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September 2022 Voting Thread

y593n3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/NoSleepOOC/comments/y58yme/september_2022_voting_thread/

Halloween 2022 contest details!

y5ktsi

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5ktsi/halloween_2022_contest_details/

[https://www.reddit.com/r/NoSleepOOC/comments/y5kq7q/halloween\_2022\_contest\_details/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/NoSleepOOC/comments/y5kq7q/halloween_2022_contest_details/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

We never open the door when there's only one knock

yerkt9

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yerkt9/we_never_open_the_door_when_theres_only_one_knock/

"Please, just let me in, it's getting cold!" The voice was familiar, only older than I remembered. Very close to detail. "Lala, please." Using my old nickname was a nice touch as well. I sat on the floor next to the door, my arms wrapped around my legs. Or course this had to happen the one week my parents left me alone. They hadn't gone on vacation for years, I practically begged them to get away for a while. For their own good. If I called them, they'd come right back but I don't think that would have helped me anyway. Besides, I wasn't an idiot. I heard the knock and I would not open that door. When someone comes to your house, they will ring the bell or knock a few times. Most people like to play safe and simply use the bell. And then you open the door as you normally would. But never, absolutely never, should you open the door when there's only one knock. It was the very first thing we were told when we moved to this neighborhood all those years ago. There are a bunch of rumors, of people disappearing or suddenly dying after opening their doors though they all supposedly happened before we even lived here. I never believed in it, even when I was little. This town was simply insane, most people here were a little eccentric and unusual. Well, that's what I believed until I heard my lost sister call for me, after the one loud knock on our front door. "Please, go away," I whispered. Even after all those years, I recognized her voice. And when I heard it I jumped right up, ready to open that door wide. But I knew it wasn't her. I'd looked through the window. There was nobody in front of our door. I don't know how much time had passed before I finally grabbed my phone and called Max who's not only our neighbor but one of my closest friends. "She's here," I said. I knew I wasn't making much sense, I didn't know how to word my thoughts. "Who? Where?" He answered. "Ruby." Silence. "Wha-," Max started speaking but stopped. "She knocked." That was enough information for him. "You didn't open, did you?" I shook my head which of course he couldn't see. "I'm coming over now, okay?" \-- I'm not sure how many minutes passed but Ruby had stopped asking me to open the door. "Hey, Lainey, I don't think the bell is working," I heard Max. "Maybe they screwed with it." I swallowed. "You could knock." There was silence for a little while, followed by one loud thud. When I didn't open the door, the sound of Max started shouting loudly. "Open the fucking door!" His voice became louder and louder until it hit a frequency that almost made my eardrums explode. I didn't move, I didn't speak and finally, the doorbell rang and the voice became silent. Slowly I got up from the door to look outside. This time it was really him. \-- "The last time I saw her we had the biggest fight of our lives." We were sitting in the living room with tea that had already turned cold. I don't open up about Ruby often but hearing her voice today really messed me up. "And all because of stupid Jack," I rolled my eyes. Max smiled. "A boy?" I shook my head and laughed. "Jack was a stuffed toy in the shape of a pumpkin." I’d never told Max about the fight, in fact, nobody but my parents knew about it. "I loved that damn thing. Won it at the Halloween carnival. When Ruby saw it she begged me to give it to her, she cried for hours because she hadn't won it. And even when my parents said she'd buy her another toy she wouldn't stop. She wanted mine." "Well, she wanted to be just like you. It's sweet." I nodded. Ruby was a year younger than me but she used to act as if we were twins. She wore my clothes, played the same sports, and always wanted to hang out with me and my friends. When I think about it now I think it was adorable, of course back then I found it insufferable. I sighed. "For days I took Jack everywhere with me, even to the bathroom. It was probably just out of pettiness but that toy became everything to me. So when I came home from school one afternoon and saw that Ruby had cut it in half I screamed at her like never before. She only looked at me with big teary eyes." Max put his hand on my shoulder. "Come on Lainey, siblings fight, it's normal. I saw you with her though and you were a damn good big sister." I nodded. Of course, I knew it was just some stupid fight between kids but if I could turn back time I'd give her every shitty toy I owned. This happened five years ago. Ruby would be sixteen now. My parents have tried everything for years to find her. I believe the only reason we *still* live here is that they never entirely gave up the hope that she'd come back home one day. Maybe now she was. Just in a different way. "Do you think I'm losing my mind, Max?" He raised an eyebrow. "I think you lost that a whole while ago," he joked. "No, I'm serious. I mean it's not possible that I actually heard her earlier?" He shrugged. "I mean, you did hear a knock. I don't think it was actually *her* though." Max and I used to make fun of the superstition. When we were younger, before Ruby disappeared, we once played ding dong ditch. After a few houses, Max decided to knock once at the door of our neighbor Mrs. Tellski. Someone saw us though and Max got the biggest lecture of his life from his grandpa. Like it was a really big deal. My parents weren't happy either, but Max was grounded for two months, during which his grandpa told him all sorts of horror stories from this town. "I don't think it was her either. But I do think it was mimicking her, or trying to." "For what it's worth, I think it was smart that you didn't open the door. Maybe we're all just a little crazy but better safe than sorry, right?" \-- Max offered to stay the night and I immediately said yes. We got the air mattress and watched movies until I started to hear him snoring. The good thing about Max was, I never felt awkward around him. He regularly stayed over since we were little. Especially often after Ruby was gone. Having him here really helped against the silence. My mind became easier, and my body heavier. Real thoughts started to mix with dreams, I was beginning to fall asleep. And then there was another knock. It came from the front door downstairs but I heard it loud and clearly My heart started racing just like it did this afternoon. "Max, did you hear that?" I whispered but he didn't answer. "Lala, it's dark. Please come and get me," Ruby's new voice cried from outside. "Max, please tell me you hear this." I looked over at him, but he didn't move. Finally, I collected the courage to get up and turn on the lights. "Ma-," The eyes of my friend were wide open but he didn't speak. He didn't move. "I ran over to him and tried to shake him but his whole body was stiff. Only his eyes moved." "LET ME IN!" The voice from downstairs screamed. I didn't know what to do anymore. Max was clearly awake but it seemed as if something was holding him back. Almost like he was having sleep paralysis but with his eyes open. "They're pulling me away, Lala, please help me." I don't know what happened then, but I immediately jumped up and ran downstairs. Some kind of instinct kicked in. Maybe it was her. Maybe I could pull her back inside. But if this was really Ruby, was she also the one doing this to Max? My hands touched the cold door handle, moving almost as if I was in a trance. "I have Jack. They fixed him, Lala. We don't need to fight anymore." Those words pierced through my body and woke something up inside of me. I stepped away from the door and walked back upstairs passing my room where Max was still living still. But I didn't stop, I walked to the next room. Ruby's old bedroom. Everything there looked just the way it did when she was still here. My parents could never change it. Everything was still the same. And Jack was still placed on her bed where I put it five years ago after I'd sewn him back together. [They almost got me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Likeeyedid/)

How to Survive College - but seriously, how do you manage to make dinosaurs boring???

yegewf

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yegewf/how_to_survive_college_but_seriously_how_do_you/

Let’s recap. It’s been a little bit since [my last post](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xyjhib/how_to_survive_college_the_old_and_the_new/). [If you’re new here](https://www.reddit.com/r/goatvalleycampgrounds/comments/s75n1c/how_to_survive_college_index/), I grew up in a small town with a campground that some of you are very familiar with. I worked there through highschool with nothing unremarkable happening until after graduation. My boyfriend was killed, the future I thought I was doomed for vanished, and I decided to take my life in my own hands and go to college instead. I thought about writing something insightful about how we can’t escape our pasts, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. I brought my past with me in the form of ties I can’t bring myself to sever and as knowledge most people don’t have and don’t want if they know what’s good for them. And what’s happening at my college isn’t like what I grew up with. It’s different. It’s like we’ve been swaddled here into this cocoon so that in four years we might emerge as something new. And the college and the *things* contained within are also changing into something new. A process that started before I arrived and now I’m just wandering through the ravine and marveling at how much the river has worn away and how much further it has to go before the landscape is irrevocably changed. I wish I could say that after finishing my freshman year everything settled down, but that’s not how these things work. I’m not naive. When I returned home for a short break before the start of the fall semester, I already knew that when I went back to campus I’d be marked. I had a bargain with the devil and I’d traveled into the depths of the traveling river and returned. These things can’t be set aside so lightly. But at least I had a brief reprieve back in my hometown. Hah. If only. The town’s gossip network got to work spreading the news that I was home. After two days, the parents of my ex-boyfriend showed up at my house. Not Steven. The *very* ex-boyfriend. There’s been rumors spreading in my absence because this is a small town and of course there were. His disappearance was suspicious enough but then I went to college, which is not something people in this town commonly do. With no prior interest? Against the wishes of my mother? But no, it couldn’t be because I’m trying to get away from this stupid fucking town, it’s because I’m *guilty* of something. Surely I *know* what happened or - gasp - might even *be involved*. Which I guess I do know something, but what am I supposed to say? Oh your golden child wasn’t really all that great and apparently there was a lot more going on with him than even I knew about, because Krampus saw fit to make a personal appearance and strangle him to death before dragging his corpse away to some wintery hellscape. No one will believe me. Or at least, his parents will never believe me, and I have no desire to be hounded and blamed by these people every time I come home to visit my mom and my siblings. Because they’re borderline accusing me of being the reason he disappeared and all I did was try to have a future of my own and not join them in their life of misery and mourning. We weren’t even married. I’m realizing that I didn’t even like him as much as I thought I did. My life isn’t over because my boyfriend died when I was 18. Maybe the devil knew what he was doing in keeping me out of that community college that was closer to home. I need to be an inconvenient distance from this place. So they showed up on the front door when only myself and my youngest sister were home. I opened the door because I felt I should. I figured they were only there to ask how I was doing, as that would be the polite thing to do for someone that presumably was important to the deceased, right? Oh no. They showed up to start *drama*. “Did you take him with you?” his mother demanded, growing increasingly hostile as I repeated over and over that I didn’t know what happened to him. “He left his car behind. Someone had to drive him. Did you leave him somewhere?” “Didn’t the sheriff tell you everything?” I sighed wearily. This was going to go nowhere. “But where is he?! Is he at - at that *school*?” “We told him he needed to take over the business,” his dad rumbled. “That it was time he grow up and stop daydreaming.” Oh my GAWD I hate this town sometimes. “If he left,” I snapped, “that was his choice to make. And he’s not at my school. I haven’t seen him and I’m trying to move on.” Then I shut the door in their faces. Locked it for good measure. I stood there, heart pounding, listening to the muted discussion taking place on the doorstep. They finally decided to leave and talk to my mom over at the store. Let her know what a disrespectful daughter she had. Fine. My mother and I might not agree on everything but we agreed on this at least. My ex’s parents needed to mind their own damn business from here out. I at least texted her to let her know they were coming. Then I turned around to find my youngest sister staring at me from the end of the hallway. She’d watched the entire confrontation. “They suck,” I said, jabbing a thumb at the door. She nodded solemnly. “They’ve been bothering mom too,” she said. “Was he bad too?” I sucked in a breath. My youngest sister was the quietest of my siblings and she was also the most close-mouthed. I didn’t think she’d tell anyone anything. “He was,” I said. “He vanished at the campground, didn’t he?” I asked her how she knew that and she said it was just a hunch. I watched her carefully but she wasn’t meeting my gaze and I wasn’t certain if she was repeating what she’d heard somewhere or if this was her own idea. Then I told her that yes, he did vanish at the campground. And that she should stay away from there because even with an ancient being watching over it, it’s still dangerous. You can’t leave some things behind, once they’re a part of you. But it looks like I’m no longer going to be as welcome back home as I used to be. It made going back to college easier, once move-in weekend rolled around. This time my mom drove me. She was disappointed that I hadn’t transferred to the community college closer to home, but she was making her peace with it. Then, after she’d helped me carry my things into the dorm room (same one I had for the spring semester) she took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eyes. We were standing by her car, parked by the curb, ignoring the harried volunteers that were trying to get people to unload and get out of there. “You come back,” she said. “You have to keep coming back. I can’t handle losing someone else.” Like she’d lost dad. I just nodded, urgently, trying not to cry and then we hugged and she drove away. It feels surreal to be back here. I was only home for a week but move-in felt like my first day all over again where everything was new and unfamiliar. And there’s all these buildings and landmarks that I know but I’ve been seeing them mostly empty all summer and now they’re filled with people and everything has changed again. I feel incredibly lonely seeing all these people I don’t know and I’m not sure why that is. Cassie and I have picked up right where we left off. She’s talking about internships already. There’s a job fair early in the fall semester for her degree program and she’s making a list of which companies she wants to interview with, ranked by how much the internship pays. I wish I had that kind of direction. I’m still not sure if I picked the right major. In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I just had to pick something, right, so I picked the one that fell in line with the classes I found interesting in my first year. Yeah, I’m majoring in geology. I don’t even know what you do with that kind of degree yet. I’m telling myself it’s a placeholder until I get the rest of my life figured out. No pressure. I haven’t talked to Maria yet. There’s been some messages in the Rain Chaser’s discord channel but I’ve been ignoring it. I actually uninstalled the app from my phone, late one night when the sky was overcast and my chest felt tight and I couldn’t fall asleep. I want to keep going, just keep walking forward and not look back. The eye is gone. The dead students are forgotten by everyone else. I don’t want to look back, I don’t want to think about it, I don’t want to talk to Maria. This is how I feel. Realistically, I know I can’t avoid it forever. She deserves to know that the eye is gone and the students that were killed are at rest. Besides, I need her help to distribute my flyers. They’re nothing fancy. Just a sheet of paper titled “How to Survive College” and a list of the rules such as they are. I printed them off campus and have enough to leave a stack of twenty in each dorm’s computer lab. I just need people that can get into the labs and for that, I guess I need the Rain Chasers. Let’s review the rules. 1. Don’t go outside when it rains. 2. If you fall asleep in class and no one is around when you wake up, stay at your desk. Pretend you’re taking notes. Don’t look up and don’t look around, no matter what you hear. You’ll be returned to your classroom when it leaves. 3. Don't leave your laundry in the washer or dryer for too long. If you do and someone has folded it for you, put it away nicely. If you don't, the person that folded it for you will know and will come for you. 4. If you break campus rules and go into the steam tunnels, be aware of your surroundings. If you see where steam is leaking into the open air, run. Get out of the tunnels as quickly as you can. There's more than just steam down there. 5. If you get caught out in the rain… you are not seeing things. There is something out there, between the raindrops. Get inside as quickly as you can. 6. Campus does not flood. If you see water beginning to accumulate any larger than a puddle, get to high ground as fast as you can. The river is coming for you. 7. If you’re in the steam tunnels and a door doesn’t open to where you expect, close it and open it again. It should lead you to the correct location on the second try. 8. If you absolutely must venture out in the rain, go in groups. Do not be caught in the rain alone. Similarly, never swim in the gym pool alone. They hunt in packs and are looking for easy prey. They don’t have everything, but those are the rules I felt most confident putting into print. I can always put out updates. I’ll be honest - I feel silly with these. Kate always complained about how they didn’t work but she kept doing it, so it must have had *some* effect, right? And maybe it’ll be different here because people are already passing what to do with the rain around by word of mouth. I feel they take it more seriously. But yanno? Distributing these is a problem for another day. For the first week I only wanted to focus on my classes and my new job (more on that in another post). I’m taking more geology classes, obviously. I have a class about dinosaurs and that sounds interesting, right? It was even taught by a different professor than Mr. I-Believe-In-Stereotypes-But-Not-Monsters so it seemed like it was all going to turn out great. Hah. Hahahahahahhaaha. I’m not sure how you make *dinosaurs* boring but this professor is managing to accomplish it. It’s an early morning class. Starts at 8AM, which is a special kind of hell in of itself. But it gets worse. It’s in a big lecture hall with like a hundred something students and we all file in and once we’re all seated he turns the lights off. And turns on the projector. And starts *droning*. I just have so much regret right now. Like most everyone, I suspect, I’m having trouble staying awake. I’m doing my best. It’s like he’s going out of his way to make it as difficult as possible, though. Phones and laptops are banned and since the room is semi-dark, it’s easy to see who is breaking the rule. I try to take notes but I’m kind of a shit note taker to begin with and it’s not enough to keep my brain engaged. I’m just hoping this is one of those classes where you can read the textbook and be okay for the exams. ‘Let me guess,’ you’re saying. ‘You fall asleep on the regular.’ Yes! ‘And when you do, something weird happens.’ Well, it was only the once so far. But it was in the first week of the semester so that doesn’t bode well. Something ran across my foot. That was what woke me up. The professor was still droning down at the front of the lecture hall. I covertly glanced around to make sure no one had seen me startle awake, though I’m not sure they could have judged me for it, I’m sure they were all falling asleep as much as I was. Everyone around me was quiet, watching the presentation or staring blankly at their open textbook or sleeping. There was something odd about the floor, though. The shadows were off, subtle, but enough to catch my eye and I took a harder look. The ground was covered in tree roots. They grew together in thick cords, reminding me of the tangled cables in a computer server room. They ran down the stepped levels of the lecture hall, flowing steadily towards the middle, rarely branching, rarely veering. Then they pooled around the podium, swirling to a thick knot right in front of the podium, and then branched out again towards the back wall and beyond. I leaned over, pretending to look inside my backpack. This could be another situation like the thing in the hallway and I felt it best to act natural until I understood what was happening. But while I was bent over, I touched the tree roots. They felt real enough. Smooth and cold with a slight chalky texture. I stared hard at them, trying to make out details as my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness under the table, shielded from the glow of the unending presentation. They were covered in lines like cracks, dark paths running perfectly parallel to each other, sometimes crossing over to form bridges between each track. It reminded me of computer circuitry. I was strangely calm. There was a whole other world next to the college and sometimes it veered into ours, but there was always a way out. That’s what I’ve been telling myself about the traveling river and the flooding library and the thing in the hallway and everything else. There was always a way out. I just had to be patient and wait for it to pass by. The tide would recede and I’d be left here standing on the correct bank. I straightened. As I did, I glimpsed a dark shape on the underside of the desk. A lump the size of a soccer ball. I froze. It did not. It *unwound*. A long, sinuous body uncurled, hundreds of legs clinging to the underside of the particleboard. Its carapace shined as it caught the light of the projector and two antennas flitted in my direction, each as long as my forearm. Look, there’s only so much a person can take and still remain calm and collected. I apparently found my breaking point right then and there and that point is a giant ass bug monster inches from my face. I screamed. I threw myself away from it, falling out of my chair. It reacted to the noise, skittering down the table leg as fast as thought. I heard the click of its multitude of legs as it stretched out to its full length. A yard long, at least, and as thick as an apple. A millipede. A giant millipede. “NO!” I shrieked, jumping onto my chair as it came at me, mandibles clicking spasmodically. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” I stood on my chair, hyperventilating as its head reached the chair leg and its body curved upwards. I cast about desperately, trying to figure out where to flee, and then my eyes fell on my textbook. It’s very heavy. I seized it and threw it as hard as I could at the millipede. The book struck it squarely on its body and simply fell to the side. The creature, however, recoiled. It hissed and then ran from me, swerving across the ground as it traveled up and down over the roots. It reached the wall and began to flee up it. Then I made the mistake of looking up. The ceiling was covered in them. A roiling mass of chitin and flashing antenna. I next remember someone calling my name. The person that sits next to me, staring up anxiously, repeating my name over and over. Slowly, I looked around. I was still standing on my chair. Everyone was staring at me. I opened my mouth, trying to speak. Everything felt like it was happening so slowly and I didn’t know what had happened in the past few seconds. Like my brain had simply turned itself off after seeing what was on the ceiling. “Are you okay?” my neighbor asked directly. “Uh,” I said, “I saw a rat.” A ripple ran through the students. Everyone around me glanced under the table and I saw a couple of them pick their feet up off the ground and huddle on top of their chairs. Finally, one particularly brave hero got up and made a thorough search before proclaiming the area was rat-free now. I sat back down. I didn’t put my legs under the desk. I kept my feet up on the edge of the chair. I wasn't the only one doing this so I guess they believed my excuse for panicking. Throughout all this, the professor didn’t say anything. He looked at me for a long, hard moment and then continued talking about the pikaia. I sat there with my heart hammering, not really listening. The incident had made sure I was *wide awake* but I couldn’t focus on anything anymore. There was a touch at my elbow and I about jumped out of my skin. At least I didn’t scream this time. My neighbor slid me a note. He jerked his head, indicating it came from someone else further on in the row, but no one was looking in my direction to fess up to who sent it. I unfolded it. ‘I saw them too,’ it read. ‘They weren’t rats.’ No one stopped to talk to me after class, even though I took my time packing my backpack to give them an opportunity. I guess they wanted to get out of this room as fast as they could. I kind of did too. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep going back to that classroom, after what I saw. My delay gave someone else the opportunity to come talk to me, though. The professor made his way up the aisle and caught my eye. “Everything okay?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said nervously. “I’m not sure what I saw anymore. I just thought something ran across my foot.” “Well, feel free to move if it makes you feel better. There’s plenty of open seats near the front.” Like hell I’d sit near the front. I didn’t need him to see me drooling into my hand when I fell asleep again. If I fell asleep again, that is. But I thanked him for his consideration and said I’d think about it. I left hurriedly, hoping the other student that witnessed the tree roots and the millipedes would be waiting for me, but the hallway was empty. I wonder if they were avoiding the professor eavesdropping. I wonder if the professor knew it wasn’t a rat. If he’s going to be watching me now. Or maybe I’m letting my paranoia get ahead of me. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. I have to be careful. I killed the eye and I have to assume that there is now a target on my back.[\[x\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/goatvalleycampgrounds/) [Read the first draft of the rules.](https://www.reddit.com/r/goatvalleycampgrounds/comments/t34mbv/how_to_survive_college/) [Visit the college's website.](https://alderrayne.com/)

We Invented the World's Best Weight Loss System. It Only Has One Flaw...

yerdix

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yerdix/we_invented_the_worlds_best_weight_loss_system_it/

The lab where I work is not a regular sort of lab. We wear protective equipment and do decontamination protocols to ensure that anything on the inside stays there, and doesn’t escape. Proteon’s Level Eight Consumer Medical Products Division is what it’s officially called. But for those of us who work here, we just know it as “THE PIT.” We are on the furthest floor down from the main level - far away from the gleaming offices of the thirty-ninth floor - where suited executives discuss business portfolios while sipping lattes and smoking cigars. Despite its name, THE PIT is well-lit, at least. The bright fluorescent glow of the lamps overhead cast everything in a stark, shockingly electric white. You almost have to shield your eyes from all the reflective polished steel surfaces belonging to high-tech equipment. Everything from stirrers, hot plates, precision balances, incubators, microscopes and pH meters - all top of the line. I’m not supposed to talk about what we’re working on down there, in THE PIT. But I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not to me, anyways. We did experiments down there. Things I deeply regret. Our assignment was to create a biological solution to assist people with weight loss. The idea was to design a genetically modified tapeworm that would help people reach their desired weight, then could be drawn out with a biologically implanted trigger. It sounds disgusting, I know. But you’d be amazed what people will do to lose weight. I was shocked to see a human volunteer amble into the laboratory one day. He’d been forced to sign several NDAs and was told not to say a word about THE PIT to anyone. The man was over three hundred pounds, and he was eager to try the new treatment we were offering. Even when we told him what it was, he didn’t flinch. He just agreed enthusiastically, asking how the worm would be implanted. After the procedure was finished, the man stood up from the steel examination table looking excited. He said it was the first day of the rest of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see the results from the treatment. It took all of my effort not to throw up, just thinking about that worm squirming around in his belly, sniffing for food. Since I was assigned as lead for the project, the man was given my work cell phone to call in case of emergencies or issues with the worm. We didn’t anticipate anything unusual - we had simply modified the worm’s genes to exit the body when we told it to. But still, this was experimental, and I was a little worried about testing it for the first time on a human. I had been working at Proteon for long enough to know better than to ask questions, though. The last whistleblower at the company had met an untimely demise. Weeks went by and the subject reported weight loss in excess of fifteen pounds. He was thrilled by the results. Only a few more days remained in the trial, and a few of us in the lab were joking around, saying how it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to lose a few inches ourselves. Working in a lab doesn’t afford a lot of opportunity for exercise, after all, and it’s hard to stay in shape. I wasn’t the first one to swallow one of the worms. Kevin did it, and then Lisa, and then Rebecca. I felt an odd sense of peer pressure to join them. “C’mon, Jake,” Rebecca said, prodding me with her elbow. “Imagine what it would be like to look fifty pounds lighter…” She said this while looking at me flirtatiously. We were both on the bigger side, and I thought about the two of us looking fit and skinny, having sex in the back of her Jeep Cherokee. She would definitely let me have sex with her if I was skinny, I thought. With that idea in my mind, I held up the worm with my forefingers and dropped it down my gullet, like a kid during recess trying to impress the cool kids. Except we had all done it. We had all ingested the creatures designed by untested science. And we were all about to pay the price. * For a little while things were good. I started to lose weight, slowly at first, then a little more every day. Despite eating ravenously at times, the fat continued to burn away, disappearing effortlessly. I wasn’t exercising or doing anything different from my usual routine. If anything I was eating more - feeling like no matter how much I shoved down my gullet I was always hungry. Despite feeling tired and hungry all the time, I was encouraged by the weight loss. Just like our subject, I found myself stepping on the scale and seeing I had shed fifteen pounds in a matter of weeks. As I stepped off the scale, though, I felt something stirring inside of me. The worm, I assumed. But it felt larger now, like a python uncoiling itself and yawning as it awoke for the day, hungry for a meal. That made me feel unsettled, but I tried to ignore it and went about my day, going to work as usual. I attempted to reach the subject of our experiment, but he didn’t pick up the phone. It was the second day in a row he hadn’t answered. “He’s probably busy with a hot date,” Rebecca said. She was looking good. The missing weight around her face was already noticeable, and despite her colour appearing slightly grey, I thought her ass was getting a nice sort of peachy shape to it. “How about the two of us go on a hot date?” I asked her, feeling impulsive and more confident than I had in years. “Le Château, tonight at eight?” Her cheeks coloured with a rosy blush. “Hell yeah,” she said, smiling and showing her tiny teeth and tall gums. Her glasses fogged up as we kissed behind the centrifuge, and I told her I’d pick her up at seven. That night I went to her apartment to pick her up, and knocked on her door. She opened up, appearing a little green. “Come on in,” she said, gulping. “I just need a minute. I’m not feeling well all of a sudden.” I went in and sat down, feeling not so great myself. It was just hitting me at that moment, a sensation like I was spinning while standing on top of a very tall building. Sitting down hard on the couch, she plopped down beside me. She set her hand down on my leg and I noticed dully that something was moving around underneath her skin, burrowing like Bugs Bunny. It didn’t even register to me that I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been, when I saw the same thing was happening to my own arm. I felt my face and noticed it was moving as well, deforming and bulging with the movements of parasites underneath. Not one worm, but many of them. And they weren’t just in my stomach anymore, now they were everywhere. “Your face,” Rebecca sputtered, her eyes glazed over and moist with tears. “Your face is moving…” Whatever these things were, they were multiplying. And they were making us brain dead as they chewed on our greymatter. “Call 9-1-1,” I said to Rebecca, feeling more afraid than I’d ever felt in my life, as I saw something begin to tear a hole in her cheek. The face of a worm peeked out as it gnawed and clawed to free itself. All I could feel were the teeth of a thousand parasites, growing larger by the second as they fed upon my flesh. And their mother in my belly, a six foot snake uncurling and shifting with displeasure. Getting ready to start gnawing at the bars of its flesh-cage. To escape to greener [pastures.](https://www.reddit.com/r/JGcreepypastas/comments/raq7ay/all_stories_20212022/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [MAD](https://www.reddit.com/r/MidnightAllDay?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [TCC](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [YT](https://youtu.be/9RybtYtDzAk)

I couldn’t believe what my boss asked me to do on my first day

ydxtjp

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydxtjp/i_couldnt_believe_what_my_boss_asked_me_to_do_on/

“There’s *nothing* to ‘get’!” my manager Jonah swept his palm against the mahogany reception desk, “It’s right, right, right, right, *left!*” I watched him go through the motions for what seemed like the twentieth time. It wasn’t my fault. This wasn’t something I got asked to do every day. In fact, I’d never expected to get asked to do this, *period.* Especially not on my first day on the job. “Okay, okay,” I said, taking in a lungful of air and extending my arms to either side, “Right, right, right, right, *left.* Got it.” His forehead cleared, “*See?* Easy peasy! You’ll be running this place by the end of the week!” The end of the week seemed lightyears away. The newspaper ad had promised a “stress-free” receptionist experience in a small health clinic, but it was only 9 AM and I was already on edge. Jonah looked to be in his late forties and evidently took pride in his no-nonsense attitude. He was already tapping his foot by the time I’d arrived, *even though I was five minutes early*, and wasted no time on introductions. “I have a meeting in ten,” he snapped, pointing me to my seat, “That’s your desk, your login info is on the post-it note. Anything else you might need just ask Sally, she’ll be taking over for the night shift.” “The night sh-?” I tried to interject, but he cut me off. “Let me walk you through the basics,” he paused for effect, “As you know, we pride ourselves on our free healthcare, which distinguishes us from the competition and keeps our hands full day and night. Your role may be simple, but it’s a vital one.” “Okay?” I shifted on my swivel chair as he positioned himself directly in front of the reception desk. “Now,” he cleared his throat, “Pay attention. You’ll need to master this before the next surge.” “Sur..?” I began, but he wasn’t listening. “So, the first thing you do when a patient comes in is check their ID. Free healthcare or not, we need to keep a record of whoever comes through the door. You know the drill.” He rapped the countertop in a keyboard-like motion to demonstrate. I smiled politely. “*Now*, the important part,” he said, extending his arms to the sides, “As you can see, there is a door on each side of the room. For your convenience, they are labeled R and L, which stand for right and left.” He paused, as if to make sure I was still following. “The task is simple. You are to send every *fifth* patient through the left door. You’ll need to keep track of them, okay? One, two, three, four people go *right*, and the fifth one goes *left.*” “But…why?” I heard myself asking. In all my years working as a hospital receptionist I’d never heard a request like this, “What’s behind the left door?” Jonah scoffed, as if he’d been expecting the question, “Inpatient rooms. Don’t worry about it. All you need to do is count the patients and point to the correct door. *Got it?*” “So…” I began, my mouth dry, “But what kind of… How will I know if the patients qualify for the left door? You know, like, if a pregnant woman comes in and the maternity rooms are on the right…” “Easy,” he snapped, his brow furrowed, “If she’s patient number five, you send her to the left. I don’t care about the circumstances.” I swallowed. “Well…er…can I have a tour of the premises, or..?” Jonah’s head jerked, “You don’t need to worry about the ins and outs of it. You’re a *receptionist.* We’re paying you good money to do *this* job. Take it or leave it.” I took it. I couldn’t even believe I had been lucky enough to get it in the first place. Hospital work had been too taxing and making double while doing a far easier job sounded almost too good to be true. By the time Jonah had disappeared through the door labeled “R”, the reception area was already flooded with patients. “I’ve been vomiting since 2 AM,” a man in a blue tracksuit stated, tossing an ID card into my hands, “I need some pills or something.” He dry-heaved, clutching his throat dramatically while I took down his information. “Go through the right door,” I said with a smile. I leaned forward in my seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was behind it, but as the man in the tracksuit pulled it open, I was disappointed to discover it was no more than a long white corridor. I only saw that same corridor the following three times too. There was no sign of the people I’d just sent in, nor were there any benches or a waiting area for patients to sit. “Good morning,” an elderly man placed his passport onto the countertop, “I've got an ear infection. Started last week. Tried warm compresses and pain medication, but it’s staying put. Is there a doctor I could see for a prescription?” I stared at him, gnawing at my lip. He was the fifth patient. “Is everything okay..?” he cocked his head to the side, his eyes blue and watery. “Er…” I cleared my throat, hurriedly punching in his surname, “It’s the left door, please, sir.” With bated breath, I watched as he struggled towards it, eventually managing to pry it open. *It was exactly the same.* A white, sterile-looking corridor, no different from the one on the right. No people. No benches. Only bright, fluorescent lights. Still, I couldn’t help myself from feeling slightly nauseated as the door slammed shut behind him, my heart somersaulting in my chest. “Next, please,” I croaked, trying my best to distract myself. What was this system for? Why were they singling out these unsuspecting people and more importantly… A documentary I’d seen a month prior flashed before my eyes. Cruel medical experiments involving… *No.* I couldn’t allow myself to think about that. I just needed to get through the day and then I’d see. Research this place, ask around. Why on Earth hadn’t I thought to do that the night before? Hell, why hadn’t I done that before applying for the job? Only now it dawned on me how quickly they had hired me. Had they even checked my qualifications? Did Jonah even know my name? *God…* I wanted to bury my face in my hands, but the next patient was already staring me down, a baby in her arms. “We need a pediatrician,” she wailed, “My son hasn’t slept in three days and I’m exhausted.” The baby looked hot and uncomfortable, writhing in her arms while I took down their names. “It’s the door on the right,” I pointed to it, suddenly realizing that I hadn’t considered this scenario. Did that count as two people…or one patient…? And how exactly could I split a child from their parent...? I’d need to ask Jonah whenever I saw him next. Except I didn’t see Jonah. I didn’t even see my lunch, or a bathroom break. It occurred to me, *a little too late*, that I hadn’t thought to ask where anything is. Jonah had explained the premise of the job and disappeared, never to be seen again. I would have considered trying one of the doors, but the queue was unrelenting and I constantly found myself swarmed by people. By the afternoon, I had sent about one hundred patients through the right door and twenty patients through the left. I recalled each one of them with perfect clarity. Thomas, the elderly gentleman, Beatrice, the teen girl with the nose ring, Lou, the woman in the tartan dress, Gabriel, the… “*Excuse me?*” a small voice rang out, “Can you help me?” At first, I didn’t realize where the voice was coming from, much less that it was addressing me. My head was reeling from the bright lights and my own unrelenting thoughts. “Ma’am?” the voice piped up again, and this time a skinny arm appeared from behind the counter. It was a boy. No older than seven. With brown disheveled hair falling over his forehead and a sling on his left arm. “I’m here for my x-ray?” he said, holding his arm out for me to see, “Could you show me where to go?” I looked down at the tally I’d been keeping on my post-it. *One hundred and four.* My blood ran cold. It was there and then that I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do this job. How was I meant to send a child - or *any* person for that matter - through a mystery door? It felt like a betrayal. A sacrifice. No, I - “Could you show me where to go?” the boy repeated, disrupting my inner monologue, “My mother is waiting for me in the car.” “It’s…it’s…” I garbled, trying to compose myself. Thoughts of brutal experiments flooded my mind again. My skin was prickling all over. I needed to do the right thing. I needed to… “It’s the right door…” I whispered. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel a bead of sweat making its way down the small of my back. It didn’t matter if I got into trouble. I couldn’t risk it. “Okay,” the boy shrugged, making his way towards it. Fighting the golf ball sized lump in my throat, I rushed in front of him to open it, “Thank you.” I felt better after that. *Well, relatively.* You see, I started cheating. There were no surveillance cameras in the reception area so I allowed myself to work at twice the speed, but send twice as few people through the left door. *No one will notice*, I told myself over and over, clacking furiously at my keyboard. And this way I got to actually pick the people manually. There was the lady who grumbled about the waiting times, and then the man who thought it was appropriate to smoke inside… “Who are *you?*” a voice intercepted my thoughts. A woman had circled the counter and was standing beside me, casually shifting papers on my desk. “Hey!” I began, grabbing at them. “Where’s Penelope?” her gaze was piercing. “P-Penelope?” I stammered, “I don’t… Who’s Penelope?” “Oh, God,” the woman slumped down, burying her face in her hands, “Not another one!” I stared at her, wondering if this was her way of telling me she needed the psych ward. “Ma’am, if you’d like to see a doctor, I’ll need your ID, please,” I said, watching her shoulders bob up and down in a silent cry. She shot me an incredulous look, “I’m Sally. Here for the night shift. Penelope was the one… the one before you. I *told* her not to go snooping. I *told* her to just do her job. She wouldn’t listen…” I felt a chill crawling up my spine, “Wh-what happened..?” But Sally shook her head, “I don’t know. I mean, I certainly have my theories. It’s not the first time this has happened. There was Shirley and Jacob, and now Penelope, *oh*, it’s the right door, sir!” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man spin on his heel and head toward the right-hand side of the room. “Please,” my mouth was as dry as a cotton ball, “I need to know.” Sally slapped the countertop, “Okay, we’re on break, people! Fifteen minutes!” “Tell me what’s going on,” I said, as soon as she turned away from the reception desk, “What’s behind the left door?” “Behind the *left* door? Hell if I know! I haven’t been there and wouldn’t go if they paid me. Ignorance really is bliss, never forget that.” “But you must know *something?* How long have you been working here?” She chuckled, “You know how curiosity killed the cat? Well, that expression really applies here. Once the other receptionists made up their minds to wander down one of the corridors, I never saw them again. Came in to a brand new person the next day.” “Did…did they get fired..?” “Fired?” her eyes widened, “Honey, I *hope* they got fired. All I know is that they never showed up again. Wouldn’t pick up their phones either. *Gone!* Just like that.” I shook my head, “Tell me what’s behind the left door. You must know!” She studied me for a moment with narrowed eyes, “It’s…it’s not the left door you should be worried about.” My heart skipped a beat. “It’s not? Then… then…” “The lucky ones get the left door,” Sally said, her voice hoarse. “I… I don’t understand…” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat. “The left-door people,” she said, grabbing hold of my clammy hands, “I’ve seen them again. They’re registered in the system twice. Some even three times if they’re exceedingly lucky. They make further appointments. They leave us good reviews.” I swallowed, “...but not the right-door people..?” She pointed her painted fingernail towards the window, “You see that truck over there? The one the men are loading up? All that comes from the right wing.” “But that’s…that’s…” “One of the biggest fast food chains in the city? I know.” I gaped at her, my stomach churning, “The right door…” She nodded sorrowfully, “Nothing’s free, sweetheart. The company’s gotta make their money somehow, and…” But before she could finish her sentence, Jonah stuck his head out the door, a paper bag in his hand, “Hey, ladies, fancy having some lunch?” I stared at him, and then at Sally, silently shaking her [head.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TerrorTherapy/)

My ex is using my daughter to manipulate me

yeig29

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeig29/my_ex_is_using_my_daughter_to_manipulate_me/

My ex has my daughter. She’s been there for a while. Beyond what our custody agreement allows. My ex has been using her to manipulate me. To control what I’m doing, where I go, and even who I talk to. I’m heart broken. I miss her so much. Her laugh, her smile. I last saw her when she was 14 months old. At night I find myself staring at my empty living room, imagining her toddling across the floor with her chocolate covered face and toothy grin. Sometimes I catch myself listening at her bedroom, waiting for a cry to signal to me that she’s awake. Only to have my heart drop when I remember her barren crib. I can’t even bring myself to clean up her room. There are toys and books strewn everywhere, clothes pulled from the few dresser drawers she could reach. Even when I’m grocery shopping I find myself going down the baby aisles, subconsciously grabbing for snacks and diapers she won’t need. The other day I found one of her tiny hair ties in my pocket and cried for hours. The police won’t help, CPS can’t step in. Even though it’s heartbreaking, I can’t get her back. Even though I never planned on being a parent, I never imagined the hole not having her would leave in my heart. I got a box today, from my ex. It was filled with photos, the outfit she was wearing when I last saw her, even a lock of her hair and a baby tooth. When I opened it I could feel myself screaming in pain, even though the world around me deafened. Tonight I plan on getting her back. With or without police help. I plan on waiting until everyone is asleep. Once the lights are off, I can sneak in the back door. The dogs still recognize me so I don’t think they will sound the alarm. Even if they tried, their silence was always easily bought with treats. I still know the layout of the house like the back of my hand. Even after we started the divorce and I moved, my ex never cared for change. The furniture is all where I remember it, at least as far as I can tell from the pictures. Once I get in the back door my daughter's bedroom is around the corner and to the left. The nightlights should still be there, making it easy to find my way in the dark. She never could sleep in the dark. My ex is the wild card. Fiercely protective, and hypersentive. We live in a state with very loose gun laws, so every room in the house is like a small armory. If I get caught, I won’t make it back. But I am willing to take that risk to save my daughter. I won’t have to worry about her crying, she’s never been loud. I just hope I can grab all of her. After the car accident six months ago, she’s not the same as she was. I think that’s the worst part of the photos my ex sent me, is seeing her decaying limbs propped up next to her. I’m debating on bringing the blanket she came home from the hospital wrapped in when she was born. The lock of hair I received still had part of her scalp attached, so I know she’s well into decomposition. I’m done crying at an empty grave. Tonight I’ll finally be able to put her to bed, and I even got a battery powered night light. We live in a small town and when I told the police that her grave was disturbed they ignored me, said I was crazy with grief. Even if I get caught putting her back, at least I will know she’s finally resting. Tonight is the last time my ex will have to torment me. I’m posting this just in case anything goes wrong. The box my ex sent me is on my kitchen counter, along with a detailed binder of everything that’s happened. I’m going to the store to get a shovel, and some daisies. They were always her favorite. I hope I can update this, but if I can't, hopefully they find me. I have a plot next to her. I bought it the week of her funeral. Even if I don’t make it, at least we will get one last nap together.

I should be dead.

yeqede

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeqede/i_should_be_dead/

I should be dead. ​ I felt it. I felt my neck snap. I felt the bones splinter. They pushed me, I fell. My neck hit something on the ground, I couldn’t feel my body. But then I felt… something snaking down and up my spine, pulling my body back together. I can only describe it as vines under my skin, something keeping me tightly taught. Without thinking I get back up, and hold out my arms, covering my face. Too late, the man pulls back his fist and hits me again. His armoured glove impacts my face, and I taste blood. But then, I don’t. My head snaps back. Again, those vines under my skin pull me back together. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m on top of the man. I’m punching him, my fists getting bloodied as they impact him again and again. His helmet falls off, and my hands punch his face. I feel bones in my fingers snap from my brute force, but those vines again pull them back together. Someone yells. An alarm goes off. Down the seemingly infinite white halls, men show up, dressed in black. Armed to the teeth, they see me. Through their semi-transparent helmet visors I see fear in their eyes. They’re screaming. I’m screaming. Rifles drawn, they start shooting. The muzzles flashes from their guns remind me of a beautiful flame. ———————— “What a beautiful, erm flame,” I say. I’m at the beach. I’m with… I’m with him. I I can’t remember his name for some reason. I feel something for him. I can’t remember what it’s called… love? He laughs, and tosses more dried driftwood into the bonfire, sending sparks into the summer breeze. The waves crash on the shore, and he looks at me, “Keep up with this flirting and I might end up falling for you.” He does something with his mouth…. A smile I believe it’s called. I smile back. I can’t keep it off my face. I move my head shyly away from him. My heart pounds. I'm... happy.He moves to sit next to me. Closer than he has to. I don’t mind though. Even though I am sat next to a bonfire, I remember feeling as if his heat was twenty times stronger than the flame’s. I awkwardly move closer to him. “You know,” he says, “there’s really no reason for you to be nervous. You know me.” I feel blood rushing to my face. “I- Erm. You-“ I stutter. I've been staring at his eyes for too long. I flash an embarrassed smile. He moves his hand to mine, and turns to face me. “Is this okay?” He asks. I smile and nod. ———————— I smile as the bullets tear through me. I feel the vines moving through my body. The pain feels… good. I run through the ranks of men, the flames all around me. They try to stick things inside me, but I’m too fast. The vines seem to snake out of my body, helping me take them down. Their blood on my hands excites me. As suddenly as it started, it’s all over, and I’m left in torn rags. Once a pristine white, now a blood-stained red. I feel myself start to drift away, but I have to stay up. I can’t fall. I reach out to steady myself, but it all goes black.Before I pass out, one thought stands out in my mind: I should be dead.

