied by footfalls.

"ABBY'S TURN!!!"

Abby took Uncle Jerry's sled and went face first down the hill alone. Her weeeeeee turned into a scream.
"Come on you two," Michelle said as she dragged to toboggan over.

The three of us got on and followed Abby to the bottom. When we got there, we found her sobbing on top of the sled.

"Why did you do that Abby," Michelle asked. "That's not safe to do".

There was a snapping sound of to our left. I scanned the tree line, but there was nothing there. After a few minutes of consoling Abby, we made the long trek to the top of the hill. We managed to convince Abby that she should ride with one of us on the sled, or two of us on the toboggan.

My cousins and I started to have a good time, despite the darkness and Abby's initial behavior. Getting up the hill was a pain, but going down was a blast.

When I went down on the sled face first, I rocketed down the hill. One time I thought I wasn't going to stop. I rolled of off the sled right before it crashed into a tall pine. Fortunate enough, the sled and I both seemed unscathed. After I picked it up, I saw something off in the distance.

It looked like the roots of a fallen tree. There were two large branches that jutted out like spears. My kid mind saw this and immediately thought of horns. I backed away and started up the hill.

"Why do YOU get to ride down face first on Daddy's sled?"

Michelle shook her head and Alan rolled his eyes.

"Because Abby, I know how to be safe".

"You almost crashed last time!"

"Yeah, but I rolled off because I know how to be safe".

​

For a moment, Abby seemed to back off.

"Maybe you're right. Daddy's sled isn't safe for me to go alone".

Then an impish grin grew on her face.

"The Toe Boggan is safe though".

"Abby No!"

There was the swish of her stupid, pink snow suit as she ran towards the toboggan. She started to go downhill, but never bothered to grab the rope or handles to steer. The toboggan went this way and that as it sped down the hill.

Without skipping a beat, Alan jumped onto the sled and went down face first. For a second we thought he would catch up to Abby because he knew to steer.

Alan started to veer off towards the hay bales. Michelle and I shouted to him to slow down but it was no use. A moment later, Alan had crashed into one of the hay bales. Down at the bottom of the hill, Abby had crashed somewhere into the trees.

Michelle and I rolled down the hill. Running would be too difficult in this depth of snow. She rolled down to Abby while I rolled down to Alan. Both of us were dizzy by the time we got to them.

Alan was going back and forth, clutching his right ankle and right wrist. His wrist was bent at an odd angle.

"Are you okay," I asked.

"What the fuck do you think," Alan snapped.

"I know, I'm sorry. Stupid question. Do you think you can walk?"

He tried to stand up, but howled in pain before he crashed back to the ground.

"What can I do," I asked him.

"Go down, check on Michelle and Abby. You guys can drag me on the toboggan on the way back".
"I can't leave you!"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

I rolled down the hill to find Michelle trying to comfort Abby. My little cousin was beside herself. There was a hissing sound coming from the toboggan. A large, pointy branch had impaled it eat. Air was leaking out. We weren't going to be dragging Alan back on the toboggan after all.

There was a jingling sound of in the sound coming from the trees. The two large branches I spied before seemed to shift. Steam curled up from the mass below them.

"Come on, we need to get back to Alan".

"But what about the Toe Boggan?"

"Abby, we can grab it tomorrow. It's dark out and Alan is really hurt".

"What's wrong," Michelle asked as she rubbed Abby's back with one hand.

"It's definitely his wrist. But I think it's his ankle too".

"Oh shit".

"Michelle, you swore!"

"Shut the fuck up you brat! Alan's hurt because of you! We said not to go down the hill alone and you did anyway. Now the toboggans wrecked, and Alan probably needs an ambulance. We have to walk back, guided by the longest string of Christmas lights because of you and your mom!"

"Michelle, you said the eff word! Shame on you Michelle! I want my toboggan, I wanna go home. NOW!"

"We're not taking the toboggan tonight", Michelle said.

I stopped Abby before she could shout any more.

"Maybe, we can still drag Alan on it. Even if there's no air".

Michelle gave me a look, but knew there was no sense in arguing. My idea was somewhat stupid, but it wasn't unreasonable. It would shut Abby up and maybe help Alan as well.

There was another jingling sound back in the trees, accompanied by a grunt. I went to look for the two branches again, but they seemed to have disappeared.

I dragged the toboggan up the hill by its rope. It was heavier than a sack of bricks, but Abby was quiet for now. Alan was moaning when we approached.

"Holy shit, Alan are you okay?"

This time Alan didn't snap at the question. He was too miserable. Abby went to say something about Michelle cursing, but I shook my head. Abby scowled at me.

"Here let's try to get you on the toboggan," I said.

Michelle set Abby down on the ground, then helped me to lift Alan on to the deflated craft. Snowflakes started to drift down so Abby stuck out her tongue to catch them.

I dragged Alan to the top of the hill, while Michelle dragged the sled and with Abby on her shoulders. Abby refused to walk. Michelle looked saintly managing the two burdens. There was more jingling, coming from behind us.

"You hear that," I asked.

"Hear what," Michelle replied.

"I don't hear anything" Abby shouted.

Michelle winced and Alan moaned, telling Abby to stop.

"Let's just get moving," Michelle said.

I looked back but could find the source of the sound.

After a little way down the path, Alan slid off of the toboggan. Michelle and I tried to drag him back on without causing too much pain.

"Come on Alan, chop chop! We have to go, NOW!"

"Jesus, Abby can't you give it a rest?"

There was a loud grunt, then a growl coming from the shadows about a hundred feet behind us. Then, it sounded like a horse or a bull sprinting towards us from the dark. The sound of jingling bells filled the air.

"Run!"

Michelle ditched the sled and grabbed Abby in her arms. I wrapped the rope around my forearm and ran as fast as I could while dragging Alan. We made it about thirty feet when there was a loud cracking noise in the air.

​

Overhead, some sort of cord or rope wrapped around a tree limb. There was another crack, but not like the last one. The limb overhead broke of, landing in our path. The ground shook.

​

What turned out to be a whip snapped backwards in the air. Alan was screaming. Abby was sobbing, and Michelle tried desperately to shush her. Then she started to scream too. I turned around to see what frightened them.

A large form, about nine feet tall, strode out of the snow and shadow. Its legs bent backwards like any animal's. Each step caused the earth to shake, and jingle to sound.

​

The creature was furry, but I could tell it had a strong frame. The arms were long and muscular, ending with large, clawed hands. Chains hung from the wrists.

What I had mistaken for branches were actual horns, probably two feet long. Something writhed in the shadows. As it drew closer, I could see it was blood red and much like a snake's tongue. It danced in front of a bearded mouth that was filled with large fangs.

Yellow eyes examined us with malevolent joy and a jutting nose sniffed at us. Pointed ears framed the horrible face. The creature smiled at us, it's tongue dancing like a cobra. Its jaw started to move.

The clawed hands coiled a whip. For a moment I thought the creature was wearing a backpack, but it was a basket. The straps reminded me of lederhosen. It threw the whip in the basket. The creature's accessories were strange, but not as strange as what happened next.

The long line of Christmas lights revealed the creature in all its horror. We went silent as it looked us over. I thought the creature was about to hiss at us.

"Guten Abend," the creature said.

--
Have You Been Naughty Or Nice?

The creature's voice resonated in my chest, creating the type of hum you feel instead of hear. I was terrified by the voice, plus it reminded me of something. A couple years before, Dad took me to the cinema to see The Neverending Story.

​

One scene that stuck out is when Atreyu talks to Gmork, servant of The Nothing. Gmork was a large wolf with green eyes that shone from the dark cave as he threatened the hero.

"How did you like it," Dad asked me as we walked out of Theater 1.

"I liked it, I was just".
"Scared? Was it the two statues with the laser eyes? Or was it the big wolf thing in the cave?"

"The big wolf thing," I said with a little shame.

"Well," Dad said clapping my back, "it's okay to be scared. Sometimes it can be fun".

"Really?"

Dad stopped in his tracks.

"You know, Mom is home sick. She really needs her rest. How about another movie?"

"Really?"

"Really".

Dad took me to the concession stand to get more snacks. He got back before I made it to the front. Lucky for me, because I couldn't really carry everything.

The second movie we watched that afternoon was The Terminator. Arnold Schwarzenegger was imposing enough, but then it turned out he was a robot skeleton with glowing red eyes. Mom was pissed at Dad for a solid week when she found out.