My Name is Stacy White, I'm an Investigative Journalist and I Interview Monsters. Update.

ye0nc4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye0nc4/my_name_is_stacy_white_im_an_investigative/

[PREVIOUS](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycasl3/my_name_is_stacy_white_im_an_investigative/) When I next met with Molly it was with extreme reluctance. Apparently my article had resonated well with the audiences and they were morbidly curious for more. As such my boss had sent me back. She sat just as arrow straight and emotionless as last time.  “Good Morning.” She greeted me pleasantly, almost as if we were friends.  “Yes..” I answered minimally as I set up my equipment.  “Did it negatively affect your morality last time? To hear of my masters and their world?” She asked curiously.  “It.. Surprised me..” I answered diplomatically.  “I understand. What is it that you would like to know about this time?” “How did the child, Eric, destroy your supply chain?” I asked straightforwardly.  Molly took a deep breath in, as if it was some effort for her to continue this time, then she began, “The boy was permitted to join in the day classes with the girls after he beat Radomir, however this brought with it new problems. Aside from the disciplinary issues, it quickly became apparent that Eric was not the same level as the others. Out of ten he ranked 7th. When the three girls below him defaulted to the meat farm, he became the bottom of the class.  On the day of their 22nd exam, I was working with Nathaniel on another matter when he was called to the infirmary. When we arrived Eric was lying on his side curled up on one of the sterile hospital beds in a medical robe. Beside him Doctor Markos Behrend was writing on a chart. He was one of them, just the same as Nathaniel or Master, however was a couple years older than the brothers. He had strawberry blonde hair and lavender eyes.  ‘Nathaniel.’ The Doctor greeted him with a humble bow despite the fact that they had been friends for many decades, ‘I thought you would want to be the one to make the decision on this case?’  ‘Indeed, what is the damage?’ Nathaniel asked calmly, though looking at him I could tell he was tense. He stood just a little more rigid in the same way Master did when he was stressed.  ‘It seems the boy failed the 22nd test. He fell from near the top, when I heard I had expected that he would need to be scraped off the ground, however it seems he survived, though his injuries are considerable.’ Markos began cheerfully, ‘Internal bleeding, multiple broken ribs, broken wrist and fractured leg. It would be my recommendation that he should be euthanized.’ Hearing this Nathaniel ignored the man, moving instead to crouch beside the bed, ‘Eric, look at me.’ He spoke with a softness that was nauseating and the child rolled over to face him, he was pale with pain. His injuries were plain to see, no bandages or otherwise had been placed. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’ He prompted  ‘I fell..’ Eric whispered ashamedly, ‘I couldn’t keep up.. they all moved too fast..’  ‘Was it because of your leg?’  ‘..Yes.. I’m sorry.. I’ll do better..’ It was strange to hear a child apologize for it implied that forgiveness could be given. ‘Are you in pain?’  The boy nodded. ‘Good. Then next time, I expect you won’t fall.’ He said calmly before returning his attention to Markos, ‘There’s no need for euthanasia, his spirit isn’t broken.’ ‘As you wish.’ The doctor agreed, ‘With respect, I should inform you I am forbidden from using any medicines on him specifically. He will receive no pain relief or other treatment and I have doubts that he will last long without it.’  ‘Orders from my brother is it?’ He sighed and Markos nodded in confirmation, ‘I see, no matter. Eric, will you sit up for me?’ He requested.  It took a moment but the child obliged, sitting up with some effort to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. This was the first time I had seen his left leg without the bracing and it was disturbing. Sickly thin with sunken muscles and more twisted than it should have been. It was also heavily bruised, I assumed it was the one that had broken.  ‘I’m going to give you a gift. Do you think you can withstand a little more pain for a moment?’ Nathaniel asked curiously.  ‘I’m fine.” Eric responded stubbornly. I don’t believe he understood exactly how much gifts hurt when bestowed. The man looked bemused, ‘Very well. Hold your gown out of the way.’ He instructed and Eric hesitantly rolled it up to his hip on one side, exposing the full length of his damaged leg. Nathaniel seemed to examine the disfigurement for a moment before activating his magic. Ordinarily their energy is not something we can see, however, when it is particularly concentrated it becomes visible. As such, his eyes glowed and blue sparks crackled in the air around Nathaniel’s hand as he placed it over the wasted muscle, moving it downward from there past his knee to his ankle.  There was a moment of awed silence before the child screamed and began to writhe in agony. He was clearly not prepared. His skin boiled, blistering from within as the magic burned through his leg and blackened symbols seared themselves down the length of it where Nathaniel had touched. I had never before seen one of them use their magic in this way. The marks left were a combination of interconnected circles, crescents and what I can only describe as stars arranged in a neat line.   When they were done forming, the bruising around the break faded and the muscle began to fill out. Even the bruising on his wrist disappeared and I realized then that Nathaniel had healed him entirely, ‘Your brother wouldn’t approve of that,’ Markos warned, though the mischievous gleam in his eye signified that he did. He had always preferred Nathaniel to Master.  ‘Perhaps not.’ Nathaniel agreed, though turned his attention back to the child as he began to recover from the shock and sit up, his brow slick with sweat, ‘Why don’t you try standing?’  Eric looked suspicious but optimistic, following the instruction without saying anything more. His first steps were tentative, as if he didn’t fully trust it.  ‘Well?’ The man prompted.  ‘I.. can walk.’ Eric stumbled, barely containing his excitement, ‘Thank you!’ He said with such an intense appreciation that it made both monsters visibly uncomfortable as they looked between each other.  ‘Don’t thank me. There are limitations-’ Nathaniel started mildly embarrassed but stopped mid sentence when Eric suddenly hugged him.  ‘I don’t care. Thank you.’ The boy repeated.  At this situation Markos appeared to be distinctly amused while Nathaniel remained frozen, looking utterly shocked. He seemed to have no concept of how to return the gesture, ‘Yes. Right. Well… *Release me.*’ He used a command and Eric obediently stepped back, ‘As I was saying, child, there are limitations. You may not use it all the time, the more you use it the faster you will burn through the magic sustaining it. If it runs out you will revert back to how you were until it recharges enough to continue.’ He explained.  ‘How long does it take to recharge..?’ Eric asked now.  ‘Depends on how depleted you allow it to get.’ Nathaniel shrugged, ‘I would suggest exploring the limitations before taking the 22nd test again. If you fail a second time, there won’t be a third.’  Bestowing that gift was perhaps the second biggest mistake Nathaniel ever made. The boy learned to use his gift only when required and it seemed to me that for the majority of the time he used it minimally. Only enough so that he could walk with the assistance of a cane rather than the leg braces and under  Nathaniel’s continued guidance he was becoming regrettably formidable.  By the time he was a teenager he was outrightly dangerous. He excelled in his classes with the girls and was soon ranked third among them, the only two who opposed him were Calla and Loree. However as he approached maturity a new problem arose. ’It is time now brother, you *must* destroy him. I have allowed you to indulge whatever interest it is that has consumed you these past years, but that is to end. He is causing problems among the girls.’ Master pleaded with his brother to see reason. Nathaniel sighed, ‘He is not interested in the girls, and his benefits far outweigh the risks.’  ‘How do you know he holds no interest in the girls? Humans are extremely hormonal.’  ‘Because I just *know* brother, trust me. His interests lay elsewhere.’ Nathaniel insisted, exasperated.  ‘And what of the effect he has on them?’ Master demanded.  ‘What of it? I will not punish the boy for things he cannot control!’  ‘You are blinded by your affections for him.’ My master scoffed.  ‘And you are blinded by your own ignorance. He has never disobeyed any request I have made of him, I don’t even need to use glamours. He has brought us back hundreds of children, he understands how to talk to them. He makes them feel safe. Do you not remember just last week, he brought home an entire bus of them! Tabloids are publishing it as a mysterious disappearance, they have no leads. He left no traces at all! He is far better at it than any other has ever been, I told you it would work.’ His brother responded.  ‘I am not denying that he has served his purpose, I’m saying he is getting too old! What will you do when he asks where the children he brings home are? When he asks how they are doing and why he never sees them?!’  ‘I will tell him the same thing I have *always* told him, that once he has rescued them they are taken to Sweden and re-homed.’   ‘How long do you expect him to believe that? He’s too clever Nathaniel! You should see the way he watches me, blue eyes of a devil.’ Master muttered. At this Nathaniel laughed, ‘He watches you with conjecture because he can sense your loathing. If you would spend some time with him you would see his company is quite pleasant.’   ‘I will never understand your fascination with him.’ Master shook his head.  ‘That’s because you lack vision, you never look toward the future. When mother and father arrive I intend to show them Eric and how well he has been trained. You should hope that they don’t change their minds on the succession.’ Nathaniel mused, he had never previously expressed an interest in the inheritance, so I was sure that he was only teasing. Though Master didn’t seem impressed.  ‘If you will not control him, I will.’ He warned but Nathaniel dismissed him.  ‘He is perfectly under control.’ His brother stated nonchalantly. That was one of the many arguments the brothers would have over Eric Linnaeus, yet each time Nathaniel remained unyielding. I passed by Eric that day in the hallways. He was now full grown and taller than I and I could see why his presence disrupted the other pets. He was young and handsome, his dark hair framed his face and his eyes were a deep blue. Though he wore no expression he didn’t seem unkind, you see being fed on monster’s foods enhances features you already have. Eyes, lips, hair, your skin no longer scars when cut and so on. ‘Molly, have you seen Nathaniel?’ He asked, his voice was like velvet, it was disturbing.  ‘He is in a meeting with Master.’ I informed him and it was only then that I noticed he had children with him. Two little girls no older than six or seven stood nervously hiding shyly behind his legs. They were thin and covered in dirt, they looked like they may have been living on the streets. When I looked at them they shrank back, as I said, children are unsettled by me.  ‘It’s okay, she won’t hurt you, this is Molly.’ He assured them softly.  ‘How much longer until we’re there..?’ The taller of the children asked.  ‘Not much longer, I have to take you to Nathaniel, we can get you something to eat and he will help you I promise.’  It’s not often that I feel as though I could laugh, but hearing Eric speak with such unawareness to the truth was entertaining. It pleased me to know that the masters *both* trusted me more than they did him. Even for all Nathaniel’s fawning, he didn’t trust Eric to accept him the way *I* accepted them.” Molly paused there, and I saw for the first time a smile on her lips.  “Your ‘masters’ are evil.” I commented flatly.  “Evil?” She mused, “Are lions ‘evil’ for eating buffalo? Are humans ‘evil’ for eating cattle? It’s simply a part of life. All things must eat.” She corrected me.  “Not all things eat babies.” I stated bluntly, though she ignored me this time as she continued instead.  “Sometime after my Master sent me to collect Eric from the day classes. When I arrived the teenagers were in the middle of sparring, Eric was facing Calla and she had disarmed him, she held the tip of her sword to the artery in his thigh without applying any pressure.  ‘You have lost.’ She announced though he seemed annoyed by this statement.  ‘Do you always have to aim for my leg?’ He demanded.  ‘Of course. It’s your weakness, learn to defend it better.’ She said simply, finally lowering her weapon.  Eric paused a moment then and I thought he might try to catch her in a surprise attack, however he instead asked, ‘..You’re better than I am.. So.. How would you defend better if you were me?’  This did indeed catch the girl by surprise and her cheeks flushed, ‘I would just.. Not make it so obvious. I’ve seen you use it sometimes, why don’t you just use it all the time?’ She asked as she offered him her hand to help him up.  ‘I can’t.’ He sighed, accepting her assistance and reaching for his cane as he stood, ‘I’ll wear it out too quickly for no good reason. It’s not worth using in training..’ He trailed off as he saw me approach.  ‘Eric, please come with me, Master wishes to have an audience with you.’ I announced.  In response he narrowed his eyes, ‘Why? Does Nathaniel know?’  ‘It was Nathaniel’s idea.’ I lied without hesitation. ‘Fine.’ He agreed.  We walked in silence and he followed me through the hallways to Master’s office. He was waiting for us and I stood to the side of the room while he gestured for Eric to sit, he didn’t.  ‘Hello Orphan.’ He began.  ‘What is it that you want …. ?’ Eric spoke my master’s name without any reservations, it was a sign of disrespect.  ‘I see my brother failed to teach you manners.’ Master smiled tightly, ‘I requested you here in hopes that you might agree to a contract with me.’ The boy seemed caught off guard, ‘There’s nothing you could offer me that I want.’ He stated.  ‘Oh? Come now, everyone has something that they want. I will grant you anything, name a price, and in return I should like you to become my property. I would have you contracted so that you may only obey my command, my brother nor anyone else would have the power to glamour you.’  ’Nathaniel doesn’t need to use those on me and I refuse to allow others to do so.’ Eric was overconfident.  ‘*Sit*.’ Master commanded him and he sat back heavily in his seat as the order compelled him, ‘*Stand*.’  ‘Stop it.’ He snapped as he unwillingly followed the instructions.  ‘Why? I thought you said you could resist?’ My master mused.  ‘You’re using more force than others do.’ He muttered.  ‘Well of course, I know you are strong willed. And others will figure that out as well. Do you really want to be at the mercy of whatever anyone asks you to do?’  ‘..No..’ he admitted honestly. ‘Then make the contract.’  ‘With you? Also no.’ Eric stated defiantly.  Master looked annoyed this time, it wasn’t often that people denied him what he wanted, ‘Let me put this another way. Make the contract with me, or I’ll return you to Nathaniel in pieces.’  ‘This conversation is over.’ Eric announced, moving to leave. Master allowed him to reach the door before giving another command.  ’*Stop*.’ He said simply and the boy froze in place, ‘That knife on your belt is nice. Did Nathaniel give it to you? *Answer me*.”  ‘Yes.’ He responded bitterly through teeth.  ‘Wonderful! Should I command you to take your own eye out with it?’ Master asked casually.  Now Eric appeared nervous, ‘I would rather you did not.’  ‘I’m sure my brother would rather I didn’t as well.’ He deliberated a moment, then shrugged, ‘But, he’s not here and I would love to know just how strong you are when it Really matters. So, Eric. *I order you to take your eye out. Just the eye though. Don’t want you damaging anything else*.’  Eric’s expression flickered between shock and spite before settling on concentration as he fought to resist the command. It was foolish to even try. His entire body trembled with the effort yet he still took the knife and directed the tip of the blade at his right eye, ‘Retract the command.’ He hissed, sweat beading on his brow as he used all his will power to hold the knife back.  Master sat forward slightly, ‘Interesting.’ He mused, I’m sure he hadn’t expected any resistance at all.  ‘Master forgive me.. Is this wise?’ I asked quietly. It’s not that I minded that he would injure himself, it was more that I understood Nathaniel would be less than pleased. ‘Wise? No, but, I think it’s going to be worth it anyway.’ He smiled as Eric began to scream, the blade slowly driving it’s way into his eye against his will. Blood spilled out down his face, the whole ordeal took longer than I would have expected, I suppose Eric fought it the entire time. When it was done my master sat back.  ‘I suppose not strong enough to resist then,’ he sounded amused, ‘That’s good. Now, *take your eye, and hand it to my brother. Go quickly*, don’t want to keep him waiting.’ He smiled.  This time Eric offered no opposition to the direction. I thought that without the instruction he may not have been able to move at all, he seemed close to losing consciousness. I can only imagine the horrified expression on Nathaniel’s face when Eric walked into his office, blood trailing down his face, knife in one hand and his own eye in the other. I wondered if it would upset him to be handed one of the eyes he always claimed to admire so much.  ‘Molly, *see that he makes it there*, he seems unsteady.’ Master ordered me and I moved to follow after the boy. It was apparent that when he told Eric to go quickly he had. So by the time I caught up with him he had already entered Nathaniel’s office and I struggled to find a way in without being seen. There’s no point in my gift if I cannot get into the room to begin with. I managed to find a vantage point beside a window on the roof, though the curtains were drawn I could hear through the glass well enough.  ‘-Is that all?’ Nathaniel was speaking calmly.  There was a long pause, ‘Yes, that’s all.’ Eric responded. ‘And you do agree to the terms?’  ‘Yes. I will obey any order you give me without fail so long as I hear it. I will never tell you a lie. I will never use the weapon that you have granted me against you and I will live for as long as your lifespan. I accept these conditions.’ Eric replied in monotone. ‘As a final condition, from the first time you choose to use it, you will never again be able to return it to a human state. You will have to live with it forever, do you understand?’, It almost sounded as if he was trying to dissuade the boy.  ‘I do.’ He answered calmly.  There was another moment of silence before Nathaniel answered, ‘Very well…’ he agreed exhausted.  When I next saw Eric it was some months later. Winter had set in and snow was piled on the ground. Other servants were clearing the pathways when the court yard doors opened and Eric returned. Spots of snow decorated his dark hair and he wore a thick jacket with a knitted scarf. Beside him was a small human family, a woman and her three children who looked around the area in awe as Nathaniel, Markos and Calla approached them. Calla had been assigned to Markos and Eric to Nathaniel once their training had completed.” She explained briefly then continued, “Markos and Calla led the family away while Nathaniel remained with Eric.  ‘You did well.’ He praised, though there was no true emotion behind the words as he tilted Eric’s chin up to look at him. ‘There are so many this year.. I don’t know that we’ll have room for them all..’ Eric murmured, averting his gaze. Nathaniel seemed entertained, ’Let me worry about that, we have provisions enough.’ he assured. I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation for my master approached. He came to stand by my side in the shadows and patted down the length of my hair slowly as he spoke, ‘It seems that my brother has decided to ignore my warning.’ He mused. ‘That appears to be the case.’ I agreed obediently, briefly returning my attention to the pair of them to see that they were now headed inside.   ‘*When an opportunity arises, take the orphan into the sub levels. Show him what’s kept down there.*’ Master whispered the order in my ear and I nodded.  From then I spent my days paying even closer attention to the orphan than I already did and hoping for the chance to fulfill the command I had been given. It’s.. Somewhat uncomfortable to be under an order that lasts any extended length of time. It consumes your thoughts and makes it difficult to focus on anything else, it’s a permanent state of *waiting*.  Eric was almost never alone, if he wasn’t with Nathaniel, he was with Calla and if he wasn’t with her, he was out collecting children. Fortunately I caught a break when he separated from his master one night after dinner. I fell into pace with him and he stopped, ‘Orphan, there’s something I need to show you.’ I stated politely.  ‘Not interested.’ He responded flatly.  ‘Your Master wants me to show you something.’ I lied.  At this the boy snorted, ‘He’s not my ‘master’ and if he wanted to show me something, he wouldn’t send *you*.’ He stated bluntly, moving to leave the area. He was irritating. ‘Nathaniel is hiding something from you.’ I told him finally.  This caused him to pause, ‘No he’s not?’  ‘He is.’ I said honestly, ‘I can show you what it is.’  Eric hesitated still, he seemed to be thinking through his options, ‘What is it?’ He asked at last.  I shook my head, ‘I can’t explain. It must be seen.’ I could see him weighing up his curiosity against his distrust.  ‘How long will it take?’ He asked eventually. ‘Not long, we can go right now. It won’t move.’ I could feel the order loosening, he was going to accept.  ‘Okay.’ He agreed and I began to lead him toward the sub levels.  You know when you have reached them because the hallways become like a maze. It’s difficult to navigate and it feels as though the room is spinning. If you don’t know which direction to take you may easily become lost. ‘Keep up.’ I instructed as I noticed Eric was starting to slow.  ‘This is the sub level. Nathaniel said I shouldn’t come here..’ He said uncertainty.  ‘He says that because he doesn’t want you to see. That’s what the definition of hiding something is.’  He looked displeased at my explanation but continued on. We stopped when we reached the stairs, they led down to a heavy wooden door, gargoyles sat atop the banisters and I made my way down without hesitation, though Eric followed more cautiously, ‘How much further?’ He asked.  ’Not far.’ I reassured as I opened the door way into the room beyond. ‘It’s.. Just the kitchens.’ He said relieved.  ‘Yes.’  ‘So what of them? They eat tons of meat. They have to prepare it somewhere.’ He stated annoyed. ‘This isn’t what you’re here to see.’ I mused, gesturing for him to follow.  I opened the next door and allowed him to step through into the processing room. It was a good time to visit, the production line was just commencing. If we had arrived later in the day the meat would have already been largely processed and barely recognisable, however at the beginning there is no mistaking what it is for the corpses are still quite whole. The machinery hummed and clanked in rhythmic timing as the operation began. The bodies entered from the right, freshly slaughtered and hung upside-down to allow the blood to drain out before they moved through the skinner. Once the skin was removed, workers removed the head, hands and feet, as well as any other unsavory appendages. They were then sent on to be quartered, the choice cuts were separated and de-boned. The offal is thrown into a crusher to be ground and the whole area gets washed down before the next batch is sent in.  I wondered if Eric was able to identify the children from the family he had collected in the days prior, or the little girls from the months before. Not all livestock is processed immediately, there is no meat on a starved body and they must be made plump first, or sometimes the masters simply wish them to grow somewhat before slaughter. His breathing became shallow, he stepped back until he hit the wall and slid down it slowly. He seemed to be in a state of disbelief, he was quivering and tears welled in his eyes. I was interested to know what he thought. Though I supposed he understood.  ‘..All-.. All of them..?’ He whispered barely audible.  It took me a moment to understand the query, ‘Oh yes. All of them.’ I confirmed, ‘Your master is very pleased with your numbers. They keep a leader board, your rank is the highest by far. You should be proud, you serve them so well.’ I commended. It was curious, his expression then was.. Pained? Remorseful? I can’t be certain, I’m not entirely familiar with that specific emotional range.  I was about to continue explaining the process to him when the group of three entered from the opposite door. They had come through from the slaughter room and were talking amongst themselves casually.  ‘-that will be enough to fill all the orders for the following months.’ Markos was saying.  ‘We should consider a second expansion.’ Nathaniel was insisting as they conducted their routine inspection.  ‘Let’s not over-extend ourselves.’ Master answered to which his brother rolled his eyes.  ‘We can train more collectors brother.’ He sighed. ‘In a few years we could have no supply problems at all- Oh..’ Markos cut off mid agreement as he was the first to notice us. Arbitrarily the brothers followed his gaze and their attention came to rest on Eric. ‘Oh indeed.’ Master commented, he gave me a pleased smile before turning to see his twin’s reaction. Nathaniel stood rigid with shock, though no emotion crossed his face as he and Eric stared at each other. It was as if neither of them could quite comprehend what they were seeing. I can only imagine their thoughts. The lies Nathaniel had so carefully arranged were crashing down, the world Eric knew was shattering and all the while machinery continued to slice *meat* in the background. It was a pleasure to be a part of that moment.  ‘..You lied to me.. This entire time…’ The boy was coming to a new realization. Anger was replacing shock and he was starting to stand, using the wall for support as he did.  ‘Eric..’ He started but didn’t seem to know what to say.  ‘You killed them, every one of them!’ Eric shouted in response. ‘It’s just business, they’re just livestock, you must understand-…’  The Orphan cut him off, ‘They’re not livestock! They’re people! Every one of them-, I brought them here so that you could ***help*** them! You told me you sent them to Sweden!’ ‘Come now Eric, you didn’t truly believe that did you? Surely you had your suspicions? Yet you still collected them because I asked you too, don’t hide behind morality. You ignored what you didn’t want to see.’ His attempts to calm him were uneffective.  Eric grit his teeth, ‘I didn’t think you were butchering and eating them!’  ‘I can put him down for you if you prefer.’ My master offered generously.  ‘You will do no such thing! I can fix this.’ Nathaniel snapped back quickly.  Master gave a short laugh, ‘Will you never learn? He’s already in the right place, just kill him and hang him with the others-..’ He stopped. The air crackled with energy.  Beside me, Eric was removing his eye patch. He let it drop slowly from his fingertips to the ground and beneath it I was surprised to see the eye was intact. Though the iris was a darkened purple that filled the whites of the eye almost completely and the pupil was a thin slit. The silver crescents on his neck lit up, glowing a bright white as an energy ignited up the length of his arm disintegrating his sleeve. The skin at his shoulder split and magic spilled out burning away the flesh as it transformed his arm.  When it was complete his human limb was gone, replaced by that of a monster. I’m sure it must have hurt, though he showed no sign if it did, there was pure malice in his eyes and his glare could have withered daisies.  ‘What kind of contract did you give him?’ Master demanded of his brother. ‘I gave him a weapon..’ Nathaniel answered tranquilly.    ‘You gave him a weapon like that? Are you mad?!’  ‘Everything is fine, he must obey my command as per the contract.’  ‘Any command I *hear*.’ Eric corrected him calmly, as he took a knife from his belt in his left hand and stabbed it into his own ear canal. Not one of them moved to stop him as he repeated the process on the other side, deafening himself permanently. I suppose they were entirely too surprised. Or perhaps they simply didn’t realize the consequences of what he was doing until it was too late. Eric exhaled in pain as blood trickled down his neck on both sides and he took a moment to steady himself.  I could see the implication of what he had just done dawning among the others. Their expressions varied. Markos looked apprehensive while Nathaniel seemed to be caught between disbelief and horror. My master seemed equally astonished though he also appeared afraid. Loopholes in contracts are common, though they are designed to benefit the masters.. So for him to use it to his own advantage was.. Unheard of.  ’…He’s your pet, you will deal with this.’ Master told Nathaniel as he took a step back, ‘Molly, *observe*. I want to know all that happens.’ He ordered and I nodded, then Master departed with Markos. Eric seemed to remember my presence for the first time at that moment and as I was the closest thing he lashed out at me first. I jumped away swiftly but made no effort to engage him, my orders were simply to monitor.  The Orphan didn’t pursue me, instead his attention returned to his master as the man drew the sword on his belt. He seemed to be calculating before he made his next attack, he surprised us both by targeting the machinery instead of Nathaniel. Workers scrambled out of the way as he tore through the mechanics with his arm.  One of the machines sparked violently and combusted after the impact. This was especially troublesome as most magic is flammable which makes fire difficult  for them to combat and in the ensuing chaos Eric disappeared. He slipped out following along the conveyor track that brought the bodies in. The order I was given compelled me to follow, though it was rather unpleasant pushing past the bodies. I came out in the containment room and could see right away that Eric had broken the locks on the cages.  Livestock were running out the exit doors into the sub level tunnels, castle servants were scrambling to corral them back and I hurried to find the Orphan.  In the hallway I found him stumbling along, it was clear his balance was off but he seemed to have purpose in his direction. His enhanced eye was dilated and scanning the area as if he was searching for something.  However I soon realized what it was, for ahead my master walked unaware of how the situation had escalated. Eric moved quicker the moment he saw him, his footsteps were light in just the way we had been trained and Master only noticed his approach at the last moment. Sharp claws met with a shield of energy as the resulting discharge threw them both back.  Eric was unfortunately quick to recover and Master looked rather annoyed, ‘I warned my brother so many times to destroy you.’ He sneered, drawing a weapon to face him with. They fought in brief interactions, but the boy was swift and my master was out of practice. As it became apparent that he was outmatched my Master retreated, using his magic to put distance between them. He managed to escape and Eric continued his pursuit after him. However as I moved to go after them an explosion from below rippled through the castle’s foundation. It caused some of the old stone to give in and I was momentarily delayed by a collapsed ceiling. This meant that by the time I regained sight of them they were on the rooftops, though getting up there myself was no easy task.  Blood stained the pure snow and it seemed Eric was about to dispatch Master when an arrow flew, striking the boy through the left leg. It caused him to falter and he stumbled. I turned to see where it had come from and saw Calla, she stood beside Markos in the courtyard, ‘*Another, through his thigh*.’ Markos instructed and the girl obliged.  Naturally Master took the opportunity he was granted and moved to cut him down. However, to everyone’s surprise metal connected with metal and sparks sprayed off sizzling in the snow.  ‘What are you doing?!’ Master hissed as Nathaniel now stood between them, I didn’t see where he had come from but energy radiated off of him in waves that dissipated slowly into the air. ’I cannot let you destroy him… I have told you that I can fix this, allow me the chance.’ He bargained.  ‘How can you fix this? He is deafened! He will never hear your command to obey!’ ‘Please brother, I have asked you for nothing else but this and you owe me as much…’ Nathaniel implored him.  I’m not entirely sure what he meant by that, however Master seemed annoyed, as if he had brought up something they weren’t ordinarily to discuss, ’You have asked me for a great many things in regard to *‘this’.* Yet you expect me to oblige you once more?’  ‘I do.’ He confirmed.  I could sense my master’s displeasure as he responded. ‘…Very well. But I will have you know I disagree and you may invoke no more favors from me.’  ‘I understand.’ Nathaniel responded calmly as he turned his attention to Eric. The Orphan had taken the opportunity to remove the arrows from his leg and now faced him with a knife in his left hand, ‘Really Eric, you must be exhausted by now, give up.’ He said, irritated that he even dared to oppose him.  When they met in combat it was clear that Eric was at a disadvantage, slowed by his injuries and unable to use his right arm against Nathaniel he stood little chance. Their battle took them further from the courtyard across the rooftops and Eric nearly fell more than once as they got higher up. It ended when Nathaniel caught a hold of him and slammed him back against the outer wall of one of the towers with enough force to crack the mortar.  He held Eric there preventing him from raising the knife again and placed a hand over one of his damaged ears. A glow emitted and the boy flinched away begrudgingly as Nathaniel restored his hearing. ‘*You may never compromise your hearing again*.’ He commanded immediately.  ‘You promised I would be free of commands, you promised *you* wouldn’t use them on me again.’ He hissed.  ‘I lied.’ Nathaniel answered calmly, ‘Now *drop the knife*.’  Eric scowled as he reluctantly allowed the knife to fall away and Nathaniel readjusted his grip to hold him by the throat as he continued, ‘Do you have any idea how much damage you have done? Our entire operation is compromised because of this stunt.’  ‘That was the intention.’ he retorted spitefully. He was trying to loosen Nathaniel's grip, though it was pointless, they are far stronger than we are and in response Nathaniel slammed him back into the wall again. It must have hurt for he gave a soft sound of pain and glared back at him with disdain. ‘That’s *enough! Behave*!’ He snapped, ‘Now listen to me. You’re going to stop this nonsense. If you wish to pretend you didn’t see the slaughter house that is perfectly fine. But you will not act out in this way. Am I making myself clear?’.  Eric set his jaw and tilted his head up defiantly, refusing to answer. Though he at least had the good sense to stop struggling.    ‘*Speak!*’ He ordered in response to his resistance.  ‘Fuck you!’ He said venomously in response fulfilling the command, ‘Just kill me and get it over with.’  ‘Kill you?’ He laughed humorlessly as he leant in close to threaten him. ‘I don’t think you understand the position you’re in here. Your life is forfeit, I hold your contract and I can make you obey anything I say, you belong to me. You should take a moment to think about what that means if you displease me again. I’ve been kind with you so far but my patience wears thin. Perhaps my next order should be for you to assist in the slaughterhouse? Or maybe it should be that you consume human flesh? Tell me, which would you prefer?’ He asked coldly.  I saw fear in his eyes for the first time then, perhaps he understood the world of monsters more truly now. ‘..Nathaniel.. Please.. ’ Eric whispered more meekly. ‘You’re afraid? Good. There is some sense in you.’ He muttered exasperated, ‘I don’t ***want*** to do this you know. But you’ve left me no choice! Destroying our equipment, releasing all the livestock, attacking my brother! What else am I supposed to do with you?!’  He shouted and Eric flinched which seemed to bother him.  ‘You don’t have to do this.. Just let me go...’ He begged softly.  Nathaniel let out a slow frustrated sigh, ‘My brother was right, I should have destroyed you years ago for all the trouble it would have saved me.’ He stated ruefully then gave the commands, ‘*You will say nothing more until I tell you otherwise. You will not attack my brother again, nor will you destroy any more of our castle. Follow me.*’  Eric did as he was instructed and Nathaniel led him back down to the courtyard where Master waited. He watched them approach with caution. ’*Step forward, kneel before my brother*.’ Nathaniel instructed and Eric dropped to his knees reluctantly before Master, ‘*Speak and apologize for your behavior.*’ ‘I’m. Sorry. For my behavior.’ Eric hissed resentfully. ‘Good.’ Nathaniel mused though Master didn’t seem impressed.  ‘That was hardly sincere.’  ‘Sincerity doesn’t matter. The point is he is under my command. The problem is solved.’  Master thought for a moment, ‘Barely. Our operations have been severely impacted. He should be punished for his actions.’  ‘..What would you suggest?’ Nathaniel asked calmly.  ‘Command that he feel pain.’ He suggested nonchalantly.  ‘You don’t have to.’ Eric growled, I could tell he was still fighting the order to kneel.  ‘*Quiet*.’ His master ordered him, then responded to his brother, ’That’s unreasonable, he is already injured.’   ‘If you cannot make the command, I can punish him for you in other ways.’ Master offered.  ‘No.’ His brother answered in a controlled manner, though still delayed a moment longer before giving the command, ‘Eric.. Do you remember the pain you felt when I bestowed gifts on you? *You will feel that pain once more*.’ The results were immediate and Eric writhed in pain. I didn’t envy him. Perhaps if Eric had learned to submit without defiance he could have saved himself the agony. When it was over, he lay still in the snow breathing heavily as the shock faded. ‘Are you satisfied brother?’ Nathaniel asked without emotion.  ‘For now.’ Master agreed.  ‘Good. Then we will be leaving.’   It was Nathaniel’s intention that Eric should continue to collect livestock for them under his command. Though the destruction of the processing room was problematic..” Molly mused to herself and I realized then that my hour was up. Of course I still had more questions, but they would have to wait as the guard buzzed through the door to escort me out.  [NEXT]() [Chapter List](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/xhj9xo/eric_linnaeus_stories_discussion_thread/) [.xXx.](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/vl2ws4/hi_and_welcome_to_my_page/)

I did it a dozen times before, but tonight things went different

yekkqj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yekkqj/i_did_it_a_dozen_times_before_but_tonight_things/

Guys, I need some advice and I need it quick. Here’s what happened. ​ There was nothing special about today. I had days like this before - it’s all the same. I just did the usual: drove my ass to the gas station, stick out with Cory a bit, grab a beer, do my thing, go home, get down to business, get to sleep. ​ My routine is almost automated by now, I start to lose the thirst for life. It’s always the same: same words, same actions, same consequences. My life is boring, but I guess it would be even worse without letting the steam out. ​ I don’t have many friends, and if it wasn’t Cory who helps me from time to time - you could call me a loner. That has always been like that since Ma & Pa passed away. So I take care of the house, mow my lawn, toss some carrots and apples around for deer to it - that’s my life. If it wasn’t for my thing - I’d go insane, I tell you. ​ Tonight felt as bland as the three times I went out before. Nothing new, same old. But I was out already, so… ​ There was that chick at the gas station, very pretty. I ate a mint and walked to say hi. She was friendly and nice. I liked her. Then we went to my place, as usual. I did the same things as I did with my other guests. To make the impression, you know… Candles, nice music, the right amount of temperature. ​ “Make yourself at home, hon” - I said to her, walking to pour myself some whiskey. She refused to have some. No wonder, that’s a man’s drink. ​ But when I came back - she wasn’t there. She left. I dropped the glass and it shattered off the concrete floor. That was my favorite glass, you know. ​ I was overwhelmed with frustration, as the night was ruined. I didn’t expect much, but this was not expected. Nobody left this house without me walking the out through the backdoor. ​ But soon I noticed some more details and my frustration quickly washed away with fear. For the first time in my life, I feared for my life. My machete was gone. I left it right there - on the table across the room. For putting some respect to her, you know. And to tingle her nerves. The ax was gone too. I called it “Finisher” for obvious reasons. She took it from me. ​ I have no idea how she untangled herself - nobody did this before. I did the same knots as usual. ​ What do I do? There’s an armed person who wants to harm me in my own house. I can’t get to the police, because, you know… They will look around, find my mementos and if they do - I’m getting a night-night injection. I can’t leave, 'cause if I do - she will bring cops here herself and we’re back to the first scenario. ​ So I’m asking for your advice, guys. I can hear the floorboards creaking above, she’s still in the house somewhere. She’s not running away for her life. This time is different. I locked myself in the basement, as I am typing this. But she’s smart. Help.

I Was The Hitchhiker.

ydx5e2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydx5e2/i_was_the_hitchhiker/

It’s awkward to be the hitchhiker… to be on *this* side of a scary folktale. Let’s not talk about how I got here. Not really important. What matters is that I’ve never looked more disheveled. And I’ve never felt more awkward. Just a weird-looking dork sticking my thumb out on an empty road, sandwiched between two forests. Pitch black. It’s midnight, I think? I didn’t have my watch on me. Or my phone. Or anything else that tells the time. My internal clock ain’t great either. But let’s say it’s between 10:49PM and 2AM. I think. Probably. Car goes past. Doesn’t even think of stopping. Ah, I don’t blame ‘em. Looked like a couple that were just coming back from a fun camping trip. They don’t need my nonsense right now. I mean, I wouldn’t stop for me. Would just be silly, really. I’ll hold out hope. Maybe a van filled to capacity, save for one seat in the back, would stop for me. They could take a chance. After all, if I tried anything funny, I’d be vastly outnumbered. Twenty minutes pass. No van. Actually, no cars at all. I guess people don’t really use this road. Or it’s late. And hitchhiking on a Wednesday night, or a err… Thursday morning, isn’t really a wise move. Ooh, look, a car! They’re slowing to stop… No, no it doesn’t look like they can take me… but they look… apologetic? That’s sweet. They’re sort of mumbling “sorry” and shrugging. Ah that’s fine. I’m just glad you looked at me, really. I’m pacing. I wish I had my cigarettes. I hate being in one place for too long. I hate being alone with my brain. I ruminate. I hear sounds coming from the forest and they creep me out. I think about worst case scenarios all the time. You know how your brain can drum up something much scarier than anything real life can throw at you? Yeah. I just need to try to be present. Second thought, maybe I should just stay in my head. It’s safer up here. The more mindful I get right now, the more it’s clear I’m in the middle of the fucking road with no hope of getting home. There’s a feeling of tension in my chest. It’s tight. It aches. I breathe into it. It’ll dissipate. I’ve lived with anxiety long enough. I have my tools. Yes, I did in fact notice the car in front of me on the road slowing to a stop. And no, I’m not gonna get my hopes up. Shit. The driver looks professional. Like she actually has her life in order. Hun, don’t do this. Statistically, this isn’t a good move. The odds are not in your favor. She looks like she just straightened her hair. Like she’s coming from some sort of tech conference. Business casual. You could put her in a brochure. Fucking hell, she looks my age. Don’t do this. I could be a maniac. I can wait for the van. “You look like you’ve had a rough night,” she says. I keep my distance from her. “Hey, uh, look, thank you for the kind gesture but… I’m actually kind of waiting for a car with more people in it. So that it’s… less weird for everyone,” I respond. She laughs. “Get in. I’ll be okay.” If I’m being honest, I’m praying for another car to come by. Nope. I get in. Lady, I’m gonna give you a lecture about safety once you drop me off. It’s not wise to pick up a scruffy hitchhiker like me in the middle of the night. “Whereabouts you heading?” she asks. “Uh, honestly, two hours in the direction you’re already driving. I’m in Morgantown. Anywhere in the city is fine.” “Cool. I can take you a good chunk of the way there I think. Depends on how much I like ya!” she says, laughing. “I’m kidding.” “I’m just grateful for the ride. Thank you.” We sit in silence for a bit. I was hoping she’d put on the radio or something. Usually people are more talkative. I don’t want to start ruminating again. I wonder what she’s thinking. Does she regret picking me up? Is this weird? Is she scared for her safety? She shouldn’t be, but I get it. This is weird, right? “So, I do have to ask. It’s Thursday morning at 1AM. What are you doing in the middle of the road?” she asks. 1AM. Nailed it. My internal clock is better than I thought. And look, lady, I know you just want to have a conversation, but I really don’t want to answer this question. “A, uh… retreat with my friends. We do it every year. It’s a bit of a ritual,” I say. She looked confused. “Right. And does the retreat end with you standing in the middle of the road? Looking… the way you do right now? No offense.” “None taken. And uh, no. I left early. On not so great terms,” I respond. She snickers. She looks at me. Kind of warm. “That’s it?” she says. “That’s it” I respond. She shakes her head. Awkward silence. I’m starting to go back into my head. Please turn on the radio or something. “You know… if you talked more, it’d be easier to trust you. I mean, I did pick you up in the middle of the night,” she says. I laugh. “You’re free to drop me off wherever you want. I feel weird about this too. It’s kind of like when you’re accidentally walking behind someone at night. And you feel weird. But you two are going the same way.” “And yet you stuck out your thumb. And got in the car,” she says. “Good point.” I mean, it was a good point. It’s good to self-reflect sometimes, right? I can be a hypocrite, sure. She laughs again. “Okay, I’ll tell you something about me. But *then*, you have to tell me more about you,” she says. Damnit. She’s cute. “I picked you up because… I’ve had benders before. In a past life…” She motions to her clothes. “I mean c’mon, I didn’t always look this *fancy.* I had to sort some shit out in my life.” For someone who claims to be as grounded and put together as you are, picking me up was pretty silly. Again, statistically, a pretty stupid choice. “And so, you know, I had nights where people would go out of their way to drop me off home. I’ve *literally* been in your shoes, you know. Disheveled, barely awake, drunk out of my mind, sticking my thumb out on an empty road. And honestly, it was just as scary getting picked up. But… I trusted people. And they took care of me, and brought me home. So in a way, I guess I’m… paying it forward. I have full trust that the universe balances things out,” she says. She said all of that with a smile. Kind of endearing. Not sure if I trust all of that, but endearing nonetheless. I begrudgingly nod. “That’s actually kinda wholesome.” “Now you,” she says back. I sigh. This road runs long. It’s kinda scary outside. Maybe if she likes me enough she’ll take me all the way home. I don’t want to be out on the street again. I’ll open up. A bit. “Alright, so, you ever have that group of friends where you’ve changed so much as a person that you probably shouldn’t be friends with them anymore, but you also feel obliged to show up when they ask you to come out?” I ask. She snickers. “So you end up going out to that stupid event you know you shouldn’t be going to. And you regret it *immediately,*” she says back. “Exactly. So I go. Because we’re all buddies right? And we go way back. Except, I don’t like the idea of getting trashed at a hostel. And having to… give the group my phone, my keys, my wallet, everything. Play that stupid game we all play,” I say. “Stupid game?” I sigh. “Alright, but you have to promise to not judge me,” I say. She shrugs. Her eyes say “you can’t stop me”. Fine. “The game is… basically, that, uh… each of us has to hit the town and find a girl to uh… bring back to our room. Anyone who doesn’t succeed has to sleep outside without any of their belongings,” I say, embarrassed. “Wow,” she says. “You and your friends really are chauvinistic morons, aren’t you?” I make a face. “Like I said, I really shouldn’t be friends with them anymore.” “Awe, I’m kidding” she says. You shouldn’t let your guard down too quickly. I haven’t finished my story yet. I take a beat, then I continue. “I came this time, but my terms were clear. I’ll hang out, we can drink, and I’m happy to be a wingman to anyone playing that stupid game. But beyond that, I won’t be participating. I wanna stay at home, kick back, and have a relaxing time.” “You didn’t really think they’d let you *not* participate, did you?” she says. “I did! That’s why I came!” “Really?” she asks. “Really really!” She shakes her head. “Moron.” “You’re almost getting too comfortable with me now!” I say. “Great diversion. But you didn’t tell me the whole story, did you?” she responds. You know, if I had cigarettes and a light, I’d be happy to go back onto the street. But I don’t. Alright, you win. “Okay, well… they pulled their bullshit on me. I had a couple of drinks in me, and slowly those assholes grabbed my keys, my wallet, my phone, my fucking smokes. Little by little. Pricks”. Fuck, I’m getting heated. I’m scaring her, aren’t I? “By the time I knew the jig was up, they all got together to try to pick me up and throw me outside. Y’know, force me to play that dumb game with them. Force me to bring a girl back to our room”. I’m rambling. Let’s try to cool it. “You lost your shit didn’t yo–” “I lost my shit” I respond. “I freaked out. I’m not usually an angry drunk, but something in me snapped this time. Mark grabbed me by the legs and Francesco had my arms and they were trying to drag me outside. They were laughing. So I started kicking. And punching. Hard. Once I got my footing, I was just straight up swinging at them. Full force. I feel like I did some damage. Nothing, like, too severe, but… you know. Mark fell to the floor. I kept hitting him. Everyone eventually tore me off of him, but I was still, like, lashing out. Not physically anymore, but verbally. Like, *emotional* abuse. It was weird.” Goddamnit, I need to save this shit for therapy. “I, uh, anyways. They just looked at me, mortified. Like I was a freak or something. And so… I walked out the front door. And here I am. Took me fifteen minutes of walking to realize that I didn’t have my phone… keys… wallet… cigarettes. Anything. I wanted to go back inside to ask them for my stuff, but it just felt so weird. Like something was stopping me. Just think it would’ve been so awkward, y’know? To freak out, punch my friends, and then come back and say sorry. I know I’m rambling, by the way. I kind of get stuck in my head sometimes. Sorry. Really wish I had a cigarette right now.” I say. Fucking hell, I can’t even look at her. She’s staring at me like I’m a fucking moron. Keep your eyes on the road please, ma’am. “Dude, you’re a fucking moron,” she says. “I know.” “What’re you gonna do about your stuff?” she asks. “I don’t know. I’ll just… call them or something. Later. Like, in a few days. To apologize. I’ll… need to borrow someone’s phone to do that, obviously. *Or*, alternatively, I could bring you back to the hostel tonight. They’ll let me come back in if I bring a lady, right?” She stops the car. Fuck. I’m sorry. “Stupid joke” I say. Awkward silence. She slowly starts driving again. “You’re not making this easy,” she says. “I know.” The road stretches long. “Are your friends smokers too?” she asks. “Nah,” I respond. “Just me.” “You… sure about that? Why would they lift your cigarettes if they don’t smoke?” “Just to like, be dicks I guess. They’re just like that.” Fuck. This road is long. Guess I never really paid attention to roads before. Hm. That’s kind of weird. Why is there an eye on the glove compartment box? Why is it blinking? “What… is that?” I say, pointing. She giggles. “Just decoration. You missed that when you got in?” “Fuck, I’m out of it,” I respond. Silence. “You think your friends will forgive you?” she asks me. I shrug. “I mean, who knows. We were already drifting apart anyway. Maybe it’s for the best if they don’t forgive me.” “Right. And how does Riley feel about it?” she asks. Huh. I talked about Riley? When did I mention him? “Riley?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says back. “Uhh, yeah. I don’t really know how he feels about it. Probably the same as the other guys. Hey, when did I talk about Riley?” Silence. “I never said his name before,” I say. She sighs. “Yeah you did. You’ve been rambling for a while. Repeating yourself over and over again. And then forgetting that you said anything,” she says. Fuck. What? I look in front of me. The road stretches long. I look back. This road stretches long. Fuck, how much did I drink? Am I fucked up? And seriously, why is there an eye on the glove compartment? “And now you’re spiraling. You’re in your head, and it’s gonna be super quiet and awkward for another few minutes,” she says back. Shit. Keep it cool dude. Clearly, my hitchhiker etiquette needs some work. I’m being unseemly. “Sorry, I just… weird night.” “It’s fine. Just… take a chill pill Michael. Breathe in. Relax. It’s all good,” she says. … “I never said my name before,” I say. “You are *really* forgetting stuff.”. “*No*, no I’m not actually. And I hate to use a very overused term, but it feels like you’re gaslighting me right now,” I respond. “Look, I’m not comfortable with you freaking out at me” she says. “Just look out your window, take a breath, and cool it. I’ll get you home.” Fine. Fucking hell. Back in my head. With my thoughts. Back to looking outside. This road stretches long. This road stretches really long. Am I losing it? Take a deep breath in. I’m okay. It’s been quiet for a little bit. I think I can calm down. *Yes,* that fucking eye is still there, but – “You know, I think Mark smoked your cigarettes after you left. To calm down.” Alright, she wants to break the tension by theorizing about my friends. Fuck it, I’m here for it. “I think he smoked them indoors. A few of them. I think he tossed them, half-smoked and still lit into a large potted plant. I don’t think he knew any better. I think they caught fire,” she says. Wait. The road isn’t narrow anymore. Why does it feel like we’re driving on a large open field? “What are you say–” “I don’t think your friends knew what to do. They were probably too fucked up. So the whole place was up in flames quickly. Really, really quickly. I think the fire got them.” Fuck. Eyes on the road. Stop looking at me while you’re driving. “Hey–” She’s smiling at me. Right at me. Deranged. I look away. I look in front of me. We’re in the cosmos. But it’s not inspiring. It looks like hell. Black holes all around us. Empty space. What the fuck is happening. I don’t want to look at her. But I can see her in my peripheral vision. She’s still smiling at me. I look over just a little bit. Her smile and teeth are extending beyond her face. Her face is extending beyond her face. Her whole being is taking up more space. She looks animated. Unreal. Pitch black. Unreasonably happy. Her smile is so clear. It doesn’t make sense. I feel like I’m prey. This feels like nature. Her eyes are smiling. Warm. She’s looking at me harder than anyone’s ever looked at me in my life. Fuck. When did I start looking back at her? I don’t want to be looked at. Don’t look at me. I can’t scream. But. I’m still alive. Maybe if I keep doing what I’m doing, I can stay alive. “If it wasn’t the cigarettes, it would’ve been something else. You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she says. Did she always sound like this? I turn away from her. My eyes are back on the road. Sorry, on the cosmos. The universe stretches long. “They were all going to depart tonight,” she says. She’s not using her mouth to talk. “You wouldn’t want to see what’s in my mouth,” she says. Don’t think. Don’t think about this. Just look ahead. Eyes on the universe. Just don’t move. Fuck. Wait. Is that my house? Why is my house in the middle of the fucking cosmos? Why is it here?! I want to go home. *Real* home. “I can feel your muscles twitching in your arms. And legs. I can smell your intestines.” I don’t know what to do. I need to stop thinking. It’ll pass. One way or another, this’ll end. “You never eat carrots. Lying is a casual sport for you. You’re happier than you pretend to be,” she says. She’s in front of me. She’s splattered on the windshield. I can feel her face on the headrest against the back of my head. She’s speaking into me. “You’re trying not to think.” Correct, ma’am. I hope this fucking car crashes. “No you don’t. You’re hoping it’ll all be okay. You’re praying it’ll all be okay.” Stop. Thinking. Zen. Quiet. Breathe In. And Breathe Out. She’s still looking at me. Breathe In. And Breathe Out. She’s stretching into the cosmos. She’s everywhere. In and out. It’s okay. That’s how anxiety is. It’ll get worse before it gets better. Breathe In. And Out. She’s in front of my face. She’s even closer when I close my eyes. In. And Out. In. And Out. Breathe. “Were you supposed to be there tonight, too?” she asks. Yes. “Yes.” “And yet you weren’t,” she says. No. “No. No I wasn’t.” “Do you deserve this exit?” she asks. I don’t know. “Not sure.” “It’s coming up soon,” she says. “I know.” “I’ll ask you again,” she says. Fuck. She pierces my hand. And my shoulder. “Did you change enough, before tonight, to deserve this exit?” she asks. Please end this. “No! No I didn’t. I think I’m a piece of shit. I think I deserve to die,” I say back to her. She makes a right on the exit. And we drive. Out of the cosmos. Everything returns to form. Like how it all should be. Trees. Road. Concrete. Gravity. Sky. And… I’m home? That’s it? I’m home. It’s morning. The sun is coming up. Pardon the cliche, but I actually think I hear birds chirping. And she’s… business casual. Professional. All put together. But I’m bleeding. From my hand and my shoulder. And that eye on the glove compartment box is still there. We’re parked. On the street right in front of my house. Okay. I’ve always been particularly shit at saying goodbye to people who dropped me off. I open the car door. I trudge onto the sidewalk. I look back at her. I close the car door. A slow trickle of blood onto the sidewalk. A little bit on her car. Sorry about that. I should go inside and get myself cleaned up. Fuck. No keys. We’re looking at each other. “You said some really mean stuff about yourself back there. You shouldn’t sell yourself short, you know?” She says it with a smile. I believe her. I do a half-wave, and before I can think to myself “please god just fucking drive off fucking please”, she starts driving off. Down the long road. It stretches long. And long. And long. And long. And she’s in view still. Smaller and smaller. And then she’s gone. … It’s kind of nice outside. Never realized how pretty this neighborhood is. Maybe I’ll stand here for a little while.

Incident Report: May 21st, 2022 – Safety Training Video

ye1l7c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye1l7c/incident_report_may_21st_2022_safety_training/

The tape is a slightly modified VHS tape. The casing was slightly larger, and the magnetic tape is a quarter of an inch wider than a standard VHS tape. A custom built solution had been created to translate the data onto a standard tape during research of a [previous finding]( https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/skrifu/incident_report_august_2nd_2003_audition_tape/). The magnetic storage technology is exactly the same as VHS, but we couldn’t find records of a tape of a similar size produced in the United States. Tape was recovered from a vintage video store in <REDACTED>, FL on May 21st, 2022. The tape was listed in an online auction and on several websites inquiring about its origin. The tape appears to be a training video for a manufacturing company, however there are several cutaways to what appears to be candid footage of workers on the site. The company name, which is redacted for this report, is not registered in any country we were able to pull records from. The video is transcribed below. --- *Transcription:* Footage opens on a shot of the company logo with the name in big white letters over a cartoon style sky with a few white clouds. Pleasant music plays. Scene plays for exactly 5 minutes (Research note: this was measured to the picosecond). Scene cuts suddenly to a man walking in front of a large machine of indeterminate use. Audio seems to speed up and slow down almost imperceptibly as he speaks. The pleasant music continues in the background, but is much quieter. >Eric: Welcome to your first day at <REDACTED> Manufacturing! The camera pans to the left slowly, following him as he walks. The man’s name and title appear on the screen briefly. >Eric: Congratulations on your new position, and welcome to the <REDACTED> family. My name is Eric and I’m the head of Safety and Security here at here at the plant. At <REDACTED>, our goal is to make sure your employment needs are met, your environment is comfortable, and most importantly, that everyone remains as safe as possible. In the background, a man and a woman in lab suits mop up some kind of viscous mess. >Eric: Now, I know there are people from many departments taking part in our training briefing today. You might feel like a lot of this information doesn’t apply to you, but everyone ends up wondering around eventually. So please pay attention to the safety protocols for *all* areas of the plant, even if you don’t think your specific job will ever require you to enter them. You never know what the future holds, and being prepared, is being safe! --- Footage cuts to a shot of a man high up on a catwalk. There is no music, only the sound of wind. The man appears to be writing down reading from a display above him. He stumbles backwards a few steps, then slumps over the rail and falls. A gasp is heard as the camera pans away quickly. --- Footage quickly cuts to the logo screen again. The music starts up again, and the scene plays for exactly 5 minutes. There are more clouds drawn into the background this time, but other than that it is the same as the opening scene. Footage cuts suddenly to an office setting. Eric is sitting on top of a desk that a woman is working at. She hands him a piece of square paper that appears blank. >Eric: Thanks, Gwen. He spends just under a minute staring at the paper before looking back up at the camera. >Eric: At <REDACTED> Manufacturing, we’re not all wrenches and machine work. Many of you are likely here for one of our office positions. I know the product gets the press, but we wouldn’t be able to operate without the fine folks here in the office taking care of all of our administrative needs. He places the paper back on the desk and stands. >Eric: The office is, as you can imagine, one of the safest parts of the plant. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t things to keep your guard up for. He begins to walk to the left, and the camera slowly pans to follow him. In the background, most of the office workers appear to be asleep at their desk. >Eric: Many objects in the office are sharp. On a daily basis you may use things such as staples, letter openers, and paper cutters, just to name a few. --- Footage cuts to a top down view of a desk in what appears to be a cramped office. All four walls can be seen in the shot, and they are filled with shelves and books. In the center is a small desk. A man and a woman sit on opposite sides. The woman is clearly distressed. >Woman: No, just *look at it*. >Man: I *saw* it, okay? I know. Look, it’s probably just some prank, alright? The woman pushes a square sheet of paper across the desk. It appears to have a full page image on it, but it can’t be made out in the low resolution footage. >Woman: How can it be a *prank*? Look, there’s my name on the header, and the document title. This was supposed to be a schedule proposal for maintenance. But it’s a picture of me *at the printer* taken *from the printer*. Why does it even have a camera in it? >Man: I don’t think it does… >Woman: And what is that…. thing… behind me? The man picks up the paper and looks at it, shaking his head worriedly. >Man: I don’t know. You know how the guys in IT are. They’re probably just- >Woman: I’ve been… hearing things. I never feel like I’m alone, even at home. Even in my *car*. >Man: Alright, alright. I’ll… I’ll ask around. >Woman: I just… --- Footage cuts back to Eric walking through the office as the camera slowly pans left. All of the desks are empty and the lights are off. >Eric: Please use office equipment responsibly, and only for company related work. Something shifts in a darkened office doorway in the background. (Research note: it’s impossible to tell if this is something roughly human shaped moving in the doorway, or just some video compression artifacts) >Eric: And finally, in every break room you’ll find a first aid kit. Inside you’ll find everything you’ll need to respond to an office incident. Adhesive strips, bandages, antiseptics, defibrillators, a revolver with 3 rounds loaded, and alcohol wipes. --- Footage cuts to a security feed of a dark parking lot. The woman from the previous clip is seen walking to her car. As she reaches into her purse for her key she snaps around quickly and starts looking around the parking lot worriedly. >Woman<distant>: Hello? The woman appears to be grabbed by the foot and pulled under her car. Distant screaming can be heard as the car rocks back and forth for a few seconds before the scene goes silent. It sits on a still image of her car in the distance for just over a minute. --- Footage cuts back to the company logo. The clouds appear to be a bit darker. It is otherwise the same as the first logo scene. Footage picks back up with Eric waking through what appears to be some kind of factory floor. The camera pans left slowly to follow him. Behind him, massive machines stretch out of frame in every direction. >Eric: This segment covers the basics for the safety on the manufacturing floor. Now, you will be instructed on more specific safety protocols based on your individual area of work, but today we’ll cover what you need to know to stay safe in general. First, please pay attention to the lines painted on the floor. Eric gestures downward and the camera pans down to see a red line painted on the floor. It sits between Eric and the cameraman. >Eric: If you’re on the same side of the line as the machines, you need to scurry back on over as quickly as is safely possible. A loud mechanical whirring sound is heard as the camera spins around quickly. --- Footage cuts to five men in hard hats and thick jumpers standing in front of a massive machine. They are standing by a circular opening roughly two feet wide with an opened access hatch. >Man 1: Alright, here you go. He holds out a mop to a second man. >Man 2: What… do you want me to do with that? >Man 3: Scrub the dilution chamber. >Man 4: Needs to be clean for the next batch. >Man 2: The manual says it’s self-cleaning. >Man 1: It is, but the wash module is real finicky. It’s been leaving residue in there that’s been corrupting the batches slightly. Not enough to scrap production, but enough for Q.A. to notice, so we gotta take extra steps until it’s fixed. >Man 2: But… The second man looks into the dark chamber apprehensively. >Man 5: We’ve all been in there. It’s perfectly safe. >Man 2: <deep sigh> Alright. The second man scrambles into the small opening and reaches his arm out for the mop. >Man 2: I need some light. The first man passes the mop through the opening and starts shining a large flashlight into the machine. >Man 1: See the marks? There in the back? >Man 2: <muffled> Yeah. Okay, I’m- The third man slams the match closed. >Man 2: <muffled, barely audible> HEY WHAT THE FUCK!? >Man 1: Hahahaha, welcome to the team, rookie! The men erupt in laughter as desperate banging can be heard from inside the chamber. >Man 2: <muffled> Let me out! >Man 1: Alright, keep your pants on. There is a sudden, very loud crashing sound from inside the chamber. >Man 3: What was that? >Man 4: Intake? Can’t be. The system is.. >Man 1: Too loud, something’s wrong. Get the hatch open. The third man begins trying to open the hatch. >Man 3: Shit, it’s stuck. You okay in there, rook? There is no response. >Man 1: Oh fuck, rookie? You hearing me? >Man 4: It’s too quiet in there. >Man 3: I fuckin’ know! Something makes a clicking sound and the third man is able to pull the hatch open. >Man 1: Finally! The first man shines the light into the chamber. >Man 1: Rook? Jim? Where you at? He pushes his upper body into the opening. >Man 1: <muffled> Jim? Hello? >Man 3: What do you see in there? >Man 1: Nothing. He’s just… gone… >Man 5: <looking around at the various large pipes attached to the dilution chamber> JIM!? >Man 3: Oh god, we’re all gonna- --- Footage cuts back to Eric. He appears to be picking the camera up from the ground. It makes a wet squelching sound as he strains to pull it free from something off camera. >Eric: Here we go. As he steadies the camera it pans around the massive factory floor, passing quickly over a puddle of viscous black fluid at his feet before settling back on his face. >Eric: Also keep an ear out for the bells. One bells means get to the nearest exit as quickly as possible. Two bells means get your mask on. Three means the dilution chamber is- --- Footage cuts to a shot of the open hatch. A low mechanical hum is the only sound that can be heard. The camera slowly approaches the chamber as the cameraman starts to breathe heavily, apparently through a mask. Three low toned bells ring out. The low hum mutes a little as the camera enters the hatch and a large, spherical brass chamber can be seen. The camera pans up to see a large opening, roughly four times the size of the entry hatch that leads up into darkness. Along the back wall is a large dark stain about 4 feet long which appears to bubble up from the brass wall about an inch. On either side are two openings, each appearing slightly smaller than the hatch entry. The camera pans around and another identical stain can be seen on the bottom of the chamber near the hatch. The camera snaps up to the larger opening as a high pitched noise bursts so loud it distorts the audio. --- Footage cuts to another company logo segment. There are more clouds and they are much darker. Actual rain drops appear to be falling between the image and the camera. This scene plays for exactly 3 minutes. Footage cuts back to Eric walking down a long hallway. He is being filmed from the front as the cameraman walks backwards. >Eric: I hope you found this video informative. We here at <REDACTED> Manufacturing hope you have a long, safe career with us. Be sure to check in with your local security and safety advisors for more location and responsibility focused safety procedures. Until- Eric stops and looks around as the walls seem to shift and warp strangely. >Eric: What… What’s this? A flood of shadow pours into the hallway behind them. Eric shields his face and screams as it washes over them. The next few minutes are complete darkness. The sounds of Eric and the cameraman screaming can be heard. They seem to move close to and far from the camera pretty rapidly, over and over. A sound like a low growl is heard, then tearing, then the rush of water. --- Footage cuts to a beach. The camera appears to be laying on its side facing an ocean. The back of Eric’s head can be seen laying in the wet sand as the tide washes over it. Another low growl is heard, then Eric’s body begins to be dragged off of the screen as the footage ends abruptly. --- **Investigation Notes:** The beach at the end of the video is believed to be along one of the coasts of Florida. A shirt with the <REDACTED> Manufacturing logo was found washed up on the shore in <REDACTED>, FL, and that’s the same city where the tape was found. The final moments of the tape are believed to be a transition between two realities. Research believes the world on the tape in a separate reality, but there are too many similarities for it to be completely removed from our own. They have found a number of examples of items from that reality making their way into ours. What’s troubling, is that process always seems to involve <REDACTED> crossing over with them.

I am trapped in a twisted recreation of a childhood memory. Alone, in an endless world of water. [FINAL]

yeaew5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeaew5/i_am_trapped_in_a_twisted_recreation_of_a/

[\[Part 1/2\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydcuav/i_am_trapped_in_a_twisted_recreation_of_a/) I watch for a minute more as the great shadow circles the platform. As it dips in and out of sight, ever-threatening to rise up and into plain view, overwhelming me, taking me as it took the corpses. And of course- trapped here on the platform as I am- there is in all likelihood next to nothing I’d be able to do in my defense. I try to make out the shadow’s rough shape. Get a gauge on exactly what it is that I’m dealing with here. But every time it rises towards the surface… As my adrenaline surges and the deep-blue mystery below promises to give way to something more substantial, it just dips back down. Waiting. Biding its time. And eventually it simply disappears. I watch as it begins to shift and slither away beneath the water, gently rippling the surface with the mass displacement it causes as it moves… Vanishing away, back towards the direction of the slide and fading out of sight down into the depths. I wait, and I watch. For a long, long time. My phone still works, but maddeningly only enough to input text into that curious, blue screen. It refuses to tell me the time, and as such I do not know exactly how long passes before I find the courage to return into the water. …I have to, of course. What other choice do I have? Nothing else has come my way. There are no solid objects I can see in any direction, and my only hope of a change in environment is that blue light at the end of the mist. So I have to go on. I have to. I clamber over the rail and slip myself down into the water, doing my best to disturb it as little as possible. Instantly afraid and hyper-conscious of my exposure to anything lurking beneath, I start to swim. Slow, powerful movements, gliding through the water to the limits of my abilities, focusing solely on the end ahead. On that blue light, drawing surely and steadily closer. I resist the urge to look beneath the surface as I swim. ...It’ll do me no good. All I’ll see beneath is the void. The deep, dark, endless void. And I daren’t tempt fate. I should think my mind would be overrun with panic were I to dip my face below the water. To see the appearance of some monstrosity beyond recognition emerge from the darkness far below. And what could I do in such a situation anyway? What possible defense would I have? So I just keep going. Praying silently as I leave the relative safety of the little platform far behind. Through the mists ahead I see the unmistakable end of my surrounding fog-filled purgatory. I never thought I’d ever be so relieved to see a stretch of that damned, white-tiled wall, but here we are. A passageway leads away through the wall, and it is this passage that is bathed in the blue light. It has no floor, however, so I will have to swim through it. A sudden wave of cold passes over me. The muscles in my body tighten, and with the end in sight, the fear that the shadow is now below me increases tenfold. So much so, in fact, that I cannot prevent myself from looking beneath the surface. I just have to. I push my face beneath the water and bubbles stream up past my line of sight. A moment later and I am greeted by the sight of my arms. My legs. ...And the darkness of the deep. From the very lowest depths of this gloom emerges a shape. Formless, yet dense. A blur arising from the world below. A rumble rises with it, and I jerk my head back into the air. All pretence of care is lost as I throw myself through the water. Tearing across the surface as fast as I can, kicking for all I am worth towards what I have presumed to be the relative safety of the narrow passageway ahead. Closer… … Closer… *It’s coming. The shadow is coming, Adrian.* I scream with desperation as my joints begin to burn, and at last I make it through the gap in the wall, swimming down the corridor as fast as I can. My foot eventually strikes against something beneath me, and after a moment of near-debilitating panic I release to my overwhelming relief that it is simply the floor. Hard tile, rising up beneath me. I place my feet against it and scramble and splash my way up and out of the water, collapsing against a wall and struggling not to vomit, my raspy breaths heavy and echoed off the tile of the tunnel I find myself in. *Am I in Hell?* I wonder briefly, retching and wiping my mouth, coughing and spluttering. I feel so small in this place. This sprawling, unending complex. *I want to go home, now. How do I get home?* I close my eyes, I try my best to remember how it was that I got here, exactly, but I am unable. Once I’ve caught my breath I clamber to my feet, wincing, stretching out my legs, then striding down the length of the tunnel, my feet slapping against the tile with every step. It widens into a hall much like all the others. The light in here is faint and green. A curved, tunnelled slide loops round and around and disappears beneath the water just ahead. To my left is a diving board, and memories are triggered of the diving board at the pool. The one I’d visit with my Dad. The one in this warped nightmare however is at least four times the height. It extends way up towards a section of vast, high ceiling. A ceiling that shimmers and ripples like the water itself. I was always frightened by the diving board. The thought of jumping off something so tall unnerved me. My Dad had a go on it once, to show me that it was nothing to be scared of, but I still never went on it. Even when I was old enough to. I look down at my shirt, the Hawaiian shirt that I’m sure belongs to my Dad, and I tug the collar. I grimace and turn to the right, with the intention of passing around the water before me and heading through yet another arch in the wall. As I do so, I hear the voice. Crackled, broken, distorted, from everywhere all at once. *“It’s the father. The father is the key. Proceed”.* In an instant, the water around me surges. It churns and begins to crash up against and over the tile like waves. The trickle that ran down a nearby slide becomes a raging torrent, spilling its output all over the floor, and it rushes past my ankles with a sudden strength. “Oh Christ”, I mutter, running through the arch and into another hall, this one wider even than the first. I stand on the second level. Water crashes and cascades in a rising crescendo, and I watch as the room’s pillars and slides are gradually submerged. The various corridors and passageways out of the room close off to me one by one as their entrances dip beneath the water. My plan is to run around the edge, to pass through an open archway there and to hope for the best, but the sound of my father’s voice calling out to me from the rush of the water grabs my sudden, frenzied attention. “Adrian!” I hear him call, “ADRIAN!” I look around, desperately, until I see him carried by the rushing of the river round a corner, arms thrashing. “DAD!” I call out, abandoning my plan and skidding my way across the tile, jumping down into the water as close to the entrance of the corner as I can. The surge of the rapids grabs me at once, and I am rushed down a winding, open-topped corridor, one I recognize as the lazy-river. The one I used to play in all the time. What I’m sure however was once a simple loop, gently carrying its passengers round and round in a circle, is now a roaring river, throwing its riders against the walls as it carries them through a labyrinth of passages. “DAD!” I call out again, spluttering as a blast of chlorinated water splashes against my mouth. “ADRIAN, PLEASE!” I hear him cry out again, and I propel myself through the water, fighting to keep my head in the air as I narrow the distance between us. The man is not as strong a swimmer as he once was. I raise my head and I catch a glimpse of him, his arm out-thrown as he is hauled around the next corner by the relentless current. “I’m coming Dad!” I call out to him, “just hang on a little longer!” I kick for all I am worth, following after him, rising and falling against my will as the waves throw me around. Straining my muscles as I approach, my vision blurred by the froth and the spray, I reach out, and I grab him. I hold him tight with both hands, “it’s alright Dad, we’ll get you of here!” I shout to him above the sounds of the waves, but he feels so *cold*. Panicking, I look down at him, horrified by what I see to such an extent that for a second I simply release him in shock. The man has no face. No features of any kind at all, actually. He is a dummy. A tool that lifeguards might use in training. He wears my Dad’s clothes and fake hair has been attached to the dummy’s scalp, but a dummy is all it is. I grab it again, uncertain. Staring out and around down the river. “Dad?” I call out. “Are you there? Where are you?” “What’s happening Adrian?” the dummy asks in my Dad’s voice. I look back at it at once, staring into its face, but there is no mouth. No way for the thing to speak. “What the fuck is this?” I mutter, scared, and *angry*, now. “WHAT’S GOING ON? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” I shout out into the sky as the river rages. But I receive no response. Not from above, anyway. “Where the hell are we?” my Dad asks, except… it *isn’t* my Dad. It can’t be. Every time I look at him, he’s just that ridiculous, lifeless dummy. “…I don’t know… Dad”, I murmur in reply, coughing as water rushes up my nose. When at last the river appears to be nearing its end and a platform becomes clear ahead, I reach out an arm to grab hold of the side. The intensity of the waves and the river’s speed has died down significantly, and I am able to haul myself and the dummy up onto the side, with a little bit of effort. Panting and wiping the water from my eyes, I look over at the dummy, sprawled out across the tile. “…Dad?” I ask it, cautiously, but the dummy does not reply. It makes no further reply at all, actually, despite my several attempts. I nonetheless opt to pick it up with a grunt, hauling it over my shoulder and carrying it through the only remaining archway available to me, and it leads into a room I’ve been in before. The one with the diving board. That monstrous diving board, warped from my own memory, and in this moment I am reminded of the very first thing I saw upon my arrival in this place. ‘NO DIVING’. A sign against the wall, a black stick figure crossed through in red, only, the diver wasn’t diving *down*. He was diving *up*. I raise my neck to the ceiling above the diving board. To the watery, shimmery glow. A humorless laugh escapes my throat. “Is that it? Is that my way out of here?” Movement catches my eye and I half-turn, looking up towards the ceiling. There is another of those panels of blue, frosted glass. Eerie light spills from behind it, and shifting about beyond are those same, unsettling shadows. *“He is not ready”*, comes a voice. I glance down. At the base of the wall below the glass is a hole in the wall, about the same size as myself. It is bathed in the exact same shade of blue as the kind behind the window, and it leads towards a set of tiled stairs, ascending upwards. I consider this route. I consider heading through the arch and up the stairs. Would it lead me to the room beyond the glass? Would I see for myself the source of the shadows? I hear the sound of a gurgling drain, the kind a bath makes when the plug is pulled, and I turn around to see that the dummy has vanished. A great puddle of water remains, spilling out over the tile and pouring past my feet. ...I make my decision. I head to the diving board. My intent whole-heartedly to leave this twisted world behind. I’ve seen enough. I’m done. *“He cannot leave now”.* *“He will never learn the truth”.* I ignore the voices. I come to a halt at the base of the diving board’s enormous ladder, and after a deep breath, I begin to climb. Rung after rung. Up I go. Up, up towards the board itself. My stomach turns as I ascend, and I do my best to struggle through my anxieties. Childlike fears return to me, but instead of pushing them aside I allow them to wash over me, in the manner of the river. I feel them, ever-moving as I do so, rung after rung. Rung after rung. And then I realign my thoughts on the goal. On getting out of here. The only way out, it would seem, is to break the rules and deal with the consequences. NO DIVING. *We’ll see about that,* I think with a bitter smile. Up, up, up. When I finally reach the summit and climb unsteadily onto the diving board, I become truly aware for the first time of how massive the structure really is. I am monstrously high off the ground, and it’s like I can feel a breeze against my face as I peer down over the side, hands shaking against the board. The drop is nightmarish. Below me is nothing more than a wide, dark pool of silent water. Waiting to swallow me up. I lift my head. Above me is the shimmering, translucent ceiling. Flickering blue with occasional flashes of light from beyond. If I stare, if I really, really focus… I swear I can see shapes through the blur. Crude, solid shapes… but it’s impossible to tell exactly what it is that I’m looking at. My heart pounds like a machine. I feel like I’m going to be sick. *What if this doesn’t even work? What if I screw it up and I crash back against the board, falling to the darkness of the void below?* But I have to try. I’ve been a pawn so far, pushed from place to place and merely reacting to the things around me. But now, I have made a choice. And I intend to stick to it. So with blood rushing through my head, I stride to the end of the board, hyper-conscious of its narrowness, and I raise my head to the ceiling. I picture the stick-figure in my mind, diving upwards as he was to the world above, and off I go. I throw my arms out before me, and I jump. Upwards. &#x200B; Imagining that the ceiling is the floor and that I am about to fall through it. With my eyes closed tight shut I feel the pull of gravity shift. My inner-ears throb as my up becomes my down, and I am carried as I hoped, directly through the shimmer of the ceiling. Like water it splashes and crashes against me and I feel myself completely submerged. I hear that voice again, like that crackly old speaker, but it is lost to the bubbles as I propel myself downwards… or… no, *upwards*. I release a breath of air from my lungs and watch as the bubbles drift upwards away from me. I follow them, kicking my legs and spreading out my arms, until at last I emerge from the water, gasping for air, scrabbling about for something to grab hold of. I feel the edge of a tiled platform and pull myself onto it, shaking my hair of the water and blinking out the stuff in my eyes, cautiously taking in my surroundings. I am alone, still, but I am not in the world *below*, anymore. I sit by myself, at the edge of a pool. To my right is the entrance to a lazy river, and beyond are a pair of inter-linked slides. Directly ahead and on the opposite side of the pool is a sculpture of a white sphere with a crack down one side. It isn’t as large or as grandiose as I remembered it. And to my left is an archway in the wall. It leads outside, to an area of open-air pool. *…Outside.* It’s night-time now, but the wall here is made of glass. I can look right through it and see the sky, with the moon and the stars reflecting their soft, ethereal glow against the face of the water. I clamber to my feet and stretch my arms. I’m wearing different clothes, now. Soaked-through, of course, but *mine*. I set off towards an emergency exit, pushing through it with a clank and taking a long, deep breath of the cool night air. I push aside the thoughts of the horrors I have faced, for now. There will be plenty of time to consider them later. The implications of my time in such a place, and the risk of an unwanted return one day. But I think I’ll just get home, for now. Give my Dad a call. He’ll appreciate hearing from me, I should think. Perhaps he’ll be amused to know that I paid our old pool a little visit.

Trinkets and Talismans (Part 2)

yeq47f

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeq47f/trinkets_and_talismans_part_2/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/wea5fc/trinkets_and_talismans_part_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) "Sorry Andrew, I don't have much time but I would love to meet your brother another day. How long is he in town for?" I said nervously, peering over to my house looking for any excuse to leave. "No problem, honestly I hope he won't be sticking around too long. My brother and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye. He has always been...troubled. I worry about him sometimes so it is nice that he came down to visit. Have not seen him for a little while. Marianne doesn't like him very much either." Andrew replied. "Ah.. see, that is a shame. I am really sorry I must be going, I am meant to have the next chapter of my new book finished ready for the upcoming publishing date." "Oh, you're publishing a new book soon? When? If you're hosting a party or something we would love to join you in the celebration." Andrew smiled. It almost felt like he was being genuinely supportive, It made me uncomfortable but I tried my best not to let that show. "I'll send you and Marianne the details. I appreciate the gesture, I will see you later yeah?" I smiled awkwardly back, trying to be polite. I turned and walked back down his driveway and over the road to my house, staring forward and trying not to show how fucking scared I was, I am not even sure if I am convinced that Andrew's brother was a person at all. Those eyes of glass that pierced right through me felt so intense.. Maybe Andrew isn't the dangerous one after all. \- I gave myself some time to ponder over what I was feeling and tried to process it all, I didn't really know what to do. I had nothing to link Sean Smith's disappearance to Andrew at all.. that's if he actually did anything. Maybe he was covering for his brother this whole time or something? I decided I needed to invite them over like Andrew suggested. A little celebration of the publication of my new novel, get a couple drinks in us and see if I can get him to slip up. We'll keep it small so he isn't intimidated by all of the people I'll invite his brother and Marianne for support.. Maybe, just maybe, I could I get some sort of confession? At least find out where he moved all of his random little trinkets and knick-knacks. I spent the passing days observing their house, I watched Andrew come and go and kept and eye out to see any sign of another person in the house, which was incredibly strange as today Marianne came back home from her trip and I never once saw Andrew with his brother. \- I managed to time it pretty well as only a few days after Marianne had come back from her trip, I finished my novel. I couldn't really wait too much longer as I was unsure if Andrew's brother was still in town or not but I didn't want to get suspiciously close to them to hint anything further to Andrew that I was still onto him. I went around the neighbourhood to a select few people and handed out invitations, I posted 3 of them through Andrew and Marianne's letterbox.. I was going to try and narrow down the amount of attendees as much as possible and I knew there was only one way to do that which wasn't going to be obvious I was pinpointing my evening towards Andrew. ***Kat's Pre-Publication Celebration!*** *Lunch and Drinks at 28 Lowe Blvd - 13th May 2022* C*elebrating Kat finishing her latest novel.13:00pm to 18:00pm - No Children* No kids. No kids, no parents. Most parents get pretty upset when they find out their children aren't included and don't attend.. I know you get the odd few who will take advantage of it and drop them off at their grandparents or get a babysitter so they can have a good night but I wasn't betting on that happening and it turns out, I was right. \- An elderly couple from a few doors down were the first to arrive, they came in and greeted Harry and I and congratulated me on my work. We had a quick chat about the actual publication date and I offered to make them a cup of tea. They both agreed and went to sit outside when the doorbell rang. "Harry can you get that for me please?" I said, looking over my shoulder at him as I boiled some water. Harry nodded and opened the door. "Howdy Neighbour!" Marianne yelled in some kind of attempt at a Southern USA accent. I could hear Harry laugh a little and welcome them inside followed by some inaudible nattering. I turned and headed out the back towards the elderly couple sitting on one of my outdoor sofa's and gave them their drinks, they thanked me and sat, visibly enjoying the suns rays on their faces. I felt a comforting arm wrap around my waist. I peered over and Harry kissed me on the cheek. "Marianne has just popped back home to grab something that she forgot. Come say Hi, she won't be a minute." he said. I walked through the kitchen to the front section of the house, Andrew standing there with a bottle of champagne and a small but beautiful bouquet of flowers. "Hello Andrew" I said "Hey Kat, I hope you are well. Congratulations.. Here, we got you these." He smiled, handing me the items he was holding in his hands. "Oh, thankyou. This is very sweet. You didn't have to do this, It hasn't even been published yet." I said, trying to sound grateful. "Did your brother not want to come?" I continued, looking around the entryway area to see if I could spot anyone else around. "No. He is a bit of an introvert and doesn't want to be around Marianne when she has been drinking, but he said for me to tell you congratulations also." Andrew said. Marianne pranced her way back in through the front door looking like she had already consumed half a bottle of alcohol before she got here. "Hellooooo beautiful, it's so good to see you!" she said, announcing her presence like she was centre stage, not really listening to the fact we were mid-conversation. "Oh dear, okay well tell him I said thankyou. And thankyou again for the thoughtful gifts." I paused for a second and smiled at her. "And hello to you Marianne! I hope you are well. Now that you're here. Let's eat, I am starving." I continued, walking over to the kitchen with Harry, Andrew and Marianne following closely behind. We all sat outside eating and chatting to the lovely elderly couple for some time. I actively went out of my way to continuously top-up Andrew and Marianne's drinks. I didn't want to make it super obvious I was trying to get them drunk but at the same time, part of me didn't really mind because Andrew seemed to be drinking enough without my help anyway. I thought to myself for a second. Should I really try my luck now? I should wait until the other two leave before bringing anything sensitive up, after all, I didn't know how Andrew would react to my questions, especially since he was already aware that I suspected him for Sean's abduction. We continued some general chit-chat across the table for a while before the elderly couple announced their departure, they were absolutely lovely, they thanked me for having them over and made their way home. "So, Andrew. I heard you cleaned out your room of "knick-knacks" How long did that take you?" I said with a little giggle. "Ah, Marianne telling you everything already huh?" he replied. "Unfortunately for you! We're neighbours, we may as well be friends too! Come on, tell us about the collection you had. Was there any special history to any of them? You had some very interesting things in there." I said trying to play off how nervous I was. "Meh. Some of them did, some didn't. Nothing too interesting." He replied in a stern and blunt tone. "Ah, I see... hey, now that it is just us, would you like to see if your brother wants to join us?" I responded. Marianne turned and looked extremely confused. "Brother? What are you on about?" Seemed like Andrew was not prepared for this at all.. his face turned white, eyes fixed forward, locked onto mine. He said nothing. Marianne turned to Andrew and started questioning him, shouting and confused, she was quite obviously very drunk. Andrew slowly turned his head towards his wife and stood up "I'll see if he wants to come.. I will be back soon." Marianne chased after him and we followed closely behind. "Andrew!" Marianne shouted. "What is Kat talking about? You have brother?!" He turned around and with as much force as he could, he slapped Marianne and shoved her against my car that was parked in our driveway. *"SHUT UP YOU STUPID BITCH, FUCK! YOU HAVE SUCH A LOUD MOUTH! JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE!"* Andrew screamed. I stood there, jaw on the floor. "Harry! Call the police now!" I shouted as my husband approached to restrain Andrew. I had no words, I could not believe what I was seeing. I was right.. Harry knew I was right. The look he gave me told me so. Marianne, still pinned up against the car, sobbing and crying to be let go. Andrew stood and quickly realised the mistake he had just made as he watched Harry dial 911. Andrew let Marianne go and took off across the street towards his house, leaving his wife on the floor of our driveway sobbing, gasping for air. *"We got you, you son of a bitch!"* I shouted towards the house as he ran inside. *"YOU ARE DONE YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOU HEAR ME? DONE!"* I continued. I don't know why I did that, the fear my body felt immediately after those words came out of my mouth.. I could not stop shaking. Harry and I helped Marianne up from the ground and ushered her inside as we waited for the police to arrive. What an awful turn of events, I knew the topic would have caused some tenseness between us but I did not expect this at all.. The sirens and red and blue lights approached and pulled up across the road. \~ I stood up and made my way towards the door, as I reached for the handle, I hear Harry's bloody curdling scream from the other room.

My Sick Wife is No Longer the Woman I Married

yefqe1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yefqe1/my_sick_wife_is_no_longer_the_woman_i_married/

[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y93qgv/my_wife_is_very_very_sick/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) As I ran further from my house, a wave of emotion had over taken me, my feelings reminiscent of a quickly melting block of ice. Enduring these past few months had shaped my emotional state into nothing more than a hollow, meandering, violent whisper of what it used to be. The stench of sick that had lingered in my nose so long I forgot what clean air smelled like began to fade in favour of the welcoming smell of crisp autumn leaves. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. It almost felt like a shame that I was going to kill myself. Wait. God damnit. I left in such a rush that I didn’t even grab my fucking gun. I don’t know how long I had been running. I know I left in the early morning, and now the sun was directly over head. Shit. It had to have been hours, right? I had no idea. I had even less idea of where I was. Any direction I turned seemed to just be trees for miles. I was lost in the middle of woods with no food, no water, and no gun to even fucking shoot myself after seeing my wife turn into a vomit leaking deformity. More of a tumour than a person at this point. God damnit. Tired. Just tired. I spent hours just looking for a way out, but everything just seemed to repeat. I was just going in a circle. I slumped down into myself as the sun set and the sky darkened. My head throbbed consistently and my breath was haggard, but eventually I fell into a deep, comatic sleep. I had a dream. In my dream, My once young, beautiful Marilyn and I lay nude entangled together on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar. The walls, floor, ceiling, and furniture were all a shade of uncomfortably bright red. The decor was fancy, like an expensive hotel. Marilyn crawled over me, face to face. She smiled. The flesh on her face began to ripple as if there were thousands of ants under her skin, crawling. Her body rapidly grew rough and skeletal, sticking to me like glue. She brought her slender fingers up to her eyes, digging her nails violently into her corneas. She leaned closer, her warping face closing in on mine; her heavy breath smelled like bile. She put her foul mouth on my neck, and I felt a sickening crawling sensation. I remember suddenly being in front of the mirror, and feeling, now seeing the bugs crawling under my skin, same as Marilyn. I turned around to face her. The red room was gone. I was in Marilyn and I’d room now. What I saw when I turned around... I had vomited, in real life I vomited. But I didn’t wake up. I had already woken up. I was awake, in my room, completely naked. I was facing Marilyn on her caught. Except it tool me moment to even register it as Marilyn It had grown a thick layer of sandpaper flesh over a 4th of the room, it was translucent, pale, and veiny. In the center, atop what could only be assumed to be a flesh covered cot, was a pulsating figure, looking like a sickly chicken fetus. All the flesh was pulsating. It’s face was two bloodshot eyes, wet with tears and an inflamed, vomit leaking little hole. I reached for the nearest object to me, a vase, and swung it as hard as my exhausted arms would allow me. It shattered on impact. The thing that was once my white writhed in pain. Marilyn’s eyes pleaded up at me. Maybe it was all my fault. A year before Marilyn and I married, she fell ill. She was immunocompromised, and I came home with the flu. She caught it, of course, and it began to take a major toll on her health. She was only my fiancé at the time, and I was still learning how to do all this. In my gullibility, I would take anything to make her feel better. I was parked in my car at a gas station after driving Marilyn to the hospital. Taking a moment in the car for myself, I heard a knock at the window. “Hello, friend!” He was a young man, slightly handsome with long hair and stark blue eyes. “I don’t have any change.” I said, expecting him to try and panhandle me so that he has some cigarette money. “I’m not here for change, I’m here to help.” His smile was welcoming when he closed his eyes, but when they were open, he made me feel just a little nauseated. “I know you’re going through some trouble with your girl. I know what can help.” “Who the fuck are you?!” I snapped, alarmed that this absolute st anger knew what was going on in my private life. I didn’t have any friends who would set this up, and I doubt my fiancé’s friends would know a guy like this. The man held his hands out, cradling a ziplock bag. Within the bag was a pink, squirming creature, resembling a chicken fetus. “Man, what the fuck! What do you want me to do with this you fucking freak!?” He leaned his face closer to mine, his shut eyed smile setting me into an attentive trance. “Trust me. Feed it to her in any way, alive or dead. It will keep her strong, for as long as she is faithful. I immediately snapped back to the situation I was in. As long as she was faithful? As long as she was fucking faithful? Rage boiled in my blood. I had taken care of her as she deteriorated in front of me, wasting my life to try and keep her happy. She didn’t know better. She didn’t Know i blended it up and put it into her soup. But she fucking cheated on me. All I ever did was help her and she cheated on me. I stepped out of the horrific bedroom and into the kitchen, grabbing the biggest, sharpest knife I could. All I felt was rage. My temple throbbed agonisingly as I walked back to the creature that was once my wife. I plunged the blade in, as much as I could. Stinking, rotting blood bursting out in clots onto my hands and body. I stabbed until my vision clouded dark with exhaustion, unable to control myself, I slumped onto the cold rough carcass below me. I was coated in cold, coagulated blood. Then my eyes shot open. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I was stuck. I looked down onto my body only to discover I was connected to this thing, no, more than connected. I was part of it now. I was part of her. Through sickness and through health. I wasn’t faithful to my promise. I guess it goes both ways.

The dead city.

yefp9q

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yefp9q/the_dead_city/

The dead city. &#x200B; There is a city, a city nowhere, nowhere, nowhere. If you don't live in it, in fact, it's even hard to know if it ever existed, exists or will exist, if you do research about it you will most likely come across the same as everyone else, records of acquired land, plans about colossal buildings with no apparent architectural sense and a manifesto about the construction and inauguration of a city somewhere on the west coast, but nothing else, there are no maps, no news about it or any record of any kind about any city that fits the bizarre characteristics, in essence it does not exist, but if it did, it does, it will, but you will never be able to find it, it was built for that. &#x200B; As far as is known, a very wealthy industrial magnate was the one who conceived the original idea, according to his words, he wanted to build the perfect city, an ideal place where there was no problem, no overpopulation, no hunger, no death; he had the idea that, under the right circumstances, he could reach the industrial utopia, the ultimate city, so he got down to work. He called in all kinds of specialists, architects, engineers, scientists, physicists, priests and pagans, anyone who could help him fulfill his dream. Plans were made, schematics and a lot of money was disbursed, so much that, according to financial records, it was literally impossible for that man to have that much, no matter how powerful he was. Even with the colossal amount of land he acquired the man was still concerned about space, for him it was not enough, even though some buildings on the plans marked an estimated sixteen kilometers, both up and down this was not enough, even though he was warned of the risks of such experimental architecture and the fact that even in the whole country there would not be enough people to live in his city this did not matter to him, the man had a dream, and this would be fulfilled even if it was the last thing he would do. At this point the records get fuzzy, it is not clear what actions the man took or what went wrong, but the point is that it happened, overnight the estimated population that the city could support went from several thousand to hundreds of millions, even if not a single other building had been built, by the time this happened all the workers were long gone, There was no one to witness whatever happened, the only thing that is known is that everything was suddenly filled, in the houses, furniture appeared, all and of all kinds, in the stores products appeared, filling the shelves and warehouses, the same with the schools, hospitals and parking lots, everything suddenly became habitable and a day later people arrived. Of all kinds, of all ages and all shapes, they just came just like things, out of nowhere and so, they started a routine, crowds went every morning to work in offices or factories, children went to school and old people just went for a walk, everyone seemed to know exactly what to do and how to do it, as if they had lived all their lives within those thick concrete walls and neon lights. As for the workers, they returned to their homes, to their families, and tried to resume their lives, but they all suffered from the same evil, as if all their conscience and their will to live had remained in that dead city, some went crazy over the years others just committed suicide and the few who survived existed the rest of their lives in a catatonic state, so did the architects and the scientists and basically anyone who had spent enough time in that city, burying their memory, only they knew its exact location and never shared it, they just let it die, hoping that would be enough to kill it, but it was not. Even though everyone forgot her, even though all her detailed records were destroyed or hidden in the depths of some lost warehouse, it was not enough, because the city already had everything it needed. The city exists, it is a fact and it works like any other, there are rulers, policemen, criminals, there are ordinary people, like you and me who live a normal life, like yours only surrounded by pipes, wires, concrete and neon, grouped, stacked and superimposed without sense, trapped in a place apparently inaccessible to anyone, at least that's how it was until recently. It was found in some old internet forum, what appeared to be a document written by an inhabitant of the city, with general information on the functioning of society and citizenship, as well as a manual detailing specific functions of the city, some of the highlights of the document are; Basic regulations for buying in SuperGamma, basic astronomy to follow the thirty moons, 6-hand clock scheme, guide to deal with "Unwanted" and police regulations for architectural anomalies. However, this was not what caused many to become obsessed with investigating the supposed lost city, nor was it the fact that many more blogs and documents were discovered on the internet supposedly coming from that city, nor that some have claimed to have had contact with citizens via message, this was because next to the original document was an unofficial note, supposedly attached by the writer, which had a short and apparently incomplete message which made most think that the fact that everyone involved at the time had kept quiet about what happened in that city to the point of going insane was an act of pure heroism, the message read: City growth is failing.... -------------------.------------- now anomalies appear everywhere .---------------.........------- lead nowhere, many citizens have lost their way....... ---------------...----------- The "Unwanted" are spreading ----------------- they are eating everything--------................-------------- they already invaded the whole lower district-----------.....................----------------......... the higher ups shut everything down and locked us in.................-----------------------...............-------------the hunters are trying to help us..................--------------. ..................-.---but they won't stop them...................---------------..........-.------------- we can't get out of here-------------.-....................---------------we want to get out of this city................-------------.........---------------the city is going to die........------------------------------------............----------we can't get out---------------...................-------------------they are coming. &#x200B; To date, no one has figured out how to get to the city and no other messages have been received from the interior.

What Do You Call Someone with No Body and No Nose?

yeflfi

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeflfi/what_do_you_call_someone_with_no_body_and_no_nose/

“Sam, what do you call someone with no body and no nose?!” I’d braced myself for whatever asinine statement was going to come out of Charlie’s mouth as I’d heard his diminutive footsteps bounding into the living room, but this was dumb even for his standards. The nine year old had no shortage of absolutely stupid observations, musings and yes, god help me, jokes that he would dole out at a moment’s notice. If we’re being totally, completely honest here, gun to my head - I couldn’t *stand* the little shit. Kids just weren’t my thing. Never had been, never would be. They’re just *annoying*. You can’t have a conversation with them, they’re always sticky, they’re always yelling. Kids are really just obnoxious little morons. There probably isn’t anyone on earth less suited to the art of babysitting than me. Now, I know what you’re thinking - you hate kids, you’ve done nothing but whine about them, why the hell are you a babysitter? Well, on summer break in Vernon, there wasn’t much a 17 year old could do for work. Aside from waitressing down at The Empty Tanker. I was *not* waitressing down at The Empty Tanker. Not unless I wanted to spend my whole summer getting harassed by day drunk truckers for penny tips. We’d lived next door to the McCutcheons my entire life, and so they’d call on me any time they were in a jam and needed a sitter for Charlie. I hate kids. But fifty bucks is fifty bucks. Mr. McCutcheon had knocked on our door that afternoon and offered *double* the usual rate to watch Charlie for a few hours that evening. It was an emergency, and they hadn’t had time to set the sitting up in advance, but seeing the dollar signs I readily accepted. I regretted my decision almost immediately - Charlie had been especially aggravating that night. From the moment I’d walked in, he’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, slamming LEGO spaceships into the ground and begging me for lollipops. It wasn’t long before I reached my limit - after dumping the entire bag of lollipops on the floor in Charlie’s playroom, I devised a new game that he was all too eager to play - “take all your LEGOs apart and put them back together one by one while I watch tv in the living room.” The game was going really well until Charlie exploded into the room, hopping onto the couch next to me with several lollipops sticking out of his gullet, interrupting the trash TV rerun that had me enraptured. He ripped them out excitedly, sticky spit flying in all directions and dripping onto his hand. I scowled, unable to hide my annoyance. “I thought we were playing a game.” I said sternly. “I got bored, I already built those LEGOs. What do you call someone with no body and no nose?” He repeated the question, staring up at me expectantly as he sucked on the bundle of lollipops. I rolled my eyes - the easiest solution here was just to play along with the stupid joke and then put the little retard to bed. “I don’t know,” I answered. “What?” “Nobody Nonose!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing his hands up for emphasis. I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t even make sense.” I sneered. “What kind of joke is that?” Charlie looked at me like *I* was the idiot. “It’s not a joke,” he finally said. “It’s Nobody Nonose.” “No.” I corrected him. “It’s ‘nobody knows.’ Get it? Nobody NOSE. It’s a stupid joke. At least tell it right.” Charlie’s face twisted into an exasperated frown. “It’s not a joke Saaaam!” He whined, elongating the middle of my name. I hated when he did that. “His name is Nobody Nonose! He has no body and no nose and he lives in my closet!” What the fuck. I stared at Charlie incredulously. The kid had never had any weird imaginary friends like that before - were the McCutcheons raising some kind of schizo serial killer? “No he doesn’t, that’s an imaginary friend. And it’s time for bed anyway.” I’d had enough of this shit for tonight. Mr. and Mrs. McCutcheon would probably be home soon anyway, it was a good enough excuse to put the little freak down. Charlie crossed his arms in a huff. “But I’m not *tired*!” He exclaimed. “I don’t care,” I answered. “Your mom and dad are gonna be back soon anyway. Come on.” I stood and grabbed his arm, leading him up the stairs. “Well,” Charlie mumbled as we ascended the steps, “maybe you can meet him now. He’s probably awake anyway…” I shook my head, annoyed. As we reached Charlie’s darkened bedroom though, I was slightly creeped out at the sight of his tightly-shut closet door. It *was* a pretty big closet. I reached to flick the light on, and Charlie grabbed the bottom of my shirt, stopping me. “Don’t!” He hissed. “He doesn’t like being woken up that way.” That made my skin crawl a little. Charlie was acting like a fucking weirdo. “Stop being dumb,” I commanded, and flicked on the light. Immediately , there was a soft rustling from within the closet. I froze, and looked at Charlie. He simply shrugged, a gesture of “I told you so.” What was this little fucker playing at. Did he have an animal trapped up here or something? Was he systematically vivisecting some poor neighborhood cat? Slowly, I crept over to the closet door and swung it open. “What the hell are you hiding in here-“ my heart caught in my throat as the closet’s interior was exposed to the light. Inside the closet, laying on the floor, was a giant severed head. It was vaguely humanoid in appearance, with sallow and sickly looking yellow skin. It was gigantic - bigger than a beach ball or even a massive Halloween pumpkin. It was a nearly perfectly round orb, with small pinprick holes on the side where an ear would be on a normal human head. Its enormous mouth hung open in a gaping slack-jawed “O”, revealing rows of razor sharp and needle-like teeth. Between its eyes and mouth was a smooth patch of that yellow skin, no other distinguishing facial features. Charlie had a giant, nearly featureless severed head in his closet. No body, no nose. Before I could scream, before I could think, before anything, it’s eyes shot open. Two massive black orbs accented with murky brownish, slitted reptilian pupils. The eyes locked with mine, and the thing let out a hideous screech, it’s mouth growing even wider than before. It had been sleeping, and I’d woken it up. “Charlie what the FUCK is this!!” I screamed as I frantically backed away from the hideous abomination in the closet. “That’s Nobody Nonose!” Charlie exclaimed matter of factly. “I was playing by the creek a few days ago with Richie and Ted and we found him in that big pipe. We were looking for crickets and he was just laying there in the dirty water.” My blood turned to pure *ice*. “Richie and Ted didn’t really like him…” Charlie sounded sad. “But I told him he could stay here. He’s funny!” The emergency , the reason the McCutcheons had gone out that evening. A couple of kids from around Vernon had gone missing recently. There was a huge search party going on as we spoke, a desperate attempt to locate them. Another pained wail came from the closet - I turned to see Nobody Nonose, floating in mid air. The thing could levitate, apparently. I guess that was how it got around with no body. The freakish orb hovered toward me, spittle dripping from its mouth. “Fuck fuck fuck…” I mumbled to myself, my feet feeling as if they were made of cement. “Sam is my friend!” Charlie suddenly yelled as the creature came within inches of my face. It stopped in its tracks, turning its lizard eyes to Charlie. I took my chance, I raised a leg and kicked at the thing, catching it off guard and sending it flying backwards. I grabbed Charlie and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. “Why did you do that!” Charlie screamed. “He’s gonna be mad!” “Shut up, shut UP.” I demanded as we raced down the steps. “We need to get the fuck out of here.” As we bounded into the foyer, the front door suddenly swung open. Mr. and Mrs. McCutcheon were back. The couple wore grim facial expressions which turned to confusion as they saw us land in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. “Sam,” Mr. McCutcheon addressed me quizzically. “Is everything okay?” “We need to leave **now.** Like right now. Like immediately.” Before he could answer, the sound of a wooden door shattering turned our attention to the stairs. An inhuman screech reverberated off the walls as Nobody Nonose floated down the stairs. Mrs. McCutcheon screamed in horror , her husband’s eyes grew wide. “What in the fuck -“ he began. The creature glided toward Mr. McCutcheon, much faster than the speed at which it had approached me , and in an instant it had unhinged its jaw and clamped down on his head. There was a wet squelch as those pinprick teeth punctured the soft flesh of Mr. McCutcheon’s neck. A dull crunch as the monster crushed his skull. The stench of copper filled the room as reams of dark blood cascaded down over Mr. McCutcheon’s body , leaking from the side of the creature’s mouth. “Daddy!” Charlie cried out in horror as Nobody Nonose released what was left of his father’s body, the corpse crumpling to a heap that was rapidly gushing crimson. I slapped a hand over my mouth , not even able to muster a scream. On the other hand, Mrs. McCutcheon screamed bloody murder. She had gone sheet white, hands around the sides of her face. She was in pure disbelief at the sight in front of her. The creature faced her now, her husband’s blood and bits of viscera staining its wide face and dripping from its lips. The woman turned to run, her fight or flight mode activated. She sprinted into the living room, the thing in hot pursuit. It didn’t take long for it to catch her. Her screaming was cut short, and I could only imagine a similar feeding to the one we’d just witnessed was occurring out of our line of vision. There was only silence now. Charlie wept , clinging to my leg, loudly crying out for his mommy and daddy. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that any movement I made would be an invitation for the thing to float back into the room and wrap those jaws around my head next. After what felt like an eternity had passed, we heard shaky and unsteady footsteps on the hardwood, making their way back into the foyer. Into the room stepped Mrs. McCutcheon, only.. not. Atop the body of the woman I’d called a neighbor since childhood , was the bulbous and jaundiced cranium of Nobody Nonose. Blood flowed down what had once been Mrs. McCutcheon’s body, starting from her freshly torn neck hole. The hole that Nobody Nonose had set itself on. It was almost comedic, that giant monstrous head perched on such a petite frame. The head bobbed from side to side as the creature tried to steady itself on new legs. Slowly, it strode toward us, eyes locked with mine. For the first time that night, it smiled, showing off its red-stained teeth in a wide grin. Charlie continued his wailing, mixed with some nearly unintelligible muttering. “Why did you do that?” He cried. “I thought we were friends, I thought we were friends…” the kid sounded so hopeless and terrified and lost. Who could blame him? Nobody Nonose outstretched “his” arm toward me, grunting expectantly. I understood what he wanted instantly. Did I really have a fucking choice? Wordlessly, and through his screeching protests, I pried Charlie off of my leg and handed him over to the monster that had eaten his parents. Nobody Nonose wrapped Charlie in a tight hug and growled in approval, pressing the child tight against the sopping wet clothes stained by his mother’s blood. The creature gave me one last look before bounding out of the foyer on its shaking and unbalanced legs. I heard a window shatter in the distance as they made their way into the night, Charlie’s screams gradually evaporating into nothing. As I sunk to the floor, I clutched my knees to my chest. Sitting at the foot of the stairs next to Mr. McCutcheon’s headless corpse, I attempted to process what I’d just seen. Suddenly , the front door swung open once again, and i was face to face with my father. “Sam!” He exclaimed. “We heard screaming, we heard a window break, what the hell is going on…” he trailed off, mouth going slack as he surveyed the carnage of the room. He stared at me, wide-eyed, unable to speak. It felt like I was floating in another universe, like I was watching my own dream. Tears streamed from my eyes as I began to laugh uncontrollably, a maniacal and insane cackle. “Hey dad,” I said breathlessly, barely able to even speak in my fit of gut busting hysterics. “What do you call someone with no body and no [nose](https://old.reddit.com/user/mikeventure76/submitted/)?”