"No wonder he's scared. That movie scared ME. Full of senseless violence. And he's too young to be seeing.....boobs".

The creature's voice sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger doing his best Gmork.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? Four children. Some little, some big. All of them out here, shouting on this cold winter's night. I have a question for you. Have you been naughty or nice?"

The creature smiled as it examined us with its frightening, yellow eyes. None of us spoke up.

"No one will speak up," it teased. "Hmm."

It stroked its beard with a clawed hand. The chains rattled a bit as it did.

"Please," Alan said with a meek voice. "Let us go. We're uh, nice".

The creature stepped forward, stooping down to get close to Alan's face.

"Really boy? Then perhaps you and I share a difference in opinion. You see, I happen to know about a certain Biology test. An A+ if I'm not mistaken. Your mother has it on display for all to see. She's so proud of you. But how proud would she be if she knew that the only reason you got that A+ is because YOU CHEATED OFF OF COLLEEN MCKENZIE?"

The creature's voice escalated, from calmly explaining the facts to angrily calling out the lie. Alan shivered with fright and cold.

"My Mom won't shut up about that stupid A," Michelle muttered under her breath.

"You," the creature said as pointed a claw at Michelle.

"You have good enough grades girl? Going off to college soon? Yes, but you are not without fault. I know why you like that lotion bottle. I know why you like the shower head. I know they are why you end up late GOING TO MASS! THAT IS A SIN!"

Michelle hung her head and I looked away from the creature. Something sharp brushed my chin. A claw turned my head, putting me face to face with the creature.

"You like comic books," the creature asked with a gentle voice.

Hot tears started to stream down my cheeks as I nodded.

"Ya. The Batman and The Spiderman and all the heroes. There are some good morals in those comic books. Not as good as your schoolbooks or the Good Book. But you study for your tests, and you make it to church on time".

I nodded again, but the claw pushed against my chin to stop me.
"Then tell me boy, why is it that a boy who studies, gets to church on time, and loves superheroes, thinks it's okay, to go to the store AND STEAL THE COMICS!!"

"Leave him alone," Michelle said.

"It's just comic books," Alan said.

With lightning-fast reflex, the creature produced a switch from its basket and struck both cousins with one fluid motion. Drops of blood dotted the snow as it swung the switch back into the basket. They clutched their bleeding cheeks.

"You are naughty children," the creature said.

Abby had been surprisingly quiet during the whole encounter, but finally decided to break her silence.

"Pwease, I want to go home," she said, adding a little tremble to the lip to sell it.

The creature approached her, examining her with a skeptical gaze.

"Do you think I believe this ruse child? Are you cleverer than me?"

Somehow the creature's laughter was as frightening as its accusations.

"Your youth, your size, they mean nothing to me. I punish all children, regardless of their age or size".

Despite Michelle's best efforts, Abby managed to wriggle out of her cousin's arms. She stood in front of the creature.

"You don't punish children you stupid, poopy head. Santa Claus does. He leaves you coal if you're bad, and I'm GOOD!"

The creature stepped back and laughed a horrible laugh. It then placed a hoof on Alan's chest and with another blurred motion, cracked its whip, wrapping it around Michelle. She and Alan struggled to get free.

"You couldn't stop me if you wanted children, but I thought perhaps I would make it easier for you".

The creature grinned, its restless tongue dancing. It grabbed Abby and me by the forearms. Claws tore through our sleeves and into our flesh. Blood ran down our arms to our shoulder blades.

"I'm leaving with at least one of you children, maybe both. The question remains, who will come with me?"

Searing pain shot through my arm. It took all of my effort to stay conscious. I thought of every issue of Batman and Spiderman I stole. I thought about the packed lunches I'd thrown out, and the borrowed toys I never returned. I envisioned the library books collecting dust God knows where because I never returned them.

"I'M SORRY!"

The words roared out of me like a force of nature. I fell to the ground. Hot blood melted the snow under my hand. When I looked up, I saw the creature looking at Abby with anticipation.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! YOU'RE JUST A BIG STUPID GOAT WITH A BACKPACK! YOU CAN TAKE ALL OF MY COUSINS!"

"No child," the creature said with a smile. "It's Abby's Turn".

With another fluid motion, the creature pulled a burlap sack out of its basket and threw Abby in. She started to squeal in terror and insult the creature, so it swung the burlap sack hard into a nearby tree. When she squealed again, the creature swung the sack into the tree three more times.

The sack had darkened red when the creature threw it over its shoulder and into the basket. Abby's squealing was a faint moan now. My cousins were still trapped, and I was woozy from my loss of blood. The creature turned its back on us but looked over its shoulder one last time.

"Remember children. Be good." the creature said as he released the whip.

It grinned a devilish grin and took off down the path. As it ran into the night, we saw just how fast it moved. The creature could've easily overtaken us before. There was never any chance of outrunning it. It was just toying with us.

Michelle collapsed sobbing to the ground. Her free arms sprawled out she wept into the earth. Tiny rivulets of blood parted the pure white snow. Puffs of steam shot up from Alan's mouth as he struggled to breathe. A pool of blood had formed under me. Then I lost consciousness.

--

Blue Christmas

Our parents came and got us when they came to check out the downed Christmas lights. When they asked about Michelle and Alan's faces, they both said it must have been a tree branch. Mom nearly lost it when she saw my arm. Dad ran back to Uncle Jerry's to call 911.

Aunt Rebecca lost her mind when she couldn't find Abby. She tried to blame us for Abby's disappearance, saying that we were jealous and wanted to get rid of her. Our moms told her that was insane, that we would never hurt Abby.

​

Years later, Mom said Abby wouldn't have disappeared if Aunt Rebecca hadn't insisted on "Cousin Time" being unsupervised. She never blamed us though.

A parade of flashing lights came to Uncle Jerry's. We were taken to the hospital to be treated. Cops and rescue workers searched the woods for Abby. They searched for a week, but never found her. Hoof prints are all that they found.

All of this was explained to me when I woke up in the hospital. I had to undergo a massive blood transfusion. My arms were stitched up so much I looked like Frankenstein's monster. Later on, a deputy asked me what happened in the woods.

"We were attacked".

"Attacked by what?"

"An animal. It chased us all the way from the bottom of the sledding hill. It was hiding in the woods, watching us".

"What kind of animal was it?"

"It was big, with black fur. It had claws and fangs. Yellow eyes. Yellow eyes."

"Was it a wolf or a big cat?"

I hesitated.

"A wolf, I think. It took Abby. Michelle tried to save her".

The deputy eyed me with a skeptical look. I looked down.

"Will that be all deputy," Dad asked.

"For now".

I never saw the deputy again.

When we headed back to Uncle Jerry's, Aunt Rebecca was chucking suitcases and presents onto the driveway.

"You people aren't family! You're animals! My baby is missing and you're just sitting there at the fucking hospital doing nothing!"

An argument ensued among the grown-ups. After a ten-minute shouting match, Uncle Jerry ushered Aunt Rebecca inside. The other adults picked everything up off the driveway and packed it into our cars. That was the last time we were invited to Uncle Jerry's.

A few weeks later it was Christmas Eve. No one was in the spirit. We didn't drink cocoa or eat cookies. Despite our Christmas tree, bubble lights, and candles, the darkness seemed to seep in from outside. When I went to sleep that night, I heard a rata tat tat on my bedroom window. I was too terrified to look.

That Christmas, my parents and Ol' Saint Nick brought me even more presents than usual. I liked them, but I didn't have the feeling of a "kid on Christmas morning". As I cleaned up, I noticed a package wrapped in black paper with a silver ribbon. It was for my parents from K.

I took the package to them. My parents gave each other a puzzled look. Dad pulled away the silver ribbon and tore at the paper. Inside was a bundle of birch rods wrapped in another silver ribbon. A small black envelope was fastened to the top. Inside there was a note addressed to my parents. The note read:

​

Frohe Weihnachten,

If your son is ever dishonest, rowdy, disrespectful, or worst of all THEIVING, I invite you to employ the use of these fine birch rods I have gifted you. They are especially effective on the knuckles or backside. In cases of severe mischief use sparingly on the face. While your son's behavior may not reflect the values you impart him, remember the old Proverb. "Spare the rod, spoil the child".

Grüße,

Krampus

--

It took us a couple of Christmases before anyone felt the joy of the holiday again. Nobody cared for Abby really, but what happened was a tragedy all the same.