Campfire Tales. Part 1

yeftup

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeftup/campfire_tales_part_1/

My name is Marcus, and I'm an alcoholic. I know what you're thinking: this is just another sob story about some loser whose life went off the rails after he found the bottle, right? Well, it's not exactly that simple. Bill, my sponsor at Alcoholics Anonymous suggested that should I ever hope to get clean, I'd have to face my demons, once and for all. While he has no reason to suspect that my demons are far more literal than the average addict, I think he's right nonetheless. This is my fourth or fifth time trying to kick the habit. Can't say for sure as so much of my personal history is somewhat cluttered, or otherwise hidden beneath the dregs at the bottom of one bottle or another. At one point, I even branched out into other methods of tucking away reality behind the veil, but the overdose that almost punched my ticket was enough to convince me to stick to more of an ingested form of inebriation. Yes, booze isn't exactly risk-free and all, but it takes a bit more work to drink too much of that, while it only took one needle to lead me right to the threshold of death's door. Excuses, right? Yeah, we addicts are full of those; always something to defend our actions, whether reasonable or not. This isn't about defending my years of intoxication, but the things I wished to drown away in the first place; a confession of my sins, so to speak. I was fourteen when it happened, as me and my fellow Boy Scouts spent the weekend out in the wilderness some miles from my home. It was Liam who talked us into joining up that summer, and while I was a little apprehensive at first, as I'd never been much of an outdoorsy type, John, Malcolm, and Ian were on board as soon as it was suggested. They were basically my only friends, so I wasn't about to be the odd man out, but I'd much rather be at home with my Playstation 2 and Xbox than tossing and turning in a sleeping bag for a few days. Not only that, but I felt as if we were getting a little too old for such things. Once we were out there, though, I ended up having a lot more fun than I had anticipated. Gilroy, the scout leader, was in his early twenties, so he wasn't too uptight or anything; just sort of laid back. He was the uncle of some kid named Bennie, who had been part of the troupe longer than any of us. He was an alright kid; a bit of a know-it-all and a stickler for 'the code', as he called it, but even he managed to relax and chill out some once we got out to the lake. We spent a good bit of that first afternoon fishing and cutting up. I almost impaled John's ear with my hook at one point, but he turned his head just in time to allow it to do no more than tap the back of his head. I was about as coordinated as a drunken breakdancer back then; still am for that matter, though the drink is likely a factor in that. John looked shocked at first as we both just stared at one another when my line finally dropped limp to the grass, but we were cracking up within seconds. Though I would've felt awful if I had jabbed the damn thing into his lobe, I often wonder if a trip to the emergency room would've saved us from those events that still haunt me. When the sun went down on that Saturday the 28th of September, 2002, we set a bonfire, around which we would take turns telling scary stories. Whether this was simply something of a tradition; to gather around the controlled blaze and let our imaginations fly, or we just wanted to inspire each other to have a little extra trouble sleeping that night, with urban legends and folklore keeping our eyes wide and alert, I couldn't say. Whatever the case, I was a little excited about this, as I had always been 'the creative child', while my older brother had a more intellectual and logical mind. When we were just kids, I assumed that was my father's way of avoiding saying I was the stupid one, as he was quite the intelligent man himself, but I loved my ability to daydream about far-off and wonderous places. These days, my creativity only tortures me even more with the things I've been through. After the sun went down, a gentle wind began to caress the lakeside by which we were spending the night. As the temperature dropped, the heat of the fire was a most welcome sensation to my gooseflesh. With the warmth easing our collectively shivering frames, we all sat in a circle around the fire, passing the flashlight that would serve as our microphone from one to the next. While I hadn't necessarily been prepared for this, as it wasn't discussed until the sun fell to rest for the night, I never had a hard time throwing together an impromptu tale. I barely paid attention to most of the stories that would come before mine, as I was mentally preparing for the task at hand; one that I was most certainly taking more seriously than anyone else. That's what I thought at the time anyway. The first handful of tall tales couldn't so much as break through the wall formed around my inwardly mapping out my tale. The fifth kid to speak up; Reggie, I think was his name, almost grabbed my attention, but when the climax ramped up to something bordering on intense, the boy in the story woke up, revealing it was all just a dream in the end. I know these were just silly campfire stories told by children anywhere from ten to fourteen, but I always saw that sort of ending as a cop-out, even if it was just made up on the fly by a sixth grader. I just rolled my eyes before blocking out the next story; the second one to involve a monster under the bed. Even John and Malcolm couldn't produce anything of high enough quality to distract me from my world-building and character development. There were fourteen of us in all, not counting Gilroy, who came off far too enthusiastic about every tale that was spun, but I had made sure to sit next to Bennie, who volunteered to speak first that night, as I wanted mine to be the last. Not only did I want the extra time to craft my tale before the clockwise rotation would lead all eyes to me, but I was certain mine would be an absolute banger; assuring that everyone would have trouble sleeping that night. My mouth was practically watering with anticipation until the flashlight was handed to Liam. From the second he began to speak, I couldn't hope to distract myself from his story; one that sticks to my mind like gorilla glue to this day. With the light shining under his chin, as was the tradition for such tales spun around a fire, his voice sounded both somber and sinister as he spoke. While other kids had joked and laughed during every story that came before, nobody spoke during this one, nor did even one eye drift from the boy highlighted by the illumination of the torchlight and flickering flames. Whether it was the words he spoke or the way he spoke them, I can still recall every syllable, even after all these years. He called this tale: • The Betrayal of the King Barnaby King was not a child that any parent hoped for. Not only was he hideously deformed; something that inspired the nurse to scream out when he was brought into this world, but he would prove to be more than a handful to his mother and father. He did not cry when he was born, nor did he scream out from the shocking and jarring transition into this world; only gazed up at his mother with those tiny, black, and empty eyes. While Katherine and Harold King were in equal stages of horror as they stared down at their newborn abomination, they attempted not to reflect this feeling to one another; only to bravely face the cards they had been dealt. As the years passed by, the Kings would turn away visitors to their home, even their parents who had hoped to be a part of their grandson's life. While they never explained the reasoning behind why they would refuse them entry to their home, it would never stop their loved ones from trying. It was Harold, more so than Katherine, who would not allow young Barnaby to be seen by any prying eyes. Whether it was shame that inspired this or simply those fears he would never speak aloud, his wife was uncertain. Of course, she shared his feelings, regardless of how hard she fought to convince herself that she loved her child. Yes, his nature seemed as grotesque as his face, but she hoped she could find a way to change both aspects for the better someday. By the time Barnaby reached his tenth year in this world, his parents had him confined to the basement. This was something that they were certain was necessary after he began his late-night outings some months prior to the decision to essentially imprison him. It wasn't until Harold noticed the blood trail leading from the woods behind the house to a mutilated corpse of a squirrel, halfway buried next to the patio, that he understood something was amiss. That night after Katherine had allowed her sleeping pills to kick in, he stayed awake to keep an eye on things. He snuck out to his tool shed at the rear of the backyard, right next to the tree line, making sure to remain as silent as possible so as not to alert any wildlife to his presence. Though he had a sneaking suspicion of who indeed was responsible for the strewn-apart remains of the forest creature, he desperately hoped he was mistaken. When he saw young Barnaby stealthily creeping from the back door through the split wood of the shed's wall, he felt his back tense with the knowledge that his first impression had been the right one. The boy darted those black eyes from one side to the other as he snuck softly across the yard, hunched over with slick drool seeping from that enlarged and low-hanging underbite. Finding himself reluctant to follow his son into the woods as he watched him pass his view from the shed, Harold realized he had not fully thought this through. Yes, the boy was still small for his age, but he still wore some scars left in the wake of the jagged teeth from those early years. He couldn't help but feel that should Barnaby not locate something to satiate his hunger, he would turn those ankle biters on his father once more. He still argued with himself that his own flesh and blood could not truly be capable of such a grievous act, regardless of this late-night jaunt into the woods. It was as he waged this inner debate, uncertain of how much time had passed, that he noticed his son coming back into view. The rabbit he held between the elongated fingers of his left hand was wriggling and squealing, but the child paid its moans no mind. Harold had to cover his mouth to prevent a similarly pitched shriek from escaping when the boy raised the panicked animal to his lips. The horrified sounds of the poor creature combined with the tearing of its fur-lined flesh caused the man hidden away in the shed to close his eyes, lest his dinner retching to the floor expose him. Even covering his ears, he could not fully block away the moist, ripping, and snapping of bones as Barnaby finished his snack. Once those gruesome noises dissipated, a reluctant Harold glanced back through the split wood to see the boy still holding what was left of the blood-soaked rabbit in the hand that hung below his knees. Again he glanced from one side to the next as he approached the house, kneeling and pulling away a loose board beneath the patio, stashing the beast away. After the work was done, he crept back into his home, taking one more glance behind him. Harold could swear that blackened eye gazed directly into the wide and trembling one that peered through the gap in the wall, but when his son gently closed the door behind him, he finally allowed a shaky breath to escape his lips. Surprisingly, it wasn't difficult to convince Barnaby to relocate to the basement, though at the time, he was not yet aware he would remain locked away behind a heavy and padlocked door. Harold had performed the renovations himself, being quite adept in working with his hands, as any seasoned contractor should be. He was just as glad of the soundproofing as the sturdy walls and doors by the time the boy understood his new circumstances. They would make sure he was fed through a slot in the door. He had a full bathroom, fitted with a shower in his apartment below ground level, as well as cable, gaming systems, and plenty of books to entertain him. These measures were taken to ease their conscience, more than their sons' needs, of course, but it was enough to help them sleep at night, as well as resuming activities they had not indulged in since Barnaby came along. When Lilian was born; something that filled the couple with terror, as they feared another demon spawn had taken root in Katherine's womb, they were thrilled to see that they finally had the child they had always hoped for. She was the light of their lives, and just as beautiful as her mother was at such a young age. Naturally, they planned to never introduce their children to one another; something that would require a lot more work as she grew older. Seasons came and went; each one bringing new and wonderful experiences with the King's and their little girl. She was a well-behaved little girl for the most part, aside from the time she got in a scuffle with a boy at school. Harold boiled over with rage when she informed him that the older child was teasing her, before pushing her around. Having been something of a hothead in his youth; one prone to lashing out at others should he find a reason to, Lily's father had to compose himself after hearing this. While he was tempted to go to the boy's house and confront him for what he did, he swore he would never return to his old and impulsive ways. When his daughter assured him all was well; how the kid left her alone after she sank her teeth into his arm, Harold let go of his rage. He was; however, quite concerned about the possibility of Lily having ingested any of the blood, had she even bit down enough to break the skin. While she understood his concerns, especially with all of the potential illnesses out there that she may or may not have exposed herself to, her father was relieved to hear she had not caused any more than some bruising with her bite. While the Kings' would attend every event they could at their daughters' school; talent shows and plays, track meets, and all, they felt no guilt about neglecting Barnaby. Lily was an outgoing girl with a great many friends, and her parents did everything they could to please her, while only granting minimal efforts to assure themselves that their son maintained his sorrowful existence. It was on the eve of young Lily's eleventh birthday that their happy life took a far more brutal turn; one that would rip their world apart in a matter of minutes at most. Unbeknownst to Katherine and Harold, their daughter had been aware of her sibling for some years by this point. Though they had never been able to meet face to face, they had found a way to communicate. When she was much smaller and far lighter on her feet, she had followed behind her father as he carried the nightly meal to her brother. While they always made sure she was otherwise occupied or distracted when one of them would make those excursions to the basement, twice a day, the Kings had not noticed that she had grown steadily more aware of their more erratic behavior at those times of the day. Being a curious child, as many would be under such circumstances, she planned out her investigation for a solid week before taking the plunge. Her heart was positively racing as she crept behind her father, making sure to duck down or hide behind whatever furniture she may be closest to should he look to be about to turn. Though tracking her target through the quite large house ended when he reached the door to the basement, as he locked it behind him, she knew now what her next steps would be. Harold kept the keys to the entrance to the stairway that led to the apartment below hanging with those others from the loop of his belt. She would have to work more stealthily than ever to retrieve this while her parents slept, but she was certain she could pull it off. When her loving guardians tucked her in that night, she would not allow sleep to take her. While it wasn't easy to keep herself awake, especially given the fact she had to resist the urge to play or otherwise occupy her mind in the darkness of her bedroom, she managed to battle away slumber. It was around two in the morning that she made her move, creaking open the door to her room before approaching the one occupied by her folks. Though she was fully prepared with an excuse; one involving nightmares that sprung her eyes back open, leading her to seek refuge in her parents' bed, she was still increasingly nervous as she entered their room. She moved swiftly and silently as she clutched her hand around the keys, sitting on the nightstand, squeezing them tightly to not allow a potential jingle to alert her father to her subterfuge. She was panting for breath as she made her way back into the hallway, but she had achieved the first part of her goal. It didn't take her tiny legs long to reach the locked door and her fingers were tingling with anticipation, quickly turning to frustration as she tried one key after the other. With another heavy and trembling sigh, she finally located the correct key, splaying open the door before her. Barnaby was scared at first when she spoke softly through the flap in the heavy entrance to his apartment. His fear momentarily gave way to anger when she revealed who she was; something that made the little girl afraid, leading her to begin to back away. His rage dissipated quickly when the only friendly voice he had ever heard began to fade, inspiring him to practically beg her to stay. For hours they spoke that night, eventually allowing the boy to grow comfortable with his sister enough to lean his face down to the thin flap through which his meals were delivered. She gasped at first, even seeing only the portion of him that she could make out, but when she reached her tiny fingers through the slender opening to touch the rough texture of her brother's cheek, he felt a warmth he had never known. Before Lily returned to her bedroom, Barnaby confessed to his sister his efforts to escape. While he had achieved no more than the slightest of splits at the top of the wall between him and the outside world, over years of scraping away at it with the plastic cutlery provided with his meals, it was enough for something. Each day from then, sometimes multiple times if the coast was clear enough, they two would pass notes back and forth. Though Lily would occasionally make late-night stealth missions to converse with her brother, she could not risk overdoing it, as her father could be quite perceptive at times. Still, while she had all in life for which a girl could ask, she finally had that one thing that money could not buy: an older brother. After three years of such meager forms of communication, Lily swore to her brother that she would set him free. Being that she had only heard his version of the things that left him hidden away from the world, she saw him as the victim in this, while her beloved parents were somewhat nefarious in so many ways that she never could have predicted. While the keychain she would sneak away with in the wee hours of the morning did not include those that would unlatch the numerous locks Barnaby was imprisoned behind, it would take weeks for her to uncover where the ones she needed were hidden. It was on a school day in midweek when she would ultimately track them down, having convinced her loving guardians she was in no fit state to leave the house. Given that she had never shown the slightest signs of irresponsibility to her mother and father, they did not question her motivations, though neither of them could stay home with her that day, as they had their own responsibilities to attend to. She assured them she would not need a babysitter; something that took some effort to persuade them on, but she could be quite the talented actress when she wanted something badly enough. Having shadowed her father for those weeks leading up to the planned jailbreak, she saw that he would always return to his study after dropping off the daily meals to his son. Though he would close the door behind him, she still managed to take a peek through the keyhole. It was then that she was able to see him inspecting the contents of a drawer on the left side of his desk. He only took a glance before closing and locking it, but she assumed it was a ritual of sorts; to ensure the keys to his son's prison remained untouched. Though Harold had his keychain looped to his belt as he reluctantly headed to work that morning, Lily saw no reason to leave things as she found them this time. It would be very clear what had transpired when he would return that evening; that his prisoner had been freed. The crowbar she found amongst the other tools in the garage made quick work of the drawer, even with the desk being seemingly made of quality materials. When she looked upon the only contents; the ring of keys she had hoped to find there, Lily wasted no time in sprinting to the basement, using the crowbar once more to spring open the door at the top of the stairs. Though it took some time to decipher which key went to which lock, that only made her smile that much more genuine when she truly looked upon her brother, face to face, for the first time. Yes, those small, blackened eyes and low-hanging jaw, lined with needle-thin teeth unsettled her somewhat, even with the teasing glances through the slot in the bottom of the door. The small, upturned nose and pointed ears, with scraggly long ginger hair hanging beside them were equally as jarring, but his expression, if that's what she could call it, only held love behind it. They embraced one another, each leaking tears upon their siblings' shoulders. Barnaby had never known this sensation; to truly feel wanted and adored. All he was familiar with was contempt and hatred for having the nerve to be brought into this world, but Lily only saw her brother in those glossy eyes, not the monster their father knew him to be. It was while they were packing up his belongings; what little he had, that a sound inspired both of their faces to grow cold from blood loss. The front door of the house being unlocked and opened, followed by frenzied curses spitting from their mother's lips when she seemingly saw the basement door ajar, left the two with limited options. Lily asked her brother to stay behind as she walked up the steps to find Katherine already standing in the doorway, looking as pale and shocked as the young girl felt. Barnaby heard his sister as she attempted to convince their mother to grant the boy freedom; something she seemed unwilling to hear. He tried to cover his ears to block out the argument between mother and daughter as it grew more erratic, but it was of little use. Finally, hopeful that he could somehow aid in this debate, he slowly paced up the steps for the first time in years. He walked through the doorway to see his mother on the phone, seemingly demanding that her husband returns to his home immediately. She screamed so loudly when she turned to see her son, that Barnaby thought her hair may just turn white from the shock. As it was his father who would bring him his meals, he had not so much as heard Katherine's voice in so long, let alone seen her face, but he could easily recall that expression of hatred and disgust she gave him. Be it from the trembling of his extremities, or just the shame of those old familiar looks the sight of him would bring, he was only vaguely aware of what happened next; at first, anyway. As he and the woman who birthed him stared at one another; each in their own initial stages of anguish, their shared expressions turned to horror when little Lilian leaped on her mother, sinking her teeth into the meaty tissue of her throat. As the blood practically gushed against the walls, Barnaby fell to his knees, barely able to wrap his mind around what he was witnessing. When his sister pulled her head back, tearing away the grizzled and sticky fibers, her mother just glared at her in shock as she fell to the floor. "What did you do?" Barnaby asked, shaking his head from side to side. "It was the only way, my love," she replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, smearing her mother's lifeblood across her cheek in the process. She still looked upon her brother with loving affection, even as her face began to contort as her body grew. "I'll show you how to do it if you want," she said as her appearance finalized its transition, leaving her a carbon copy of the woman who lay dead on the floor, "You don't have to live like that. Not if you don't want to." She lay her hand on the mutated face of her brother, allowing him to convince himself for a moment that his mother had finally accepted him. Though she had already dragged the body down to the basement when their father arrived back home, she had not a chance to clean away the shimmering crimson puddle left in its wake, nor the drag marks that led to the door. Harold demanded to know what had happened, terrified that Barnaby had gotten loose and devoured his darling baby girl. Lily disposed of him just as quickly as she had his wife; this time luring him into an embrace with her stolen tongue, digging her teeth into his throat when his guard was down. Her brother had not witnessed this one, as he lingered in the basement with the remains of his mother; something he had not the slightest desire to be trapped beside, regardless of his sister's insistence he hide away while she dealt with daddy. When she walked back down the stairs; this time wearing Harold's face, she dropped his body beside his wife, before she knelt beside the only family she cared about. "They lied to us," she said, again caressing his face with her hand, "they would've never let you loose. It had to be done." Barnaby did not speak, only gazed with his tiny, black eyes as wide as they were capable of growing. When Lily dipped her hand into the pool of blood surrounding her mother, she held it to her brother's face. "It's easy," she said, pulling his recoiling head back to face her, "I learned it long ago; what we can do. I know you can do it too." As she pressed her other hand on the low-hanging jaw, she poured the blood cupped in her palm. When Barnaby attempted to turn away and spit out the foul-tasting fluid, she slapped his mouth back shut, holding it in place until he swallowed. It took some hours, as well as a lot of convincing from his sister; some debating, retching, and even arguing, but by the time night fell, the boy stood his mother's image, while Lily maintained her father's form. "Anyone you drink, you can become them," she said, mimicking Harold's voice, "that's what I've found anyway. Never tried an animal, but it might work too." Barnaby nodded, only replying to her when expected. Though she had lied to her father about breaking the skin of the older boy who bullied her when she was younger, she was well aware of what his concerns truly were at the time. When she gazed into the bathroom mirror, after fleeing from the child as he attempted to stop the flow of blood, she saw not herself, but the boy she left leaking fluids upon the grass. She never understood why Harold King had turned his back on what she believed him to be; the exact thing she and her brother were, but it was his neglect of their god-given gifts that fueled the hatred she grew towards him. Had he allowed his children to learn what they were capable of at an earlier age, her brother need never have been locked away from the world, as he could have taken any face he chose, rather than being led to believe he was a monster this whole time. Though Barnaby had despised his parents for as long as he could remember, he never wanted this. He was ashamed of these baser instincts that led him to feed on the wildlife behind their home when he was far too young to understand why. Admittedly, he could have never predicted this, but he would not continue to be a part of it; that much he swore to himself. Some hours after the two had laid down to rest; Lily back in her bedroom, having returned to her smaller proportions, and Barnaby still wearing his mother's face, he crept out into the night, not unlike how he had in his younger years. He would not seek out anything to fulfill those once-forgotten urges, nor would he return to the house in which he had been imprisoned. While he did love his sister, he could not stay with her; not after witnessing what she was capable of. The young girl was heartbroken when she awoke the following morning to find no trace of her beloved brother. Her temper raged, inspiring her to beat holes in the walls and tip and break the furniture her parents had worked hard to accumulate. As time went on, she grew bitter and resentful of the one she had set free; the one she had killed for. She swore she would track him down someday and make him pay for leaving her alone; something she was now so close to, she could practically smell his fear. • Every eye around the campfire was glued to Liam as he finished his tale, as he cut his gaze from one of us to the next. With the madness and fury behind his reddening stare, I finally understood that this was not simply some story he made up for the sake of scaring his fellow scouts, but that Lilian King herself sat before us, hidden away behind the boy I called a friend.

Is it normal to have a smile growing in my attic?

ye6ekg

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye6ekg/is_it_normal_to_have_a_smile_growing_in_my_attic/

What am I saying, of course it’s not normal. I don’t know where this thing came from. A mold started to grow in my attic that had a shape. It started out as a little pile of dust that I noticed when I was getting christmas decorations from my attic. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. “It’s an attic, of course it’s going to be dusty.” But then it started to grow. Everytime I notice the growth it seems to get bigger. The bigger it gets the more intrigued I become about what it could be. Then, about mid February I noticed it smiling at me. The mold stuff was really smiling at me. Just a small smile at first, but now it was teeth. Sharp, misshapen teeth. It’s beginning to grin at me.  I’ve had seven mold experts come to my house, each time I pray that they see what I am seeing. All the men who have come to my house and inspect my attic end up looking at me like I’m crazy. I have insisted with them to use the moisture meters and take any test possible to determine that there is mold there. Every answer is the same. “I don’t see any mold in this attic in the first place. It looks spotless.”   “There is seriously nothing there. Your attic is actually the cleanest attic I’ve ever seen.” Number seven says to me. He even has the commercial grade mold remover in his hand, and yet he doesn’t see the massive growth of mold the size of my torso.  “Well yeah… I have been bleaching this entire attic every week because that fucking smile keeps coming back bigger than before.”  “You need to be careful using that much bleach, it’s a very harmful chemical you know. It can go straight to your head and fuck you up big time.” He pats me on the shoulder with a ‘this poor girl’ look. God, can someone just take me seriously? Does this guy seriously think I’m high on bleach fumes? I led him out the door and back to his car. It’s a warm summer day and from the outside of my house everything looks cheery and completely ordinary. But, on the inside something evil is growing. Don’t ask me how, I just know whatever is growing in my house wants me. Clearly I have to figure this thing out on my own. Maybe I should call a psychic. Or maybe someone from Area 51? No. It’ll be useless. I have to go up there and find out what it is.  I make my way back to the attic, this time with a camera in my hand. If I can take a picture of it, maybe I can show it to other people. No one can dispute a picture.  *Snap.* The polaroid dispenses the picture and… It’s there! It’s really there captured on film! Thank god for all of those horrible ghost watcher shows that were always playing during my long college nights, they really were educational.  I look at the polaroid once more, completely elated that this stupid piece of information worked. But that’s when I noticed it. There was an arm like shape that wasn’t there when I had the mold guy in the attic. It seemed to be reaching out at me from the wall. No, not reaching, pointing.  I look up horrified, and at first all I see is that smile… But it has formed into a new shape. While I was standing right there, too distracted by this fucking picture it changed from a general blob shape, to a human shape. It now had a torso, arms, shoulders, and a head with that same smile right there on the face. I can’t believe what I am seeing. This gray mass of mold that had tormented me for months with that awful smile now looks human.  I ran back downstairs, shaking and confused. But, I’m not confused by what I just saw… I was confused because the moment I crossed the threshold out of my attic, I stopped smiling. The entire time I was in the attic I was grinning. What is happening to me? Am I really going crazy? I held my sore cheeks and my mind raced about what to do.  “I need to bleach the attic again.” “No, I can’t go back up there.” “I need to pray.” “I need to show someone this picture.” “Maybe the library has some books on strange mold.”  “Jesus Christ, will you stop shaking like this? Pull yourself together you spineless bitch.”  “Not Jesus Christ.” “It’s stuck to the wall. Maybe if I never go in there again nothing bad will happen.”  “Go into the attic.”  “It is a very nice attic.” “Pray.”  “I do have a lot of stuff up there that I need.”  “Find me.”  “It’s just mold. I can deal with that.”  “Pray.” “Why do I feel this way?” “Pray.” “I think I need to go into the attic and pray…” “Pray.” “Yes.” “Pray.” “NO! What is happening? It’s getting inside my head!”  “Worship me.” “No! Why!” “Worship me, you have been for months. You can’t get me out of your head and now you have willingly let me in. Just come upstairs and worship me.” There’s no way for me to escape this thing. I know it.  Without another thought I run to the attic door and slam it shut. Locking the door the moment it shuts. Now I understand why the attic door has a lock on the outside. I board up the attic door and breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever this is, hopefully it dies there. The voice has stopped. For months I didn’t hear one peep of that slimy voice in my head. Until just last night, before I drifted asleep, I heard it. A slow, methodical knocking… Coming from the attic door.

The street light

yeknkm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeknkm/the_street_light/

My neighborhood is just like any other, boring houses with small yards, boring people inside with boring jobs. This neighborhood is just as normal as any other, or so I thought. When I first moved into my house I noticed something strange, the street light right next to my house flickers. This is nothing too unusual, maybe it was just faulty wiring or just an old lightbulb inside. For some reason I always felt uneasy when I was near the light, as if it was somehow warning me about something. I always avoided walking under that particular light, and if I was in my yard at night with my dogs then I had my outside lights on. I’m not a person that was scared of the dark or anything, but this particular darkness felt…..different and somehow sinister. I thought I was just being paranoid, just being a big baby. I kept saying it was nothing, until it happened... It was a particularly cold night with a bit of heavy rain, I was taking the dogs outside to use the bathroom for the last time that night. And as we headed back inside I caught a glimps of the light, as I looked at it the flickering seemed to increase in speed. Then it seemed to just turn off for a few seconds, and while the light was off I swear I could see something standing under it. I couldn't exactly make out how big it was, but it had to be big because it almost reached the top of the street light. It was a somewhat slender figure with long limbs, and what seemed to be horns? And the bones of wings? I swore I saw it but then the light came back on and it was gone, must've been my imagination I thought as I closed my door and locked up the house. I completely ignored the incident and got comfortable in my room, my dogs were sleeping soundly in their beds and all seemed quiet aside from the rain outside. From my bedroom window I could still see the light flickering, and occasionally it would just turn off. But I thought nothing of it and started to get ready for bed. From outside I heard a dragging noise, like something heavy was being dragged through the cold, wet street. I looked outside but saw nothing, even though the sound was getting louder. Outside I saw a group of teenagers taking a late night walk, usually nobody walks down this street but I guess they were just in the mood to do something new. After a few moments they got really close to the street light and I heard them joke about it being haunted, I let out a little chuckle but then stopped once I heard them screaming. I looked outside once more and only saw two teenagers left, they looked terrified and were covered in a gray oily looking substance. They were running and screaming, the closest house to them was mine so they ran to my door. My dogs were already at the door barking and scratching it, they've never been so energetic for me to open the door. But I assumed they were worried about the teenagers screaming on the other side. I quickly opened my door to let them in and as soon as they were inside they shut and locked the door, then they barricaded the door and windows with anything they could find. I tried calming them down by assuring them they were safe but they were too terrified to talk. After a few minutes they were calm enough to talk, I felt bad for them because these boys were shaking in fear as they told me about what they saw. They told me how as they were walking, a giant monster appeared under the street light, they tried running but the monster was swift and grabbed a few of their friends. It threw a gray blob at them to slow them down and the mysterious gray matter burned their skin, they ran to the first house they saw. I let them get cleaned up in the bathroom and wrapped their injurys, I gave them some tea and food. I then offered to drive them home but they were still too scared to go outside, so I let them stay the night since it was late anyway. It took a while for them to fall asleep but they eventually did. I heard a strange noise outside and couldn't resist the urge to look, a car was driving down the road and as soon as it reached the street light the light turned off and a monster appeared. The car was lifted off the ground and I watched as the monster tore the car into pieces and ate everyone inside, them it ate the car. I was frozen in fear and I watched the monster turn its body to face my house, then we locked eyes. The monster became more demonic looking each second, its eyes were like red glowing fire. And it's body was covered in thorns, and its horns twisted towards each other. It's body seemed to drip with a gray substance, and it's figure seemed to tower over me. The more I looked at it the closer it seemed to get. It stopped moving once it was right in front of my house, the monster then hunched down to my window and seemed to laugh. As it laughed, a gray oily substance leaked from its eyes and mouth. The gray matter pooled on the floor and seeped into the walls of my house, then the monster was gone. I went to go check on the sleeping boys in the living room, but instead I found them covered in the gray matter. Then their bodies started to disintegrate, and the gray substance seeped back outside the house. The monster was next to my window again, and scooped up the gray matter into its mouth and drank it. Then it looked at me and told me in an eery and deep voice; "Shhhhh, don't tell anyone about this and I'll let you and your dogs live. But once a year I need to eat, so when you see me make sure to have some friends over or maybe don't help my next meal escape." I slowly nodded in agreement as I watched the monster disappear under the street light. I haven't seen it in a while, maybe I imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was all in my head. Would you like to come over to find out?

When The Time Comes We Shall Reseed The Earth

yeuq08

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeuq08/when_the_time_comes_we_shall_reseed_the_earth/

One day, the world as you know it is going to end and when that happens, we will be there to pick up the pieces and start again. I know that sounds ominous. But I don’t mean it like that. If anything, I see it as an opportunity for new growth. New life. I think that is something to get excited about, don’t you? &#x200B; It’s why I joined the program. It’s why I gave up everything and worked so hard to ensure that when the world tears itself apart, it can be rebuilt. &#x200B; My name is Christina Cowie and I am part of the Global Adaptation and Repopulation Initiative. &#x200B; It’s unlikely that you’ve ever heard of us. We don’t deal with the public. It was decided long ago that it was better to keep us out of the public eye. People like to pretend that we aren’t headed for an inevitable ending and a public reminder would upset them more than anything else. We don’t want that. Personally, I hope that whatever ending comes isn’t one we’ll see in our lifetime. But even if that is the case, I want to lay the groundwork to restore the world anyway, even if I don’t live to see it bear fruit. It’s all about the big picture, you see. You leave something behind for those who follow. It’s the right thing to do. &#x200B; One of the first things that GARI set out to do when it was created years ago was ensure the survival of all nonhuman species in the event of an apocalyptic event, to maintain biodiversity. While to this day, the cataloguing of species continues, I’ve always considered that part of the project to be a noble but possibly doomed initiative. Any event that would change the world so severely would leave scars upon the earth. The life that currently exists will very likely no longer be able to survive and thrive on the earth as it will be after the apocalypse. Drastic changes in temperature, loss of habitat, radiation, oxygen saturation, the variables are too many to count. While I have no doubt that some of the hardier species will find a way to survive, others won’t. It’s why I chose to specialize in something a little bit different. Creating new life that possibly could survive in the new world that would be waiting and I have to say it’s been rewarding. &#x200B; My team and I have planned for every possible eventuality. We’ve taken steps to give evolution the little push that it needs to keep some of our most incredible species from dying out. &#x200B; I could spend months discussing the exciting new species that we’ve synthesized to deal with all sorts of apocalyptic events. Ultimately though, that’s not why I’m writing this. &#x200B; You see, genetic experimentation is a risky endeavor that exists in a legal gray area and comes with some very serious potential consequences if anything goes wrong. We only allow some of our non predatory specimens to mature in a highly controlled environment so we can observe them and ensure that they are capable of survival. We’ve taken drastic measures to ensure that nothing can get out and cause problems with the local ecosystem. Very drastic measures. &#x200B; If, for example, one of our crustacean species adapted to live in a radioactive deep sea climate were to somehow find its way out of the facility, it would have about a 600 kilometer fall before it reaches the earth, and it would almost certainly burn up in the atmosphere long before it landed on the surface of the planet. I’m quite certain that there’s nothing that could survive that. It’s hard for genetically modified life to escape and invade the surrounding ecosystem when your surrounding ecosystem is the vacuum of space. &#x200B; I can’t imagine how expensive it was to set up the GARI Enhanced Evolution Laboratories, but it’s really something impressive. Our facility is top of the line and the work we do here is worth the inconveniences of living in a low gravity environment, and even that has been minimized with the recent experimental rotational gravity engines that keep the labs somewhat stable. You can float in some of the outer living modules, but you can’t float in the labs. The transition is always a little weird. It’s not quite the same as being back on solid ground, and the lab doesn’t exactly have all the comforts of home. But they do as much as they can, and it’s not all bad. &#x200B; For instance, the view is surprisingly beautiful. If you’ve never seen the sunset from outer space, you should. It’s indescribably beautiful, and somewhat surreal, watching a wave of light lovingly cascade across the surface of the planet. &#x200B; Our science team works in rotations. We spend 90 days up in the GARI EE Lab studying our live specimens, and 180 days on solid ground focusing on the more technical aspects of our work. It ensures that we have plenty of time to spend with family and loved ones, as well as helps prevent the negative side effects of spending too long in a low G environment. So far, the project has been a success. I’ve always felt that my work was more rewarding than demanding and I’ve never had a valid reason to question the security in the EE Lab before. Not until recently. &#x200B; At 0600 hours, on the 61st day of my rotation up on the EE Lab, a lockdown notification was sent out across the station. The procedure is clear. When a lockdown is engaged, all non-security personnel are to head to one of the safe rooms. If the problem becomes so severe that our security team cannot contain it, then security is to enter the secondary safe rooms, and every area except for the safe rooms will be filled with a potent toxic gas. All live specimens are to be terminated and then after at least a minimum decontamination period, all staff is to be evacuated from the station. Work will then resume during the next cycle, when it is safe to do so. In all of my experience, we’ve only had two lockdowns and both were drills. The toxic gas was never actually deployed in those instances. I mentioned before that we also only permit non-predatory species to mature. While some of the species we have allowed to live on the station can be dangerous (as can any animal) our policies make it clear that we are not to take any unreasonable risks and they are extremely strict on what they allow us to bring up for observation. &#x200B; With all of that in mind, as concerning as a lockdown was, I assumed it was really nothing more than a precaution. Something had probably slipped out of its enclosure (Possibly the cephalopod we’d bred to survive in a highly oxygenated environment) and security would need to either kill it or put it back (probably the latter.) &#x200B; At the time the lockdown notification was sent out, I was in our large aquatic animal enclosure, working with Dr. Laura Blanchards team in running some tests on the radiation-adaptive species of amphibian we’d bred. It had settled in near the bottom of its tank, perched on a log that was part of the enclosure. Algae clung to its skin and its gills flared as it examined its surroundings with big, watchful eyes. The creature (Which was officially called Specimen 19223, but whom we’d dubbed Bob) had a fairly gentle demeanor and fed mostly on dead plant life. It resembled a large salamander or an axolotl. The gills weren’t quite as pronounced and I’ll admit that it was just a little bit cute, despite its considerable size. &#x200B; As soon as we got the lockdown notification though, all work had to stop. I could see a distinct look of frustration on Dr. Blanchard's face. Like me, she hates being interrupted and she probably suspected that this was either another drill, or such a minor inconvenience that it was hardly worth going into lockdown over. Still, she set her clipboard down and sighed. “Alright, everyone. Lockdown has been engaged. Please proceed to the nearest safe room.” &#x200B; Her tone was matter of fact and disinterested. Despite the buzzing from most of our PDAs, there wasn’t much panic. Instead, people just moved toward the safe room in a fairly calm and organized manner. I spotted our supervisor, Dr. Page amongst the 4 others already in the safe room. He had his PDA in his hand and was keeping a close eye on it, frantically tapping away at it. I assumed he was just as annoyed as the rest of us to have been interrupted. &#x200B; I didn’t pay him much mind. My guess was that this would be no more than a minor setback. Irritating, yes. But nothing we couldn’t handle. I noticed Dr. Page had started speaking to a member of security who had come in with us, and said security team member departed off to a quieter corner of the safe room to speak into his radio. If I were a more paranoid person, I might have been bothered by his urgency… But I’ve never been the paranoid sort. I think I’ve made it clear that I trusted our protocols. &#x200B; Out of curiosity, I did check the alert on my PDA. I wasn’t sure if it would specify exactly which asset was out of containment, but I figured that it couldn’t hurt to look. The alert didn’t give me any specifics, so I checked through the status of all active specimens, just to sate my curiosity while we waited for security to do their job. &#x200B; Specimen 19223 (Bob) was obviously secure and the seals on the other active specimens looked to be normal too. &#x200B; Specimens 19430, a species of highly resistant beetle we had bred looked to be secure (They were another one I’d have expected to escape), and Specimen 19302, the aforementioned cephalopod also appeared secure. &#x200B; Interesting… Looking through our files, all specimens appeared to be secure… Maybe this was just a drill, then? But we were usually warned in advance when a drill was being called. &#x200B; I looked up at Dr. Page again. He was off in a corner with security, speaking in a hushed but seemingly urgent tone. I noticed that Dr. Blanchard was looking at me, her brow furrowed and she approached me through the small crowd of other scientists. “Does your PDA tell you what got out?” She asked. “No, it looks like everything is where it belongs.” I replied. “I guess this is just a drill?” “It’s taking an awfully long time for a drill…” Dr. Blanchard murmured. She looked warily back over at Dr. Page. I couldn’t help but think that he looked agitated. &#x200B; We both watched him as he said something under his breath, then went for the door. Security followed him as he went for the keypad to open the door. He didn’t address those of us in the room. Instead, the guard he had with him watched us as if he was making sure that the rest of us didn’t leave with Dr. Page. We weren’t the only ones who noticed him leaving. I don’t remember who asked about it, as soon as he’d disappeared out the door but the only answer that our remaining security guard seemed to give was: “Dr. Page has gone to check on things. He’ll be back shortly.” &#x200B; It was almost two hours later that that started to feel like it might have been a lie. &#x200B; I think it goes without saying that drills don’t last for two hours and as time crept by, our frustration at this incident very quickly turned into genuine concern. It was one of our other associates, Dr. Harbor who started asking the questions first. “What exactly is taking so long?” He asked the guard, “By this point, the failsafe should’ve triggered, shouldn’t it?” “I’m sorry Doctor. But I’m afraid I don’t have any updates.” The guard replied, a little too dutifully. I couldn’t help but notice his voice wavering a little, as if he was just as worried as we were. &#x200B; “Well don’t you think you should?” Dr. Harbor said, “These saferooms aren’t designed for long term occupation. They’re vacuum sealed. Dependent on an outside oxygen source. Those reserves are only made to last for six hours. We’ve probably used a third of it already.” “Closer to half. It’s been two hours and twenty five minutes since lockdown was declared…” Dr. Blanchard noted, “Doesn’t standard operation procedure dictate when the gas gets turned on? There has to be a time limit.” &#x200B; “That was removed.” The guard said, “We thought it would be better to manually control the gas and minimize the risk of exposing our team to it, in case the search took longer than normal. If it’s a nonlethal specimen -” “The question isn’t risk of exposure. It’s how long we can stay locked up.” Dr. Blanchard said, “Dr. Harbor just explained it!” &#x200B; She glanced at me looking for backup, although my mind was elsewhere. “Dr. Cowie, you agree with me, don’t you?” When I didn’t respond, she called me again. “Dr. Cowie?” I glanced over at her, finally coming back to my senses. &#x200B; “Yes… I agree. Part of the question is air supply right now.” I said, “But security would know that… Dr. Page would know that. If they use the gas, it could be another hour or two until it’d dispersed… Factoring in the time we’ve already spent here. That’d be cutting it awfully close, don’t you think?” I looked around. The guard, Dr. Blanchard and Dr. Harbor just stared at me. “Has anyone had an update on their PDA? Don’t you think that’s weird?” “What exactly are you suggesting right now?” Dr. Harbor asked. &#x200B; “I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I’m just looking at the facts.” I said, “We are nearing the halfway point before the saferooms run out of air and we will be forced to leave. The gas, which must be dispersed manually, has not yet been dispersed when it should have by now. Neither Dr. Page nor the outside security team has given us any updates. Look at this information and tell me what it points to.” Dr. Blanchard went quiet for a moment. &#x200B; “Something is wrong…” She finally said, “Some sort of critical failure… Life support maybe? It couldn’t have been the escaped animal. Nothing we keep up here is that dangerous! It sure as hell couldn’t wipe out an entire team!” “Not that we’re aware of.” Dr. Harbor said, “These animals could have any number of traits we haven’t observed yet! That’s half the reason for the extensive security! If we corner something we made up here, it could shoot acid from its eyes or something. We don’t know!” &#x200B; “And take out the entire security team?” Dr. Blanchard scoffed, “Listen to yourself!” “What about some of the creatures in Lab C?” The guard asked. All three of us looked at him. “Lab C?” I asked. “Yeah… I’ve been in there with Dr. Page before. He was examining some of the predatory species.” &#x200B; My heart skipped a beat. &#x200B; Predatory species? &#x200B; “What do you mean predators? We don’t permit predatory species up here!” Dr. Blanchard said, “Dr. Page knew that!” “I mean, they weren’t big!” The guard said, “Like, a coyote or a bobcat or something. I saw them cutting one open to study its biology. It was dead, obviously.” “But it was mature, right?” I asked, “The animal you saw, it was an adult?” “I think so? But like I said, it was dead.” &#x200B; Dr. Blanchard and I exchanged a look. “That idiot… If he was allowing predators to mature…” “He had to be keeping them at the lab.” I finished, “This is the only place he could’ve grown them.” “And if he was, what the hell are we going to do about it?” Dr. Harbor demanded. &#x200B; For a moment, all three of us were silent. “If we assume that the team is compromised, then it may be necessary to trigger the gas manually…” Dr. Blanchard said, “One of us would need to find the mechanism and do it.” “It would be in the security office.” The guard said, “It has an airtight seal like this to keep the gas out. If we could make it there…” “If!” Dr. Harbor said, “I don’t like *if*!” “If is all we’ve got right now.” Dr. Blanchard said, “I vote we go out. We enable the failsafe ourselves.” &#x200B; “What if they trigger it while you’re outside?” Dr. Harbor asked, “You’ll be killed!” “At this point, I’m just as likely to be killed staying here or by whatever got out of containment.” Dr. Blanchard said, “So, am I going alone or not?” “I’m going with you.” I said, “It should’ve triggered by now… And there’s safety in numbers.” “I’ll go too.” The guard added. “At least I’m armed. Maybe I could help.” &#x200B; The three of us all looked at Dr. Harbor who swore under his breath. “Shit… Shit I’m going to fucking die today, aren’t I?” He asked before shaking his head, “Whatever… Open the doors. Let’s go outside. See if we can’t unfuck this situation.” The guard gave a curt nod, before going to open the door for us. As he worked, I took a deep breath. &#x200B; I looked at Dr. Harbor… The man could be hotheaded but he wasn’t an idiot. He was right about the danger. But if this was as bad as we thought, something would need to be done. The door opened with a hiss. Dr. Blanchard was the first one out, followed by our security guard, Gibson. (Gibson was the name printed on his vest. We never got around to actually formally introducing ourselves.) &#x200B; I looked back to see Dr. Harbor lingering behind before he swore under his breath and finally stepped out. He looked a little redder in the face than usual and kept glancing around like he was expecting something to pounce on us immediately. “The security office is this way.” Gibson the Security Guard said, gesturing for us to follow. He’d unholstered his gun although it didn’t make me feel that much safer. &#x200B; The hallways of the EE Laboratories seemed a lot less welcoming than usual. Usually, they were at least somewhat full of life but as we made our way through them, they felt so much deader than ever before. I suppose that was a good thing… We saw no signs of violence. No bodies. No bloodstains… All seemed peaceful and relatively quiet. “It’s not that far.” Gibson said, “A few more hallways.” &#x200B; He had to open his mouth… &#x200B; As he rounded a corner ahead of us, Gibson suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, his breath slightly catching in his throat. “Oh God…” It took a moment before we saw what he saw. &#x200B; The blood was the first thing that stood out to us. It was smeared along the walls in visceral patterns. The body lay strewn along the hall. One arm and one leg was missing. The stomach had been torn open and the entrails were strewn around the hallway. Despite the fact that most of the face was missing, I still recognized the body. &#x200B; It was Dr. Page… Or, I suppose what was left of Dr. Page… The four of us stared down at the body, and looking at the others, I could see the reactions on their faces. Gibson had a stern expression, desperately trying to mask his fear. Dr. Blanchard had no expression at all and Dr. Harbor looked as if he was ready to vomit. “Goddamn fool…” I heard him say quietly. &#x200B; “He did this to himself…” Blanchard replied. Her voice was colder than I’d ever heard it before. She stared down at the corpse, before taking a step forward, avoiding the blood as she pressed on ahead. She looked back at us, her eyes still cold and stern. “Come on. We still need to fix this.” She said. &#x200B; Gibson was the next to go, gun in hand as he stepped over Dr. Page’s body. I went next and Dr. Harbor went last, trailing behind us. The blood spatter decorated the next few halls we passed through, and the bodies lay strewn around. Members of the security team. Most of them I recognized, and I knew that Gibson recognized them too. I saw his eyes linger on most of the corpses and swear I saw a pang of grief in them. &#x200B; “Jesus…” Dr. Harbor murmured, “What the hell did Page make…” None of us had an answer for that. “The sooner we get to the security office, the better…” Dr. Blanchard replied. Even behind her stoic eyes, I could see a quiet understanding of the severity of our situation. &#x200B; Our pace had grown faster. Dr. Blanchard and Gibson were ahead of us and I was moving as fast as I could to keep up. We didn’t run. Running seemed like it could easily be a mistake… Whatever had killed those people, it was out there and the last thing we needed in that moment was to get its attention. “Just a bit further.” Gibson said, “Next hallway… We’re almost there…” “Good… We trigger the gas and then we file our goddamn report…” Dr. Blanchard said. &#x200B; I looked back to where Dr. Harbor had been to say something to him. But there was nobody behind me. Just an empty hallway. &#x200B; I paused, before looking back over at Gibson and Dr. Blanchard. “Wait! Harbor’s gone!” I said. They both froze. Gibson looked back at me, eyes wide. “Wait, what? No he’s…” &#x200B; He fell silent, staring into the empty hall. Dr. Blanchards brow furrowed. But I could see that her frustration was just a thin veneer for her terror. Her hands were shaking. “They’re here…” Was all she said, eyes darting around. I watched her take a tentative step backward before she turned and continued down the hall, “We need to move!” &#x200B; “Laura, wait!” I called, but she was already gone, having rounded the corner. I took off after her, pushing past Gibson. I’d barely even rounded the corner when I saw it… &#x200B; Much like with Dr. Harbor, Dr. Blanchard hadn’t even gotten the chance to scream… Her death had happened with almost complete silence. But unlike with Dr. Harbor, I saw her killer, hanging from the ceiling above her corpse. &#x200B; It was roughly the size of a dog, with a smooth, mostly hairless body. It had long, hooked talons and several quills jutting out of its arms and back. Many of those quills were jutting out of Dr. Blanchard's head and neck. Her eyes were still open, with a dazed, almost delirious look to them. I’m still not sure if she was dead, or if she was dying. Her legs still twitched slightly, but that may have meant nothing. &#x200B; Beside me, I heard Gibson swear as he saw the creature hanging from the ceiling. He went for his gun, and the creature let out an animalistic hiss. He squeezed off exactly two shots as it charged for him, racing across the ceiling. The bullets tore into its body, and it crashed to the ground in a twitching, gurgling heap. “Oh my God…” He said, his voice shaking slightly, “Oh my God…” “The security office!” I snapped, “Come on!” &#x200B; Tearing my eyes away from Dr. Blanchard's body, I ran for the door of the security office, with Gibson behind me. And somewhere in the hall behind us, I heard movement. The sound of creatures coming to investigate the gunshots they’d heard. &#x200B; We reached the door at the end of the hall, and Gibson fumbled with his security keycard. The door beeped and opened. “Go, go!” He snapped, “Now!” I pushed the door and turned to watch him follow me. As I looked, I caught a blur of motion behind him, and noticed that the body of the creature that had killed Dr. Blanchard was missing. “Gibson!” I cried. But it was too late. &#x200B; The creature hit him head-on. I saw its quills rip through his chest and heard him let out a pained exhale. His eyes widened, and I knew I could not save him. As the creature sank its teeth into his throat, I did the only thing I could and pushed him back onto the hall before closing and locking the door behind me. &#x200B; I watched through the glass as the wounded creature clawed at him, tearing through his body like tissue paper… And the sight of it made me want to vomit. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked at the two fresh corpses in the hall, and knew that I could have easily joined them. &#x200B; Near Dr. Blanchard's body, I could see more of those creatures. Four by my count, but God only knew if that was all of them… One of them sniffed at her corpse, before biting at her head. I couldn’t watch… &#x200B; The one that Gibson had shot chirped at the others… And then its eyes shifted towards me. All of them were looking at me, in the security office, and for a moment, I wondered if they knew what I was going to do… &#x200B; I ran deeper into the office. There was a desk with a camera feed from most of the labs, as well as some hall views. I could see a few more of the creatures on the camera feeds. I checked the laptop and put in my access code. As I did, I heard the sound of something slamming against the glass. &#x200B; Oh God… They were trying to get into the office. &#x200B; Oh God… &#x200B; They could have damaged the seal! &#x200B; I realized that one way or the other, I was probably already dead. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to die. &#x200B; But I had no choice. &#x200B; I brought up the authorization to activate the failsafe… I clicked the button. I heard the creatures slamming against the glass again, and I ran as far away from the computer and the door as I could. It felt childish, but I huddled in the corner. &#x200B; An alert was broadcast over the PA, one I’d never heard before. &#x200B; ***WARNING FAILSAFE ENGAGED. STATION STERILIZATION IN PROGRESS*** &#x200B; I closed my eyes. I held my breath. And I waited. A klaxon alarm sounded. I didn’t know if I was going to live or die, and I wasn’t brave enough to see just how bad the damage to the door had been. &#x200B; For a while, there was no sound other than the alarm. And in time, that too went silent. &#x200B; I didn’t die. &#x200B; The failsafe was active. &#x200B; And I didn’t die… &#x200B; An hour later, the station was vented. Once the environment had stabilized, the saferooms opened again. Within 24 hours, a team had been dispatched to bring us back down to the ground and a cleanup crew had been sent to the EE lab. &#x200B; I spent the next three days being debriefed by my superiors. I told them everything I knew. Dr. Page had gone too far with his own research, and his specimens had escaped containment. Because of that… My colleagues were dead now. &#x200B; The GARI EE lab is still up there. &#x200B; I’m aware they’ve supposedly implemented some new security features to prevent another catastrophe like the one that I lived through from happening. But honestly - I’m not going to chance it. I’ve withdrawn from the EE Lab program. I think I’m done with that. &#x200B; I’m much happier doing my research on solid [ground.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HeadOfSpectre/)