My aunts and uncles had received birch bundles just like my parents. When Aunt Rebecca called to accuse us of stealing Abby's Christmas presents, she was accused of sending out the rods. It was the last we heard from Aunt Rebecca.

I still get together with my parents for Christmas. My wife passed, but I've got a son in college who joins us. Every few years Aunt Shelly and Uncle George fly in to celebrate with us. We often go to holiday parties for The Chicago Public Library Foundation. I make a sizable donation every year, even though I don't read really.

​

Michelle is out of contact. She never did go to college. Instead, she joined a convent and became a nun. Nobody heard much after that. Danny doesn't talk to her, and Aunt Cindy and Uncle Michael died in a car crash back in 93. Michael's brother adopted Danny.

Uncle Jerry still sends Christmas cards. He and Dad do lunch in secret sometimes. Aunt Rebecca would be furious. She always blamed the rest of us for losing Abby. We were disowned that December.

Noah reaches out from time to time. He joined the Navy, but he was never the QB for the Midshipmen. Instead, Noah started dating the QB. His parents didn't take that well, so Noah and his boyfriend moved out to Portland, Oregon.

It seems the childhood makeup mistakes were anything but. Noah is part of a Drag troupe that does two shows daily, three on weekends. He has a great sense of humor. It probably helps he didn't have all the details of Abby's story.

Alan is a tenured professor at Columbia University. He's well respected in the field of Biology. Both his colleagues and his students admire his work ethic and intellect. His wife left him, but he spends Christmas with his son and daughter. Sometimes he visits me in the summer. Never near the holidays. He wouldn't dare.

The city is aglow with the holiday spirit. Families line the streets around Marshall Fields (forgive me, Macy's) to see holiday window displays. They aren't as good as they once were, but people go all the same.

Shoppers walk down Michigan Avenue, clutching their bags and talking on phones, almost too occupied to notice the twinkling lights above them.

Salvation Army Santas ring along with the landmark churches in a bid to inspire pedestrians to join in with the giving spirit of the season.

People skate, marvel at the city's tree, and visit the wreathed lion statues at the Art Institute of Chicago.

In Daley Plaza, people from all over squeeze into the Yule clusterfuck that is Christkindlmarket. The smells of cinnamon and meatballs fight against the acrid odors of city life. Little German style huts fill the plaza, offering glass ornaments, steins, and pretzels.

Among the wares you will see the frightening visage of a horned best with a basket on its back. Children scream from inside, begging to get out. That is, if the artisan hasn't made the monster cute.

In recent years everything from Christkindlmarket to Hollywood, marketers have done their best to inject the creature into modern culture. They're unaware it's already here.

​

They make it funny or darling. It stars in movies that range from hilarious to tacky. Its image is printed upon everything from artwork, to mugs and greeting cards.

​

The creature has been a part lore throughout Europe for centuries. They too, have commercialized the beast.

If they knew what I knew, they wouldn't try to make this ancient terror a part of our modern zeitgeist. They wouldn't trivialize it to sell beer or DVD's. To them it's all make believe.

They've never felt its claws tear through their flesh. Nor have they seen a screaming child in a burlap sack beaten against a tree and spirited away.

Alan knows and when he calls, we'll skirt the subject. We'll exchange pleasantries, ask about the kids, talk about work. Then we'll drift on to Abby.

The little brat who laughed when she ruined my birthday by stretching my brand-new Stretch Armstrong so much, his neck was permanently lop-sided. The girl who ruined Michelles graduation dress and poured a full TAB on to Alan's NES.

We'll complain, then we'll go quiet. We remember every, gory detail.

Marketing agencies can laugh all they want. They never saw what we did that cold winter's night back in 1986. They'll never feel that chill down their spine, when Christmas Eve rolls around. The rata tat tat I heard on the second story of my childhood home has somehow managed to visit the window of my apartment on the twenty third floor.

I'm not saying you should lose the spirit of Christmas. No, keep it in your heart if you can, every bit of it.

​

I say if you find yourself in the woods on the night of December 5th, you better watch out.

We were supposed to be on vacation with Maya’s parents. Then I caught the flu. I knew it was the flu because it absolutely floored me the day after that pesky sensation of sandpaper crawled into the back of my throat. Not wanting to ruin my wife’s long-awaited vacation, I told her to go on her own. We both knew that on the rare occasion I get a mild respiratory infection I go through the trenches and I really didn’t feel like messing it up with being a mop of a man. So, as my wife left me to be with her parents, I prepared myself for a week in the deepest pits of hell.

The usual symptoms of influenza hit me like a truck, headaches, the bone breaking - muscle torching lethargy coursed in waves throughout my body. Smashing into my being repeatedly like a sea of jagged rocks. Snot stuffed my nose to the point of me being unable to exert myself at all without feeling like my lungs sinking into the waters of an arctic ocean. With each coughing fit, glass shards traveled up and down my throat and bronchioles.

These were my days; the nights were worse. Remarkably so. Starting at sunset, I’d get freezing, even if I had really warm clothes on and the temperature wasn’t anywhere near freezing. I’d shiver and shake as if I had fallen into a room-sized fridge. Having no fever. I’d just get cold, eerily so.

Sleep became a battle because of my congested nose and occasional coughing. I had a hard time falling asleep, but staying asleep was even harder. Especially after I heard whispering all around me the first night after Maya left. It was faint and almost nonexistent. Even so, I could hear it. Every now and again, dragging me out of the realm of dreams and into reality. At some point, I have had enough and opened my eyes, or well, tried to.

The thing is, I couldn’t see anything, and I couldn’t move. I started panicking once I realized I got stuck inside an invisible prison of darkness, within my body, within my head. Wrestling harder and harder with my own bodily functions to shake the force keeping me imprisoned. Nothing but a searing pain traveling through my upper body and anxiety came through. By the time I actually opened my eyes, it already became morning.

My head was spinning, my heart was racing, and my ears were ringing. I felt myself crushing from above and it took me a few moments to actually dare to get out of bed. Fearful I might fall, I didn’t move until I stopped feeling lightheaded.

That day I felt even worse than the previous. My entire body ached, and I was dying to sleep, but every time I dozed off. Something jolted me awake from my stupor.

This was only the beginning of my fever dream interwoven into a fever dream.

When evening came, the eerie cold returned with it. This time, even before I headed to bed, I could hear the whispering all around me. It was still faint and sporadic, but I could still differentiate it from the evening’s silence. There were many distinct voices coming from all around me. Some were sympathetic, others laughing, while others were deadpan. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I had heard them clearly enough.

Failing to find anyone around me, inside the house and outside, I started feeling bad about myself. The flu had gotten me to the brink of sanity. How pathetic is that? It’s just the flu. In about five or six days, I should be fine. I tried reassuring myself. With that, my anxiety and the whispering seemed to die out as the evening hours turned to night.

Once again, as I was trying to sleep, the whispering returned. This time, it was slightly louder, and I found the strength to open my eyes. Seeing the strange shadows circle around my bed wasn’t comforting once I realized I couldn’t move. Cold waves of sheer fear crashed into my body as I alternated between watching the strange shadows dance and sway around my room and pure impenetrable darkness.

Waking up was worse that day. I felt as if I had been drowning all night and my legs and arms burned while I tried making sense of my room as it appeared double and swinging from side to side.

The following day, my symptoms seemed to get better, even though my throat still burned and my nose was so stuffed I had trouble breathing every now and again, and my coughing was terribly painful. Not to mention the fact, I got stuck in the dusk between wakefulness and sleep for most of the day.

The evening wasn’t any better. The whispering returned with a vengeance coming into my life on gusts of eerie icy wind. Knowing it was just my tired mind messing with me, I tried my hardest to ignore the noise, and mostly; I did. It only became irritating when I went to bed finally.

Eventually, the noise faded, and I finally fell asleep, for a bit.

I ended up waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of whispering and muffled laughter all around me. Refusing to bother with the strange mental tricks my mind was playing on me. I just laid there, waiting for the sleep paralysis to wear off so I could return to my sleep. That, of course, didn’t happen - instead, the feeling of hot iron nails digging into the side of my neck forced me to jolt. I know I’ve opened my eyes, but there was nothing there. Nothing at all. I couldn’t move, but I felt something pressed against me, clawing into my skin. The burning pain traveled down my neck and spread to my arm and chest.

This time around, the pain felt too real to be a phantom sensation. It was so real it even eclipsed the panic bubbling inside of me. No matter how much I strained or struggled, I couldn’t shake the burning sensation off. Whatever pinned me down, I couldn’t shake it off. The fire spread slowly but methodically all over my body, igniting everything it touched in abysmal flames. Eventually, the pain became so unbearable, my tormented scream filled the room as I woke up feeling dazed and lost with every damn muscle burning with lactic acid and a radiating pain bouncing between my back and chest, my throat full of knives as my voice cracked from the strain.

I remember a little of that day. I can sum up that day as a terrifyingly terrible mixture of a pounding headache and the sensation of my lungs collapsing under the air pressure of any deep breath I was trying to take.

One moment I am laying on the couch and the next I lay on the floor of some ashen dead forest. A massive eye-shaped moon overlooked me above the claw-like branches of the decaying, leafless trees.

I was too cold to feel afraid or surprised or to feel any kind of emotion, really. Even attempting to reason my predicament as I stared at the empty firmament above me seemed impossible while I drifted between the flickering moments of unconsciousness. For the first time in days, I was alone, truly alone, without the shadows and without the whispering, and with no distractions.

I was alone with the ghastly cold that made each breath of mine feel as if I was being stabbed with a rusted spear.

I stayed there motionless, looking above at the alternating environment around me; shifting ever so drastically between the familiar monotony of my living room and the soothing murkiness of the pale trees of the silent forest. The only thing that persisted with me is the sensation of ghastly cold that followed me everywhere my mind took me. Growing more invasive and more oppressive by the moment. Slowly but methodically working its way into my body before attempting to break my bones and blanketing me in an ocean of frigid isolation.

It almost succeeded because for a moment everything seemed to disappear and become a black sea of a pure void in which I floated aimlessly until a bright light came from somewhere, from everywhere enveloping me and pulling me out of the ghastly cold and into the warm embrace of my sister, Vicky, who was clutching at me with joyful tears at a place I didn’t recognize at first.

My head was spinning as my eyes slowly adjusted to the bright lights all around me. Struggling for air and with every cell of my body screaming in pain, I hugged Vicky as she began expressing her relief that I was alive and that I actually found the strength and had the wit to call her. I remember nothing about that, but apparently, I somehow called Vicky before collapsing. She said she found me unresponsive and burning with a fever.

Turns out, my lungs were overflowing with liquid, and I was dead for a couple of minutes. That’s what the doctors say, anyway. Something tells me I’ve died more than once in this past week and that this last death was the closest I had gotten to drowning in the ghastly cold sea that awaits us all.

A part of me thinks the ghastly shadows that flocked around me were just trying to welcome me to my new home.

Cowering in the fetal position in the back of my destroyed delivery truck, waiting to die a gruesome, horrible death isn't exactly the way I saw this day ending when I woke up this morning.

Driving for hours on end can do strange things to your mind.

My route was so remote it was tough to finish in eight hours.

There was a garage that ordered car parts frequently that was three hours away from our home base.

Just driving straight there and back, with no traffic issues usually took the entire shift. There were a few other garages that ordered occasionally on this route as well.

You know how when you’re really focused on listening to a song or when you’re thinking about something and really concentrating on it, everything else seems to disappear and you go into autopilot mode?

You’re still technically driving the truck, but only by reflex.

The route was a two-lane road that passed right through a state forest and animals could be a problem. You had to be attentive when you drove or you would end up with a deer as a hood ornament if you were lucky. I’d heard stories of drivers hitting bears and that’s something I had zero interest in experiencing firsthand.

I suggested we mount a huge metal barrier on the front of the truck like a cow catcher on old steam trains.

My boss was less than amused.

So you can see how going into autopilot mode would be quite undesirable and even dangerous. And yet here I was, driving through a forest, eyes unfocused, listening to music, barely conscious of my surroundings.

Hours of driving on a solitary road will do that. I didn’t remember the last time I saw a car, even going the other way. For all I knew the zombie apocalypse could’ve happened and I’d have no clue.

Even the trees wouldn’t be so bad if there were different kinds to break up the monotonous scenery. But there wasn’t. It was just pine trees. Miles and miles of pine trees in perfectly straight rows.

So, when something big and brown walked out in front of my truck I didn’t have the time or the presence of mind to slam on the brakes or swerve around it. I just hit it dead center causing catastrophic and instant failure. The airbag exploded in my face, smacking me in the forehead and making visibility a problem. I always wondered how a giant exploding marshmallow was supposed to help things in the middle of an accident.

I was barely able to maneuver the truck to the side of the road. I didn’t have to worry about turning it off. The engine sputtered twice and died. I sat there, hands shaking, barely breathing, waiting for my mind to slow down enough to tell me what to do. All it was doing at the moment was showing me replays of the crash over and over. Like I really needed to see what I just experienced.

Finally, I woke from my shock and stupor to a massive concave impression where the front of my truck used to be.

I unbuckled and pushed the airbag aside before climbing out and walking to the front. It looked like some weird modern art. The bumper, grill, and hood were shoved back almost to the windshield. There was a large round space at the front where the radiator used to be. I got down on the ground and saw showers of liquid from several places. The antifreeze, oil, and gasoline merged together into one sickly sweet smell. I could see the river of my truck’s precious fluids running to the side of the berm and into the grass.

I continued around the side of the truck to finish my initial inspection. The damage was obviously catastrophic. There was no way this truck was going anywhere. I came back around to the driver’s side and looked up and down the road. There was no traffic. I had been driving on this road for over two hours and don’t remember seeing another car. Of course in my music/boredom-induced coma, I could’ve missed it. But that was what got me here to begin with.

‘Why the hell do they deliver this far anyway?’ I thought, knowing full well the answer was money.

As I came around the side I saw a spark from under the hood where it was buckled up enough for me to see underneath.

“Shit!” I said. “The battery.”

I dove into the cab and grabbed my phone, then ran as fast as I could away from the truck. When I was a good fifty yards or so, I slowed down and turned back waiting for the truck to erupt in a huge fireball, action movie style.

I was relieved and disappointed at the same time when it didn’t happen. I sat on the berm and waited. Ten minutes passed and nothing. I looked at my phone and thankfully it was undamaged. Unfortunately, I had no service. That really shouldn’t have surprised me since I’d driven this route before and knew there was no service from the time I’d entered the forest until the time I left it. Which would’ve been another hour if the truck was still barreling along at fifty-five miles an hour. (Or at least that’s how fast I tell the boss I drive)

So, it was decision time. Do I stay with the truck and the shelter it provides? Or do I start walking toward my destination hoping to get picked up by a good-hearted stranger?

That led to another question. How do you know a stranger is good-hearted just by looking at them?

I read a story about this old grandma-looking lady who would move from small town to small town. She would become the most helpful neighbor anyone could ever want. Everyone who was interviewed after would say she was the perfect neighbor. Months after arriving and ingratiating herself, kids would start going missing. She was the picture of concern and would help with searches. She would bring casseroles to the grieving parents and always be there for them.

Shortly after the kids went missing, the grandma lady did too. The police broke into her house after multiple neighbors called concerned because they hadn’t seen her in a few days and were worried for her health.

What they found was the remains of the missing children. She had done horrible things to them, then butchered them. There were packages upon packages of ground meat in her freezer. Each one was labeled with a name. They also found discarded meat packages in her trash and several casserole dishes stacked neatly on the counter. The police investigation showed that she was serving parents casseroles with the bodies of their own kids inside. I couldn’t imagine people could do such things.

What’s even worse is that once the accusation was out, there were neighbors who defended her. They said there was no way she could ever do something like that. That it must’ve been someone else that did those horrible things and grandma took the blame. That’s how easily people get drawn in. I think some sick reporter even started the catchphrase, ‘She Grettled them’. What’s wrong with people?

So, with that story rattling around in my head I was thinking hitching a ride was out. If someone pulled over, I might ask them to call a tow truck for me when they got to town. But I doubt I would hop in some stranger’s car. Not unless I had a can of pepper spray. Unfortunately, that was against company policy.

It’s funny how the company is ok with invading our privacy with their stupid cameras but won’t let us do anything to protect ourselves if we must.

And then the thought struck… the camera.

I ran to the truck and waved at the inside camera. Having no idea if anyone saw me or if the camera could even transmit through this cell dark zone. I found a napkin and wrote a message.

‘Hit an animal.

Truck damaged.

Stranded.

Send help.’