Departmental Rotations and Frosted Glass: My First Day At Work

yeuh11

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeuh11/departmental_rotations_and_frosted_glass_my_first/

My name is Stanley, and after the day *I've* had... well, I need to tell *you* all about it. I recently interviewed (and was accepted!) for a custodial position at this small company based in London. I was told that the role would essentially be a hall monitor and include a lot of walking up and down, anything out of the ordinary I would have to make a note of on my pad, and if it was really serious there would always be someone available on the other end of a walkie talkie. Simple enough, I guess. So anyway, I had trouble finding the building as it was off the main street and the interview had been held across the city in a rented office. There was no company logo on the front, just a flat grey cement exterior with a metal door and a buzzer with a single button and a speaker. I thumbed the button and the speaker crackled into life. 'Hello?' I asked. No reply, just the same soft crackling of a live microphone. 'Umm.. It's Stanley McAlester, it's my first day today and I-' I was cut off by a sudden buzzing from the device and the door opened slightly with a jolt. 'Thanks!' I said dimly, despite the speaker having stopped crackling. I pushed the door open and was met by a well lit reception area with a group of middle aged men standing around. As I entered they all turned to look at me and I couldn't but notice they all looked very much alike... that is to say, they all looked like me. Similar hair cuts, similar frames, similar clothes. 'Alright mate?' One of them nodded, sticking out his hand for me to shake. 'I'm Rodney.' I stepped forward and shook his hand, looking between the men idle scuffing their feet. "Oh, I'm Stanley. Are you here for the custodial position too?' I asked, still looking from face to face. 'Sure am. This here is Jeff, Harold, and Patrick.' Rodney said, pointing to each in turn. They held their hands up in greeting and continued to shuffle about awkwardly. 'We're all going to be custodians, apparently.' Rodney shrugged. 'Right, yeah. You been waiting long?' I looked for anyone official, but save for my doppelgängers, the room was empty. A long beech wood desk lined the left wall, and an unoccupied office chair was placed behind it. A wide metal elevator door was the only other thing to note in the room, and that was situated directly in front of us. 'About ten minutes.' He shrugged. Already tired of asking too many questions I nodded my understanding to Rodney and joined the awkward shuffling. It was about five minutes of that before a pleasant ping filled the room and the elevators doors slid open. A woman stepped out, her eyes framed by dark glasses, her head tilted down consulting a tablet in her hands. A lab coat bristled around her as she marched forwards, only looking up after she had stepped amongst us. 'Right. Well, yes.' She said, her eyes scanning the group. 'You must be the custodians then.' She said, a hint of impatience in her voice. 'I'll make this quick. We have six floors, you'll each be assigned a floor and a mentor will give you a tour around your assigned floor. At the end of each week your floor will be rotated. You won't have access to any floor you are not currently assigned to, and you will never have access to the sixth floor.' She said, hurrying through her prearranged script. She flicked through some papers behind her tablet and drew one to the top. 'Stanley?' She sighed. 'Uh, yeah that's me!' I said, stepping forward with a smile. 'Take this, it's your ID to take you to your floor.' She brandished a lanyard with a badge attached to it. 'Don't lose it.' She motioned to the elevator, 'scan your badge on the inside and you'll be taken up.' 'Right, thanks.' I said, taking the badge. 'Now?' I asked. 'Yes, now.' She said, never looking at my face. I looked around our group, Rodney raised his eyebrows at me and whispered *good luck* as I moved past him. I entered the elevator and looked around. The woman was already handing out the next ID to Harold as I found the scanning machine. It pinged softly and the number three appeared on a digital display. The doors slid shut and I felt the elevator begin its ascent. I swallowed back my nerves and set my shoulders. I hoped my mentor wasn't going to be as rude as she had been. Before I had any more time to steel myself, the doors were sliding open to reveal a long white corridor. I stepped out of the elevator and the doors quietly wooshed shut behind me. I considered the corridor for a moment, the plain white walls and shiny floor reminded me all too much of a hospital. The lights at the end of the corridor were off, giving it an eery sense of never ending. I began my walk forward, and sensors picked up my movement, sending a domino effect of lights coming on ahead of me. A door not too far from me opened and a head poked out. 'Stanley?' The man called, giving me a wave. I waved back and hurried over to him. 'Ah good you're here! Give me just a moment, will you?' He smiled. 'Sure thing.' I said, but his head had already disappeared behind the door. I stepped back and looked back down towards the elevator. A similar digital display above the doors showed the number two, I figured Harold was going there for the week. The door opened wider and the man came back out. He was wearing similar glasses to the woman, and also wore a long lab coat, the only difference was his friendly demeanour. 'Right. Stanley!' He said, holding his arms out wide and considering me. 'Welcome to the third floor, follow me.' He hurried by me and led the way further down the corridor. 'My name's Gideon and I'll be mentoring you, okay?' He said. 'Great!' I replied, keeping pace with him. 'So, what will I be doing then?' 'You see these windows we're about to pass?' He gestured ahead with tablet in hand. 'Yeah.' 'What I want you to do is patrol these corridors and check in on these windows frequently. Take a look in for yourself here.' He smiled, stopping in front of a random window. I looked in through the glass, but there was a hazy mesh, as if the glass was frosted, obscuring anything from my eyes. 'I... well, I can't see anything...' I said, twisting my head back and forth, testing my perspective. 'Perfect, that means everything is okay!' He exclaimed, moving to another window and showing me the same sight. 'That's as it should be.' He said, consulting his tablet with a frown. He stepped closer to the window and gave it a tap with his finger. 'Hmm..' He looked back at his tablet and slid his finger in an energetic motion, and then looked back up at the window before breaking into a look of satisfaction. Finally, he looked back at me, 'Do you think you can handle that?' He smiled. 'I don't see why not.' I confirmed, feeling rather confused about why I was needed. 'Perfect!' He cried in a somewhat gameshow host manner. He looked me up and down again and furrowed his brow. 'Do you have your walkie talkie?' 'No, I assumed I'd be given it here?' I said apologetically. 'For goodness sake. No it's not your fault, you *should* have been given one already.' Gideon sighed, turning on his heels. 'Well wait here I'm sure I can find you one easily enough.' And with that he marched down the corridor and disappeared behind the door once more. The corridor was silent, save for the high pitched ringing in my ears. I moved up the corridor slightly to try and look into another window, but the same haze was set across the glass. I cleared my throat and crouched down, seeing if I could get a viewing angle from underneath. A faint *tink tink tink* sounded from the other side of the window and I fell back in surprise. I looked back down the corridor but there was no sign of Gideon. I slowly moved closer until my face was almost against the glass. I couldn't see- wait, I could see... *something*. I pressed my forehead against the glass and, there was movement. The haze shifted slightly, like a slow steam had been disturbed in a still air. A darker shade slithered through the haze, like a black worm. *Tink tink tink.* The lights in the corridor went out in a reverse domino, plunging the corridor into darkness. *Tink tink tink.* I turned back to the window to see a face at the same level as mine, black as tar with lidless white eyes staring right back at me. I fell backwards with a scream, sending the lights back on. I was flat on my back looking up at a scowling Gideon. 'I.. Uh... there was a face!" I said trying to find my words as I pushed myself to my feet, pointing to the corner of the window where the face had been, but was now just the same grey haze as before. Gideon follow my pointing finger and adjusted his glasses. 'Indeed, a face...' He said bemused, running his finger along his tablet again. 'Are you feeling okay?' He said, holding out a walkie talkie for me to take. I looked between him and the window before answering. '...Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I just got curious.' I said, taking the walkie talkie with embarrassment. 'Mhm,' Gideon said, watching me carefully. 'I have a busy schedule, the corridors are self explanatory and they all lead back to the elevator in one way or another. There's a clock for timekeeping most everywhere, your staffroom is a little ways down there with a stocked vending machine. Keep out of trouble and make any notes on this pad.' He handed me a small notepad and began to turn to leave. 'Leave the pad in the box at the end of your shift, collect a new one from the same place at the start of your next. Remember, the walkie talkie is for *emergencies only.*' With that, Gideon went back the way he came and left me by myself. I looked nervously back where the face had been, but the grey haze persisted. I didn't look too closely in any more windows for the rest of my shift, and I didn't listen too closely either. For another eight hours I marched up and down the blank hallways, and clocked out without incident. I didn't see any of my doppelgängers on my way out, perhaps they finished at different times. I don't know what's behind those windows, or what's on the other floors, but I sure want to document what else I see. What was that face and the noise coming from the other side? Why is this place so quiet and what are the people in the coats doing? This job is more interesting than I thought it would be. I'll be back soon to tell you more.

I live in a National Park and the Things inside won't let me leave (Part One)

ydvk0j

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydvk0j/i_live_in_a_national_park_and_the_things_inside/

Tuesday, October 18th 14:24 I wasn't sure if writing any of this down was going to do anything, more so for others than for me. I'm already too far gone, there's no saving me from whatever fate has in store. You all, however, are different, and I can only hope what you'll hear from me will serve as warning.  Do not trust the woods, do not trust the water, and never, I repeat, never, give them any miniscule sign you've noticed their presence. Don't look them in the eye, don't flinch when they move or speak or even touch you, never speak to them. Unless you want to end up like me of course, stuck in a once wonderland now turned nightmare.  I won't tell you all exactly where I live, since I know some of you dumbasses would still look for it despite my warnings. I grew up in a National Park, and as the title suggests, I am unable to leave. Not 'unable' in a, can't get in a car and drive off, kind of way but moreso, I am involved in something far greater than I am, type of deal. Things reside within the 6 million acre park, beings older than humanity itself, some of them not even from this plane of existence.  For you all to fully understand the situation at hand here, or what I can speak of it, I'll have to go back to about 6 years ago. To the fateful day I fucked over my entire life without realizing it. Before I start there though, I need to describe the specific area I grew up in, and tell you all about some of the beings I saw before I made contact. How I went so long without doing anything before I'll never know, I like to think I had some god trying with all its might to spare me from this fate.  The town I grew up in had a population of around 3000, no grocery store, and there wasn't a stoplight in sight for nearly 30min in any direction. It was quite literally bumfuck nowhere, a secluded area full of redneck hillbillies. The town was surrounded by massive mountain ranges on one side, and an incredibly large lake on the other. It was so big it would have been one of the Great Lakes if it had not been so far away. Winters were vicious, temperatures in the negatives even in the day, snowfall ending up nearly as tall as I am, and ice storms that left softwood trees destroyed. As a child it was like heaven, the snow in the winter, the temperate summers, all of the nature to immerse yourself in. Despite it all I’m thankful for growing up in nature, the times when I was innocent are the fondest memories to recall.  I used to love to fish as a child; I couldn’t wait for those few months when the lake water was the perfect temperature to go out on a boat and spend all day on the dark water. It was out there, in the middle of the lake, when I remember seeing my first creature. At the time, I thought it was my imagination, that maybe I had seen our famous Loch Ness monster knock-off, Champ, in the water. Having now killed multiple of them I know they are far from fake, and not nearly as pretty as my childhood memory recalls.  As I was saying, I was out in the middle of the lake fishing. The lake holds all types of fish, including some big ones such as Sturgeon and Northern Pike. It also has lamprey, which to most in the area is what they consider the most violent thing in the waters. I'm terrible at fishing, even worse as a child, so I wasn't pulling anything up. My bait was being taken time and time again to no avail, and my tiny patience as a kid was wearing thin. It has been nearly an hour and a half, the afternoon sun beating down my neck, so I decided to get in the water and try again in a little bit. Once my life vest was secured I was allowed freedom.  The water was cold, as it always was, only going up to mid 60s in the summer, but it has felt great. I'd hated swimming with the bright orange life vest, but as a 7 year old I didn't have much choice. I had done a few laps around the boat, some awkward doggy paddle that made more noise than anything. I think it was the noise that drew the creature's attention. As I was swimming a little ways away, I couldn't have been more than 15 feet from the boat, I saw something underneath it. I had never seen a lamprey before, so I thought it was some kind of big fish. It was hard to make out between the glare off the water and the shadows of the boat. I couldn't go under with the vest on, so I was left with slowly moving through the water, heading towards where it was.  When I was about 6 feet from the boat, near the ladder by the motor, I caught a better glimpse of it. Well, moreso it's eyes than anything, as its wriggling body seemed to melt into the shadows. Its eyes, the 4 of them it had, glowed under water, a bright green hue. It has no pupils, but I knew it's gaze was on me, watching my current movements. My curiosity was outweighed by some internal feeling in my gut and I faltered, floating idly in the water. I knew it knew I had seen it, even as a child I could understand that much.  The 'standoff' had only lasted for nearly a minute before my mother's voice had reigned in my focus. "Get back up here if you're not going to swim anymore." I couldn't disobey my mother, but that meant swimming directly towards where it sat near the ladder. My hesitation had been long enough for my mom to call my name in that tone, the one where you knew you were about to get in trouble, and I swam in. I had kept my eyes focused on the boat, ignoring what I thought was some strange mutant fish, and my heart picked up as I got to the ladder. It didn't touch me though, and I got back on the boat with no issues. I stared down at the water I had come from, waiting, but I didn't see any glimpse of it.  The creature I saw that day I now call "Slimy water bastards", but their 'official' name is The Feasters. They look similar to lamprey, but are far more deadly. I've seen them range between 6-15 feet long, their black skin actually secreting some weird volatile slime that makes shadows darker, and does to your skin the same thing laundry detergent does. They have four eyes, two on top and two on the sides of their head, and I believe they use some type of thermal sight to be able to see in the complete darkness at the bottom of the lake. Their mouths are just a gaping hole that takes up 90% of their face, rows of spinning teeth and a barbed tongue that'll rip through your flesh and inject you with a nasty poison. Thankfully, they're very easy to kill, but what they lack in strength they make up for in numbers. You'll never find one alone, even if you only see one, they swim along in massive writhing masses, only sending out two to four for short periods to go check something out. Rather intelligent as well, the fuckers, and love to take small children and drunkards; easily manipulated people. When they get you, they leave nothing behind, their razor teeth tear into flesh easier than any knife. In mere seconds you'll be gone, nothing but a few blood drops in the water after the swarm you to feast; hence the name.  You might be wondering how that wasn't the fateful day, since I had directly acknowledged its presence. It was because I hadn't seen enough, The Feasters are low level if you were to tier them. You either need to see a mid to high tier, or be vocal about the things you've seen, to get screwed over. I'll go into detail about the tier thing at a later time, I'll also try to explain the other reason as well but I admit I don't fully grasp how it works. All I really, 100% know, is that this forest is far older than any human creation or being inside of it, and the things that reside in this park have merely accepted humans living here. We're all ignorant sheep, unaware of the pack of wolves looming over us.  I need to head out now, I have ground to cover and a creature to continue to track. I'll get into the actual start of this bullshit next time, so goodbye for now.  Don't look at them, don't speak to them, don't trust them.  Wednesday, October 25th 19:34 Hello again everyone, I didn't plan on posting both of these together, but as I went to post the previous one my power was cut off and things got busy after that so now they're forced together. Thankfully I killed the thing that sucked up my electricty, but by the time I was done I needed to head out to continue my tracking. Then the creature I was tracking got the better of me and I've been healing from a nasty bite the past couple days. Worst fucking part of it all was I never got to see the damn thing, fucker stole my sight before I could protect myself. Yes I can still see, what he takes is never permanent as long as it's not your life, I'll tell you all more about him later as he comes into the scheme of things. As I said, I'll tell you all just how I got into this mess. I'll be dropping a lot of information on you all, so I'll try to explain it as simply as I can. Between the time I first saw The Feasters and the one I'm about to mention, I did catch a glimpse of plenty of other creatures. This place seems to hold them all, fae, folklore beasts, creatures that seem to come from some other place themselves. Which they do, but I'll be getting to that. Any land dwelling monster you could think of exists in this massive park. All the ones I saw before that day were small little things, a few fairies here or there, a Not Deer while on the back of the bike late at night. You simply did acknowledge their existence and you were fine. Unless you stumbled across one of the more serious ones, like I did, and then you have no choice but to accept the things that exist here. It was about 6 years ago when it all went to shit. I was 16 at the time, going through highschool and consistently getting the short end of the stick. I won't go into any detail about my school life, but just like any small town, a small class met there were almost no secrets. That's how I ended up finding out some of the popular kids in my grade were going to take a visit out to one of the mine shafts in the immediate area and do some sort of 'seance'. I should note the town I grew up in was an old mining community, the abandoned tunnel system carved underneath most of the town itself. Nearly all the entrances were vertical, shafts going straight down into the abyss. However, there were two mine entrances you could walk into, the only two out of the nearly 50 locations. I've done my fair share of paranormal shit, I used to use Ouija Boards all the time, went to supposedly haunted buildings, but I followed the rules. I believed wholeheartedly in the existence of the supernatural and knew it needed to be respected. These kids though, well let's just say they found it fun to steal headstones from abandoned cemeteries among other things. My ranking in the social hierarchy was that I knew and talked to all the popular kids, but never hung out with them outside of class. Hearing their conversation would finally change that, despite the fact I hated most of them, and with some minor convincing I was able to tag along. I was going to hopefully bring order to the situation, be able to stop themselves from royally fucking themselves over. I knew none of them really believed in the supernatural, thought there were no consequences to their actions, and part of me wanted to keep them safe despite disliking them. My hero complex was what ended up screwing my entire life over. They had seemed to pull out all the stops for this one. The group of 12 teenagers arrived at the mine entrance at 02:45am, an array of stuff between them all. Alcohol, candles, salt, chalk, a Ouija Board, anything that seemed to scream horror movie gone bad. It was at this I was questioning my decision, I had only heard they were going to try and do a simple seance. This all looked like something far more serious though, one of them had actually put research into it; I was impressed as I was concerned. Doing it in the witching hour was already unsettling enough, but as he walked into the only depths of the mine the feeling only doubled. We went along until a bend appeared, stopping just after so the group was in complete darkness. Even with the 6 lanterns the darkness crept uncomfortably close. I have to admit now, I'm afraid of the dark, always have been, and that fear has only worsened the longer I live. Things thrive in it that we cannot comprehend. I did little to help set up, I was going to voice an opinion if they messed up, but everything was placed correctly. It took nearly 20 minutes to complete, and a glance at my watch told me it was 5 after 03:00. The head of the group called us all over, and we sat on the ground in the best of a circle we could manage. I'll spare you most of what was said, ignoring the fact I've forgotten most of it, it was all cliche words you'd find when Googling 'how to do a seance.' The lanterns were turned off, leaving us with only scant candle light. At this point I closed my eyes, ignoring the darkness surrounding us, the feeling in my gut telling me something was wrong. As the person speaking finished her last words, we all held our breath. I couldn't see anyone else, but I could only assume the looks on their faces as the minutes passed with nothing happening. After what I assume was around 5 minutes of nothing but silence, a shuffling next to me made me sorry my eyes open. One of the boys was moving, an annoyed look on his face. "I told you this wasn't going to work man, let's actually do something fun and crack open one of the bottles." He was starting to stand, to break the circle, we hadn't even tried to officially end. I called out "wait!" at the same time as the girl performing it but it was too late. He stood, letting go of the hands next to him and moving towards one of the backpacks. Everything next happened in very quick succession. He grabbed the backpack and all of the candles went out at once, putting us all in darkness. I scramble for a lantern near me as a few others call out in surprise; some are laughing. I manage to find a lantern, my heart pounding out of my chest, and turn it on. I turn to face the group, I see closely in the distance the reflection of eyes, the glint of teeth visible only because of the large grin on the face of the creature. I ignored the cave dweller that blew out the candles. I pointed out the slight breeze that was being pulled into the mine to the group as the other lanterns flick on. Any tension dissipated and the seance was over, everything packed away as the alcohol was brought out. I moved so I sat near where the dweller had been, making an invisible boundary so no one would go farther in. Things were fine after that, while I stayed sober the other teenager got drunk. Ghost stories were passed around giving the setting, supposed true experiences some of them had been through. No one brought up any creatures though, all stories based around ghosts. A few about champ, one about Bigfoot. This is when the conversation took the worst possible turn, and where it all went to hell. "Do you really think shit like that exists?" One boy called out after the Bigfoot story, his words slurred. "Bigfoot? Don't know man, I wasn't telling the truth." The storyteller replies, causing complaints to be thrown around by the others. They all knew it wasn't true. "Not just him, all of that bullshit? We all knew that the seance was fake. But the other stuff, the indians 'round here sure think so." The first boy continued on, messily downing a shot as he talked. My heart rate started to pick up, I didn't like where this was going. We had a good size Native reservation an hour and a half north of us near the top of the lake. Many families went up there to buy cigarettes and chew in bulk for dirt cheap. Their folk stories had managed to trickle down into the southern town as the years went on, some of the most famous ones were also a part of their beliefs. I don't even enjoy typing their names, but I will for this specific exchange only. "Are you talking about the Skinwalkers?" The girl who performed the seance added in and I shook my head. I was wrong to hope she'd be smart enough to not say it after all the research she'd done. "I think it's much more believable compared to ghosts, their stories have been around for generations." I agreed with her, though I did also believe in ghosts. The longer a stories continued to survive without any changes to it, the more likely it was real. "Yeah those things, or the Rake," I didn't point out that the Rake wasn't Native, it was however believed to exist in this area so I gave him credit. "No one's ever seen one, not one person in this town. You think they'd go after the night hunters if they were existing and all." I was uncomfortable as the conversation switched to drunken ideas on how to find one and if they were even real. The name was being repeated over and over, either they didn't know or just didn't care. "What about the other one, oh what's it's name, the dear looking thing. Imagine the rack you'd get off that thing." The boy from before said with a raised voice, the comment made the group erupt in laughs. My blood ran cold, I opened my mouth to try to redirect the conversation. "I think tha-" I was cut off by the only one in the group I mildly liked, someone who I knew knew not to say it. "You talkin' 'bout the Wendigo? That thing supposed to be a killer bud. Doubt you'd get a shot off before it'd get ya with how bad your aim is." I stared at him, baffled and angry, as the conversation turned into an argument over aiming skills. I was afraid, very much so, and had the right to be if everything said about the beast was true. I needed to leave, to get the fuck out of there before it got to us, but I wasn't going to make the 2 mile walk to the cars by myself. So I stayed there, sitting on that cold dirt floor as they all laughed and drank and ignored the hell they just created. Not that any of us really knew what was going to happen. After this incident I always listen to my instincts because if I had left at the start, I would have never seen the thing. Time drew on for what felt like hours, but it was only around 30 minutes later that all the alcohol had been drunk and the group seemed to be getting ready to leave. I didn't want to stay, but I didn't want to get up and walk into those woods. Yet I did, picking up all the trash as the group got everything packed away. With a bag of trash in one hand, and a lantern in the other, I forced myself into a spot near the front of the group. As one of the only sober people there, there were three in total for each car, I also needed to help direct the 9 drunk teenagers down the crush covered path back to the cars; to safety. I was scared to say the least, the darkness of the woods, the idea of that spirit being somewhere in the area, it all elevated my heart rate even more. We were just over a mile into the hike when we stopped for a piss break. Each sober person took a group of three to watch to stop them from wandering off. None of the small groups were over 6 feet from each other, all keeping close to the trail. I watched the drunkards in front of me as they took turns going behind a tree to piss. It was as I watched the guy, making sure he would fall over, something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I almost had to force myself to look towards the trees to the left, just barely making out something in the distance. Antlers, and ones nearly 8 feet up in the air. My stomach lurched in my chest and I desperately shot my eyes back towards the 3 in front of me. I didn't see it, it's not there, I'm not going to die. I was on edge as the group was brought back together, and despite my efforts I was forced to watch the back of the group. We had less than a mile to go but I felt that it was already too late, and it was. About 5 minutes later the noises of branches breaking behind us brought the back of the group to a halt. My heart hammered in my chest as I turned around, knowing what would be there. It was about 30 feet behind us, standing in the middle of the trail we had just been. I couldn't bring myself to look away as it started us all down, as its soulless eyes met mine. I had no choice but to accept what in front of me was real. I thought I was going to puke or pass out, maybe a combination of the both. Someone started to say something but then it moved closer, far closer than I thought it could in a mere second, and I was instinctively yelling at everyone to run. I bolted, running as fast as I could the way we needed to go. Noises told me that some of the others followed, and screaming told me others hadn't had the time. Everything was a blur after I started running, I kept running until I was steps from getting in a car. My lungs burned, my legs ached, and I felt like I was going to pass out. As I got in the car I made myself wait, told myself I'd sit there for 10 minutes before leaving anyone not in my vehicle here. After 10 minutes everyone was here except 4 kids, one being a designated driver, though I could care less if the other drove themselves home drunk. The one who had said its name had also not shown up. I knew I was speeding as I drove off, heading towards the house of one of the kids in the car. I thought I had somehow escaped death, had just seen something to scar me for the rest of my life, but the days after the event proved differently. I was the only one who remembered what happened, some kids actually didn't remember the events after leaving the cave, but everyone gave me a weird look when I brought up the 4 who had died. They all believed they had gotten back to the house with us, none of them remembered the sound of the screams or what had been there. I was confused, thankfully the parents there acknowledged the missing kids, but it didn't explain the rest of the group. It wasn't until after the parents went to go look for them I came to a plausible explanation: not everyone had actually turned around. That had to be it. I knew for a fact two who had died had been behind me, and the other two somewhere in front. Everyone who saw it had died, everyone but me. That's where things didn't make sense, and to this day still don't. I can only assume the answer I came to was correct and somehow I was spared from the fate of death. The parents found what was left of the bodies of the 4 others on the trail, and police investigation ruled it as a bear attack. A real possible answer, given both black and brown bears existed in the area. I knew it was wrong, I knew that evil spirit had killed them, that it had spared my life. Some of you may be questioning how exactly this fucked my life over besides some mental scarring. How being spared sealed my fate to something terrible. I'll try to explain it now. I saw something that on the ranking was mid tier. It wasn't just some fairy or gnome, it was a malevolent spirit known by many. I acknowledged its existence that night, something I know now shouldn't have allowed my life to continue. The forces in control of this park let us humans live here normally as long as we feign ignorance to the other things that live here with us; they want to stay a secret from the rest of the population. Many humans don't believe what they see anyways, and anytime someone died from one it's because they did believe. They saw it for what it was, and that means they could therefore spread that information to others. That's why they killed people, and while I'm making it sound like it's the humans fault, many of these things purposely put you into a situation where you're forced to acknowledge them just so they can kill you. The Feasters are just one to use that tactic. Some people do live after it if what they saw was low tier, like a gnome. To avoid going into detail right now, my ranking is based on the survivability after encountering one; low tier high survival and vise versa. I'm still not sure why some mean death while others don't, but I do know my experience should have been the end. The malevolent spirit saw something in me and let me go, to put it simply, what exactly that was is for a later story. By doing so, I was now allowed to openly acknowledge everything else without fear of death. I was given some fucked up right to view them all, to see the area I lived in for what it actually was. Now at the time, I was unaware of all of this, and thought I had somehow gotten lucky enough to avoid death. With new memories scared into my mind, I continued for the next few months believing everything was fine. That was quickly destroyed by the first encounter I had with a rather close, but untrustworthy, friend of mine. That story is for another day however, as it's far later than I thought, and I have to get up at 01:00 for my bounty tomorrow. I hope this satisfied you all for now, I'll be back soon enough with more. And remember, Don't look at them, don't speak to them, don't trust them.

Life On The Road (Part 4) A Reason To Keep Moving.

ye5v9j

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye5v9j/life_on_the_road_part_4_a_reason_to_keep_moving/