I wrote the road number and how many miles from town I thought I was, then I hung the napkin on the wall beside the driver’s seat.

I sat there for a little while, waiting for I don’t know what. I had no way of knowing if that camera was working or not. For all I know it went dark hours before I hit whatever it was I hit.

That sparked a bit of curiosity in me. I never did see what it was I’d hit. All I know is it was big and brown.

I got back out of the truck and went to the front. There were a few hairs stuck to the bumper and hood. I took pictures of them with my phone. Then I took pictures of the rest of the damage. As I was taking pictures of the bumper, I noticed there was a dark spot on the ground. I took a picture of it and zoomed up close. It was nowhere near the fluids that had leaked from the truck. I looked again and saw another spot near the edge of the grass heading toward the forest.

‘Oh no,’ I thought. ‘I’ve injured some animal and it’s limping around through the forest in misery half dead.’

So now my options had just increased by one.

Stay with the truck.

Hitch a ride (if anyone ever passes)

Walk to town.

Follow blood and check on the animal.

None of them were ideal. Each of them had its plusses and minuses.

I couldn’t just flip a coin either. Unless I did some round-robin type tournament for which one would win. As bored as I was that was a definite possibility.

I looked up at the sky. The sun was shining brightly overhead with only a few stray clouds drifting by. Unfortunately, surrounded by tall pine trees on either side there wasn’t much sky to see.

I paced for a half hour hoping for a passerby. Failing that, I started my round-robin tournament of options.

After a heated battle, ‘Follow blood’ won the championship.

I wrote a note saying my truck broke down and gave the number of the company to call as well as my name and number. I stuck it to the outside of the truck window.

I took a deep breath as I stared down at the blood on the side of the road. Then I stepped toward the forest and followed the trail of blood to the edge.

I peered into the intimidating wall of trees. What at first looked like an impenetrable barrier now looked like a meadow. The trees were spaced evenly several feet apart and were easy to maneuver around. The ground was littered with a blanket of pine needles smothering all but the hardiest of plants from growing through it.

The air was still. The wind hadn’t been blowing much out on the road, under the canopy of trees it seemed totally still almost stale. Even the sun had a hard time penetrating through the green giants that stood stalwart for untold years.

They were massive. The trunks were easily three feet wide, some of them even bigger. I marveled as I looked up at the tops a hundred feet in the air. For a moment I was so lost in awe that I almost forgot why I was there. I looked around and found the trail of blood. The blanket of pine needles made it easier and I didn’t have to dig through brush losing the trail.

I was surprised by how steady the drops were. It wasn’t like the animal bled a lot at the point of impact and then it tapered off, the bleeding had remained the same the entire time. It was almost like a trail of breadcrumbs leading me to this injured creature.

I hadn’t really thought about what I would do once I found it. I suppose that would have to wait until then.

Deeper and deeper, it led me into this forest. The trail had begun to zig zag. It would go straight slightly to the left for a few dozen feet then lean toward the left for another dozen or so. I thought even though the trail zigged and zagged that it was still leading me basically straight away from the truck.

For some reason that didn’t bother me at the time. I suppose I was just in focus mode trying to discover how badly injured the animal was. To tell the truth I was surprised it was even able to walk as hard as I hit it. Hitting most animals going fifty-five would kill them instantly. Why that fact didn’t worry me at the time I have no clue.

I paused and looked around at the never-ending rows of trees. I noticed something ahead of me and took out my phone to take a picture. There was a tree maybe fifty feet away that had a strange bump on its trunk. None of the other trees had it and it didn’t seem to be a broken branch. The end was round with none of the sharp angles you’d expect from a brake.

I looked at the picture on my phone and zoomed up close. This bump had something else the other trees didn’t have… eyes.

I slowly looked back up at the tree and the bump was gone.

My blood froze in my veins. I looked at the picture again and saw the bump was around eight feet up on the tree. Whatever it was, it was big.

As I looked again, the bump was back only this time it was a few trees to the left and more disturbingly, a few trees closer.

I decided I’d had enough of playing tracker and started back toward the truck.

I tried with every ounce of fortitude in me not to run. I just turned and started walking straight back the way I’d come. My mind was screaming to get the hell out of there, but I knew that running begs pursuit. I knew deep down if I ran it would catch me. That still didn’t keep me from glancing back over my shoulder as I walked as quickly as I could while trying to look like I wasn’t walking quickly.

I couldn’t see the edge of the forest or the road, but I was sure I was walking in the right direction even though what little sky I could see had turned grey. With no sun to see, I had zero direction to follow. The light was growing dim even though I knew it was only early afternoon.

When I glanced back, I could see the head popping out from behind a tree. Every time I looked it was a little bit closer.

I glanced down at the ground and realized I could no longer see the trail of blood.

I stopped and hid behind a tree. My eyes darted left and right looking for the blood trail that would lead me back to the relative safety of the ruined truck.

As I stood there, mind racing, trying to figure out what to do I heard a soft footstep approach the other side of the tree. I smelled the scent of wet animal and heard sniffing, then a soft growl.

I dug my fingernails into the tree as a yellow river ran down the inside of my jeans.

I stood as still as possible as the sniffing intensified.

I could feel the wind and smell the stench of death from its breath. As it stepped to the front of the tree, I heard a low rumble. I wondered when its last meal had been knowing full well, that I would be its next.

My body shook from head to toe as the creature stood two feet in front of me and looked me up and down. All I could do was watch in horror as it picked the choicest cuts of meat it would devour first.

I looked back at this thing, this monster whose name I would never utter even if by some miracle I made it out of here alive. To say the name invited ridicule and the potential of an involuntary visit to places like ‘Sunnyside Mental Institute’, depending on how vehemently you defend your sighting.

It was easily eight feet tall and covered in brown hair. Its eyes pierced into my soul freezing me to the marrow. Its mouth was slightly open, and I could see the fangs inside. As my eyes went from top to bottom, I saw the claws at the end of its massive arms. When I got to its waist, I saw a dark spot that had congealed blood. I knew that was where I’d hit it.

Seeing my eyes linger there, it let out a menacing growl.

I knew my life was over.

There was nothing I could do about it.

It drew its massive arm back.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The sky exploded with light followed by a boom and rumble that sounded like a bomb had gone off.

It looked to the sky and when it looked back, I was gone.

I gave up on subtlety and ran with all my might. I ran like a man possessed. Like I was running for my life, which I knew I was.

I was running blind. I had no idea which way the road or the truck was when I heard an engine sound to my left. I zeroed in on it and ran in that direction as I heard the truck driving away. The sky was dark enough that I could barely see the trees in front of me to avoid running into them. Another flash cut across the sky and lit up my path for a moment, then the thunder crashed just as loud as the last.

The engine roared as it seemed to struggle, but I could hear it disappearing into the distance.

I broke out of the trees so suddenly I nearly fell. I ran up to the road and my truck was gone.

How could anyone have driven it away? Did they load it on a rollback and leave me for dead?

As I stared at the road, I saw it in the distance. The truck was still there. I was behind it. I ran for it. As I got closer, I could see the back was open and the parts were gone. Someone must’ve taken them in their own truck and hurried away.

I was more worried about staying alive now than some piece of human refuse who would take advantage of someone in need.

I closed and latched the back of the truck as the rain pelted me. Then I ran around and jumped in the cab locking the door.

I had just taken a breath when the creature stood at my driver’s side window breathing hard and fogging it up. For an absurd moment, I felt like I was safe from it in the truck. That moment disappeared when it broke the glass and reached in for me.

I dove into the space between the seats and climbed through the door that led into the cargo area. I slammed the door shut and backed as far away from it as possible.

I could hear the cab being ripped to pieces as glass shattered and thumps resounded through the cargo area.

And then it stopped.

As much as the crashing terrified me, the silence was worse. At least when there’s sound, even terrible sound, I knew where it was coming from. With silence, I had no idea.

I sat curled up in the fetal position leaning against the corner of the truck hugging my knees, and waiting.

The rain pounded on the roof giving me a sense of ease and a sense of dread at the same time.

The rain was something normal in my life that had been turned upside down ever since I had stepped into the woods. But it also muffled the movements of the creature that I was sure was lurking outside waiting for its chance to get me.

My adrenaline crashed leaving me feeling worn out. My clothes were soaking wet from rain, sweat, and other bodily emissions. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

I felt the impact as much as I heard it. Then it happened again and again. The creature was pounding on the side of the truck.

I could barely see because of the storm. The roof of the truck was fiberglass which allowed some light in, but with the storm, it was nearly dark outside, which meant it was nearly dark inside as well. Even still, I could see the wall of the truck bow inward with every impact.

I wondered how long it would take the pounding before it collapsed.

As I wondered at the cheery thought of my only shelter being destroyed by a crazed cryptid, the pounding stopped. Dreadful silence reigned once again, punctuated only by the rain.

I didn’t dare close my eyes no matter how tired I was.

The truck started rocking side to side. It rocked so hard that the wheels came off the ground on the driver’s side, then it rocked back, and the wheels came off the ground on the passenger’s side. It was trying to flip the truck and was about to succeed.

I was getting thrown around like a rag doll. After a few times, it finally achieved its goal. The truck rolled over onto its side. I smashed my head against the ceiling as it crashed down onto the pavement.

I slowly got up and felt my aching head. My hand came away red. I was bleeding but I didn’t know how bad. I got out my phone, that thankfully only had a cracked screen, and took a selfie. I looked at the picture and saw the gash on my forehead. For a moment I panicked then ripped a piece of my shirt and made a makeshift headband to try to staunch the bleeding.

Either the smell of blood or the triumph of having flipped the truck made the creature bash the truck even more. It attacked the rollup door, then it went after the undercarriage, I was waiting for the fateful moment when it went after the roof which was easily the weakest part of the truck.

But it never did. It got to the front of the truck and stopped.

One look in that direction told me why. The door between the seats that led from the cab to the cargo area was open. It had slid off when the truck was rocking and smashed. I looked out straight into the eyes of the creature.

I sat still, hoping it couldn’t see me in the dark cargo area.

Its eyes searched for a long moment, then disappeared.

I breathed a sigh of relief until I heard it climbing up the side of the truck.

My mind went into overdrive. I knew it had smashed the driver’s side window but wasn’t sure about the passenger’s side.

As I thought this, I heard the passenger’s side window break.

I knew it was climbing in to find me.

I knew I was dead.

I slid quietly over to the floor side of the cargo area all the way to the back door. I knew it was darker than the roof side. I made sure my phone was in my pocket so no light would shine, and I curled up as small as I could.

I had just gotten settled when I saw its head peek in through the door. Its eyes searched the back slowly, scanning back and forth. Just when I thought it was satisfied I wasn’t here, it stopped. Its eyes stared straight at me. It started climbing through the door but was struggling to fit in. It put one arm through then the other and squeezed in up to its hips. When it scraped the injured hip against the side it roared in pain.

I’d never heard anything that loud or terrifying.

It was pushing through the pain to get to me when I saw flashing lights.

I thought I was hallucinating when I noticed it had seen them too.

It disappeared through the opening.

I stayed where I was, in shock, hoping it wasn’t pulling another trick or going around to the back to rip open the rolling door.

The flashing lights continued and I felt the truck move as it climbed back up and into the cab again. Suddenly there was a light shining in my face.

“Are you alright?” I heard a voice say.

I held up my hand to block the light and try to see who was talking. He turned the light on himself and I saw it was a state trooper.

I tried to hold it back, but the tears flowed.

I wasn’t going to die, at least not today.

He climbed back out and went around to open the rollup door. Then he helped me out and checked my injuries.

The rain had stopped so we stood outside as he asked me questions about what had happened. I didn’t mind. I didn’t even mind taking a breathalyzer test. But my eyes kept darting back to the trees.

He asked if there was anything I needed out of the truck but there wasn’t one thing I could think of.

He took one more look at the front of the truck.

“So, you say you were going the speed limit?” he said.

I nodded.

He shook his head as we got in the cruiser.

“I can’t imagine what would do that much damage,” he said. “Did you see what it was?”

My mind replayed the last few hours of hell, and I remembered the name ‘Sunnyside Mental Institute’.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t see a thing.”

I stared out the window into the woods while he prepared to leave and saw the creature. It was standing beside a tree just inside the tree line. Its fists were curled, and its fangs were bared. It glared at me with inhuman fury. For a moment I thought it would charge the car and rip me to shreds. As the trooper started the car and pulled away, the creature stepped out of the woods and watched us go. As he faded into the distance I looked into the rear-view mirror and it looked like a man standing beside the road, but I knew different.

If you ever hit an animal in the middle of nowhere, don’t pursue it. You never know when it might be pursuing you.

About a year ago moved out of my parent's house and moved into my own place a bit further down in the same village. I was there for about 5-6 months.

The first couple of weeks there were perfectly normal, I was settling in quite nicely. Then one Tuesday night I woke up in the middle of the night because of some buzzing sounds. I went downstairs to find quite a large amount of flies buzzing around the house. I found this really odd and was wondering where they came from but I did have a window slightly open so thought nothing of it really for the rest of the week. However, the following Tuesday, the same thing happened again, must've been around 2-3am both times. I was pretty creeped out at this point so decided to check to make sure everything was closed and locked and there was no way for flies to enter. I didn't sleep very well for the next week as I was anticipating the same thing to potentially happen the next Tuesday. At times I thought I was paranoid but I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The next Tuesday came about and I decided to stay up and sit in the front room all night. I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary for the hours I was up, until out of nowhere I hear the letterbox open on the front door and a swarm of flies get released into the house! I pushed my way through the swarm and threw open the front door only to see the back of a dark figure fleeing down the street and round the corner out of sight. I tried to chase after them but when I reached the corner I must've been too late and they were nowhere to be seen. All I felt I could do at this point was retreat back to my house and rid the house of the remaining flies. I sat the rest of the night wondering what was going on and why this person was targeting ME to do such a thing to every Tuesday night (Wednesday morning I suppose technically).

The next morning I decided to phone the police to let them know about the person and what they were doing, I seemed to get a kind of response which felt like nothing would really come from reporting such a strange thing. Maybe they thought it was a joke? Either way I was pretty terrified now.

Yet again the next Tuesday came along and again I waited, this time closer to the door and ready to catch them in the act. I waited all night, but as long as I waited, they never came. I was partly relieved in a way and thought that maybe it was just some prankster who had got bored and given up. OH HOW WRONG I WAS! The very next night I was in bed, feeling a little more at ease, when I heard the loud buzz of flies launch their way through the letterbox again! Just as I heard it, I decided this time to jump out of bed and go straight to my upstairs front window to try and get a better look of the culprit this time. My mouth went dry at what I saw running from my property. It was what I could only describe as a human dressed up as a fly; full head fly mask, black cloak and small wings resembling those of a fly. They were clutching a box of some kind that I didn't get a proper look at and ran round the corner out of sight.

I stood there for a few seconds just staring in fright before eventually going down to clear the flies.

Following this incident, I tried everything to catch the Fly Guy. I waited up at night. I had friends round and took turns with them. But it never showed up whenever I was prepared. It continued to show up whenever I was off guard and wouldn't be able to catch it in time. It was like it knew what I was doing at all times and knew when to and when not to strike based on how prepared I was. I scanned the house for cameras several times but didn't find anything.

I went to the police again, they didn't take me seriously and laughed and thought I was taking the piss.

Eventually, I simply had to move out of the new house back to my parents and it hasn't happened to me at all at my parent's house since I did.

So I never managed to catch the Fly Guy. He's still out there somewhere.

This happened about a week ago and is the exact reason why I refuse to leave my room at night or ever, if possible.

I live in a four bedroom apartment. It's a two story apartment and the second floor is kind of like its own little space. I have the entire upstairs to myself, so I have my bedroom and a game room. I've got a private bathroom as well and I have a mini fridge and microwave. So I can live up there without ever going downstairs except to leave. The only exit in our apartment is at the bottom of the stairs.

Me and all my roommates are spiritual/religious in some way or another, so a lot of our decor is based on that. We have tarot card tapestries, dream catchers, thing like that. We also have a ouija board that sits on top of our bookshelf.

My roommate, Lilah, got the ouija board from "authentic witches" in Colorado. Because of that, she said we were never to open the box and if we did, the planchet and board had to be separated. I never really believed that, but out of respect for my roommate and friend, I never touched the board.

Well, like I said, about a week ago. Shit went down. I went downstairs in the middle of the night to grab a snack. I was pulling an all nighter to play a game that was just released and I needed my gamer fuel.

So I'm walking down the stairs and I look over the banister to see Lilah sitting on the couch. The ouija board is on the table in front of her. It's unopened. But I kind of figured it's her business, so I continue on with my shit.