First https://redd.it/xuwj9d Previous https://redd.it/y76oyl When you get a job that’s related to the supernatural, you start to really hate the woods. Creatures use them as a hunting ground fairly often because of how easy it is to pass human deaths off as an accident. People get lost all the time. Simple as that. It’s also much easier for a ten-foot-tall monster with six limbs to hide inside a dense forest instead of in the middle of the city. Most of the jobs I picked up involved the woods in some way. I stayed on the road and never lingered in one spot for too long. To earn a living, I investigated rumors of creature sightings to pass along to a Corporation that dealt with that sort of thing. A great deal of the stories turned out to be false, but the true ones often became difficult to handle. I should always leave after I confirm a supernatural cause, but in some cases I simply couldn’t do that. A job came up to just look around a popular campsite because a handful of hikers had gone missing in the past few weeks. The fact no bodies been found, or any traces of the person was enough of a reason for me to start talking with people. I didn’t come right out the gate asking about supernatural sightings. I doubted that would get me very far. I instead started out with a professional and logical reason to be interviewing people, then went with the flow of the conversation. Hopefully it drifted to what I needed to know. For this job I put on my dress shirt and good pants to make myself look somewhat official. It was too hot for a jacket so I kept it in the car. I carried a clip board and printed off some fake info dense reports at the local library. I then went to each camping site requesting if I could speak with them about if they’d seen any strange wildlife lately. Someone related to one of the missing campers said they heard some strange voices off in the woods before their friend disappeared. I asked the campers about the voices, claiming it to be some pet parrots, and other exotic birds that were released by a neglectful owner. I lied claiming to be a part of some sort of government funded environmental group researching the effects of invasive species along with released pets. Everyone I spoke to accepted this lie mostly because I’ve had so much practice making is sound believable. Gathering information became easier when people could claim the voices, they heard were some sort of parrot and not some creature they didn’t think was real. And some people out right claimed to have seen pale creatures that stalked lost hikers without caring how it made them sound. I collected all the information I could. The sun starting to get low and I only needed to check on one last camp site. So far everyone acted friendly and willing to help with my false parrot job. With it getting so late, I got worried that the last few campers didn’t want me to bother them. I walked up to the last site and spotted about six people sitting around the fire. They were roasting hotdogs and my stomach growled from not eating that day. Travelling like this was rough and some days I needed to save my wallet. At least after this survey job got done, I would have cash for a decent meal. The group stopped talking and looked over at me confused on who I was. They assumed I might be a ranger of some sort wanting to tell them they broke some sort of camping rule. “I hate to bother you at dinner time but may I ask you a few short questions related to an invasive species study?” I asked in the politest voice I could. I’ve been gifted with a softer voice and a kind face that got people to relaxe around me. Even though they were eating they agreed to listen to my questions. “Kinda late in the day to be doing this sort of thing.” One of the older men pointed out after I wrote down the first set of their answers. “You are the last site. I didn’t want to head all the way back to town and then need to come back tomorrow. As far as I’m aware, no new campers are set to arrive and a few are leaving. I wanted to get this finished in a day.” I explained and it was an honest answer. He nodded and took a sip of his beer. A boy no older than ten came over and asked the man to help him open a package of chocolate for smores. As could tell this was a close family camping for the weekend. I felt bad invading their space and swore to leave as quickly as possible. “Have you heard any strange sounds at all? We suspect there was a parrot released in the woods and would like to confirm where it may be.” I explained and the older man gave me a look. “A parrot? I suppose we haven’t really heard anything strange. But would they really send someone all the way out here asking about a single parrot?” He questioned, his dark eyes narrowing, He seemed nice enough but also the kind the dislike the government for whatever reason. The boy near his chair spoke up unaware of the implication in the man’s question. “We heard something last night. There must be more than one parrot. We kept hearing someone in the trees saying help.” He mentioned but didn’t look scared over what he just said. The man’s eyes widened, not knowing this happened. The rest of the adults stopped to listen. I let them talk thinking I might have stumbled onto something. “I didn’t know any of that. When time did this happen?” The man asked, setting his beer down. “I dunno. Late. You were snoring so we asked auntie Ruth to go out and look. She was out in the woods for a few minutes. Then came back acting weird. She said she just got sick. ” The boy explained. “How come you didn’t tell us any of this until now?” Another adult questioned. “It’s not a big deal. Auntie said it was nothing and to go back to sleep. I didn’t hear it again so I thought I was dreaming. She’s not been feeling well all day so I didn’t bring it up.” He said and went back to his chocolate unaware of the eyes on him. This was strange and weird enough to call in an agent to look things over with me. I wanted to ask about checking in with the aunt but with my cover story I couldn’t. I’ve heard stories about people going into the woods alone and coming back different. I didn’t have proof that happened last night or the aunt just really wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t hang around to check, but also didn’t want to leave in fear these people were in danger. I noticed the group started to look at the stranger still standing around and knew they wanted to ask me to leave. I opened my mouth to thank them for the help and trying to figure out a way to stall things. Then, the world started to shake. The small group cried out in shock because we were in an area that never got earthquakes. The shaking stopped quickly enough and only knocked over a handful of things. No one was harmed but fear ripped through my stomach. I knew what just happened and didn’t have a clue on how to warn them to leave without sounding insane. They all appeared shaken up beyond experiencing an earthquake for the first time in their lives. Deep down, they knew what happened wasn’t normal but didn’t want to admit it to themselves. I wasn’t able to tell them the ground shaking caused from the space between two worlds crashing together. It was rare, but did happen on occasion. Sometimes two worlds overlapped, and other times a rip would break between them letting all sorts of creatures to flood through before the dimensions repaired itself. I didn’t know if the crash created a break or not, but needed to get them all to leave just to be safe. Just when I thought of some sort of excuse, a perfectly good reason for them to leave ripped through a tent. Two of the campers screamed seeing their family member break free of the fabric, her body changing into an unnatural shape. My heart sank knowing auntie Ruth had been eaten and replaced the night before. The clash of the worlds and sudden burst of magic scattering through the area caused her to drop the human disguise to attack. Normally these creatures were a bit stealthier, but she’d gotten so riled up with the air being stirred in such a chaotic way. My eyes saw magic flow better than other people simply from being around it more often. I couldn’t see how it really looked and acted, but from what I could see, the forest’s natural flow got totally out of whack. The monster screeched causing the rest of her family to freeze. The mouth taking up half the face and skin losing all color. Her hair started to fall out and hands turning into claws. I moved before anyone else. The monster charged forwards aiming for the weakest target first. I circled my body around the poor stunned boy protecting him from the sharp claws and teeth that came down. I dealt with the supernatural but I wasn’t a fighter. I knew things others didn’t and it normally didn’t help in the slightest. My job was to report and not to kill the monster I came across. I didn’t have any magic weapons of super strength. I feared this one creature may slaughter all of us. The claws cutting into my shoulder spraying blood across the campsite. The man I spoke with earlier snapped into action. He found the axe they used for firewood and in one swing, he brought it down on the creature’s neck. His family shocked into silence for a few minutes. I double checked to make sure the boy was fine besides getting mentally traumatized for the rest of his life. “Auntie Ruth...” He whimpered. He tried to look at the body but I shielded his sight until his mother came over to collect him. I doubted he would ever stop blaming himself for asking his aunt to check he strange noises that night. I stood up, shoulder on fire but the wound really looked worst that it was. “You... We need answers.” The man said, face wild from stress. He put two and two together. I wasn’t asking questions because of a rogue parrot. I knew about the monsters in the woods and that was what the questions had been about. He'd been forced to kill someone he cared about, or at least something that looked like that person. The axe still in his hand, the sight of it threatening me to give him the answers he wanted. “I... I needed to confirm if there are creatures in this area or not. I’m sorry... There just wasn’t enough proof to send in professionals to search the woods.” I explained truly feeling terrible a woman died. He wanted to blame someone besides himself. In a rage, he grabbed my collar ready to attack but a voice made him stop. He saw the mother holding her son begging him not to hurt me in any way. He backed off and I really didn’t blame him for the outburst. I would have taken the hit if it made him feel better in the slightest. My attention was drawn towards the woods when I felt a pull deep from inside my chest. It was hard to explain the feeling but I knew more of those creatures were nearby. When it comes to supernatural creatures, they can be completely invisible to humans if they wanted. But that tended to only apply to ones with some sort of sense that knew being hidden was ideal. The creatures in those woods were feral. They didn’t know how to keep themselves from being seen or sensed by others. The man noticed my gaze and tightened the grip on the handle of the axe. “Is there more?” He asked with a hint of fear. “My cellphone isn’t working.” One of the others said, voice shaking, “That earthquake was... not natural. It messed with electronics. Cellphones won’t work, but your cars should unless they’re electric. You all need to leave. I’ll go to the other sites and warn everyone else, if they haven't left yet.” I told them. “Thank God we can’t afford a Tesla.” One of them joked. From what they all saw; a poorly timed joke was what they needed. A few of them started to grab for their things but I told them to just take anything they could use as a weapon and their car keys. Gathering their gear just a reflex. I took the time to cover the creature’s body with a blanket I pulled from the tent. The boy openly sobbing into his mother’s arms and I desperately wanted to get him to believe none of this was his fault. He might be young enough to recover from such a terrible event. Just as we were about to go different directions, the man handed me the axe. They had two and I thanked him for the weapon. My left arm hurt far too much to use it and I was lucky enough the monster went for my weaker side. “Is there a trick to killing these things?” He asked hoping for the best. “Sadly, no. They as strong as a human, but it can get bad if you get out numbered because of their claws and teeth. Just fight as hard as you’re able and get the hell out of here as fast as you can.” I hated that was the best advice I could give them. Based on the appearance of the creature they were something that really didn’t have a name. But I knew the monsters wasn’t overly strong so this group should be able to handle it. “I know the people camping nearest to the parking lot. I’ll warn them so skip that site.” The man said and noticed his family calling him over. The sun started to set and they needed to get moving. I thanked him again to let him leave with the rest praying he would be alright. I started down the other path hoping everyone at the next site was fine. By some miracle none of the other creatures got there before me. I placed the axe behind a tree just before I got into their site wondering how the hell to explain all of this. My bloody shoulder did the trick. I told the group of three a crazy guy was going to sites with an axe. I got lucky to get away and just warned the last site. They offered to bring me with them, but I lied saying I had someone just off the trial I was going to meet up with. They grabbed their bags and left not wanting to risk the danger of staying. With their cellphones not working there wasn’t a chance of one of them calling the police to disprove my lie. I mentally thought back to how many more camp sites I needed to check when that pulling feeling came back. A creature was close. I grabbed the axe and ran in the other direction the campers went, trying to lure the creature away from them. I felt the thing in the dark racing towards me which I got some mixed feelings about. The thing leapt from the woods and I got a very lucky hit on it. The blade of the axe cracking into the creature’s skull with a sound that nearly made me sick. I doubted I would be able to fight off too many of these things. I really wasn’t strong enough to take two at once. I tried my cellphone to call backup. The Corporation gave me the phone so it dealt with magic outbursts better. I connected a call for half a second and then the phone died. I might not have gotten a clear message through but they would know something was up and my location for the job. They would send someone with such an odd call from my phone. Now I needed to focus on making sure no one stayed in these woods. I kept to the trail trying to see my way in the dark. By some luck I found another camp site. They left behind their tents but the rest of the gear was taken away. That meant whoever had been here already dipped. “Don’t move!” A flashlight beam blinded my sight. I heard the gun moving before I saw it aimed in my direction. When my sight recovered, I looked at very nervous ranger staring me down trying to decided what to do. They dealt with lost hikers and bears, not axe welding mad men. And I looked the part. I cursed under my breath trying to think of a way out of this. “Listen, I’m-” I said, one hand raised trying to look harmless. “I said don’t move!” The man said, scared to death. Great. This would be a pain in the ass to deal with. A slight rumbling under my feet reminded me of how dangerous this forest was. I still didn't know the extent of the damage the crashed caused or if monsters were pouring into our world as we stood there. I didn’t have time to stand around talking my way out of this. I avoided getting shot in the same way I was able to get the first set of campers to leave. A pale creature came from the trees next to the ranger. The thing screamed causing him to jump back in fear. The twisted features of the monster making the ranger freeze up in the same way most people did. My body moved on its own again. I arched back my arm and tossed the axe at the creature as hard as I could knowing I wouldn’t reach them in time. The blade did not hit the monster but it knocked it off course and slowed it down enough for the ranger to put a few bullets into the skinny body. I ran over to grab my weapon feeling another creature coming in fast. I normally couldn’t sense monsters this clearly. I guessed it was because of the odd effects of tie dimensions crashing together. I could bring the axe down on the monster's skull so quickly because I knew where it would be. The ranger letting out a string of curses at the sight. “What the actual fuck?!” He demanded. “I can’t explain. Can you start checking out sites to make sure everyone has left? You have a gun and a second person helping would be faster.” I asked him. I started to feel dizzy from the wound on my shoulder and moving around so quickly. He simply nodded, not understanding what was going on but knew he wouldn’t get any real answers. “I just cleared out one to the east of us. Most of the sites are north so I’ll start there.” The ranger said and couldn’t keep his eyes off the dead pale creatures. North? I focused on trying to sense the monsters in the woods. I couldn’t tell how many there were, or how far away they stood either. But they weren’t heading north. That didn’t make any sense. They should be going towards the bigger source of food. In fact, it almost felt as if they started heading this direction. My stomach dropped realizing how wrong I acted going towards camp sites with other people inside them. Monsters liked to eat humans, but they were attracted to magic more. If given the choice, they would eat a weaker supernatural creature to gain the power inside their body over a human. I didn’t hold more magic than other humans but I smelled like I did. “I need to draw them away. I think they’re attracted by the smell of my blood. I’ll go the way I came and deeper into the woods. Please keep clearing out the camp sites for me.” I told the ranger. I didn’t give him the chance to reply. I ran past him, shoulder flaring up in hot pain. I only stropped long enough to steal a flashlight that was left behind. The ranger protesting over me going deeper into the woods alone. He shouted I was going to die and that was fine. Unlike everyone else, death didn’t matter to me. I pushed my body as hard as I could. My theory confirmed when I sensed all the creatures heading in my direction and away from the camp sites. Again, feeling some mixed emotions about that. A pale hand came from behind a tree and caught my shirt. We struggled and I got a bite taken out of my good arm before I killed the monster with a few clumsy blows. My senses weren’t perfect, far from it. My fear dulled them and I could only tell they were following and not how close they were. For all I knew, hundreds of those things swarmed the woods looking for a tasty snack. I just needed to hold out long enough for the rest of the people in the woods to get far away from here. Easier said than done. I’m weak. I’ve always known that about myself. Most people would be able to beat me in an arm-wrestling match, and my body got worn out easily. I didn’t know how much time passed as I ran through the woods getting lost. I survived four attacks from the pale human shaped creatures, winning the fights by sheer luck. My body covered in cuts and some deeper wounds. I knew I was going to bleed out unless someone found me soon. My good luck ran out when I literally walked into the worst part of the woods. The blood loss and fear over riding all my senses. I didn’t even know about the biggest monster in the forest until I was nearly directly next to it. The thing stood in a clearing it made by uprooting trees with massive hands. A smaller pale creature chased me into the clearing, causing me to fall over the exposed tree roots. The human sized threat was picked up by the bigger one finally directing my attention towards it. I dropped my flashlight a few fights ago but saw the creature just fine in the bright moonlight. The thing massive and made up of body parts of other pale monsters. It wasted no time ripping apart the one it plucked off from the ground, eating the pieces so frantically. The hands made up of other hands, and the huge body being supported by more of the same twisted arms along the side. Even the head was made of so many other faces melted together. I heard about amalgamations like this before but never wanted to ever come across one. Fear over took my body. I sat on the ground trembling and teeth chattering. My only weapon a small axe against a ten-foot monster made up of other bodies that were just as strong as myself. I accepted my death but not the pain and fear that came with it. The creature lifted a gruesome head to let out a screech that ripped through the trees. The thing called to the other pale shapes in the woods to come to it and to be added to the hideous body. The thing finally noticed a new meal. The hand coming down to grab a hold of my beaten and bloody body. Just before it reached me, a gunshot went off, a bullet tearing through flesh. I snapped out of my shock for a moment to look over my shoulder to spot my savior on the other side of the clearing. “340!” I called out to the agent thankful he arrived but also dreaded the fact he came to save me. The man only brought a second person with him. I knew his strength and doubted these two could take out the beast behind me. At best they did some damage they the monster ate all of us to repair the flesh it lost in the fight. I got up to run over to the two agents, my legs shaking and I rarely got this afraid. I wasn’t scared for myself, but rather the pair ready to charge into an impossible battle. I haven’t met the other agent before but knew at a glance he was 340’s brother. A younger one at that. His fresh face and small frame not suited for battling monsters. The hand of arms came down on him and he shot his gun trying to stay free of the strong grip. 340 busy firing off shots from a stronger gun in order to keep the rest of the arms back. I put all my strength into one last swing of the axe. The blade digging into the flesh of the creature casing some damage but also getting stuck inside a hard arm bone. The hand moving away from the younger agent to grab me instead. It hurt like hell, some of my ribs breaking right away from the fingers tightly wrapping around my chest. The agent’s face fell into regret for being unable to do anything to save me. He reached out a hand trying to stick a piece of paper on the mountain of twisted flesh. Through the pain I recognized the paper to be a magic charm, that that most likely exploded after it was activated. From the angle I was being lifted away, I could reach down and steal the charm from his hand. He protested but I already took the paper from him and got brought towards the horrible mouth of the beast. This was fine. I had a weapon and knew how to use it. My mind swam in pain and in fear of what I needed to do. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. I nearly froze up when the hand dangled my body over the open mouth of the monster. The smell of rotting flesh making my eyes water and stomach roll. I faltered for a second when another hand grabbed a hold of my leg, ready to pull. “Adelaide!” The sound of my name came ripping through all my pain and fear. I didn’t need to look behind me to know 340 started to madly fire at the creature trying to save me. It was too late; we both knew it. I already was at deaths door before coming across this beast. At least little weak me could do something to help. The large hand pulled at my leg, ripping the entire thing off. I knew it was coming but the shock still nearly knocked me out. The monster made the mistake of holding my body between two fingers letting me bend over and place the charm on my thigh moments before it was torn off. The shock of the blood loss taking over very quickly afterwards making me black out. The ripped off leg with the charm dropped inside the monster's mouth, and a few seconds later the entire thing exploded from the inside. One of the things I’ve learned when it came to monster is that no matter how tough the outside is, the insides are always weaker. Getting an exploding charm in their guts a sure way to kill something stronger than yourself. I expected to be dead pretty soon after having my leg ripped off. My eyes opened a crack, feeling so damn cold. I wished I felt the pain instead of the ice my veins became. I faintly smelled rain and wondered when it started to fall. I couldn’t even feel if I was sitting up or on my back. Suddenly a warmth came to my cheek that spread down my neck for a brief second. “Addy...” I’ve always liked hearing that nickname. 340 rarely used it. My face weakly twitched into a smile I hoped he saw and I fell into the darkness of death that I dreaded. It was a bad death. Sometimes I just drifted into a pitch-black sea unable to feel anything until the dawn came and my eyes opened. Other times I fell into a darkness so cold I didn’t understand how I didn’t go insane from it. Even being unable to feel my body, everything hurt. That sheer coldness invading every part of me. Then, the noises came. Distorted faint screaming I drifted closer and closer towards. The freezing in my very core increasing as I got closer to those tormented voices. I didn’t think this was the real afterlife. I couldn’t bring myself to believe anyone else suffered through such a thing. Not a single person deserved the torment of that unknowable place. A crack of light came, dimmer than normal. My eyes opened and lungs flooded with air. That death was bad, very bad. So bad I puked up bile right away and started to cry and shake on my side. I couldn't move for a very long time. Rain came down in the dim morning light and the damp cold soaked into everything. I let myself curl up and silently sob from the experience not caring if anyone saw or not. Once that got out of my system I sat up, still shaking. I looked around seeing an umbrella stuck into the ground in an attempt to keep the upper half of my body dry through the night. A suit jacket placed over my chest and I tightened a grip on it, trying to keep the chill out. My legs soaked but my body still trembled for a different reason. The clearing been cleaning up of the body parts but I still saw blood stains in the grass. I was shocked to see a deep hole the explosion created. If that younger agent used the charm on the hand to try and save me, would I even have any part of a body to come back the next morning? I shook my head just thankful those two agents were alive. I got to my feet, taking the umbrella with me. I didn’t feel like I slept at all and my body still bore phantom pains from the night. I found trail through the woods and quickly caught up with an agent that guided me down the path and to the small tent they set up over a picnic table. From there they got me a hot cup of coffee and a towel to dry my hair. I didn’t feel much like talking and let an agent I never met before tell me the results of the night. Aside from auntie Ruth, and well, myself, no humans were killed that night. The rip in the worlds hadn’t fully closed yet but it was now too small for any monsters to come through. They assumed the connection between the worlds have been weak in this area for a long time and that’s why some of those pale monsters were already inside the forest before the crash happened. They still had agents out in the woods ensuring no more of the creatures were roaming about and others worked on a cover up story. I nodded along feeling drained. At least everyone got out safe. I didn’t care too much about the finer details. “Is that your car left in the parking lot? You’re free to head home whenever you feel ready.” The agent that gave me the debrief nodded towards the only car in the parking lot. I felt too dazed to drive just yet. I wanted to sit for a little while longer and drink the coffee they gave me. I wasn’t even aware enough of my surroundings notice how bad the coffee tasted. “I’ll take him.” I raised my head to see 340 duck into the small tent. His suit jacket missing and I finally clued into who let me borrow theirs. No wonder it was so big on me. He was soaked from the rain but didn’t appear to care. He fought the smaller creatures all night but only had a few small cuts and a bruise that took up half his face. All of that would heal in a few hours. He already took my car keys out of my pockets while I slept leaving no room for argument. I still shook my head not wanting to pull him away from work. “It’s fine. I can drive myself in a few minutes.” I very weakly protested. “Where are you staying? I’ll put the address into my phone.” The agent acted as if I didn’t even speak. I stood up, uneven on my weak legs. It wasn’t this often I felt so bad after a death. My leg screaming in pain after getting up even though my body fully healed from what killed me the night before. I wavered and a large hand on my back steadied me. I needed to tell 340 what motel I rented a room at knowing I wouldn’t be able to make it there any time soon. The fact he kept a hand on my back and I still wore his jacket around my shoulders wasn’t missed by the other agent. I’ve never met him before and he wasn’t one of 340’s brothers. With them all wearing suits, the agents tended to blend in with each other. I caught his eyes darting between me and 340 with his head still. His mind slowly trying to process what possible relationship we had. The two things I learned about the agents was they weren’t as intimating as they looked at first glance, and they loved gossip. I wondered if I just caused 340 some embarrassment for not returning his jacket or stepping away from him. My body felt so damn cold I refused to give up a layer, rumors be damned. We stepped out and into the light rain. I risked a glance back at the other agent and he gave me a flash of a thumbs up approving of whatever fantasy his mind just made up. I was unable to return the gesture without 340 noticing. I just gave him a quick nod and let myself be guided into the passenger seat of my car. I fell asleep right away listening to the sounds of the rain against the windshield. The jerk of a sudden parking job jolted me awake. 340 hadn’t yet mastered a smooth parking job yet. He was always so clumsy no matter how hard he tried to cover up that fact. I got out looking at the small motel and thankfully still had my key to my room. It was one of the half square motels with the rooms looking out into the courtyard. The room cheap so I took it. I regretfully took off the borrowed jacket to hand back to 340. He accepted it and exchanged it for my car keys. Then we awkwardly stood in the walkway with rain drops pattering away at the leaking roof. My body feeling too damn cold and I needed to wrap my arms around myself to keep from shaking. “How long do you have your room for?” 340 asked. His phone rang for a few seconds. He dismissed the call and focused back on my answer. “Until tomorrow at noon. But I can extend the stay to one more night if I need too. It’s cheap, so I can afford it right now.” I said with a shrug I hoped came off as causal. “Do that. You need to rest. I can tell last night was hard on you. You slept all day. Wait, here...” He reached into his back pocket ready to take out his wallet to give me money. He always tried to do something like this. I shook my head not wanting to accept the cash regardless if I needed it or not. I felt a bit shocked I slept for so long. With the sky being grey I couldn’t tell what time I woke up at. I rarely slept beyond dawn on the days I died. That death was harder on me than I thought, but I didn’t want to upset the agent by admitting it. “It’s fine. I got paid for this job so I don’t need money right now.” I said feeling worn down to the bone. “Just take it so you can go longer between jobs.” He almost ordered. I stared at his face seeing the bruise already healed a little during the drive over. His sunglasses missing letting me see his steel grey eyes that looked like they should belong to the dead. His stern expression and rough voice making me smile. 340 so damn cute it was dangerous for him. “Not all jobs are like this. I just got unlucky last night. Most of the time it’s just interviewing harmless drunks about what they thought they saw on a bender only to find it out a harmless creature behind the sightings. It’s fine.” I said and placed my hand over the one trying to offer up some bills. “None of this is fine.” He said, the statement clearly slipping past his defenses. The main reason why I refused to accept money from him was I didn’t want to rely on someone. It could turn into a habit and I simply could not gain any habits or routines. He knew this. He's known this since we met. His hand closed over my smaller one, and I didn’t realize how cold my body became until I felt his warm fingers over the back of my hand. Unable to help himself, he bent down to press a warm forehead against mine. His phone going off again making him let out an annoyed click of his tongue. I let go of his hand and he needed to answer the call. The fact he got enough time to drive me back to the motel was a miracle. I couldn't ask for much more. I left him to the call and went into my rented room. My body getting the shakes the moment I no longer heard his voice. I needed to see if I could adjust the temperature. There should be no reason why some rain made the air this chilly. I didn’t even bring along any heavy sweaters due to the season. Just as my teeth started to rattle, a knock at the door drew my attention. I opened it and for some reason got surprised seeing the agent standing on the other side. I just assumed he would have needed to leave after getting called into work. “I asked for the night off work.” 340 said, his normal rough voice with a hint of embarrassment. A night off for him meant five to six hours. But that was enough. I let him inside to finally be able to get some warmth back. We shared a room like this twice. Both times he needed to go back in for a case and got dressed a few hours before the sun rose. I expected to wake up in the morning with an empty room and a text message saying an emergency came up. I heard his phone ping in the middle of the night. I didn’t bother getting up and stayed curled up inside the blankets trying to keep a hold of some body heat. I must have looked so pathetic that 340 felt sorry for me. He stayed until dawn which made me wonder what kind of favors he pulled to actually have a real night away from work. I sat up when the sun started to creep though the cheap curtains. The agent fully dressed besides his jacket and tie. He found his jacket and I got out of bed to track down his tie. He didn’t want me to get up but I was awake anyway. I stopped in front of him, tie in hand and started to fix it for him. His hands catching my arms stopping my progress. Our eyes met in the gloom of the early morning. His hair a mess and pale scar down his face nearly glowing in the dim light. In that moment I thought he was the most handsome person on the planet. That idea making the fact he needed to leave all that much more bitter. “Adelaide, you don’t have to live like this. You never should have gone through what you did. You have no real powers, and no supernatural blood in you. You can have a normal life.” 340 said, voice in a low whisper. He might look human, but he wasn’t. Him and his brothers had no chance of living a normal life. All of them born to be weapons or pawns for the monster they called a parent. I hated the fact he needed to put his life on the line every day fighting other creatures. And I hated I added to his stress because he watched my leg get torn off. I never wanted to force someone who cared about me to witness such a gruesome death like that. 340 cared. He cared a lot and that was our main issue. I shook my head and started to finish fixing his tie. “I had a normal life. I settled down and all that. Got into a nice routine, figured my life out and ready to have nothing happen to me.” I paused speaking, tie in hand and hovering on fully pulling up the knot around his neck. The rough fabric seeing better days after going through so many battles. “And one day death came. It took everyone. I woke up, but they didn’t. I have no answers why I come back, and I honestly don’t think knowing changes anything. My family died. That all there is too it.” He lowered his head, knowing something like that happened but never asking for the details. He knew how much it hurt to hear let alone say. “Then we...” His voice so soft I almost didn’t hear him. He wanted to offer for us to just run away to forget about monsters and risking our lives for others. To be selfish for once in order to be happy. I wanted that but I wasn’t the person who could stay with him. “I can’t. If I stay in one spot, or get comfortable death comes again. It just doesn’t come for me but for everyone around me... I don’t care if I die over and over again, but I can’t risk losing someone else.” I said, finally telling him the real reason why I moved around as often as I did. I let the answer sink in. I ran my hand over his tie to keep it flat and then adjusted his jacket. His head lowered and was a tempting target. I pressed my forehead against his own, chest aching that this was all we could be to each other. Even this much might be pushing it. A few pings coming from his pocket kept reminding us that it wasn’t just my lifestyle getting in the way. He straightened up to grab his phone to check the messages. I also reached a hand in his pocket feeling something I wanted. “I don’t like you smoking.” He commented with his hand over the receiver so the person he just called didn’t hear his complaint. “I don’t like you fighting monsters. We’re even.” I said, know him fighting deadly creatures everyday was much worse than me smoking. 340 always said that and yet always kept a pack of cigarettes in his pocket even though he didn’t smoke. I stole them away wishing motels still had smoking rooms. His call ended quickly but 340 stalled leaving. He kept asking if I wanted to hang out with one of his brothers or if I knew someone to just be around for the day. He didn’t trust my color yet, or just my overall expression. I assured him I felt fine. I loved his stupid younger brothers but wasn’t in the mood to deal with one of them all day. We both went outside and I watched him get picked up by a car that pulled into the parking lot just long enough to get the agent. The rain started to come down again making the day a dull grey. My chest still hurt, and now even more from out short talk. I sat outside my room, watching the rain and smoking halfway through the pack. Nothing I thought of made the empty feeling go away. I couldn’t call 340 back fearing just how many nights together counted as a routine. No, I needed to stay alone for his safety. I did the only thing I could. I took a hot shower and got as good meal from the diner across the street. Then, I got into my car ready to move on and try to put the memories of a certain pain behind me. The road ahead would bring more hardships but also on occasion, a warm bed to keep the hollow feeling away for a few hours.

The Man Stood Among the Trees

yed5xp

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yed5xp/the_man_stood_among_the_trees/

You know those moments from childhood that you think back on and can’t pinpoint whether or not it was a dream or a memory? There’s one moment in particular from my childhood that sticks out to me. It feels so real, and I’m almost certain it actually happened — but the circumstances surrounding it are spotty at best. To go along with that, my parents have always acted as if they have no idea what I’m talking about when I’ve brought it up over the years. I couldn’t have been any older than five or six years old when it happened. My grandparents lived on a lot of land in Northern Wisconsin, and when I was growing up, my parents and I would often seek to escape the hustle and bustle of city life by heading up every so often. Simply put, it may have only been the nineties, but life was different back then. My parents would regularly let me run off to explore the land while they relaxed, or did whatever it was that parents do. As I said, I was probably six years old, and they still completely trusted me to navigate the area and make my way back to the house by a respectable hour. The back half of my grandparent’s land was covered in thick forest that seemingly stretched on for miles. The forest was my favorite place to be. It was tranquil, and felt much like the setting to a fantastical adventure. I was always discovering things in this forest. Animals, flowers, jewelry, you name it. I could’ve filled my closet with the amount of old and scrapped up clothes I found scattered about. My naive mind never saw that as a red flag. Oh, to be young and innocent again. There was one day in particular where I ventured a bit too far into the forest. I wasn’t lost, I hadn’t strayed from the beaten path, but I must have been feeling brave that day because even the natural light breaking through the tree line was starting to fade. Instead, the forest was now illuminated by the sunlight breaking through the tree-tops above. And that is when I saw him. He stood far enough away from me that I couldn’t really make out any distinct details, but close enough to know it was indeed a human and that he was waving at me. As I said earlier, there was a lot of trust going around in the 90s; but if there was ever something that my parents had drilled into my brain from a young age, it was to avoid strangers. This was at the height of the whole “stranger danger” epidemic. So I immediately knew something was off when I saw this man. He wasn’t dressed like a normal adult either. He was dressed in some kind of costume, or at least half of one anyways. The pants he wore resembled something a circus clown would wear. Colorful, vertical stripes, only in this case that color had begun to fade. Instead of a matching top, he donned an old worn down “wife-beater”. He then yelled out excitedly, “Come over here buddy! I have something fun to show you!” For whatever reason, this actually calmed the nerves of my young brain. He seemed friendly enough. Foolishly, I listened. As I got closer, I could make out more details about the man. He was barefoot, mostly bald, and held with him a long baseball sock that was stuffed to the brim with something. I never really determined what was in that sock, all I know is that the smell coming from it was putrid. The man kneeled down in front of me, and instead of saying something, he slowly lifted his arm to point towards a tent hidden off a bit further into the woods. I don’t mean a camping tent either, I mean a circus tent; a big top. Something you’d see out of Barnum and Bailey’s. He beckoned me to follow, and so I did. We entered the tent from a flap in one of the walls. It was musty as all hell inside, and the only sunlight came from a large hole in the top, as if to create a natural spotlight. In the middle of the tent, sat a boy. But, this boy wasn’t normal. He sat there silently, unmoving, and I never got too close to him. Thinking back on it now I don’t believe the boy was alive. I remember turning back to face the man, who had now disappeared. It was at this point that my six year old panic lights started going off before proceeding to sprint all the way back to the tree line. I never saw that man again -- although I swear I heard laughter coming from behind me as I sprinted out of the forest. Later that night, my parents and grandparents sat and watched the news in the living room before turning in for the night. The main story centered around a local boy who had been missing for a couple days now. Of course, they showed a picture of the boy, and it was the same boy I had seen in the forest earlier that day. I mentioned it offhandedly as we sat and watched, saying I’d seen that boy in the forest earlier today, and that he was with a strange man. The grown ups in the room all shrugged it off, but I could tell they were a bit thrown by my claims. It was deep in the dark of night at this point. The closest thing to society was the neighbors who were 2 miles down the road. I think this was the moment in my life when I realized grown ups could be afraid too. — The next morning, as we were packing the car to head back to the city. I found a small envelope on the front porch, labeled for me. My dad saw it and stole it from my hands before I ever had a chance to read it. I remember him seeming concerned and turning to speak with my grandpa in a hushed tone. We got out of there quickly that afternoon. Strangely enough, my grandparents did come to live with us for the following weeks after that. I never thought anything of it. Again, thinking back now, I wouldn’t be surprised if that had to do with getting away from their property for a bit. — As I said at the beginning, this is one of those gray areas that has been bothering me of late. The situation itself was so dreamlike; the forest, the man, the tent, the boy. In saying that, I remember it in the most vivid detail. Almost thirty years on at this point and my parents still refuse to acknowledge this was a thing that happened. I’ve dug deep researching the fact — and I’ve found some possible cases that could line up, but nothing with any certainty. Definitely, nothing showing the picture of that poor boy. Who knows. Maybe, that over active childhood imagination got the best of me. Or, maybe, I came across something sinister that day.

Tango with La Strega part 2

yek21x

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yek21x/tango_with_la_strega_part_2/

Hello again, from Alfredo Daglerion. This is part 2 of my grandfather„s story. &#x200B; [Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Helena_The_Doll_Clown/comments/ye4phx/tango_with_la_strega_part_1/) &#x200B; Inside the tent, there was an improvised stage, not like in circuses, but smaller, it had some stand in semicircle, a small stage, draped behind in dark velvet. There were some lights on, but the place still felt dark, like something lurking. In the audience there were, mostly, middle class people, but also poorer looking people. Suddenly, the lights went out and the place was engulfed in almost complete darkness. Something was heard towards the stage, then the lights went on again. &#x200B; On stage, there were two figures. One was clearly Gordon Jameson, in his dark Victorian suit, with lavalliere, gloves and topper. He had a small beard and looked like a charming middle age British gentleman that he was, for sure. He seemed passively dominating us, with a faint smile. &#x200B; The other figure was, of course, Helena, who Jameson held from behind, as the gentleman holds the back of a lady in dance or preparing to dance. Helena was like she was described to me, a doll-like woman or a woman-like doll, wearing a long, black, belle epoque like velvet dress. She had black hair, wiry hair, a weird like pallor that seemed like wood (She was supposed to be made of wood.) or corpse like. Pale, sometimes with a taint of brown or faint green. Over that, she had what appeared to be clown makeup or face paint, but mostly black. The lips were black but, beyond them, the clown grin was not large, only slight and a bit upwards. Under the grin, into the mandible, lines characteristics of ventriloquist dolls were visible, that allow for the jaw of the doll to move. The eye makeup or makeup-like paint was heavy, mostly black, with some faint dark brown edges. It was rhomb like shaped, like in many clowns and it continued down into the cheeks with some small spiral like model. The eyeballs themselves were white, similar to a person who is dead for some time. &#x200B; Helena was looking at us, with a sharp, malicious smile, scrutinizing the crowd. Something in the back of my mind felt in clear danger, and a sense of running away was heard in my thoughts. I fought to dismiss it as silly. She looked like an aristocrat looking at commoner or like a mistress looking over her servants with authority. For a few seconds, her gaze stopped on me, fixing me. Was this a dummy or a living person? She appeared to be alive and looking at me, her sharp smile becoming more pronounced and more creepy, like she wanted something from me and she was calling me to give it to her. I had to fight really hard not to get out of this place, that smelled like a trap, like a lair of some otherworldly... things. Her head became slightly tilted, then she moved her gaze from me to the right. &#x200B; Suddenly, Jameson clapped his hands and an unseen orchestra started playing. Waltz music. I recognized it. It was Tchaikovsky, from the Nutcracker. But it was off, the ranges, the tonality of the music was changed. It was darker and felt like menacing. The pair waltzed, it was very unconventional, especially when one of the dancer is a dummy or pretends to be. Jameson kept his hand almost all the time into her back, like controlling the puppet. She moved mechanical, but very complexly, felt autonomous. There were moments where the crowd was amazed, like when Jameson let go of Helena for a few seconds, while she still moved, she even performed some sort of pirouette on her own. I was speechless, amazed and scared in the same time. I felt a power at work in here. Hard to describe what I felt. I wish my memory was better, so to describe you every moment of the waltz. I wish it was recorded on camera. &#x200B; The music stopped and the pair stopped their dance in the same position as they started, then Jameson slowly hide behind Helena, still keeping his hand on her back, like controlling her. It was like he wanted to hide his face and let Helena in the spotlight. She looked at a chubby gentleman in the front row and started to speak on non-human, hissed, cold, cruel and amused tone: &#x200B; ”My, my, my... Who is here with us tonight... Mr. (I forgot his name), prefect of (I forgot the county.)... So many important people start to me to see us lately, I see. ” The man looked a little embarrassed, said something I could not hear, like a blabber. Helena put her hands on her hips, tilted her head and looked at him amused for a few seconds, then she continued: ”Indeed, we should feel grateful that such a great man, with such a great and vital public function is with us. That he sacrificed an evening from his time to be with us. Especially after how much the nation owes to him.” The man gave a forced, a bit scared, a bit disgusted smile, neither me or Marietta heard what he said. &#x200B; There was something sadistic in Helena„s voice, even toned town. As something inside me was shaking due to her presence and talk, I could still sense an even fainter goofiness, that contributed to the sadism. Some people laughed. The prefect babbled something unintelligible, it sounded a little like an animal grunt, as he was fidgeting on his seat. &#x200B; That was really funny albeit in a twisted way. No, that was not a lifeless puppet, nor the work of a puppeteer, I decided this must be a real woman, pretending to be a doll. She turned back her arms on her hips and her look on the prefect. That man looked like under the influence of something, as Helena pierced him with her gaze. I felt there was a power coming from her to the prefect, doing something twisted to him, although I was not ready to admit it to myself. And this power terrified the man, but also made him angry, having a tone in his blabber and expression I never thought possible. I could sense the fear on all the other people in the audience but, at lest some of them felt satisfied and smiled on what happened to the prefect. Fear and amusement fused into one attitude. Yes, Helena was a real artist, albeit unlike any other I met before. &#x200B; Helena continued on a dark parody of a maternal tone: ”You know, since you granted us the honor of your presence, I feel compelled to give something back. So, tonight, for you sir, I have one of my personalized recipes.” A few laughs and incentives to proceed came from some of the public, as they knew what was coming. ”Since autumn is present perhaps something with a British touch would do. But also with a Balkanic one of our own. I think, sir, I shall roast you in the oven. So, after I remove your entrails, I shall wash them, and place the heart, liver and pancreas back. I shall fill your chest and abdomen with fried eggplant, tomatoes and pepper. &#x200B; Olive oil shall get into this, some apple vinegar and mujdei (Romanian Garlic Souce). For spices, perhaps some turmeric? Cloves and chilli? I think I shall go with thyme, oregano, sumac. A little bit of lemon juice. I would be tempted to use some mushrooms but, since it is a meat dish, I do not know if they are too appropriate. You know, I am open to suggestions, from the audience, especially you, sir, since you shall be the star of the feast.” &#x200B; She had a nasty smile on her face, maybe a little rascality in this? ”Of course, dry wine is a must. I do not know if some vinegar as well will work, some say wine and vinegar are a no match. Tastes differ and, as you say, I can not judge someone„s taste. And some gasket. Alongside yourself, I shall place the potatoes, with dill and vinegar, perhaps some other herbs as well? Hmm, perhaps some onion? No, garlic. And sumac. How does it sound?” &#x200B; The crowed felt mostly frightened, some felt like being put off, some cheered. Helena waved at them and said: ”You know, I am glad some can really enjoy my genius. Therefore, I invite the prefect to offer himself and I promise that what will come out would be enjoyed by the citizens who will be deeply grateful to him. So a shame he will be not be able to taste himself. But perhaps I could make a appetizer of himself, before he goes into the oven, when he is still alive, so that he may enjoy as well. Rest assured, you screams of fear and pain, when you will be sliced alive will be deeply appreciated, since they sound progressively appetizing to me.” &#x200B; There were people laughing, including Marietta. I had a feeling of unreal, of disconnection. A coldness, something was engulfing us, I tried to keep Marietta at my chest, out of a protection instinct. But I admit I laughed too. I managed to partially convince myself this is just a clown with a dark sense of humor, in order to keep my mind from slipping into something. I was not terrified, do not get me wrong, but all this feeling of unreal and weird energy, so to speak, was creeping me out. &#x200B; After she finished with the prefect, she moved her gaze around the public again and on me. Something cold took me in, as I felt it coming from Helena to me. She started on a creepy-polite tone: ”Tonight, we have a gentleman from Argentina with us. I do not know if you heard him singing, but I advise you to, since we do not get too many in our distant country. And this is fortunate, since we are about to dance the tango, the dance of his fatherland. My hope is that he will appreciate our vision of the tango. Do not worry, although I am confident your flesh and your blood are really tasty, if you are, let„s say, *nice,* I shall not come for you and cook you.” Then, after saying this in Romanian, she repeated it in Spanish. That was both scary and pleasant in the same time. Helena returned to the prefect and the rest, and added: ”So, tonight, we have the tango. And remember, ladies and gentlemen: Politicians are tasty. And if they are properly cooked, they are delicious.” Then she clapped her hands and said: ”Maestro, musica!” &#x200B; A series of tangos started to be played by the unseen orchestra, with the same dark twist of the waltz before. Yet, the pair managed to get the moves right and they looked lifelike, and skilled. Now that I was convinced that Helena was a living woman, I could appreciate her as a dancer. She moved kind of stiff, like she was a doll, but I guess this was part of the act. I admit their moves were somewhat old fashioned, like the tango was before World War I, but they are mastering them greatly and also brought them their own touch. Yes, that was something frightful in all the dance, as in the waltz, but I really appreciated it, and I could feel that Helena was not just mechanic in it, there was some real passion, although in a bizarre way. At the end, as the pair returned once a again to their pose we first saw them, people arose and applauded the act. And we meant it. The lights went out, as applause went on. They went on, and Jameson and Helena were gone. &#x200B; As we went out of the tent, Marietta was cheerful, as usual: ”I told you it would be really fine to see her. Nothing too scary... You have not seen anything like it, isn„t it?” I took a deep breath, as I gave a twisted smile of my own: ”Indeed, I have not. I haven„t seen anything like it not just in my own country, nor else. And I have not heard about anything similar anywhere. I think this is not a puppet, I think this is a living woman, a skilled dancer with an unconventional sense of humor. She gave me the strangest compliment I ever received...” Marietta laughed: ”I totally understand her. You look very yummy!” She gave me a fierce kiss, as we were walking. &#x200B; Then, something I never expected came. I heard a gun and a bullet came very close to my ear. Startled, we looked behind, in the crowd that leaving the fair. It was Tudor, the husband of Marietta. Some ladies screaming got the people into a panic, as I grabbed Marietta„s left arm. I whispered to her ear: ”Run!” She went as fast as the high heels allowed her, as I turned towards where Tudor was. He shot another time, I managed to get down in time. At least he was not focused on me, not on her. &#x200B; I started to run in another sense then Marietta took. I needed to act fast, so I decided to get behind a shack. I turned left, and waited for Tudor to come. I kicked him into the jaw as fast as I could and, before he could do anything, I kicked again, under the chin. It was a good move, as Tudor was, as I suspected, a little drunk. &#x200B; I was able then to hit his hand with the gun and make him drop it. I went for it and, as I touched it, he grabbed my throat with his arm. There were a few tough seconds, as he tried to choke me. I do not remember exactly, I managed to kick him in the stomach. This made him drop the grip. After escaping, I kicked him in the stomach again, he fell to the ground. I took the gun, emptied it, then dropped it on the ground. As Tudor crawled, I shouted to someone to call the police, in French, not sure how fast people understood me. Finally, a police man appeared, he did not seemed to know any other language then Romanian, he grabbed both of us and took us to the station. &#x200B; It was a long night. A superior officer who knew French finally came and he took my statement. Marietta was called as well. I was released in the morning and, as I reached the restaurant, I waited for the boyar to appear and tell him the whole deal. &#x200B; He looked grim at start, then thoughtful, and said: ”A public scandal will start. We shall see both outrage, and gossip. Did you pressed charges?” ”No. I like as little hustle as possible. I do not think he shall try anything similar.” &#x200B; ”Indeed. Things may get spicy, so to say. Even our king lives with his mistress, something well known to the public eye, even if deeply disgusted. It depends on Marietta, for her sake, a divorce would probably the best option. As for myself, I am telling you, I do not agree with the fact that you got involved with a married woman. I shall never do such a thing myself, I do not agree with this. I admit, at least on short term, things will probably be profitable for me, as more people will come to see your performing. On the long term, it is your decision if you still want to go on or leave the country. Perhaps the best thing is to wait for a few days and see how things go. Do you think you can sing today?” ”I think so.” &#x200B; I realized he did not liked my behavior at all, but he already invested in me and so on. His business relation with Tudor and Marietta would crumble, most likely. Years later I regretted the affair with her, as I grew older and my heart became different. I do not know what could have been if refused Marietta, but I know what came next. And it was far more scarier and life changing then what had happened until I arrived in this country to that moment. &#x200B; After performing, not very well, to an audience that was, surprisingly, large, as I stepped out, a little boy, dressed in petty clothes, yet clean, came to me. He looked at me a little shy, as he took off his beret and handled a note. It was from the mysterious admirer I told you before, the paper and all were similar to the previous one: &#x200B; ”Greetings, mr. Daglerion. It seems you have what it takes for a Don Juan. You are still very charming, I still would like to meet you. Especially now, since you are free. If you want, we can met tomorrow evening. At 9 pm, you can come at the gate of the Obor fair and Matei, the boy who brought the note, shall greet you and lead to my house. I let you think until tomorrow. Yours, E.C. ” A faint perfume was present, and an attraction to this stranger I never met. Inexplicable, indeed, I should have known better. I was too much a Don Juan, as E.C. put it, I wanted some relief from the situation I was in, so I decided to go on for it. I looked back at the boy, he was a little fearful of something, like a shadow was on him. I tried to cheer him up patting his shoulder, he gave a forced smile. He greeted me with his beret and left. &#x200B; The next day, I waited for news from Marietta, no sign of her or her husband. The boyar knew nothing, I sang that afternoon, I told him I need to rest in the evening. I left after the show, bought a red rose, took the tram and went to Obor. So, when my pocket watch showed 9 pm, I was at the gate of the fair. &#x200B; Matei came out silent, grim, and he greeted me. I had a feeling he shall bring me inside the fair, but that did not happen. He took me on Colentina highway, upwards, then to left. On the right there was the railway track and the Saint Demetrios church, that was visible from the Obor fair, almost cathedral proportions, that seemed to be a combination of romanesque and baroque. Around it, small houses. Some meek, semi-rural, some French-like. I was going into the unknown, virtually alone, at night. &#x200B; Inside me, two forces fought, a cold and calm fear, and something alluring me. Night was mostly quiet, as people were indoors, mostly, just some dog barking from time to time, in the autumn mist. The star filled skies above me. October night started to get misty, slowly, as we crossed the railroad and a graveyard appeared on my right. A huge factory was on the left, a mill, it looked like a citadel on its own. It was dark, silent and imposing. The central part was a silage of bricks, that indeed had towers and battlements, like a fortress. &#x200B; A train passed, as we reached the graveyard gates, that were in an arched gateway. I did my best to memorize the direction and sense, in order to get back to Obor, afterwards. In a way, I was getting a bit closer to Victoriei but, without knowing the city, I could get lost easily in the labyrinth of narrow streets. We crossed a street, the train was stopped, blocking the street ahead, where Matei took me. He managed to show me that we need to pass through the wagon of the train, to get to the other part of the street. It was empty, some leftovers of grains. We reached a small crossroad and went left. Small shops on the oriental-like street, where traditional houses stood. From time to time, some shop, similar to the ones in Italy, was visible. &#x200B; We went to the right. Shortly after, another crossroad, the railway crossed this place as well. The train was not long to block this part as well, so we crossed to the other side. I kept in mind the landmarks, in order to return of my own. The grey mist was getting heavier, as something inside me felt build up. Anxiety and being drawn. The two feeling fought stronger and stronger with each step. Soon, we reached a gate of a small house. One level house, like the rest, a faint light was inside. &#x200B; The boy knocked at the wooden gate, with the same grim face, greeted me silently with his beret, then left. I waited for one minute or two, no one appeared in sight. Suddenly, the gate creaked out open. A cold breeze went from right to left. Something was calling me. Something heavy was on me, something cold, I should have turned back. But I was like under a spell. In fact, I think I was under a spell. But it probably also my adventurous side that brought me to this distant and foreign country. &#x200B; I entered the yard and closed it, behind me. The house was more traditional than western, with rooms situated in a row and had an anteroom, like many of the old houses of Bucharest. I knocked at the door, it slid open. Again, nobody in sight. I dared to enter. The anteroom was empty. I whispered (I felt I could not speak out loud.): ”Hello? Anybody here?” &#x200B; The first room was short, old feel, somewhat shriveled, both the walls and the floor. Not much in there, there was a table, with several types of food, including some appetizers, sausages, other meat dishes and something that looked like desert. Black candles alight, something like an old, rugged sofa on a corner, and a table with records and a gramophone. The room felt like a room for the dead or where the dead were kept, also a fear that was getting sharper came into me, like I was going in the claws of a monster. Of immediate danger, that I need to get out as fast as possible. I actually wanted to do that, but the door to the other room opened and, as you probably guessed, Helena came in. &#x200B; Seeing her from the distance was one thing. Seeing her from up close made me realize in a second this was neither a ventriloquist doll, neither a living person. This was something dead. Cold and cruel. Who preys on living people. The supposed clown makeup was part of real skin color on her face. Her dead white eyes looked at me and I stopped in awe. She were a black, old fashioned dress, elegant, and her black wiry hair had small jewelry in it, like on stage. This being fed on Humans, I knew it, she was the source of the anxieties I felt the nights and days before. The power that allured me here, the grey mist from outside, were her work. Yes, indeed, I knew now La Strega I feared as a child was real, and I was in her grasp. I dropped the rose on the floor and turned to the door. Helena made a sign with her right arm and the door locked before I could do too much, and the key flew to her hand. Then, smiling sadistically, she placed it a pocket of her dress. &#x200B; I turned to her, as my heart started to beat fast, and a sense of imminent death was upon me. I started to hyperventilate, but I have not scream. I was in a tomb, in the lair of La Strega. My childhood fear came true. And the fool of me went to this by my own. &#x200B; Helena tilted her head and gave her cruel, condescending smile I knew from her show, but much clearer and unmasked. Something told me to get to my knees and beg for mercy, but backed out and settled on the door on my back. Finally, Helena started talking in her hissed voice, in Spanish, on a somewhat polite tone: ”Hello, mister Daglerion. Thank you for responding to my invite. I know some Spanish myself, but I think it is better to speak in French, as I assume both of us know it well.” I nodded my head and mumbled something like ”Ok, whatever...” still in panic. She came calmly to me, with her mechanic like walk, as I wanted to close my eyes, in hope that either the nightmare would be over, or either she will kill me and finish me off. I said a short prayer in my mind. &#x200B; She came close to me, inches away, and said in a commanding voice that still tried to be a little gentle: ”You want to live, I suppose. You may live, if you do what I say. If the first thing on my mind would have been to kill or torture you, like I did with others, I would have done it already. So, listen to me, brace yourself and do as I say. Do what you do with ladies, with mortal human ladies. This is what you need to do, for starters. Got it?” &#x200B; I opened my eyes to her own dead eyes ravaging me. But I forced myself to get as calm as I could in this situation, to be calm and rational in the middle of the nightmare. I started saying: ”Excuse me, senorita.” I picked up the rose from the floor, gave it to her and kissed her hand. Her hand felt heavy and cold, make me feel chills. But she smiled and replied: ”Thank you, senor. You seem to be a gentleman, at least in your manners. This is how I guessed you were. I hope we shall enjoy ourselves tonight, dancing the tango, the dance of your fatherland. I have prepared dinner almost completely on my own, for this occasion. Perhaps some appetizers shall put your mind in a mood proper for dancing.” &#x200B; Reluctantly, I joined at the table. I felt her discrete, old style perfume. Like when you open a closet from your deceased grandmother„s house and you discover her clothes from the times she was young and you can sense the perfume she wore, &#x200B; As appetizer, there was zacusca, a type of spread, made from roasted eggplants, with some added tomatoes, onion and pepper. Sometimes, like in this case, it also had some mushroom mixture, alongside spices. Also, as appetizer, there was a somewhat soft, white traditional Romanian cheese named telemea. There was a large, full wheat bread, with seeds and herbs in it. We started eating, I had to admit zacusca was really good, the cheese was also interesting. So, in order to keep myself calm, I told her about zacusca: ”This is delicious. Never tasted anything like it.” She smiled at this compliment (in her own twisted way, of course) and replied: ”I made it myself. In here, we do lots of things, including zacusca, in autumn, to store, until spring crops came out.” &#x200B; She took the giant red wine bottle and poured in the glasses for both of us. We got the first silent toast. The wine was sweet and flavored, it seems this terrifying lady had some interesting tastes. All this time, in splits of seconds, I was able to see several times that, behind her black lips, her canines were not Human canines, but fangs, pretty long and sharp. &#x200B; After finishing the first part of the meal, as an awkward silence came from my behalf, Helena said: ”Do you feel like trying to dance now? I have Argentinian tango, Romanian tango, also other types of music. I would really like to see how you dance in Argentina, and teach me some of moves from there.” My fear, although still strong and present, was starting to leave the panic mode and this allowed me to think more clear. ”Alright, senorita, I shall let you choose.” She went to the record stack and said: ”I would to start with Milonga Sentimental. One of my favorite tangos.” At that point, I wanted to say something, but I felt afraid to say it. Helena stopped and looked at me sharply, yet calmly as she did: ”What is wrong? Tell me.” I felt that it had no point to lie and said: &#x200B; ”Excuse me, but Milonga is different from Tango. In a way, Milonga influenced Tango itself. I realize that not many outside Argentina know this and call it is labeled as Tango.” Helena looked at me interested and said: ”Go on. I would to know more about it.” So I made her a little speech on the history of the dances, how they appeared, how they evolved. Helena finally said: ”Alright then. Show me how is danced, as you do in Buenos Aires.” &#x200B; She placed the record and we started to dance. I said another short prayer, promising to The Lord that, if get out alive of all this, I shall not commit adultery ever again. Panic tried to get over me, as I touched Helena„s back, getting into the position of the dance. We started dancing and I prayed a lot in my mind while it happened, in order to keep my mind from collapsing. I showed her, calmly and politely, the moves. She knew some of them, but performed them more like in tango style, I adjusted them. We did several times. Something was, very slowly, discretely, starting to change in me at this point. Helena was a skilled dancer and, if she were not what she were, if she were Human, it would have probably been, probably, a real pleasure to dance with her already. &#x200B; Everybody who is an artist on stage knows something. You need to concentrate on the act you perform, either acting, singing or dancing. To keep your mind away from stage fright or just from becoming obsessed in ”pleasing” the public. Helena was a stage artist as well, she knew it pretty well. I think this is why she treated me like this, in order to ease my fright and make me more relaxed to what she wanted me to experience. &#x200B; I picked up several Argentinian songs next, she allowed me to, and I showed her more moves. She tended to be somewhat restrained in movements, more like it was before World War I. I still shook when I felt her breath on my neck, but I was getting use to this, slowly. We eventually turned to Zaraza, the Argentinian Tango translated into Romanian that brought me to this country in the first place. First, with the original Argentinian version, then the cover sung by Cristian Vasile in Romanian. Helena became less stiffy, and I became more used to touching her body. &#x200B; We took a break, and went to table again. Helena looked at me: ”I assure you this meat is not of Human origin, but sheep. I do eat Human flesh as meat and drink Human blood, but I do not plan on doing it tonight.” I started to shake again at her cruel smile again, then she added: ”You are really sweat, yet. But I want something else from you tonight, not that.” She looked with a little goof, keeping her head on her palms, as she looked at me. ”This is how Argentinian men are? That sweet?” I gave a restrained chuckle: ”Not all. Like not all men in here are the same. You know, you are not the first Romanian lady who told me something like this.” Indeed, I fell prey to the aura of latino lover, once again, but this time the lady in question was not human, unfortunately for me. &#x200B; ”Probably Mrs. Florescu told you something similar.” I forced myself to laugh a little: ”Is it already known in detail?” ”Oh yes, what did you think?” ”Well, although only with Marietta happened what happened, I have talked to some other ladies and they said similar things.” ”I guess I agree with them too well.” replied Helena, with feminine playfulness that would have been to others hard to guess through all that coldness and malice she emanated. ”Lets continue with the main dish.” she said and I agreed. &#x200B; There were some really interesting sausages, well spiced, with a strong flavor, also pretty hot. Another dish that I really enjoyed. She was also a skilled cook. I said to myself: ”She has some nice qualities. Too bad that she is a monster, not human.” I continued: ”It seems you have seen me singing before I saw you dancing. It is clear that you enjoyed my acts, I really appreciate this, really. the same for your dance as well. How do you started dancing?” &#x200B; She replied: ”I did some ballet a long time ago, when I was a Human child. After that, for the act, Gordon taught me a lot. I practiced it with him. You can say many bad things about him, but you can not say that he is a bad dancer, or not a well read man, or a mannered man. He taught me a lot. He is the one who keeps me in his control, most of the times: Due to him I lost my Human, mortal life, but he compensated it a little. Like homeschooling me somewhat, allowing me to read many things. He also taught me some things you should not know about.” &#x200B; ”You always practice such humor on the stage? Helena replied: ”Not always. We do just dances, sometimes. But, that night, the prefect was there, I noticed you in the public, so we decided to do it. Indeed, I am sure you shall never meet a Clown like me. You know, people tend to despise clowns, thinking them to be shallow and cheap. I dare those to say those about me.” And winked with her malice. After a few seconds of break and another glass of wine (If this would have been a normal, human, lady, I would have been already worried of her drinking too much. But I did not dared to say anything.) she went on: &#x200B; ”You see, I have a lot of time on my hand. Not just to read. It is pointless to read, if you do not think of what you read. And I like to think a lot. And get a lot of ideas. Too bad I can not put into practice most of them.” After another sip of wine: ”You know, in order to get things well, not just with those, but also when I dance, I make sure I enjoy myself in what I do. First of all. If the public enjoys it as well, it is secondary. But, as I seen from my experience on stage, if you do that, at least a great part of the people in the public shall enjoy it naturally. You are a singer, I think you know what I am talking about.” ”Now, if I came to think about it, I guess you are right”. &#x200B; She already felt somewhat more human, so to say. I felt less afraid then in the beginning, that was for sure. ”One more dance before desert, shall we?” she proposed. I agreed. &#x200B; It went another round of tangos. At one moment, a clumsy moment and I stepped on her foot. My hard went cold, panic returned and I fell to my knees. She looked at me with anger, like wanting to pierce me with a sword. I started to mumble, she grabbed my chin fiercely (It hurt pretty much.) and said with a harsh, but restrained voice: ”You are doing it to yourself! Brace yourself at once! What would you do if this happened with a normal lady, not with me?” I manged to brace myself and mumbled as calmly as I could: ”Excuse my clumsiness. I did not meant to.” Her tone returned to the one before and said: ”Apologies accept. Let„s go on.” Shaking yet, I continued, until i recovered my nerve from before. Finally, the dance finished and we went to desert. &#x200B; She unveiled a huge round coliva. I said: ”Is this coliva?” She looked at me with a less sharp smile: ”Indeed, it is. I see you found out our favorite desert and its purpose. Too bad I was never offered it as a offering, after I was turned, as people do with their dead usually. But I did it for myself often. Tonight, besides boiled wheat and honey, I have added some pomegranate, some vanilla. I hope you shall like it.” This was delicious as well. ”What a lady...” I thought to myself. I looked at her and tried to imagine how would she be if she were still human and alive. She would have looked very much like a Latin American woman, with her hair, her features, her style even. Her waist looked beautiful, her chest as well. Her corpse like face with all the clown patterns could not hide the features that she would have had. I touched her strong and cold hand as gently as I could. She smiled in a more human way. &#x200B; All this time I sensed a strong power coming from her, alluring and forcing me. Like a creature of darkness. But now I started to feel something else. Something different. Faintly, at first. Then, I thought to myself: ”After all, why not? Perhaps this is what I need to do anyway, to escape alive. No warranty that it will work. But at least I shall experience something I never thought possible.” Yes, I started to see the woman in her, not just the monster. And I started to feel lustful. Not much, at first. Yet, as much as forced myself to cultivate that lust, something contrary came from inside, a combination of revulsion and fear. As the lust grew, they became stronger alongside it. &#x200B; Besides fear, the revulsion of the fact that I was about to do something with a dead, inhuman, creature, put me off. I rose from the table, took her hand and looked in her terrifying eyes. I saw something else, besides monstrosity. I closed my eyes and dared to kissed her lips. A death-like coldness came from the head to toes, and shook me. Then another kiss, a more passionate one this time. I felt her fangs. Coldness came once again, stronger, like I was naked, on a winter night, in the wind, or dead, in the coffin. I kept my eyes closed and kissed her on the neck. She gave a faint moan, a moan that I heard before in mortal women, I knew it very well and what it meant. &#x200B; I got down my head to her chest, as my mortal body prepared for the first stages of death, and I heard her beating heart. She had a beating heart! Was she dead or alive? This made the revulsion get much weaker, but the terror remained. I looked into her eyes, as I touched the back of her dress and tried to open it. Then tried to uncover her breasts. &#x200B; Her gaze felt far more human now, she desired for it as well, I felt it. Yet, now she had a fear of her own, she was a little reluctant. Following my moves, she started to undress me as well and push me to the other room. In there, there was an old bed, covered in black velvet, surrounded by black candles lit. I took over from here, and she submitted. Like the ladies before her did. I kissed her once again on the lips. She had a fire in her heart, underneath all this coldness. Yet, I felt colder and colder and my mortal being started to sink in terror. I kissed and caresses her, she kissed and caressed me, as we were going to bed. I hoped I will be able to fulfill what both of us wanted. Coldness of death reached my bone marrow, Helena kissed my shoulder then, suddenly, she bite it with her sharp fangs. That was too much for me and it all went dark. &#x200B; I woke up at the gate of the restaurant, in the morning. The boyar and the bartender were struggling to wake me up and raise me to my feet. The fog on my mind persisted for about a minute, feeling unreal, before realizing where was I and what happened. They helped me get in the restaurant and sit on a table. The boyar smiled at me and said: ”You know, the Ștefan cel Mare highway was in rumble last night, as Helena carried her in her arms, and dropping you here. Fortunately, there were not too many people awake, to realize it. It seems the ladies really have a thing on you and it is good idea to stick on here. Marietta and Tudor are back together. No charges against one another or yourself. They probably hate each other, but money needs to be made. They shall continue their business with me.” &#x200B; In my mind I had the self-ironic half-silly thought that I can have Helena as a lover now, so no need to ling on to Marietta. I laughed out loud a bit, as the mist of the night was getting out of my mind the clear autumn sun caressed me. I looked at he blue sky and I felt happy to be alive. Upstairs, I have discovered a note in my pocket, like the first ones. It said: &#x200B; ”Thank you, my dear Sebastian, for accepting my invitation and for last night. You behaved pretty well, if we think of the circumstances, especially when others would have lost it easily. I really appreciate it all and it meant something to me, I assure you. Probably you consider that now impossible to continue what we started, I shall not force you. But it is probably it is for best that we shall give you a few days to settle and think about it. Who knows? You may decide, in the end, that you desire to meet me again. If you do, you can always come to my show and let me know on a note. Or perhaps you shall be brave enough to come backstage yourself, after you see me performing. Anyway, your music is still appreciated by me and I shall come to listen you, regardless if you shall see me or not. Yours dearly, E.C. .” Back in the day, notes from ladies could also have the lipstick print of her lips. There was something similar in here but, where the lipstick print would have been, there were two perforations in the paper, from her fangs. &#x200B; I decided in a few days that it is best for me to leave this place. I do not know how much it was fear or else. I just missed living in the ”normal world”, and this city and this country felt to my mind like another planet, and I wanted to get back to the world where people just live their lives and where there are no Stregas, Elves and who knows what else. I managed to part with the boyar on at least somewhat friendly terms. &#x200B; After all those years, I still think from time to time at Romania. At Bucharest. At Helena. As the memory grows distant and the memory of terror faded away, I remember her with some regret. Perhaps I should have had the power to stay and try. I never met a lady like her ever again, perhaps my life would have been different if I was strong enough to be able to embrace the shadows. Now, upon the end of my mortal life, it makes no sense to let myself ruined by regret. But to remember everything that was beautiful in life, even if this beauty was not the beauty you would have expected or longed for.