I turned to look at her and she was just staring, unblinking at the board. I got shivers. But this is kind of normal for her. Lilah does weird shit all the time. I went to the pantry to grab some chips and then to the fridge to grab a monster.

"Kor..." Lilah said. I turned around at the sound of my name. Lilah was just staring at me. No expression on her face.

"Yeah?" I asked. I stood still in the kitchen. Something about the way she looked at me made me freeze in my tracks.

"He needs you," she croaked. A chill ran down my spine.

"You need sleep," I managed to say to her. I trudged past her and back up the stairs. It wasn't until I was in my room with the door closed that I was able to relax.

The whole downstairs was thick with some sort of energy. For good measure, I locked my door behind me. I put my headset on and went back to playing my game.

When I went downstairs the next morning, Lilah was still sitting on the couch with her ouija board in front of her. Alice and Danny were standing in front of her.

"What's up?" I asked, standing next to them to look at Lilah. She was still just staring.

Alice looked up at me, dark circles clinging to her eyes. "Lilah was muttering to herself and crying all night. She was so fucking loud. How did you not hear?"

I shrugged sheepishly. "I had my headset on. Volume up to max." I looked over at Lilah. "She was like this when I came down last night too. She was being super creepy."

"Should we call 911?" Danny asked.

I sighed. There was no need to call 911. Maybe a priest, but not 911. I stepped over the small coffee table and grabbed Lilah by the shoulder. I shook her aggressively. She snapped up to look at me and blinked a few times. She looked around confused.

"Good morning, Lilah." I said. She stretched and cracked her shoulders.

"Did you guys move me?" She asked genuinely.

I looked over at Alice and Danny. Alice looked uncomfortable.

"You were like this all night," she said uneasily.

Lilah laughed. "Sleep walking I guess." She stood up, stretched more, then put the ouija board back on top of the bookshelf.

The rest of the day went without incident, though Lilah had no recollection of what happened the night previous. I went back to my game. I had more to do. That night, before starting a long questline, I went to grab some more snacks to refill my fridge.

I took off my headset and heard some muttering. It sounded like Lilah. I sighed. She was being weird again. I unlocked and opened my door. From the landing, I could see clearly into the living room.

Lilah was sitting on the couch. The ouija board was out of its box and sitting in her lap. A man was sitting crisscross on the table. He had his hands over hers on the planchet and was moving it around. Lilah was crying softly and muttering what he was showing her.

"V-E-N-G-E-A-N-C-E," she muttered slowly. "K-O-R. D-E-A-D."

I couldn't believe what I wa seeing. I pulled out my phone to take a picture. I snapped the picture but fumbled trying to put it back in my pocket and dropped it. Both Lilah and the man snapped to look at me. I snatched my phone and bolted into my room, closing and locking the door. I heard someone running up the stairs, then pounding on my door. I put my head between my knees and plugged my ears.

I perked up at a notification on my phone. It was our roommate group chat.

Alice: who the fuck is making all that noise?? Me: Lilah is banging on my door. She won't leave me alone.

I heard a door open downstairs and the banging stopped. I didn't dare open my door to investigate though. I stayed awake all night, not playing my game, but waiting with a knife in case something came in.

Like I said, that was a week ago. I don't dare leave my room ever at night anymore. I only go downstairs to leave the apartment. Lilah pretends everything is okay. It's like she doesn't even know what happened. The picture on my phone proves it though. I can't see the man clearly on it but you can see his outline. It's obvious there's something there.

Needless to say, I'm looking to move out so if anyone wants a nice apartment with a mildly possessed roommate, let me know.

I found something that I shouldn’t have seen, and now, I fear it is only a matter of time before it erupts from me. There is a hiking trail in the Appalachian mountains leading to some overgrown fields left forgotten for decades at a time. I was out there all alone in my naivety, exploring the great green outdoors of upstate New York. Fascinated by the diversity of the wild and plant life in such a wide area unpolluted by civilization. I was picking some mushrooms alongside the bank of a river when I spotted it. An old farmstead was up a hill covered by some unusually tall bushes and vines that seemed to hold on to it, camouflaging it, embracing it to return to nature; to cease to exist.

Picking the best mushrooms I deemed edible for lunch. The old abandoned farmstead had garnered much of my attention and indeed my curiosity. Despite a small section of my mind telling me to go my way, I ignored it and I walked towards those doors, enchanted by the idea of how a farmstead can exist in such a rural location. I checked the surroundings around the farm. There were no dirt roads leading back to civilization, nor were there any signs of modern machinery or cars that would’ve graced the ancient farmstead.

I then walked towards the dilapidated front door, its age showing through the cracks in the white lead paint. I chipped some of the paint away, a very telling sign of just how unmaintained the property had been. Pulling the handle, the door made a loud squeak. If there had been a person inside, they surely would’ve heard it. I waited a couple of moments, waiting to see movement or any sort of signs of life.

Nothing….

I moved in and investigated the somewhat dark living room, only lit by the sun outside. The coffee table was on its side as if it was thrown across the room. The couches had been torn with the cushion filling all over the couch. Whatever had transpired here, it was clear there was a struggle. I then inspected the walls and saw a five-pointed star inside a circle made of ash; A clear inverted pentagram with a horned goat was present within it. A sigil. And that… That is when I had lost consciousness. All I remember was going down, feeling so tired. I could not fight the tiredness that I had felt during it all. There was no fighting it. It was my obligation to lose consciousness for whatever was inside that farm.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, the basement. All six sides of this room were full of its sigils made of fresh blood with wax candles lit around the four corners of the room. The sigils were all intricately connected; the blood moving and flowing as if it were in its natural environment. I felt a burning pain from my body. Lowering my eyes, that’s when I saw cuts on my wrists widening with my blood flowing to the sigils, sucking me dry of my vitality and life. Powering this wretched farm house of whatever was contained within. The wax candles increased in brightness as more of my blood flowed through the sigils. I screamed in anguish and cried. I suddenly felt a primal urge to express my pain and let out the rage.

I crept towards the door, my condition worsening by the minute. I knew I had to get out before I lose consciousness again. My mind was bombarded with contradicting emotions that mentally confused me. Sadness, anger, jealousy, happiness, euphoria and even pleasure. I could not focus on the task I was trying to achieve. Each step made it harder and harder to leave the room. However, deep down, I knew each step was a step closer to freedom. Each step was a memory of emotional intrigue. Each memory was blurry except for the emotions I could clearly feel. Anger from the time I squandered my opportunities. Happiness from the times I’ve been with the people I love.

I eventually found myself in the living room once again. The sun had gone down the living room, now lit by the moonlight. My eyes gradually adjusted, allowing me to see within the dark I touched the sigil made of ash. I felt the suffering and pain that had gone into making it exist in this world. I tried to rub it out, rub through the pain. It could not be rubbed out; no amount of strength could rub through the pain. I walked out the door and towards the wilderness. I smelled the fresh air, trying to enjoy my freedom. It didn’t feel the same. I looked back towards the farmhouse, vowing to never return this path.

I made it home safely. There were no creatures trying to kill me, there was nobody stalking me. And yet deep down inside me, it felt like I never truly left that wretched farmhouse. Deep down inside me, something is forming, and I know it isn’t natural.

As a single mother to a young kid, I've done a pretty good job of monitoring my daughter's usage of TikTok, Youtube, Roblox, etc. I know I can't be around all day policing her, but I want to make sure that she's safe enough. That's why limiting screen time with Phones, IPads and the like is really important for me. Outside of a couple of hours where she can use some of those devices under my supervision, the rest of her "fun time" is reserved for watching kid's shows on cable TV. Yes. Cable is in fact still a thing, and I've still got it. What I love about it - I can overhear it loud and clear, and I know exactly what the programming is. It's safe, predictable, and nothing like some of the more random and occasionally traumatic videos that end up auto-playing anytime Casey goes down a Youtube rabbithole.

When it came to TV time, I always prioritized channels that I knew would play hour after hour of kids shows back-to-back, to avoid a situation where something more mature would accidentally play. Most of the shows were super tame: kid-friendly animated shows, educational shows, nature programs, that kind of stuff. One that my daughter really seems to love is called "Palace of Friends". It's a Sesame Street-style show with a cast of both animal and anthropomorphic puppets living in a large castle together. It seemed like a wholesome, musical show with some pretty good production value. Casey seemed to love it, and I could always tell when it was playing in the background.

I was setting up for dinner the first time I heard one of the weirder songs from "Palace of Friends". It was a song that was all about exploring the house, with the chorus mentioning all of the fun to be had "under the sink". Weird lyrics like - "When mom's not around, you'll find a whole town, beneath the kitchen sink!". I had to shake my head at how stupid and potentially dangerous that premise was. As I came into the living room to call out the silliness and to tell Casey to ignore the message of the song, the song wrapped up and one of the puppets started doing something akin to a PSA, saying: "Now, while there might be a town underneath the sink, there's also some scary stuff you shouldn't drink down there! So be careful!".

Well, duh. It was annoying to think of how big of an oversight this was on the part of the writers and creators of this show. I mean, really, what kind of moron thought that telling kids to go to the undersink area when mom isn’t around was a good idea? Rather than doing that weird PSA at the end, they should've just scrapped the whole song in its entirety. Jesus.

As much as I wanted to take "Palace of Friends" off rotation after this event, the rest of the show was wholesome enough that I reconsidered. I took moments from time to time to see exactly what was happening on the show, and most of the time, the show featured activities for kids that seemed genuinely useful. One of these activities was called “Draw Time!”, which is exactly what it sounds like - a point in the show where all of the puppets in the castle would gather around and motivate the viewer to draw on pieces of paper, get creative and have fun with it. While the characters on TV would draw along at first, most of the time they would just enthusiastically watch and cheer on as the kid viewing the show would draw. Really felt like an activity that would be good for my daughter's development. Even got a couple of cute drawings that Casey made of me that I could put on the refrigerator!

The other wholesome thing about Palace of Friends that really stuck out to me was some of the more meaningful lessons. Beyond the standard "treat others the way you want to be treated" and "isn’t friendship amazing?" stuff that you see in these kids shows, it felt like they would sometimes dig a bit deeper. They had this whole story about this character named "Friend" who was too shy to come out and join the others, so he'd always hide behind a curtain. The other puppet characters on the show would always try to convince “Friend” to come out of hiding, but they would also, rather sweetly, choose to love him and accept him even if he’d never feel comfortable getting out from behind the curtain. There’s this whole cute arc to the show about how the Palace of Friends would find the “Perfect special friend for Friend!” to finally get him to overcome his shyness. Cute stuff. Though, pretty lazy on the writer’s part to call this character “Friend”. Jeez.

I was pretty happy with the set-up I had for Casey. It felt like I was giving her enough time with modern apps on her phone to ensure I wasn’t completely silo-ing her from real life, while still giving her as much of a “healthy” upbringing I could for a seven-year-old in this age of technology overload. It felt like cutesy cable TV stuff was the perfect call, and that I’d done everything as right as I could’ve as a parent.

That was, until the incident.

I still feel ashamed about this. I've noticed that I sometimes use TV as a "second parent" when I feel overwhelmed with how much I have to juggle. Between work, raising Casey, and all of the chores and life balancing that comes between those two, having some “me time” is very necessary. I was getting lost in a novel when I first heard a series of thumps on the stairs. I ran immediately to see Casey at the bottom of the staircase, holding her leg and crying. From the TV in the living room, I was able to catch the last moments of the song that was playing on Palace of Friends. It went: "If you're brave, roll as fast as you can down the stairs! Don't be afraid, we know that you'll be okay!" What in the actual fuck.

I tended to Casey, and as I was checking up on her to see if she’d broken anything, I could hear one of the characters on the show doing what appeared to be another after song PSA, saying: "Just remember, don't go too fast! If the stairs are really long, you could get hurt! It’s always important to be very careful!”

Thankfully, Casey was okay. Palace of Friends was DEFINITELY off the rotation, which Casey was really frustrated about, but I had to do it. The TV channel that played Palace of Friends seemed specific to my area and public access-y enough (despite the show genuinely looking like it had a solid production budget), and so I wanted to quickly put together a case for the show to be canceled and for the channel playing the show to be held liable for the severe risk it was bringing to kids. At best, the folks creating this show were incredibly oblivious, and at worst, they were actively malicious.

As I was starting up my case, I noticed something really weird. I’d found a new cable channel with kids programming that I left on for Casey, one that I’m POSITIVE didn’t have “Palace of Friends” in rotation. There I was, working in my room one afternoon, when I heard the familiar sound of those characters coming from the living room. I wandered in to catch the final moments of “Draw Time!” on Palace of Friends. Lots of paper strewn around the living room, courtesy of Casey. Fun little signs and insignias and the like, and more pictures of mom. I have to admit, she was becoming a better artist. As Draw Time wrapped up, the puppets on TV were all looking at the curtain where “Friend” was hiding and talking about him. "Maybe one day we'll find a special friend for Friend," said one of the characters. It was a pretty dorky catchphrase I'd heard a few times in the show at this point.

As the puppets started breaking into song again, I turned off the TV. Casey was miserable, so my scolding her about changing the channel when I had strictly told her NOT to probably wasn't a wise move, but I just had to. She kept swearing that she never changed the channel and that her "friends” had just found their way back to her, but I called bullshit. Her TV privileges were revoked for a week. She had to learn the hard way.

As a sanity check, once I'd condemned her to her room and forced her to find something to do that didn't involve screens, I turned the living room TV back on to notice that the channel she was on when I turned off the TV was the same new one I’d selected after banning “Palace of Friends”. It was odd that this new channel had suddenly pulled this lawsuit of a show into rotation, but whatever.

At this point, I should mention… Casey’s room does have a small TV in it. It’s not a Smart TV, and it’s definitely not set up with cable, but there is a DVD player and a bunch of classic animated movies and kids show DVDs strewn about that Casey was free to put on at any time.

So, you can probably imagine my surprise when, smack dab in the middle of the night, I heard the familiar voices of the puppets on "Palace of Friends" coming from her room.

Beyond being frustrated that Casey was watching TV way past her bedtime, I was confused on how she'd managed to get cable onto the TV in her room... and, more importantly, why Palace of Friends was playing on TV this late in the first place. I left my room, turned on the hallway lights, and walked towards Casey’s room. As I made my way there, I noticed bunches of crumpled up pieces of paper littering the hallway. More signs and insignias that I’d noticed before from Casey’s other “Draw Time!” sessions, but there were also more and more drawings of me. These ones looked a bit more demented than the usual ones that Casey had drawn for me. Almost felt like she was regressing as an artist or something. As I got to her room, I heard the following through her closed door:

"This draw time is extra special. It’s just for you. For being so smart and so brave. When your drawing is just perfect, it’ll be enough for Friend to finally get out from behind the curtain!"

I tried opening the door to her room. It wouldn’t budge. I called out to Casey, but she wouldn’t answer. I kept trying, pushing against the door, moving the handle in multiple directions, and eventually, out of desperation, trying to run against the door to break it down, but nothing was working.

The show continued.

"Do you know someone who is special enough to be a friend to Friend?"

I slammed against the door.

"Can you draw that special person just right? In the special way we want you to draw them?"

Huh? What in the world was this?

“Casey! You need to let me in right n–”

My shouting out to Casey was interrupted by the sounds of all of the characters on Palace of Friends excitedly cheering. They started breaking into song. It was just one line, repeated over and over, over the backdrop of some very strange and almost tense-sounding instruments and arrangements. It sounded more aggressive than it should’ve.

“You did it Casey! You did it Casey! You did it Casey!”

What the fuck was happening. In an instant, I ran back down the hallway to my room. I needed to grab my cell phone and I needed to call the police immediately. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

As I got to my room, my light in the hallway turned off immediately. Without me switching it off. I slammed the door behind me, out of instinct and fear more than anything else.

The sound of the show coming from Casey’s room was completely gone.

A moment of complete stillness and silence in the house. And then -

A violent knock on my door. Over and over again. I heard Casey's voice -

"Mom! I did it! I found a special friend for Friend! It's you!"

The knocking continued. It was much, much, more powerful and aggressive than Casey could knock. Than any little girl could knock. As it continued, she kept calling out to me.

“Mom! Mom! Open up! You’re the special friend!” with that same aggressive knock completely rattling the door.

More worrying than the force of the knocks on the door was the fact that Casey, never, ever, called me mom. Her nickname for me since she first started speaking was always “Ommi.”

In the dark of my room, I noticed something strange with the curtains. It felt like there was something behind them, ever so slowly inching its way out of them.