My grandfather left behind cassette tapes explaining how he'd been the cause of the three worst natural disasters in his hometown [PART 2]

ye1c46

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye1c46/my_grandfather_left_behind_cassette_tapes/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y2836i/my_grandfather_left_behind_cassette_tapes/) First and foremost, I’d like to apologize for ending my last post so abruptly. I had just finished transcribing it and…well…let’s just say that hearing it for a second time certainly didn’t dull the impact it had on me. I remember that after posting it, I sat silently in my room. I remembered something about my grandfather. I remembered how whenever I’d visit, he’d always have a plate of pancakes ready for me. I was sure it had been my grandmother who’d them for me , but I can now clearly remember my grandfather’s strong muscular back facing me as he flipped pancake after pancake, wearing a ridiculous apron that would always make me giggle as he’d put the maple-syrup mountains in front of me. It was only this memory that gave me strength to listen to the second tape. The second tape was also labeled with a Sharpie, but this one read “WOLF”. The transcript below is one I made a week after the first one. Why did it take me so long to put finger to keyboard key? Well, lets just say that I needed some time to let things sink in. &#x200B; The following is what the second tape had recorded on it: &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; *\*Ten seconds of silence\** *I…don’t need you to believe me David.* *Hell…even I doubt it.* *I also wondered if those memories were just the result of a child’s imagination.* *Kanterville really was leveled by a massive tsunami, but as time passed…I’m ashamed to admit that I forgot about Rosanne. At first, I forgot her voice…then what we used to do together…then her name…and then I lost her smile.* *I was sixteen or seventeen.* *The tsunami that leveled Kanterville had been caused by a massive landslide into the reservoir.* *I feared large bodies of water like lakes and even coasts and found sharks too horrendous to look at.* *And I had long forgotten the reason why.* *I just did.* *Every day was the same.* *My mother would always be applying iodine to any new wounds she might gave gotten, and there would always be three more beer bottles to be weary of when walking through the house.* *During that summer, I’d take long walks in a forest that bordered my town.* *It was much, much larger than the one between my town and Kanterville, and I would walk in it for hours every day.* *If I was lucky…I’d see a particular deer and her small fawn.* *I always enjoyed observing them more than anything else.* *The way how the mother nuzzled her young and how she helped him standup up when he himself couldn’t always warmed my frozen heart.* *I always wondered how my father could be below a wild animal…but he was.* *The days all melted together.* *I could only get a sense of time by seeing how the small fawn would grow.* *The fawn and his mother could reliably be found in the same spot most of the time; a small clearing out in the woods.* *I would always hide behind this large jagged boulder and observe them, envious of their peace.* *Well, one day, after a particularly bad day at home, I was out on my walk in the evening.* *I went to the boulder as always and climbed it to get a good view.* *But instead of seeing the fawn cuddling up against its mother, I saw it shaking madly while a grizzly bear dug at its mother’s carcass, eating and sheering off meat as though it were a person eating a watermelon.* *It was massive David.* *To this day, I have never seen a bear that large.* *It couldn’t even be considered a bear.* *When it lifted the mutilated deer by its head, its entire length, from its skinny hooves to its crushed head, went from the ground up to the eyes of that bear, which meant that the beast was at least six feet tall on all fours.* *Never has time slowed down for me as much as when I realized this.* *Each bite seemed to last forever.* *I had to escape.* *I needed to.* *But then, after it was done with the mother’s carcass, it turned its attention to the small fawn.* *I should have run.* *But instead, I shouted with all of might at it.* *David…I can only say that I made it as far as I did because of the uneven terrain and because my quadrupedal physiology gave me an advantage in dexterity.* *Otherwise, I’m not sure there would have been anything left of me.* *I somehow ran deeper into the woods than I would have ever been willing to go during daylight, let alone nighttime.* *All I know is that by the time I came to, I was standing in front of a gigantic cliff overlooking the forest.* *The sun peeked out just barely enough for me to make out the monster lumbering towards me out of the thick vegetation I had absentmindedly walked through.* *I was dead in that moment.* *Either the cliff would take me, or that bear.* *I chose the former.* I wanted to die. *Home wasn't safe.* *And this forest wasn't safe either.* *I told myself to jump.* *I commanded myself to jump.* *But my legs were nothing short of nailed to the ground.* *The monstrous brute stood up on its hind legs, and looked like a wave that was about to engulf me.* *It breathed heavily, as though its breathing was depended on a corroded and rusted engine piston.* *Its pupils held nothing behind them.* *Only hunger.* *Hunger for me.* *I closed my eyes shut the moment I knew it was about to attack.* *But then something unexpected happened.* *A sound much louder than the roar of the lunging beast.* *Then nothing.* *It was as if the sudden gunshot had made the monster go away.* *I was covered in blood.* *The bear lay in front of me, its head blown to smithereens.* *My savior came out of the dense vegetation and he stood still once in my line sight.* *He was an older gentleman, maybe about seventy, same age as I am now, if I had to guess, but only his face showed it.* *His hunting jacket held a great wave of muscle and grit at bay, and his stained teeth smiled warmly.* *Ferguson was what he went by.* *He had a modest cabin not too far.* *I took a shower there.* *He gave me food.* *And I fell asleep to him telling me stories about his time in the second World War.* *The next morning, I was back home, invigorated with a new sense of life and meaning.* *My parents couldn’t care less.* *My old man was happy to have me out of the house for most of the day and my mother was too broken to hold any concern.* *So, I spent most of my summer that year visiting Ferguson.* *He would give me books which made my imagination run amok.* *He would tell me stories which never failed to leave me in awe.* *And he always had the patience to listen to whatever I had to say.* *He taught me how to shoot a rifle.* *He taught me the value of life and why there must be patience in living it.* *And he taught me how to love myself, so that I could enjoy my life.* *He was the parent I wish I had always had.* *The first day of school was approaching, and I knew I had to go.* *Despite everything, I had managed to get good grades, and was in the works for a scholarship at a college in the next town over to study chemistry.* *I knew I couldn’t visit Ferguson anymore because I would have to give it my all this last year, and he understood.* *But even so, I didn’t feel right to just leave as suddenly as he had come into my life.* *I wanted to give him something as a thank you for everything he’d done for me.* *And I knew just the thing to give him.* *…* *A scarf.* *I know it might sound odd, but the man barely had any clothes at all, and I knew that winter would be upon the town soon, so I resolved to make him a scarf.* *It was a challenge, I should say, and I was barely able to make a passable scarf that I was confident to give to him.* *I still remember that day David.* *My father had had a particularly bad fit that day, and I could only leave at night.* *I trekked through the dense vegetation alone, muscle memory being the only thing guiding me through the suffocating darkness.* *I carried the scarf in a present I had wrapped, and my thoughts overtaken with the image of me giving the scarf Ferguson and the sight of him smiling.* *But soon I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sound of leaves rusting behind me.* *The sound of my father’s drunken voice just about made my soul collapse.* *I was on the ground before I knew it, my left arm, my jaw, and my right shin broken, and Ferguson’s scarf lay right in front of me, before my father.* *The smell of gasoline wafted through my nostrils, and I was too late to act when I heard the strike of a matchstick.* *The darkness receded, tearing out of me the hope I had for delivering the scarf to Ferguson, much like how one would pull a fish out of the water.* *My father’s berates failed to reach my ears.* *I was deaf to every other sound, only able to register the sound of the flames crackling in front of me.* *It was then that I felt that familiar twinge of anger again.* *The very same one I'd felt that day so long ago.* *Small at first, but it wasn’t long before it started to fester.* *Each word coming out of my father’s mouth was like another bucket of gasoline onto the small wicker of flame in my heart.* *The flame kept growing hotter and hotter and larger and larger within me.* *I tried keeping it in, my instincts all too aware of the memory I had long since suppressed into the bowels of my mind.* *I really did.* *I used every ounce of will and strength that I could to keep it in.* *But I sneezed the moment he called Ferguson “just another heathenish kiddie-fucker”.* *I sneezed with all of my might.* *My snot was burned to nothing by the fire I sneezed it into.* *I realized my mistake the moment I made it.* *I no longer felt any anger.* *The fire started to sputter, and I saw the orange flame morph into a bloody red.* *I started to crawl back.* *My father saw this and his eyes became like those of an angered bull.* *He rushed at me, but as he stepped over the burning scarf to do so, a massive flame whipped up and wrapped itself around him like a tentacle.* *I then saw him burning as the fire started to spread.* *They weren’t even flames David.* *They looked like infinite Mandelbrot spirals, claws like the waves in Japanese silk art. They tore everything, sheering him off bit by bit, disintegrating more like vengeful acid than denaturing fire.* *As my father turned to ash, flames started to slither out.* *They slithered.* *Oh god...they slithered.* *Like great pythons, or fissures forming in the earth, they approached nearby trees and started to consume them too, like a horde of locusts wiping out entire fields.* *Even from afar, it felt like I was standing at the edge of a volcano.* *The air felt like pressurized steam, scalding my skin like boiling water.* *I couldn’t run for the life of me, but even if I could, that ability would’ve soon been taken from me by what happened next.* *From my father’s ashen remains, the fire that consumed him rose like billowing smoke.* *And in that great wall of heat and insatiable gluttony, I saw a pair of eyes form and focus on me.* *They were wild.* *They were feral.* *But they weren’t like those of the bear.* *They weren’t empty.* *They were two pockets of volcanic magma that burned themselves in my mind and corroded my will to escape.* *I was going to die. I knew as much.* *But then, while the fire was still stationary, gathering nutrients by burning the forest around it, something stepped in between us.* *It was a deer.* *A deer much bigger than any other I had ever seen.* *Its size was more reminiscent of a large moose.* *Without warning, the gigantic deer lowered itself in front of me, and I immediately knew that it wanted me to climb on top of it.* *I was barely able to do so, but the moment I laid myself over it like a rag over a towel rack, it leaped up and started to run.* *The speed with which it moved is indescribable to me even now to this day.* *The wind, broken by its humongous antlers like ice broken by the bow of a sturdy ship, rushed through me with such force that it ruffled my hair like a great and mighty gale.* *I thought I was finally out of danger.* *I thought that God had saved me.* *But then I turned around, and realized that the devil would not let me go that easily.* *The flames were approaching.* *No…They were running David.* *It was they who were the great and mighty gale, approaching us a like an enormous dust bowl.* *Among those searing flames, I saw those eyes again, but to my horror, the flames around them started to mold and form until they vaguely resembled a gray wolf.* *That was my hunter.* *I was its prey.* *Everything in its path was its prey.* *And one of those things was me.* *A dark cloud of ash hung over the forest.* *Me and my helper would soon be surrounded.* *Escape would become impossible.* *But then, just when hope was lost, a figure burst out from behind one of the bushes and ran past us.* *Ferguson held his rifle and was still as spry as ever.* *I wanted to scream at him, but he paid me no mind. All I remember is him turning back for a quick smile before the deer leapt over a slanted cliff and slid down.* *The fire wasn’t upon us anymore.* *I could see the clearing not long after.* *But as soon as we were near it, the deer suddenly stopped and I was launched forward as if riding a speeding motorcycle that had abruptly come to a screeching halt while still going at full speed.* *I skidded off the grassy ground, and the deer disappeared behind the thick woods.* *Not too far away, I saw my father’s car.* *I dragged myself in it and, to my great luck, the keys were still in, and with that, I drove off.* *I thought about going back for Ferguson.* *I thought about stopping for my mother.* *I thought about shouting out of the car that there was a great fire.* *But I didn’t.* *I felt as though I had been wronged by everything and everyone in town.* *It had abandoned me.* *My father had abandoned me.* *My mother had abandoned me.* *The love of my life had abandoned me.* *And, as embarrassed as I am to admit this, I concluded that my surrogate father had just abandoned me as well.* *I knew I’d always wanted everything to burn to ash.* *So I drove.* *And as I drove, it started to rain.* *I thought God had come to help.* *But I soon realized that he didn’t want me to escape from my sins so easily.* *The car skidded off the watery road and turned over, and I barely managed to climb out, more injured than before.* *I could see the entire town in the distance from where I was, and rising above the woods, I saw a great mountain of flame.* *The rain was powerless to extinguish it.* *Its heat made the water evaporate before it touched it.* *It was like a hide that protected it from a volley of arrows.* *I saw it lean back, smoke billowing around it like fur for its fiery musculature, and now that it looked more like a wolf, it unleash a howl that echoed throughout the land, like a volcano exploding.* *I saw as it spilled out of the forest slowly like the lumbering bear, consuming everything in its path.* *I am unable to put into words the despair that I felt as I saw this.* *The rain weighed me down, as though the countless hands of those having turned into ash were forcing me to watch what I had unleashed.* *I felt hopeless.* *I wanted hope.* *And then I thought that God had finally abandoned me as well.* *That's what I assumed when the urge to sneeze came upon me again.* *I didn’t feel angry.* *I jabbed my index fingers in my nostrils as far as they would go.* *I had no intention of creating another monster.* *But when my lungs reflexively expanded, the snot was pulled down along my throat, which made me violently cough it out of my mouth; my hands unable to block it in time.* *I coughed the snot on a puddle, and I saw the water go terribly still despite its surface being violently pelted by the rain.* *The wolf destroyed and consumed in the distance.* *I was sure it would grow to the size of a mountain and burn the entire continent to a barren wasteland of nothingness.* *But then the puddle started to rise.* *I saw it morph and mold itself into what I could swear was the tiniest of deer, like a miniature glass sculpture you’d find in a pawn shop.* *It moved towards the edge of the hill I was on and started to run down it like a sled.* *With every gallop through the forest, collecting the dew in every leaf, as well as the rain falling from the heavens, it grew larger and larger in size.* *The once tiny deer became gargantuan wave that pushed forwards, its antlers reared down.* *I saw it collide with that flaming wolf, whose size it now matched, and like an elephant colliding with the ground after being thrown off of a skyscraper, it exploded into a blast of shimmering rain that shot itself in every which way, like an atomic bomb if I do say so myself, the steam rising up back into the sky reminding me of a mushroom cloud.* *I passed out then, either out of exhaustion or relief, maybe a combination of both, but the next thing I know, emergency services were picking me up, and I later saw on the news how there wasn't a town named Kanterville anymore, along with hundreds of square miles worth of forest.* *At the time, there was only a gigantic sizzling crater that has now become, as I record this, a vast plain of recovering nature.* *They could never give a conclusive death toll, as there were no bodies to speak of.* *There was nothing to speak of.* *I went to live with my aunt.* *I got my degree.* *And I forgot about this incident as well.* *I forgot about Ferguson much like how I forgot about Rosanne.* *I forgot about both of them, even thought they’d sacrificed themselves to save me.* *I guess I didn’t want to remember.* *I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.* *But I guess fate didn’t want me to forget.* *I say this because one day, in my dormitory, I found a mailbox on my bed.* *Inside...I found a scarlet scarf in perfect condition, with a faint stench of gasoline and only a small burn mark where I remembered my father tossing the match.* *I didn’t go to class for a week after that.* I *just...laid in bed with that scarf wrapped around me.* *\*a full minute of silence\** *Having said all that David...do you still love me?* *How do you feel knowing what you know now?* *It’s okay if you hate me.* *I just wish I could have told you all of this in person.* *But most of all, I just want to ask you one last thing.* *Did you like my pancakes, David?* *Because I loved whenever Ferguson made me those pancakes to eat every time I visited.* *I only wish that you’ve enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed them.* *For his sake.* *And mine as well...however meaningless that must no doubt be now for you.* *\*Recording ends\** &#x200B; &#x200B; The fourth and final tape rests right under the screen of my computer. &#x200B; I don't know why ,but I have a feeling that "RAVEN" may take me longer to transcribe than the other ones. &#x200B; I hope I'm wrong.

There's something in McConnell

yeadyo

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeadyo/theres_something_in_mcconnell/

For weeks now, I've heard something outside my house at night. Talking to neighbors, they've heard things too. It started as shuffling and scraping sounds, but soon turned into tapping and banging and now whimpers and moaning. I first noticed it about 3 weeks ago, I was having a smoke in my garage at maybe 11 o'clock at night. I heard what sounded like someone stomping around on the leaves. Shortly before I heard the noises, my gut instinct flaired up. I felt like I was going into fight or flight, the hairs on the nape of my neck standing up. I wanted to investigate but I didn't want to be that white girl in a cheesy horror movie so I decided to end my smoke and go inside. I couldn't hear it from inside the house, so I wrote it off as an overactive imagination. I'm a big horror fan. I didnt hear anything for a few days. When I heard it again, this time it wouldve been about midnight, again out for a smoke in my garage. It sounds like someone was walking on my back deck in heavy boots towards the side of the garage and then it turned into what I would describe as dragging feet. It seemed to be making it's way to the front of the garage, I got up and threw the dead bolt. I also checked to make sure the back door to the garage was locked. After I threw the deadbolt, it went silent. I couldn't hear anything, not the cows from the pasture down the road, no wind rustling of the tree right outside, nothing. There's normally a lot of ambient nature sounds here, as you'd find in super small towns. On really quiet nights, you can even hear the river water from my house, it's about half a mile down the road. But I couldn't hear anything after I threw the bolt. My instinct flared up again and I hustled into the house, absolutely terrified. Both of my roommates were still passed out on the couch when I came inside. I didn't want to be dramatic or get Boone worked up, so I let them sleep. Grif is very level headed and probably wouldve rationalized it and helped me see reason, but Boone is very high strung and superstitious. He wouldve gotten worked up and scared and I didn't want to do that to him. As before, it was a few days before I heard anything again, but this time, it was worse. It started relatively the same as before, with the sound of someone dragging their feet on the back deck, around the side of the garage and to the front. I got up and checked the locks, starting to get worked up. But I heard whatever it was stop in front of the front door. I was starring at it, only standing a few steps away. And then the tapping started. It sounded like someone was tapping on the window on the side of the garage. Which would be about 15 feet from where I heard the dragging sound stop. I looked at the window, but it was dark. Normally I can see the neighbors outside light through that window, but it seemed like something was blocking out the entire window. I rushed inside, that night I was home alone. This house has a weird amount of entrances, 4 doors leading outside in total. The garage is attached if that helps clear any confusion. Once I made sure all entrances were locked, including windows, I tried to go to bed. I couldn't fall asleep until my roommates got home, I heard them come in, laughing and not sounding worried, so I assumed everything was fine then. I like to go on walks, and I've become friendly with some of the neighbors that sit outside, talking to them occasionally. The day after the tapping, I went on a walk and saw one of my neighbors outside, I went up and talked to her. After some small talk, I brought up what was going on. She said she's been having a similar experience, with it sounding like someone's pacing her yard at night. She thought maybe it was large wildlife, a couple years ago, they found a cougar in the next town over. I asked her if she's heard any tapping and she hasn't. Per the pattern, it was a few days before I heard it again. This time, I was in the dining room at about 3 in the morning I'd say. The dining room contains the formal front door, which leads to a large porch. The house was very quiet, both of the boys were asleep in their rooms, so no TV or other man made noise. I was reading a book, trying to relax enough to fall asleep, when I heard it. It sounded like someone was stomping around on our front porch. It set off my instinct, again, but I didn't connect it to the pattern since it was different. I moved the curtain slightly to try to get a peek outside, only noticing I couldn't see anything. As if my outdoor light, my neighbors outdoor lights, and the street light were all out. I should've been able to see, as you can tell, there's an abundance of light source in my little neighborhood. It must've been one moment between me moving the curtain and the banging starting. It was on the front door. Like hard banging, like the way police knock but nonstop. They were banging so hard, it was shaking the door in it's frame. It was enough to wake Boone, whose room is right off the dining room. He came out disheveled and confused. I didn't want to look, as that would mean opening the door. It doesn't have a window or a peep hole. I was scared, and I must've looked it because Boone asked me what was up. I couldn't find the nerve to speak. He went for the door and as soon as he touched the handle, thats when the windows started. It sounded like someone was open hand slapping on the windows, hard. I leaned on the wall for support, I was so scared it felt like my knees would give out. I could feel the vibrations from the banging on the wall. Boone was frozen, terrified like me. We didn't know what to do. We just starred at each other for what felt like hours, but when the banging stopped, I saw the clock. It would've only been 3 minutes. We both slept in the living room that night. It felt safe because it doesn't have any exterior entrances, the only room on the downstairs that doesn't. In the morning, we informed grif, but he rationalized something that wasn't rationalizable. He tried to say it could've been the wind or a raccoon. A raccoon was banging on windows 5 feet off the ground while simultaneously was banging like the police on the door? I told Boone the rest of what I had heard and I was right, he did get worked up about it. But I didn't laugh at him this time, as I was terrified too. And just like usual, it was a few days before we heard anything again. I'd yet to talk to any of the neighbors about it when this happened. Then shots were fired. Somebody fired a gun off in McConnell, and plenty of people freaked out. We're a small town, with under 200 people. Everyone knows everyone. Nobody knew or could figure out what was going on. Phone trees were activated with anybody who had somebody else number asking around trying to figure out who shot off the gun and why. But no one knew anything. Police were called and they patrolled the town, asking questions. Boone was home alone that night. He said that roughly 30 minutes after the gun fire, he heard the kitchen door being banged on and the handle jiggling. He thought the gun man was trying to get in, so he hid. He was terrified. He hid in the crawl space in the basement, it's the best place to hide in this house. Unless you know it's there, you'll never find it. He tried to reach out to anybody, but the service sucks in the basement. The wifi doesn't reach that part of the basement and cellular service is spotty at best in town, nonexistent in our basement. He caught some luck and was able to send one text out, I was the only one out of the many he tried to call to receive anything until he came back upstairs. All I got was a 'Break in. Don't come home. Send help plz'. And of course because in all actuality, I am that white girl in a bad horror movie, I rushed home. I tried and tried to call him, not realizing where he was hiding but the calls wouldn't go through. I blew up his phone, his grandma's phone(she lives right across the street) and his mom's phone(she lives in town) to no avail. I got home and paused in my car for a moment, debating if I should go in. I have some survival instinct I guess. When after 5 minutes of thinking, and no one responded to me, I decided to go in. I grabbed the bat I keep in my car and snuck in quietly through the garage door. To be undetectable to a potential burglar, I used the access from the garage to the basement and decide to patrol my house staring from the bottom. Both entrances to the basement are sort of hidden in a way. The stairs in the garage are behind a half wall with tool boxes piled up againstt it, from the front, it blends into the wall behind it and you can't really tell that's it there, you only see the stairs if you enter from the back door in the garage. I checked the lock on the back door, still bolted shut. I went to the basement and crept along in the dark, able to avoid the junk because I know where it's at. I was sneaking past the crawl space, barely lit up by the light coming in through the small window in that room, when I heard my name whispered. I jumped and swung wildly around me. It was just Boone. He poked his head out of the crawl space and let me know it was him when I stopped swinging. He asked me if I called the police. Of course I didn't because, well it's me. We then both tried to call, but neither of our phones would put us through. We debated what to do for a bit, when we heard banging coming from upstairs. It still sounded like it was outside. I crept towards the stairs that led up into our pantry and Boone followed closely behind me. Basically using me as a shield, the little shit. When we got to the top of the stairs, we could hear the door knob rattling, like someone was trying to turn it while it was locked. I peaked out of the pantry and could see it was coming from the door in the kitchen. I asked Boone, in a whisper, if he could get any service yet. He answered in affirmative, and I motioned to follow me. We went to the living room where he called the police and reported a potential break in. They showed up and investigated the house, seeing if anyone made it in. This is where it gets weird. The kitchen door wasn't locked. There were dirty hand prints on the outside of the door, where they would've been banging. And we heard the door knob, and I saw the door knob jiggling, but there were no prints or marks on the exterior knob. We use that door, there should have been something. It looked like it was wiped clean. It made absolutely zero sense and I still can't wrap my mind around it. A few days after that, I was expecting the banging. But that didn't happen. It was different now. I was having a smoke in my garage, and I heard shuffling. The feet dragging sound. But there was also the quiet whimpering. I'd compare it to how I heard my mom crying at night when she thought we were asleep, that soul crushing cry but youre trying to suppress it. I felt devastated when I heard it, like I was the one making that sound. It was contagious. It made it was starting from the back to the side of the garage, but instead of moving to the front line before, it sounded like whatever it was was moving away from my house. The further it went away, the lighter I felt. Once I was done being sad, fear gripped my heart again and I rushed inside. This time, like a child, I hid under my bed with a kitchen knife. I was exhausted at work the next day, the lack of sleep due to these things was finally catching up to me. And people have been commenting on how tired I look. Then last night, it happened again. I was in the garage, again smoking, when I heard the shuffling of feet. I tried to keep calm, knowing what to expect now. I've been trying to figure out what this is, but I'm not getting anything. The crying started in tune to the shuffling. It worked it's way from the back to the side of the garage and it sounded like whatever it was collapsed onto the leaves outside the window and started to heavily cry. It sounded like painful moaning and whimpering. I couldn't see anything out of the window again. No lights. I couldn't hear anything other than the moaning. I felt that devastated feeling again. Like pure depression had a hold on me. It just seemed to get louder and louder and then it suddenly stopped. I have no idea what this is. I've entertained the idea of it being a ghost, as I've got a graveyard practically in my backyard. But that wouldn't explain my neighbor experiencing too. Boone thinks its a ghost or something too, but that answer just feels wrong. Im wondering if the shooting and my occurrences are related, but how? And what was up with that door knob?

My pregnant neighbor refuses to leave her lawn. I'm starting to freak out

ydess6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydess6/my_pregnant_neighbor_refuses_to_leave_her_lawn_im/

It was Tuesday. Nothing special about it, just a day in August. Like hundreds of Tuesdays before. I was coming back from work and my neighbor Marge greeted me with a wave and a smile. She was sitting in a folding chair on the lawn in front of her house. I waved back at her and asked how was she. &#x200B; “Pretty fine, thank you, Jim. The Junior started kicking me already” - she said stroking her belly, protruding above the sweatpants. &#x200B; “I bet he’s gonna be as energetic as his dad” - I said with a smile and on that note we nodded at each other as in “it was nice seeing you”. &#x200B; Later that evening I ran out of cigarettes and went to a nearby store to get some. Surprisingly, Marge was still there, sitting in her chair. She must have dozed off or something. I hoped Tim won’t forget about her, as even though the days were still warm - the nights started to get a bit chilly already. &#x200B; On my way back I checked again - her husband was by her and they were discussing something, so I decided to pass by without dragging any attention. &#x200B; The next morning I woke up late. As I work 2/2 shifts - I could afford the luxury of sleeping till noon. Marge was there again. This time she had a coffee table and a jug of lemon water by her side. She was reading a book. Nothing special, I just registered this as I was making my coffee. &#x200B; And I would never pay attention to anything like that, because why would I? But at some point, it went out of the boundaries of being normal. &#x200B; It was a week after she started to take her sunbaths or fresh air sessions, or whatever she was doing. I woke up in the middle of the night for, you know, biological reasons, and something made me look outside the window. She was there. The clock showed 3:23, but my neighbor was sitting in that chair, covered with a blanket, sleeping. &#x200B; I don’t understand modern parenting and all those “natural” things where a woman is supposed to give birth in a bathtub, but who am I to judge? Maybe it was something new and trendy. Good for immunity, you know? So I got impressed, a bit concerned, and forgot about it. &#x200B; Soon it became a routine. I mean seeing her there in that folding chair every day. It seemed that the belly grew bigger and bigger with every week passing and I’m no expert, but something told me that the Day is coming soon. &#x200B; September came and quickly climbed to its middle. The leaves started to fall, the rains were fierce. Nothing would stop her. A rain poncho, an umbrella - I saw a couple of solutions implemented. She just smiled at me and waved her hand. Sometimes accompanied by her husband. &#x200B; The temperature dropped drastically in the following days, but those weirdos didn’t stop doing whatever that was. I’m a regular man, so I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business. But this became more and more strange. I approached them a couple of times, having a small chat and asking how’s it going. Aren’t they concerned Marge would get cold, wouldn’t that harm the baby? But they just laughed it off, saying they have a simple answer for any situation. I noticed that Marge’s abdomen became quite large. I can even say that the size of it was remarkably huge. I saw a couple of pregnant women in the final weeks of their terms, but this… I thought it was impolite to ask if they were expecting twins, so I didn’t even bother. &#x200B; Finally, October arrived and my lunatic neighbors didn’t care about it. Even when the withered grass around started to cover with early frost - she kept sitting there. Do you know what’s the weirdest thing about it? Nobody hinged a brow. Other people on the street brought her treats and stopped by to have a chat. Not a single person thought that was something out of hand. &#x200B; One morning something happened. A tent, to be specific. That husband of hers put up a tent around her. The tarpaulin one, like they use for hot dog stalls on fairs. And he was kind enough to put a heater in there. Or so I guessed looking at the electrical chord reaching out of the window of their living room. &#x200B; I caught Tim walking from the grocery store with two large paper bags of food in his hands. &#x200B; “Hey, man. I don’t want to be that guy, but are you sure everything’s fine with Marge?” - I asked - “It just seems a bit too exotic to me. It’s getting really cold outside. Are you sure it’s safe?” &#x200B; “Yes. No need to worry. She’s feeling perfectly fine. Thank you for asking” - he replied. &#x200B; I couldn’t but notice how pale he is. He tried to hide the dark circles around his eyes with a smile, but that was impossible not to notice how exhausted he became. &#x200B; What if that was a hysteria of some sort? I mean, young parents have a whole bunch of problems that can result in nasty things. Like, post-natal depression, for example. I had no clue what should I do in this situation. So I did the thing I was best at - nothing. &#x200B; Days passed and I haven’t seen Marge for two weeks or so, as she was hidden inside the tent. Just Tim running back and forth, carrying loads of food, hot drinks in thermos, books, some medication, or whatever. &#x200B; Once I noticed that the tent walls were moving back and forth as if that crazy woman was stretching in there, or maybe her husband was giving her a massage. It was weird, but weirder came next - the moaning. &#x200B; I woke up to her moaning in the tent. Immediately, I rushed to check out if everything was okay and if I should call an ambulance, but Tim, who was standing by the entrance of the tent said it was alright. The baby was on its way and it was completely normal. &#x200B; “Muscle cramps and back pains. No worries, Jim. I am with her 24/7” - he said. &#x200B; But the moaning never stopped as if she never got a moment of relief. They became constant. My job became my new home - so that I could avoid those horrible sounds echoing around our peaceful neighborhood. They were getting under my skin and I couldn’t get to sleep. The earplugs didn’t help much, as even with the ears plugged I just knew those psychos are still there. &#x200B; The true horror was revealed yesterday. The wind was especially strong and some of the tent pegs just didn’t hold. Tim was probably sleeping, exhausted, so he couldn’t react quickly. I have no better explanation. But the side of the tent opened aside. Clearly, the poor woman needed some help. No blanket or windbreaker could save her from harsh weather. Especially in her condition. So being the good neighbor I am - I walked straight to the falling tent and asked: “Hey, Marge. You need a hand with the tent?”. &#x200B; Only the moans were the answer to my suggestion. Standing there without a proper answer and not the slightest clue if she was okay or not, I decided to act. Grabbed the side of the tent fabric, pulled, and… &#x200B; Your hair turning gray in mere seconds is a popular myth. Uncontrollable urination is not. The vision of the tent's insides paralyzed me. I was standing there with my mouth open and my eyes refusing to register the thing before me. &#x200B; It was still dark outside and I could just take a peek through a gap, but that was enough to traumatize me for the rest of my days. Marge was not there. At least, not the Marge I would expect to see. A huge bubble of flesh, covered with horrible stretch marks lay before me. I couldn’t see the whole picture, but the thing was huge. It was wobbling like a bowl of jello and the motion was accompanied by unbearable moans and the putrid smell of something rotten. The stink hit my nostrils and the tears covered my eyes instantly. I couldn’t bare another moment of looking at it, so I ran. So I ran. I didn’t think straight, I just wanted to get the fuck away from there. The further - the better. &#x200B; I ran to my friend's house on the other side of our town. Didn’t give them a proper explanation, and called the police. Do you know what they told me? “Sir, do you have a kink for peeping after pregnant females?”. &#x200B; Tim keeps calling and sending messages. What the hell is going on? I have no idea what am I going to do. All my life is left in that house and I don’t have the guts to show up there. My credit cards, my papers, everything. That thing… &#x200B; I nearly smashed my phone as I took the last drop of bravery and checked one of the messages from Tim. It said: “Hey! It happened! Baby Tim Jr. Is born. Jim, we want you to be the godfather. After all that we went through. We just won’t take ”no“ for an answer :)”.

Headshot (Part One)

yecv48

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yecv48/headshot_part_one/

The bright lights blinded me as I opened my eyes. My head hurt like hell and I was soaked with sweat. It felt like I had slept for days in this bed I was unfamiliar with. “You’re awake. It’s about time,” the doctor said to me. He was a short man, with slicked back hair and a dark beard. He had a thick Spanish accent. Dr. Fernandez. That’s what his name tag read. I was in a hospital. But for how long? What the hell happened to cause me to get here? “A week and two days. That’s a long time to be out,” Dr. Fernandez explained to me. “You’re lucky the officer found you when he did. You damn well could’ve been rotting in the ground somewhere rather than here.” Officer? I don’t remember any officer. The last thing I remember seeing was my friend, Jeremy, lying next to me, finger held up to his lips. He was trying to keep me quiet. His eyes, I remember his eyes. Filled with so much emotion but also none at the same time. He was definitely scared, scared about something. “I can see the look on your face. I know what you’re thinking,” Dr. Fernandez was saying. “You were shot. In the head. You’re really lucky. Everybody else in your class…t-they we’re killed.” Tears welled up in his eyes. I remember what happened now. School shooting. I was in a school shooting, and I’m one of the few people that managed to survive. Fuck. Jeremy. He didn’t make it. I remember the loud “BANG” and seeing Jeremy’s color fade to white, his eyes staring blankly at me. Blood. So much blood coming from his mouth and head. I heard another “BANG” then a groan. There went another one of my classmates. Then I heard one last “BANG,” and my vision faded. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come out. I wanted to scream, but words wouldn’t come out. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t allow that. “Would you like something to eat or drink? Maybe both?” “Yeah. Water please. I’m not that hungry.” Dr. Fernandez smiled at me as he left the room. I sat there, staring at the wall blankly. I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to believe what I was experiencing was real. School shooting? Nah, that wouldn’t happen to something like me, especially in the small town I live in. But it did. It definitely happened. I touched the back of my head. It was tender to the tips of my fingers. A burning sensation went through my head and I winced in pain. I was definitely shot. Fuck. Dr. Fernandez came back and handed me a bottle of water. “We’ll have to keep you for a few more days. Monitor how you’re doing and make sure you can be cleared to leave. I’m sure you want some alone time right now, so I’ll leave you be. If you need anything, just press this buzzer next to your bed,” he pointed at a small, red button next to me, “and a nurse will come to assist you. I hope you feel well soon.” And with that, he left. I opened my bottle of water and took a sip. My vision got all fuzzy as soon as the liquid went down my throat. I couldn’t see anything. The bright lights of the hospital vanished and I was transported to a world I was unfamiliar with. I was in a room. A dark room. The walls were made of only concrete. The floor was cold and hard. The only light inside of the room was the light shining in from the bottom of the door. The only sound I heard was the howling of the wind. I walked up to the door and leaned against it. I fell backwards as the door opened behind me. I jumped up. I was in a house. My house. I walked up the stairs leading to the den from the basement. I stepped foot into the den and looked out of the window. The sky was grey and depressing. The trees lost all of their leaves and there was snow on the ground. I searched my house, looking for a coat or jacket, a pair of pants, and some boots. But nothing. I was stuck wearing this hospital gown. I walked through the living room and up to the front door. I took a deep breath and opened it. The cold air hit me. It felt like thousands of needles piercing my skin all at once, all in the same spot. I stepped out onto my front porch. I looked at my front yard. It was covered with a sparkly white blanket. But there was something else. Blood. A few drops of blood in the snow. I went out to the drops of blood. It was a trail. I found more blood a few feet away. Then more. And then even more. I kept following it until I reached a body. It was of a man. An old man. My neighbor, Gregory. I ran to his corpse to see if maybe, just maybe, he was still alive. But no. No breathing. I felt for a pulse. Nothing. He was dead. I looked around, and saw a figure in the distance. I waved my hands in the air and yelled at them. They let out a loud screech and ran towards me at an inhuman pace. As it got closer, I realized this…this thing wasn’t human. It had no face other than eyes. It had pieces of flesh rotting from its head and arms. I turned to run, but I couldn’t run fast enough. The thing caught me. My vision went fuzzy again. I was back in the hospital room. But it was eerily silent. I slowly got up from my bed and peered out of my room. There was nobody out there. No beeping of machines, no groaning from sick patients. There was nothing. I walked back over to my bed. I stared at that red button for a few moments, and then pressed it. I heard a buzzing come from the nurses desk outside of my room. But I also heard something else from outside. A screech. The same inhuman screech I heard in my “vision.” My heart raced as I heard the sound of fast footsteps approaching my room. I slammed the door to my room as that thing turned the corner at the end of the hall. I hid behind my hospital bed and pulled the table over for extra cover. The thing banged and scratched on the door. I just hope that the door will keep that thing on the other side.

We're Investigating The Disappearance Of Everyone In Our Town. Happy Halloween (Part 7)

yen353

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yen353/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ws6uv0/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/wy4cu8/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x4keoy/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xb579u/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xi3da9/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvaqt9/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) &#x200B; Now I know what some of you are thinking. Pete, where in the fuck have you been? This is a valid question and the answer is that I’ve been really busy. Yeah, what else is new, right? The difference is it’s been more hectic than usual for us. First, let me get the greeting out of the way and wish all a Happy God Damn Halloween, well almost. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; True, we may not be celebrating with the people in town, but how many people can say they’re celebrating Halloween with a real-life gray? Not many, I’ll bet, and speaking of Zohl, guess who finally got to see the inside of his ship? That’s right. We did, including Stevenson. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Of the four of us, he seemed the most excited to be there. I’m getting ahead of myself, though. I won’t lie. Since I got over two weeks of stuff to talk about, I’ll have to split this into two posts. Oh yeah, one more thing, I finally got down baking pumpkin pie thanks to a helpful commenter. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I also found this super easy recipe online that uses graham cracker crust. I’ll link it here if anyone wants to try it. Now, without further ado, I’ll pick up where I left off last post. This first part is a couple days after it due to us needing to recover from the card tree incident. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “So what do you guys think?” I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We were all in Carl’s living room. We decided to spend our first day of downtime decorating. Zohl helped us and now we have lights up, jack-o’ lanterns, fake crows, and Freddy and Jason lawn inflatables. Two pumpkin pies on the coffee table in front of us. Between them was a bowl of homemade cinnamon whipped cream. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; There was enough for each of us to have two slices. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Damn good,” Carl told me, biting into a slice. “I like the classic kind more, but I wouldn’t knock this graham cracker one either.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “I have to admit this is pretty good,” Stevenson said, cutting off a piece with his fork and dipping it into some whipped cream. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I looked at Nick who gave a thumbs-up with a slice stuffed into his face. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Thanks, I’m glad you guys enjoyed it. By the way, Zohl, I’ve been wondering something. Do you actually need to eat?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He was spreading some whipped cream onto his slices. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Not as often as other species. Mine can go weeks at a time without needing sustenance.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He dug off some of the filling and put it in his mouth. I picked up a slice from my plate, swirled it into some whipped cream, and bit into it. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we should move on to more important matters,” Zohl continued. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Right, so what’s the plan here?” Carl asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Indefermast…” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Inde.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Inde?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “We shortened the name.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Well, whatever its name, we’ll need all the resources we can get to destroy it.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He noticed our expressions drop. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Did I say something wrong?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “We weren’t planning on fighting it,” I explained. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Yeah, the idea was for us to just go in and get everybody out,” Nick added. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "You've all managed to overcome every challenge thus far and yet you seem apprehensive. Why is this?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Because monsters and paranormal shit’s one thing,” Carl answered, “but we’re talking about a full-fledged eldritch abomination here. We can't exactly fight, let alone kill something that'll fry our brains the second we lay eyes on it. The other stuff was bad enough. We'd be goddamn idiots to try this." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Believe me when I say I can empathize with your fear. Indefermast or Inde as you prefer to call it was my home's terror longer than you can imagine." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; His words made me realize something. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Oh yeah," I said, "you mentioned creatures overrunning your planet before. I'm guessing it's responsible?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Your guess would be correct. I and a handful of others managed to escape it before it was taken over completely." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "How did you end up on Earth then?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "One of the creatures was chasing me. I managed to hurt it, but my ship was damaged in the process. It crashed near your town and I passed out on impact before your townspeople found me." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "When did you arrive exactly?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "The late sixteen hundreds." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Stevenson, who'd been quietly observing up to that point, spoke up. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "That was during the witch trials," he said, surprised. "How did you manage to convince them not to burn you at the stake?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Contrary to popular belief, there were places back then that you would consider progressive. While we were initially scared of each other upon first contact, the townspeople and I grew fond of each other." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; That surprised us. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "You were friends with them?" Nick asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Indeed, I was especially close with the founding family. They let me stay with them and provided me with clothing while I found the right materials to repair my ship." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "You knew the founders? What were they like?" I inquired. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "You mean you don't know about them?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Well, no. Information about them kind of got lost over the years." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl seemed lost in thought. His gold eyes stared down at the pie slices on his plate. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "For us to succeed, knowing the history of your town is of vital importance. Before I begin, I suggest someone write all this down." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Since I'm already writing these posts, I volunteered to type up the history of our town according to Zohl. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "To start, the village that would become your town was still in its infancy when I arrived. Earth was a planet we'd been occasionally monitoring. However, we considered it to still be too primitive to make direct contact." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Stevenson piped up again. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "So you were the first alien on Earth then?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "The first of my kind. I can not say if other species were there before me. We were impressed with your species' ingenuity and thought you needed more time to develop before we were ready to make ourselves known to humanity. We’ve made sparse communication over the years, but we’ve kept it to a minimum.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl’s voice, despite its monotone, showed the slightest hint of regret. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “That’s the way we did things when meeting new species. However, I’m beginning to think that was a mistake. We thought if we helped species develop that would give them an unfair advantage over others, but if we had maybe we would have come up with a way to deal with threats like Indefermast sooner.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You couldn’t have known something that powerful would show up,” I said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “This is true. Our planet was able to repel many outside threats up until then and I suspect it may have made us unintentionally arrogant. Now, getting back to when I was meeting your town’s founders…” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He went on to explain that he was found passed out in the lake near the village. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Some hunters were out fishing at the time. Among them were two of the founders, a man by the name of Lorcan O'Rorke and his wife, Faye, My species had already studied your languages by then so I was able to catch what they were saying. There was some discussion of what I might be and what should be done with me. Dissection came up several times.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Yikes,” Nick said, “were you nervous?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “A little. I knew your species while smart didn’t deal so well with the unknown.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; His mouth curved up into a faint smile as he continued. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Which is why they surprised me. Lorcan deduced I may be able to communicate with them and helped carry me back to the village.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Who were the other founders?” I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Another couple by the Laelim and Ashkira Davis. They worked as doctors and aided greatly in healing me. In fact, if it weren't for them, my crash would have been fatal.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Well, our townspeople always have their moments even if a lot of them are fucked up when they do them. What did they tell you about the town?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl explained that the town acted as a safe haven for the outcasted and the scorned. Be it escaped slaves, women from overly religious villages, people with different sexualities, or even people falsely accused. They all ended up meeting each other and migrated far to settle on the land that became their village and now, our town. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “It took them months to get here,” Zohl said. “I don’t believe it was random chance either. I think the land was calling them.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “How exactly does land call something?” Nick inquired. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “By someone else leaving a message from beyond the grave. This land was occupied by a prehistoric type of ape that would eventually become human.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; That rang a bell in my head. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Oh yeah, I think Inde mentioned something about that,” I said. “Didn’t they think it was a god?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “They did. How it got through was due to weak spots in reality.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Meaning it was strong enough to create a rift between its world and ours?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Correct, planets will form a natural barrier against the paranormal to minimize how much of ti can get through. Yours was still young, though, and wasn’t quite strong enough to keep something as strong as Inde out. The fortunate thing is that the rift was only large enough for some of it to get through.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “But that was still enough to convince them,” Stevenson spoke up. “What simpletons.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Why are you being so judgemental?” Carl angrily asked him. “They didn’t know any better. How could they have?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Because things haven’t gotten much better since then. Zohl said it himself. If we were more advanced, we’d have a better chance against threats like Indefermast.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. As much as we want to believe that reason and logic are going to win out at the end of the day, the fact of the matter is, most people will end up choosing what makes them feel comfortable over an unsettling truth eight out of ten times. We spend most of our time bickering instead of coming together to advance and when progress tries to happen, there are people who drag their feet every step of the way. It’s depressing as hell and yet, unsurprising. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Your frustration is understandable,” Zohl told Stevenson. “However, all we can do now is focus on what we currently have to stop it. The early humanoids were able to harness the energy from the riff and, for lack of a better word, enchant the land to attract people to protect it.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “What do you mean by for lack of a better word?” I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You could consider the enchantment to be both a blessing and a curse. It attracted both people to defend the land and also acted as a magnet for paranormal forces. Dealing with threats such as that requires people who are more open-minded and ready to face the unknown. I became fast friends with the O'Rorkes and the Davis family.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “What were they like.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; A reminiscent expression came over Zohl. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Kind, strong, and intelligent. They helped free their people from enslavement and led them away. I have many fond memories of me having meals with them.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl picked up one of his slices of pumpkin pie. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “This reminds me. They used to make pumpkin pie back then as well. Although, it was a little more cinnamon heavy and occasional due to the rarity of spices. I also recall it using honey instead of sugar. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He opened his mouth and stuck in the slice, pushing it through with two of his long fingers. Seeing that, we realized we should be finishing ours too. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “If I had to pick,” he said after chewing and swallowing, “I would probably choose the pie they made, not that yours isn’t good, Peter.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Thanks,” I replied. “You wouldn’t happen to know their recipe, would you?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “That and more. The blacksmith helped me craft part to rebuild my ship.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “How long did you stay there exactly?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “At least a few decades. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only extraterrestrial guess during that time.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; His words chilled the mood in the room. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “That monster found you, right?” Carl asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl nodded. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “It must’ve left its scent on my ship and was able to track it.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “From space?” Stevenson asked, shocked. “That far away?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “I thought I finished it off. I was wrong. It came in the form of a green meteor. The way it looked was like an octopus attached to the body of a mantis. It was fueled by Inde’s power and managed to infect villagers before I and others banned together to stop it.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “The first returned were created?” I said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Yes, that thing managed to infect over half the town. Luckily, we were able to utilize the runes to fight it. By then, though, it was too late. Its presence severely weakened your town's paranormal defenses and has allowed the creatures you are familiar with today to get through.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “And others, so what happened after you guys killed it?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “We realized more threats were coming so I helped create the journal of runes to combat them, but I can’t take all the credit. The Davis family had fast sketching hands. When it finally came time for me to leave, I made the villagers a promise that one day I would return with a way to stop Indefermast once and for all. This town holds that key and there’s far more to it than you know.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “So what should we do now?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You’ll have to reattempt the ritual you were trying to do before.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Collectively, we got an “aw fuck” feeling. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Do not worry. I will be assisting you this time. Since you were nearly done already, completing it should not take long.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Once again, we attempted the ritual again. The offerings were already burned so all we needed to do was reconnect the sets. Zohl was on the roof of the town hall and would shoot at any card trees that came too close. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Alright,” Carl said into his radio, “let’s try this again. My parts reconnected. What about all of y’all’s?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We replied that they were as I was drawing my sets back in. Once completed, the orange light once again appeared, and with Zohl’s help, the next ten minutes passed, not like a breeze. I mean things were still trying to kill us and time always seems to go the opposite of how you need it to in high-pressure situations. I will say it did alleviate much of our dread to have him helping. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “It is complete,” Zohl called out to us. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We went back to the town hall and saw the statue of our founders had slid away, revealing a stone staircase. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Okay, that's new," I said. "How long has this been here?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Since before this town's founding. We discovered it during the making of the journal through an old cave. Then we built this to keep it safe." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He gestured to the statues. We went down the stairs. What they led to left us in awe. There was a massive obsidian door in the wall. There wasn't any handle or switch on it or the walls nearby. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "How do we open it?" Stevenson asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Zohl stepped past him. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Allow me." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He took out a long piece of chalk from a suit pocket and began drawing. He drew a circle of runes in the door's center that started glowing a faint white. He tapped them in a certain combination and they changed to a forest green. The single door turned out to be double which came open as if pushed by an invisible force. The inside made my breath stop and for once, I mean that in a good way. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I'm not exaggerating when I say it was one of the most beautiful things any of us ever laid eyes on. The cave walls were decorated with smooth crystals of varying colors. On them were prehistoric paintings, men fighting with spears against winged monsters or ones that were humanoid, but massively tall. We even saw one of a bunch of people fighting a type of lake serpent with a head on each end instead of a tail. One especially unnerved me. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; It showed people on their knees or in poses I can only describe as towering. Some still stood with their spear in hand. Above them was a dark formless mass with red eyes. Tendrils seemed to be sprouting from its body, reaching in every direction. Even though we knew this wasn't Inde's true appearance, that didn't make seeing this any less unsettling. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The floor of the cave was the same obsidian black and stretched off into an unusually shaped crystal. It reminded us of an open hand. In the palm of it were holes meant for some kind of &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "What is this?" I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "A gateway," Zohl answered. "I built it myself in order to access a realm that may help us to defeat Inde." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Hang on. May? So you aren't sure where this thing opens up to? What if it's somewhere we can't even breathe?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "I assure you we would not be trying this if that were the case. Do you all trust me?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We replied yes. It wasn't as if he'd given us a reason to distrust him. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Then I need you to trust that wherever this goes, we'll get back from it safely. Now, please step into the hand with me." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We did and he reached into his suit pocket again, pulling out some jewels. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "These are the reason I was gone for so long. I needed them to power this and they are very rare. Help me put them in." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Once we got them all in, the air around us seemed to distort. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "My insides feel backwards," Nick groaned. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Mine too," Carl replied. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Stevenson and I weren't fairing much better. Thankfully, this didn't last long. When it stopped, we found ourselves in a sort of void consisting of only dark blue and purple swirls. Behind us was the hand. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "What is this place?" Stevenson inquired. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "The realm between dreams and the waking world. The reason it is empty now is because it creates places based on the consciousness of those within it." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "So we think it and it'll appear?" Nick asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Not exactly. It's more that it'll pick up on what's close to you as a collective and create it accordingly. Observe." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Bright orange cracks spread throughout the space around us. When they connected, they shattered, causing the light to spill over us and forcing us to shield our eyes. The light faded and in front of us was something that made our jaws drop. A black castle sat atop a tall hill. There was a spiked fence in front of it with Jack o' lanterns in front of it. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; On them were crows, ravens, and owls. Hanging upside down from nearby trees were bats. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "This is awesome," I exclaimed. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I know it must have seemed childish as hell, but this place was practically oozing Halloween. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "While it is indeed festive, you must be wary of danger lurking within." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Huh? Oh, right, so anything we need to know before we head in?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "There are certain items that we must locate that are rumored to be contained in this realm. I am not sure what they are. However, I have the feeling we will know them when we see them." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Welp, no point in standing around then. Come on." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The entrance doors were made of dark oak with golden handles. We tried it and found they were unlocked. The doors opened with a creak. The walls were stone and the carpets were red. Chandeliers hung high above us. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; There were several different doors we could choose to explore and a staircase both going to upper and lower levels. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Which one?" Carl asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "The objects will be in difficult-to-access areas. I suggest we start with one of the hallways." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We picked the one on the far left first since it was the closest. Upon opening it, there was only darkness and yet it was solid. When we all went through, we found ourselves in an underground temple. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "How'd we get here?" Nick asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "I've heard of this before, haunted houses changing where people should end up to fuck with them," I replied. "Are those hieroglyphics?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; They were painted on the cave walls. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Remember, we'll face threats related to the world created," Zohl told us. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Given our location, there was a pretty good idea of what we were about to face. We came to a room with a sarcophagus that was solid gold with red claw marks all over it. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Okay, I'm sure I already know what's going to happen," I said. "The pharaoh or whoever is going to be holding the thing we need and as soon as we take it, he'll wake up and attack us." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "I mean, that does seem par for the course in these kinds of situations," Carl replied. "Let's see here, the door is still open. I'll bet when they wake up, it's going to close so we should hold it open and then run like hell when we get what we need." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; In fairness, it was a decent plan. That’s probably why it was doomed to fail. The pharaoh had seen better days. Seeing as how he was dead, that wasn’t unusual. In his hands was a silver orb covered in golden symbols. It seemed to have the consistency of a jello mold. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; It jiggled when I touched it. Nervously, we checked on the Pharoah. He remained the same, a dried corpse wrapped in bandages. We glanced back and could see the door back to the castle held open with one of Carl’s knives. I let out a breath, &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Here goes,” I said and then grabbed the orb. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We turned tail and ran. We could already hear the Pharoah’s groans as his ancient remains became reanimated. Now, here’s where things went downhill off the edge of a cliff. The door didn’t close. It vanished and my urge not to shit myself along with it. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “The Pharoah is this item’s defender and the only way to escape with it is to beat him.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Well, it’s only one stupid mummy,” Carl said. “We can take him.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; At that moment, the walls slid open, and a group of undead armed guards flooded in and pointed their spears at us. Sweat trickled down my face as I closed my eyes and groaned. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You were saying?” Stevenson nervously asked Carl. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Ah, shut up. This shouldn’t be difficult because we got firepower.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Carl drew out his handgun as the guards were shambling towards us. He took aim a the Pharoah and fired. The shot was dead on and the former ruler collapsed. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “See? Nothing to it,” he said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Then why is the door still gone?” Stevenson pointed out. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Carl frowned. The wall was indeed still smooth without any sign of an opening. Turning back to the still-approaching horde, the Pharoah was back on his feet. The bullet wound in his head was sealed up. Beneath the bandages was gray rotted skin. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “At least they’re slow,” Nick said at which point the Pharoah moaned out a command and chopped his hand downward in the air. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The guards were now sprinting toward us. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Fucking shit,” I hissed, &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Run,” Carl yelled. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We split up to force them to divide. I went with Zohl and Carl, Nick, and Stevenson went together. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Okay, regular weapons aren’t working,” I said as we ran. “What will?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “The creatures created here correspond with the world they come from and will share their traits.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Wait, does that include their weaknesses?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “It should.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Then I think I know what to do.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I shouted at the others to get their attention. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “What?” Carl called back. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Fire.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He and the others were confused at first and then looked at the torches lining the walls. Instantly, they understood. While we knew what to do that didn’t mean doing it would be a walk in the park. We knew the mummies’ weakness. However, their advantage lay in numbers. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Duck,” Zohl warned. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I did and a spear zipped over my head. We got close to the wall, grabbing some torches. Now we were ready to fight back. Two guards thrust their spears at us. We side-stepped them and shoved the torch in their faces. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The result was almost instantaneous. They screamed in pain and turned into ash. That gave us a confidence boost. All of us were armed so we thought from here on out this would be a breeze. Soon, only the Pharoah was left. He snapped his fingers and more guards came in. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You’ve got to be kidding,” Nick said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We figured they’d keep coming unless the Pharoah was taken out. The obvious problem was that when we took out his guards to get to him, he’d just keep summoning more. On top of that, there was the whole tiring out from running for our lives thing. I really hate the human body sometimes. We searched for something, anything to give us the upper hand. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Guys, the pots,” Nick yelled, pointing with a torch. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Oh yeah,” I said, “the spices.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Certain species used for burial were flammable so that meant we essentially could make firebombs. Grabbing one required me dropping my torch. My heart thumped rapidly as two guards came at me and I was unable to defend myself. Luckily, Zohl came to my rescue. Turns out, he’s a lot stronger than we originally thought. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; When he hit his torches into the guards, they went flying and exploded into ash against the walls. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Since when could you do that?” I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “I’ve been holding back my strength. Now to end this.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I took aim at the Pharoah and chucked the pot at him. Zohl threw his torch which hit it, covering him in flames. He wasn’t the only thing to burn. The entire temple was catching and soon began crumbling around us. The door had reappeared and we got through it as the area finished collapsing. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Anyone else want to take a break?” Carl asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We told him yes between heavy breaths and sat by the wall outside the door. It was only when we calmed down did I notice the cuts on Carl and the others. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “You guys okay?” I said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “We’ve been better,” Nick replied. “You aren’t looking so good either.” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “Huh?” &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I felt a sharp pain and glanced down to see a wound in my abdomen. All the adrenaline must’ve made me not register it sooner. We brought some medical supplies so we were able to patch ourselves up. Once ready, we got up and headed for the next room. This time it led to some dark woods. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "At least we can get some fresh air," Carl said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Yes, at the expense of something trying to kill us," Stevenson responded. "Let's just get this over with." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; A loud howl chilled the mood instantly. I'd seen enough movies to know that could only mean one thing. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Werewolf," Carl murmured. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; It came bounding out of the forest. This thing was insanely huge. It made the one in American Werewolf In London look like a puppy. Hanging around its neck was a red orb with blue lines running through it that reminded us of veins. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Zohl, please tell us you're strong enough to fight this thing," I said as fear came back over me. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "I am not. I am sorry," he replied. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Then we're up shit creek," Stevenson groaned. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The werewolf sized us up. We drew our guns. Then it noticed the orb in my hand. It tilted its head and then peeled it back its lip, exposing its teeth in a faint grin. My blood's warmth quickly plummeted at the sight of this. With a bellowing roar, it charged forward. We fired only for our bullets to not even so much as make it flinch. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Carl cursed and we fled. The werewolf was quickly gaining on me. Realizing it was after the orb and recalling what Zohl told me earlier, gave me an idea. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Carl," I called out and he gave me a questioning look. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I waved the orb and from his expression, I knew he understood my plan. I threw it at him as the werewolf was breathing on the back of my neck. It let out an enraged roar, seeing him catch it and it switched targets, bounding after him. The others picked up on the situation and what followed was basically a game of extreme catch. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Whenever the werewolf got too close to someone, they'd throw the orb to someone else. This went on for a while as we were also keeping an eye out for the thing that would help us. Nick, who had the orb, threw it to Stevenson. He fumbled it. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Oh hell," Carl yelled. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Stevenson was on his hands and knees trying to find it, letting out multiple cusses as he did. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Hang on," I shouted. "I got another idea." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Admittedly, this was simply plain fucking stupid on my part. The werewolf was nearly on Stevenson. It stopped, getting ready to leap on him. I jumped on its back. You see, I thought since this place was associated with the dream world, the whole doing whatever you want in a dream thing applied. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; It didn't. I was flung away like an ant. The only saving grace was that I gave Stevenson enough time to pass the orb to someone else. I was seeing stars upon impact and pain shot through my body. Shaking off the fatigue, my fingers brushed against something as I was getting back up. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I'd found it, wolfsbane. I yelled for the orb to be tossed to me. Zohl was holding it this time and he threw it a second before being knocked to the ground. When the werewolf came after me, I stuck the plant forward, hoping like hell this would work and that I wouldn't end up a chew toy. Its fur sizzled. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I drew my gun and shot it between the eyes. It reverted back to a naked man and then crumbled into dust, leaving only the orb behind. We got out of there. Along the way, I snapped off some large branches. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Second one down," Carl said. "How many more do we got to get?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Four." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Four? This could take a while then. Pete, what are you doing?" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I was sitting down and snapping the sticks I got in half. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "We'll probably run into vampires in this place so I'm making stakes." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Oh, good thinking. Here, we'll help." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We spent the next half hour whittling down the sticks into stakes, during which some concerns were brought up, namely about food and where we would use the bathroom. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; “This place is pretty weird. Maybe we’ll come across one,” Nick said. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; He turned out to be right. We tried another door and found a restroom with stalls eerily similar to the ones at my old high school. I won’t lie. This did bring back bad memories, but I did my best to ignore them as we went about doing our business. After leaving, we marked the door. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; We were super tired so we chose to rest up with Zohl on guard whose species needs very little rest. I’ll have to leave it off here for now, due to Reddit’s character limit. Expect the second post [tomorrow.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesFromRose/) Goodnight, [everyone.](https://twitter.com/RoseBlack2222)

I should have never taken that trip to LA.

ye66jm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye66jm/i_should_have_never_taken_that_trip_to_la/

I haven't slept in days. My job is blowing up my phone because I haven't showed up to work since last week. I just can't bring myself to leave the house. All I can think about is where it all went wrong. It all started as a weekend trip down to Los Angeles. My best friend, Alina, moved there a couple months back and I finally got some time off to see her. I drove down from San Francisco because I enjoy long drives while listening to podcasts and needed some destressing. I won't lie, I was really nervous. Alina is VERY different than I am, she is drop dead gorgeous, almost 6 feet tall and very outgoing. I am barely 5'5, average looking and socially awkward. I think our friendships works because we balance each other out to some degree. My weariness started once I got over the grapevine on I-5. It felt like I had just entered a bubble of illusion. I had been to LA a few times before but this was the first time I felt this way. It was like this city was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. I felt star struck for a moment. As I drove deeper into the city, that feeling was still there but also I noticed how grey everything looked. The trees, flowers, buildings, etc, all looked like they had lost their vibrancy. I should have realized what lied ahead after that. The weekend started off very typical. I got to her apartment ( a lot nicer than I ever anticipated ) and unloaded my suitcase. We grabbed our $10 coffee and were catching up. We did some light shopping, grabbed lunch, and just enjoyed each others company after being separated for months. Alina was a lot less bubbly than before and seemed to mostly talk about how much money she has been making but I did not think much of it. She definitely was a little more "boujee" than she had been before too but hey its LA, right? Alina's friends are typical LA socialites. All injected with who knows what, spray tanned to different races and all get their money from sugar daddies. Once again, I could not be more different. But I digress. The day I met all her friend for the first time we were at a brunch restaurant for bottomless mimosas. They all arrived 30 minutes late but I wouldn't expect anything else. It was a bit awkward at first, well, I was a bit awkward at first. But something about them was so intoxicating. They reeled me in and we became best friends within the hour. I was pleasantly surprised, her friends seemed to like me and I was no longer anxious/nervous. The mimosas helped, but I am in no way a heavy drinker so I just had a light buzz. After brunch was nearly over, one of Alina's closer friends, Willow, invited everyone back to her apartment for some drinks and to swim/ hot tub. Honestly, I was a little hesitant because all these girls look like damn super models and I am a little chubby. But, there was something drawing me to these girls. We go back to Willow's place and it was the nicest apartment I have ever seen. It was on the top floor of a very well known building and had almost 360 views of the city. I noticed that the whole apartment was grey and had no color. Just grey. Weird. There was also other people here that were not at brunch. Mostly men and a few girls. None of them seemed very friendly or wanting to talk. One of them seemed like he was exceptionally stoned, eyes glazed over and just sitting on the couch while staring off into space. I avoided most of them and made small talk with one other girl while Alina was changing. Her name was Nina and had just met Willow that day but decided to come anyway. We head down to the pool area and it was like the moment we stepped in everyone wanted to f\*ck each other. I was so uncomfortable and honestly just wanted to climb into a hole. Alina was nowhere to be found. Nina was making out with Willow. I just wanted to go back to the apartment. After about 20 minutes of straight up soft core porn, someone calls my name. I look around and I see Willow waving her hand at me. She asked me if I was having fun and very unconvincingly I said "yeahhh." She then puts her hand on my chest and it felt like I couldn't move. For a just a moment I saw something I could not explain. Her eyes were pitch black and soulless. I audibly gasped and took a step back. I didn't believe what I was seeing and tried to play it off like I was drunk and just lost my footing. She walked away without saying a thing. I sat in the hot tub and started to look around to what everyone was doing. All the girls/guys that were with Alina's friends almost seemed like they were in a trance. None of them were talking, just standing there, looking into the eyes of the girls they were paired up with. I sat there for a moment digesting what was happening. I noticed all of her friends eyes were black. I started to hyperventilate but wanted to keep quiet and not draw any attention to myself. I started to look for Alina, we needed to get the hell out of that building and book it back to her apartment. She was not in the pool or hot tub. I was panicking, thinking the worst. I don't know what urged me to go into the changing rooms, but I did. I really wish I didn't. I slowly opened the curtain and there was Alina. Crouched in the corner of the dark dressing room. All I could see was her neon pink swimsuit and long black hair. She was making these noises, it sounded like someone squishing Jell-o between their hands. I called out to her but was hesitant to walk further into the room. She was not turning around or responding to me in anyway. I took a deep breath and called her name again while slowly approaching her. The smell then hit me like a truck. Sulphur. Alina turned around once I was within arms reach. Her face was full of throbbing veins and her eyes were pitch black. She was eating something like that looked like a someone. Face and hair covered in blood. I was paralyzed with fear. After grabbing my arm she let out the most deafening, high pitch screech. I tried to run but she was inhumanly strong and her nails were digging into my arm. When our eyes met, I could see my Alina for a brief moment and she looked terrified. It was like she recognized me and was screaming for help from the inside. I managed to get my arm loose in that split second and run. I ran past all her friends, through the lobby and into the street. I ran and ran until I couldn't see the building anymore. I called an uber and sat through the drive to her apartment staring at the scratch on my arm and silently weeping. I couldn't even comprehend what I just experienced. I didn't even call Alina when I got back to her building. I gathered all my things and left. Thank god I drove myself because I would not have been able to wait for a flight. I sat in silence the whole 6 hour drive home. Debated calling the cops but I would have just sounded insane to them. Its been a week and Alina has called me easily over 100 times. Every time I close my eyes I see her. I see the throbbing veins and black eyes. I see the blood dripping off her long acrylic nails. How am I to go back to normal life? What did her friends do to her? What the hell were they doing to all those people? Is this how they have so much money? My mind cannot rest. I have so many questions but I don't think I want the answers. I just want my life to go back to normal but how can I? Even after all of this I still can feel my mind and body wanting to go back to Los Angeles. I want to go back and help her but I don't think its possible. She isn't human. She isn't my Alina anymore. But if I do go back, maybe she can tell me why the scratch on my arm is turning grey and why I can't bring myself to eat anything? Why I am able to go every night without a wink of sleep but still not be tired? Maybe I should go back?

I have no idea what is happening.

yeiv1w

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeiv1w/i_have_no_idea_what_is_happening/

As the title suggests, I have no idea what is happening. Well- I should start where it first began, back in 2019. It was a Monday morning, the sun was shining through our windows and the smell of fresh coffee washed over the apartment. Me and my husband lived in a small apartment alone. (With 2 lovely cats) I will admit I was always spooked when I was home alone. We lived on the 4th floor which was the highest floor of the building, so seeing shadows or figures outside the window was extremely unsettling. it was never occasional, maybe once or twice every month. I worked as a cashier at our local grocery store, surprisingly it made a decent payroll, decent enough to live off of anyway. One day I had came home around 5:30pm. I went to close our curtains since I never liked them open especially near night. I made dinner, cleaned, and showered. I heard the door slam close, I was startled but I just assumed my husband was just having a bad day. I realized the dinner probably went cold, I never make dinner this early. I went over to the kitchen table and grabbed the plates to reheat them, but as I was walking over I noticed my husbands shoes weren’t where they usually are. At this point it was 8pm, he should’ve been home 10 minutes ago. “Maybe he didn’t take his shoes off“ I thought. I was spooked but once again, brushed it off as me being an over thinker. As I was sitting down and about to call my husband over I hear the door open and close lightly and my husband calling out “I’m home!” Shivers went down my spine, then who was the one to slam the door? I ran to him and grabbed his arm, “Ezzy (His nickname)” I said almost to tears. I was terrified, what if there was a murderer in our apartment? I’m not a big fan of paranormal things and a bigger non-fan of true crime. it all scared me to much. I told him about it and he told me he wouldn’t leave me alone in the apartment for a second to calm me down. That was also the day the figures showed up in the windows daily. I noticed it while eating, I started bawling and didn’t eat a single bite. The week later I covered our windows so I couldn’t see anything outside. I installed extra lights and security cameras. It was expensive but I could afford it with my money. My husband tried his hardest to understand but anybody could tell he thought it was ridiculous. Then the knocking started, everyday at 6:45am. Sometimes it would be violent slamming and kicking, or just a calm single knock. When this started happening I couldn’t even go to work without completly breaking down, so I followed my husband. I took drastic measures, called the police. After awhile a deputy moved in the room next to us. I made sure a security camera was outside the door, usually nothing eerie happened. During the knocking there would be a but of static sounds but nothing else. Nothing was reassuring me anymore. This continued until 2021, September. Where when me and my husband would wake up to shattered glass in the kitchen, nothing was destroyed. Just random fucking glass. (please excuse my language) When i first saw it, blood was on the floor. I wasn’t hurt. I couldn’t breathe for a second and fainted. At this point I’m petrified of what the next stage would be, would we wake up to scars next? Or blood covered furniture? I called the deputy over, he inspected it and said to just ignore it. I was furious, ignore what? This is delusional! I suggested moving into another area but husband said that this is nothing, and it’s not worth moving away over. I was more frustrated. We shouldn’t be dumb characters like in horror movies. This is why they all die! I calmed myself down and searched tips on things like these. This is when I started excessively using evil eye bracelets, crystals, manifesting, all that shit. If you don’t know, usually when an evil eye absorbed to much negative (or “evil”) energy the bracelet will break. This applies the same to certain crystals. I put crystals everywhere, wore bracelets and made my husband wear them too. I could tell my husband was getting tired of this. He was a loving and patient man so he dealt with my shenanigans. Most of the stuff eventually broke not even two months after buying them. I bought more, and more. (P.S, all of the things I bought are used with my money, independently.) This time I didn’t use them all at once, eventually it started going away. I was better and I felt safer. I still didn’t risk anything though, I dialed down on my crystal’s and braclet’s, still having about 50 of them in the closet. It is now 2022, Petrified, we are moving very soon. I don’t think I’ll still feel safe. I don’t know what’s happening. I came home with my husband after spending a whole day at the theme park, to come home to a dark gloomy room. As soon as I stepped into the apartment I fell down and covered my ears, static was absolutely SWARMING the whole room. my husband stepped back and fell and tried to grab me to pull me out. I started crying when he successfully pulled me out. We called the deputy over but he just smiled at us. this leads us to now, he’s smiling at us and I don’t know what to do. I think I see hands growing out of the walls. Me and my husband agree without even looking at each other that we need to run. &#x200B; S.O.S The hands grabbed me, my husband is gone— i don’t know if he’s dead. I can feel blood coming out of my ears. somebody, help us. &#x200B; (THIS IS ALL FAKE NOTHING IS REAL.)

What I found in my attic horrified me.

ydtlhv

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydtlhv/what_i_found_in_my_attic_horrified_me/

**What I found in my attic horrified me.** We have been together for two years now. Me and my girlfriend (El). I have always called her El, which is actually short for Ellenore. I've called her this for as long as I can remember, and it doesn't bother her. We like to give each other little nicknames, she always calls me curls, I figure it's because of my curly hair. I don't mind, though, it brings a certain sweetness with it that keeps reminding me how lucky I am to be with her. We have been living together for 3 months now. I finished school already and have my own job now, El is in her last year of art school. She wants to become a graphic designer*. Quite an ambitious choice*, I always found. But she proved me wrong. The things she can do with a pencil and a piece of paper always seemed to amaze me. I don't mind the fact that El doesn't have a ‘real’ job yet, my job pays well enough to support the both of us, as long as we don't take expansive vacations or purchase expansive things we don't need. Maybe us moving in together was too fast, I don't know, but so far everything was great, perfect almost… All my friends tried to tell me that maybe I had to think twice about me moving in with El but Me and El both wanted to do it, so we said: “Screw it, let's do it!” Before we moved in together, we had never spent a whole night alone with each other. Our parents were both really strict about it, so when I went to tell them about the news, they didn't seem too pleased. “*But, well, what could they really do*?” I asked myself. I was twenty-two, and it was time to move on and start a new chapter in my life. The first two and a half months went smoothly. El and I got along great. Spending every night and weekend together. I loved spending all that time with my girlfriend, doing all kinds of different things. Watching movies, baking cookies, playing games, cooking together etcetera. “My life is complete.” Is what I told myself. But then things started to get odd… It was a Thursday night, me and El both got into bed pretty early. I had to work the next day, and I was pretty tired. El had school the next day, so we called it a day. After swiping for a little while on my phone, I kissed El goodnight and fell asleep pretty quickly. I woke up in the middle of the night, but noticed my partner wasn't laying next to me anymore. I got worried, El never got out of bed during the night. She told me she hated to get out of bed: “I get so cold.” El also was the total opposite of a light sleeper, so I was really confused when she was nowhere to be seen. I called out her name, I thought she must be in the bathroom, even though she absolutely loathed getting out of her cozy den. Pure silence is the response I got. In fact, it was so quiet, saying you could hear a feather fall was understating it. Just as I thought I heard something in the attic, my girlfriend responded from out of the bathroom. “Hey Curls, I'm just in the bathroom. Don't worry about me, I’ll be back in a minute.” Relief fell over me as I heard the familiar voice of El. It was then that I noticed I was holding in my breath all that time. Normally I’d never hold in my breath like that, but I guess I was just scared, but knowing El was just in the bathroom and would be back in bed soon made me feel at ease again. I found myself fast asleep within two minutes. When I woke up that morning, El was already out of bed, making breakfast or doing some other chore in or around the house. It was the weekend and for El to wake up before me AND start with chores all by herself was… weird. To say the least. As the time flew by I forgot all about the small ‘incident’ if you can even call it that. That was until things got even weirder. It was two weeks later in the middle of the night. I found myself tossing and turning in bed. It was work, it stressed me out, and it effected my sleep. I don't know the exact time, but it was around 2am. I felt El move next to me, and then I heard her light footsteps on the hardwood floor. She tiptoed around and exited the bedroom. I was just about to call out for her when I thought by myself: “Why would she get out of the bedroom?” You see, our bathroom was connected to our bedroom, so you wouldn't have to leave the room. But El did leave the room. I was curious what she was up to, so I decided not to call out for her and just listen where she would be going. I wasn't worried or anything because she also could have been really thirsty and craved some juice or a late night snack. I counted her steps toward the stairs, but in the middle of the hallway, the footsteps stopped. I heard El fold out our stairs to the attic. Let me explain how you get to our attic: to get access you have to fold out a couple of small stairs that are set on top of a hatch on the ceiling. The hatch is located in the middle of our hallway, so you have enough room to access it. We didn't mind this because we had enough room in the house and didn't need an attic. Hell, I've only been there once, and that was when we first moved in, so I could store some of my junk that I knew I wouldn't need for a long time. So now things got really weird. I couldn't come up with a single reason why El would need to get up into the attic, especially at this time. And I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. El must have been up there for about 10 minutes, and when she climbed back down the stairs and I heard her footsteps approaching, I figured my best course of action was to pretend to be asleep and ask her about it in the morning. As I woke up, I instantly remembered what had happened last night. When I entered the kitchen, I didn't even take the time to greet El. “Why were you in the attic in the middle of the night?” El looked up at me as if she didn't remember a single thing about last night, she stayed silent. “Why were you in the attic last night, Ellenore?” She sighed, “I thought I heard mice in the attic and I wanted to check it out.” She watched me frown, and looked at me with her hazel eyes as if she wanted to tell me: ‘please don't ask any further.’ I wasn't buying it, but I didn't ask her any further. In fact, I had already made up my mind: I was going to check things out myself. Of course, I didn't tell her that, but as she left for school, the first thing I did was call in sick to work. I thought about not going up the attic for a brief moment, but my curiosity got the better of me, and before I knew it I was standing in the dark attic. I could smell the dust up here. The first thing I did was check if there was anything out of place. Everything was neatly stacked. I grabbed the first box and spitted through it. It was only photo albums and empty picture frames… the next box was books and the third just more stuff we didn't need in the house. I looked through 11 boxes before I found *the* box. It looked like an ordinary box, so I didn't expect to find anything, but what I saw when I opened it horrified me. The brown box contained *four* skulls. I'm no expert in these sorts of things, but i almost immediately knew they were human. And after a little bit of research, my suspicions were confirmed. I didn't know what to think about the situation. It was as if I didn't even know my girlfriend anymore. Panic started to kick in. What was I supposed to do? Confront my girlfriend? *No, she could be dangerous.* Call the police? *No, I’d lose my girlfriend and maybe even the house.* I was at a loss. I had one idea, but it was a stupid idea. I was going to call my girlfriend’s ex. The skulls I found looked old, so maybe he knew more about it. El had one ex, and sometimes she spoke about him, not in a good way though because El told me they ended their relationship on relatively bad terms, so I wouldn't know if he would want to speak with me. It's 11:02am and the phone is ringing. I'm not sure what I'm going to ask or say, but I want answers. “Hello?”

My Great-Grandfather Made A Scarecrow. And I'm Warning You--Don't Touch It.

yd5gsl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd5gsl/my_greatgrandfather_made_a_scarecrow_and_im/

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The whitewashed two-story farmhouse. The golden fields. That jagged strip of dark-green forest on the horizon. Like something out of a painting. There’s something special about this land. It’s kept fruitful and healthy, even after all the other farms on this road shut down long ago.I know you’re interested in buying, and I suppose at my age, it’s about time that I was selling. Before I do, though, there’s something you need to know. What I’m about to tell you might disturb you–it might even scare you off from buying the place–but it’s got to be said. You see that scarecrow out by the garden? That dark, raggedy shape with a beat-up old hat? It stays where it is. No matter what. That was my great-grandfather Calloway’s dying wish. He built this farm, you know. It’s been in my family for four generations–and out here, family is everything. You see, when you're young, you have no way of knowing whether what goes on in your family is right or wrong. You have nothing to compare it to. And if your family cuts the crust off of sandwiches, puts pineapple on pizza, or hangs a dressed-up skeleton from a cross in the backyard–well, that’s just what’s normal for you. Growing up out here, every kid had odd chores. Stuff other folks would consider too difficult for kids, or even dangerous. Everything from making soap to driving a combine harvester. That’s why it wasn’t so strange to me that my own chores included painting a face on my great-grandfather’s skull and making sure his clothes were stuffed with fresh hay. For as long as I could remember, my great-grandfather Calloway’s skeleton had been propped up on two poles in the garden behind the farmhouse where I grew up, looking out over the cornfields toward the forest beyond. If you didn’t look too closely–and most people didn’t–great-grandpa Calloway looked like just another scarecrow. Not that we had many visitors. Most people kept to themselves in those days. Each farm was its own little kingdom, protected by the *KEEP OUT* and *PRIVATE PROPERTY* signs that hung like sacred talismans from every rusty gate. While pedaling my bicycle along that lonely stretch of country road, I’d sometimes pause in front of one of those long dirt driveways, wondering what secrets were hidden in the toy-sized house at its end. The Mosebys, some said, raised fighting dogs. And there were rumors that fifteen-year-old Shelly McAllister was about to have a baby by her first cousin–the local preacher. Compared to that, what was the harm in some sun-bleached bones and an old superstition? By the time I was twelve, however, I understood that other people wouldn’t see it that way. They’d see grandpa Calloway’s scarecrow as something sick and twisted, like the monster in a late-night horror movie. On the rare occasions that I had classmates over, I made sure to keep them far away from where that dark, ragged figure shuddered in the breeze. The worst were my friends from childhood: I’d told many of them about great-grandpa Calloway before I’d realized just how strange our little family tradition truly was, and I was perpetually terrified that one of them would insist on seeing his skeleton up close. If anyone at school found out… I could already hear my jeering classmates: *‘Scarecrow Girl! Scarecrow Girl!’* I begged my parents to take great-grandpa Calloway down from his pole. “It’s what your great-grandfather wanted,” my mother explained. “He carved this farm out of the forest with his own two hands. He tilled the land and turned it into the farm you see today. This place is Calloway’s life’s work, and he has a right to watch over it.” As a child, Calloway’s scarecrow hadn’t frightened me. Polishing those two electric-blue glass eyes and returning them to Calloway’s hollow eye sockets–or using red lipstick to paint a smile around his skinless lip–were just chores, no different than mucking out the chicken coop or washing the windows. Yet once I’d begun to feel the wrongness of Calloway’s dangling corpse, I couldn’t get it out of my head. While wrapping a fresh set of secondhand clothes around his bones or adjusting his ropes, I felt sure his skeletal fingers would reach out to grab me. *You little traitor,* he’d whisper, his white ribs rattling. *You wanted to take my farm away from me!* Every time I passed by the window of my second-storey bedroom, I felt compelled to check on Calloway’s scarecrow, to make sure that he was where I’d left him. With my breath caught in my throat, I’d hesitate…as though at any moment he might turn and look up at me. Of course, the only time I ever saw great-grandpa Calloway move was when a terrified rat scampered out of his straw–but even that was enough to give me nightmares for a week. By my junior year of high school, I was feeling confident that I was going to make it to graduation without ever having to explain Calloway’s scarecrow. Soon it would be just another one of the dusty, petty secrets of the hometown that I was so eager to leave behind. I felt like a bird caught in a too-small cage, and I was sure that everything would be different when my boyfriend Mark and I went to the state university together next fall. So far, I’d managed to keep Mark far away from my great-grandfather’s skeleton. When we met, it was usually to do what couples do when they’re alone: in the shadowy corners of his father’s animal feed warehouse, the bed of his pickup truck, or a secluded spot along the creek near my house. Mark had come to dinner with my family once or twice, too, but always after dark…and on those chilly autumn nights there was no reason to go out back, where my great-grandfather’s corpse kept watch over the rustling cornfields. It was pure chance that *I* heard the noise, instead of my parents: a low, horrified grunt. I rushed to my bedroom window. A dark figure was standing in front of Calloway’s scarecrow. I threw on my bathrobe, grabbed the flashlight from my nightstand, and hurried to the edge of the cornfields. Mark stared up at my great-grandfather’s skeleton, a look of disgusted incomprehension on his face. “I can explain!” I pleaded. “No way. That’s *sick.* There’s a *dead human body* propped up in your backyard. What the hell, Liz?!” “It’s…well, it's my grandfather…” I stammered. “This was his dying wish…” “You have no way of knowing who this guy was!” Mark hissed. “For all *you* know, he could be some hitchhiker that your parents *murdered!* This thing’s probably got all kinds of nasty diseases…” Mark held out his hand, showing me the pebbles he’d planned to throw at my window. “I was sneaking through the fields to invite you to prom–” “*Yes!*” I shouted, forgetting all about the danger of waking my parents. “I’d love to!” I jumped up to kiss Mark, but he turned away. “–But I dunno. This is twisted, Liz. There’s something seriously wrong with your family.” The smile washed off my face. I couldn’t believe it. “There’s something seriously wrong with *every* family!. Your older brother was arrested for selling heroin–*to middle schoolers*, for God’s sake*–*but I didn’t care! Because your family isn’t *you*, Mark! And my family isn’t me, either.” “I just need some time to think,” Mark muttered. But I could tell by his tone that our relationship was over. He still cared about his hometown reputation; he was afraid of being known as the boyfriend of the crazy girl with a skeleton in her backyard. Still stammering excuses, he backed away into the gloomy cornfield. It wasn’t my family’s fault; it wasn’t the scarecrow’s fault, either. In time, I’d realize that Mark had probably been wanting to break up for quite some time, and Calloway’s skeleton just happened to be the perfect excuse. Even so, I had to take all my anger and disappointment out on *something*. I gritted my teeth and wriggled Calloway’s pole until it came free. For a moment I feared a scream might rise from his hideously-painted skull, or that he’d raise a hay-stuffed hand and call a terrible curse down upon my head– But I was an adult (*well, almost*) and I knew that there was no such thing as walking corpses and their curses. I hurled Calloway’s hay-stuffed bones onto the ground and dragged them behind the shed. Tomorrow, I’d get rid of that damn scarecrow once and for all. I’d burn it, bury it, call the health department, whatever it took. Mark would be impressed by how I’d handled the situation. He’d want to forget all about our fight and go to prom together again, I was sure of it. I’d pretend to be mad at first, but eventually I’d take him back… As I lay my head on my pillow, I was content with my night’s work. Getting rid of those gross old bones had been easier than I’d ever imagined. Only for a second–right before I drifted off to sleep–did I fear that I’d made a terrible mistake. I woke to the sound of creaking footsteps on the porch. I nuzzled into my sheets and smiled. It was probably Mark, coming back to apologize. But Mark’s footsteps weren’t so slow and heavy. My eyes snapped open. This time, I couldn’t see anyone outside my bedroom window. For a moment I wondered where Calloway’s scarecrow had gone…then I remembered what I’d done. Voices rose from the porch below. “Do you think he’s *really* gone?” came a wheedling, high-pitched whisper. “It might be a trap…” another responded, in a voice that sounded like the scraping of insects’ wings. “Who knows how long they live for…” “Look with your eyes!” rumbled a third voice, deep and gravelly. “He isn’t here. We can take what we want.” I heard a snap. Downstairs, the kitchen door swung open. I locked my door, pressed my ear against it and listened. My father’s snoring had stopped. I could hear my mother rustling around, probably looking for her glasses. Footsteps creaked on the stairs. The first were light and sinister, followed by something that skittered, and finally a slow, plodding *stomp*, like a mountain walking*.* “Oh my god,” I heard my mother whisper. “*They’re here…*” My father racked the shotgun. The *boom* of my parents door flying off of its hinges was followed by two deafening blasts…then laughter. A dull, slow, stupid laughter, like that of a bored child pulling the wings off of a butterfly. *Slam. Splat.* “Hahahahaha!” the high-pitched voice squealed. “His skull cracked like an egg!” Something scampered across the ceiling of my parents’ bedroom. My mother screamed. Ignoring the wet ripping sounds coming from next door, I scrambled to the window, praying that the rusty springs wouldn’t squeak as I slid it open. The hideous noises suddenly stopped. “There might be more treats in the other rooms…” the skittering thing whispered. I heard the handle ripped from my door, but I didn’t turn to see what was coming inside. I let myself drop from the windowsill. A burst of pain shot up from my ankle when I landed on the porch, but I was already running to the shed. I fumbled in the straw and secondhand clothes, frantically trying to reassemble my great-grandfather’s skeletal scarecrow. The porch groaned beneath heavy footsteps. “Where’d she go?” the deep voice asked. “Shed!” replied a squeaky, high-pitched answer. “I *saw* her!” I jammed a hat onto great-grandpa Calloway’s skull and heaved him upright. His electric-blue glass eyes rolled wildly, but his structure was intact. “It’s *him!*” the rustling voice rasped. “The one who banished us to the woods!” “Back from the dead!” another squealed. “*Run!*” came a thundering command. The trenchcoat wrapped around Calloway’s bones smelled of straw and wet earth. Peering out from behind it, I could barely make out three almost-human shapes scampering for the cornfields and the safety of the trees: one small and impossibly thin, another somehow buglike, and a third that was nearly as tall and wide as the shed that had hidden me. Strange footprints. The smell of death That was all they left behind. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, once you buy this place, it’ll be yours: you’ll have a right to make any changes you see fit… But if I were you, I’d leave Calloway’s scarecrow right where it is. [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/beardify)

The property up north

ye0ozo

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye0ozo/the_property_up_north/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x1o0pp/the_property_up_north/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x47rix/the_property_up_north/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xccjqc/the_property_up_north/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y41mk7/the_property_up_north/) We drove closer to the emergency vehicles before Phoebe shut off the engine. The flashing lights, combined with the abrupt silence were unnerving. We walked to the vehicles and looked around to see if keys were left in them or if there was anything that could help us. I looked into the firetruck and found some tools and an ax in the side storage compartment. "Hey. There's someone in here," Phoebe said as she was looking through the back window of one of the police cars. I went over to look with her and saw someone lying face down with handcuffs behind their back. Phoebe opened the driver's door, and there was a layer of fuzzy growth on the seats and dashboard. The person in the back lurched up, causing her to scream. She swung the door shut, and the person in the back sat up and started slamming its head into the window. A cloud of spores exploded and filled up the car. It continued to bang its head against the window and then pressed its face against it to look out at us. Most of its forehead had broken away, and what was left of its face was covered in tons of tiny worm-like tendrils. We backed up to where Gretchen was standing and watched as the tendrils detached from the face and crawled along the window. "Those things are tiny," said Gretchen. "They're going to find a way out of the car." "That's what I saw on Sam's face when I found him in his room," I said. "We still have some of that fertilizer left," said Phoebe. We could throw it in the car." "Might be too dangerous," said Gretchen. "Maybe we could just pour some around the car. Hopefully, it would kill them if they get out." "I like that idea a lot better…it is much safer," I said. I ran to the utility vehicle and grabbed the fungicide. We sprinkled it all around the car, and I also threw some underneath it. "What now?" I asked, trying to figure out where to go next. There was no way past the blockade of vehicles, and we didn't find any keys in them. Back up the road into the park came the sound of people running. We all turned around, and a bunch of people were running on the dirt road. "Looks like we just have to go," said Phoebe. "You two start running, and I'll try to catch up," I said as I ran back to the utility vehicle. I opened the backpack and quickly stuffed the fungicide inside of it. Then I zipped it up as I ran after Phoebe and Gretchen. They had run into the trees to go around the police cars and fire trucks. I followed them, and they slowed to wait for me on the dirt road that headed away from the park. The backpack was heavy, but I was sure we would need some of the things in it. "They're still following us," said Phoebe. I looked back and saw that they had made it around the vehicles. We ran faster as we went along the tree-lined road. We ran for a while until we started to get tired. "Great, there is a big hill up ahead," I said, not very excited to have to run up that steep incline. "They're not slowing down behind us," Gretchen said. We ran up the hill, and I felt my legs getting weak. The backpack felt extra heavy on my already exhausted body. I was so tired and desperately needed some sleep or at least a rest, but I kept pushing myself. "They're getting closer," said Phoebe after she looked behind us. We reached the crest of the hill and started going down the other side. The road curved to the left, and to the right, it dropped off into the woods. As we ran down the hill, I slid in the dirt and lost my balance. After stumbling for a few steps, I face-planted and skidded across the dirt road. "Keep going!" I shouted when I saw Phoebe and Gretchen begin to slow down. I quickly pushed myself up and tried to catch up. I looked back and saw they were only fifty yards from me. Up ahead, the girls disappeared around the turn. When I started around the turn, I saw that Phoebe and Gretchen had stopped. Ahead of them was another police car stopped perpendicular to the road. A police officer was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle. "Help! We're being chased!" shouted Phoebe. "They're close behind me," I said. "How do we know he's not one of them?" I said, pointing to the officer as he climbed out of the car. He started walking toward us. "Are you going to help us?" asked Phoebe. "Let's go," said Gretchen. The others chasing us had just come into view and were closing the distance. The only place to go was the steep drop into the woods off to our right. We ran over there while the police officer and the others came after us. It was about a twenty-foot drop-off when we got to the edge of the road. There was no way to climb safely down, so we needed to try to slide down as best we could. Just before they could reach out and grab us, we all jumped down with our feet in front of us. I kept my arm straight out behind me to slow my descent, scraping it on the rocks and plants that were jutting out. Phoebe shouted as she flipped over and went head-first down the rest of the way, crashing into some bushes at the bottom. I slowed myself down by grabbing onto a couple of small trees growing out near the bottom. Gretchen made it down before me and ran over to Phoebe. I joined them and looked back up to see all the faces staring down at us. They hadn't tried to follow us, so maybe we still had a chance to get out of here. Phoebe's face was scratched up, and she had a pretty nasty cut on her cheek where she hit a rock. Her hands and arms were all bruised and scratched. There were holes in her jeans from sliding, and blood was beginning to show through the dirt on her knees. "Do you think you can stand up?" Gretchen asked. "I don't know," said Phoebe. "Everything hurts." I heard some noises coming from back up on the road. Some of them had sat down at the edge and were inching forward. "You're going to have to try," I said. "I think they are coming down." Gretchen and I tried to carefully help Phoebe stand. She yelped in pain, and it was a struggle to get her up. Her mask had ripped off and fallen to the ground. I picked it up and held it against her cheek to stop the bleeding. "Oh no… they're coming down now," said Gretchen. I looked back up in time to see two of them run and jump off the side of the road. They hit the side of the steep hill on the way down and crashed into the trees, sending clouds of dust into the air. With one of us on each side of Phoebe, we went through the trees as fast as we could. As more of our pursuers jumped down the hill, I heard more noises behind us. When I looked back again, I saw a few more jump and slide down the hill. It was hard to see through the dust cloud that continued to grow. But I could still see some people crawling toward us and one limping on a badly broken leg. Pieces of their bodies had broken off or been crushed from the fall. It appeared that the fungus or whatever it was inside them weakened their bones, judging by how broken their bodies were. Even though we weren't moving very fast, we were able to put a little distance between us and our pursuers. We went through the trees and stayed close to the road, hoping to find a way back up. We had been going for a long time before we could no longer hear them behind us. "I need to rest," said Phoebe. We helped her sit down on the ground where she could lean against a tree. Gretchen and I walked back a little to see if we could hear anyone coming. After standing there silently for a few minutes, we were satisfied that we were safe for the time being. "If more of them find us, I don't know how we're going to get away," said Gretchen. "We need to find a place to hide out for a while and see if Phoebe can get better…or one of us could go looking for help." Phoebe began coughing behind us and sounded like she was going to throw up. "That doesn't sound good," I said. "I hate to say this, but it reminds me of when Todd started coughing before he changed." "Maybe she just had an itchy throat," said Gretchen. "We'll have to keep an eye on her to be safe." We walked back over to Phoebe. "How are you feeling?" I asked. "Not good," said Phoebe. "It hurts to breathe…do you think it could have been from my fall…or is it inside me?" "I don't know," I said. "Can you still think clearly?" "I think so," she said. "And I don't feel like I need to cough anymore." "I'm sure you'll be okay," I said, even though I was apprehensive that she wouldn't be okay. "Let's keep going before they catch up or find us again." Phoebe moved a little faster this time, but we were only at a walking pace. I kept thinking that I could hear someone behind us, but no one was there every time I turned around. We had probably been going for at least an hour when Phoebe started moving faster. I'll "I'm starting to feel better," said Phoebe. "My body pains are going away.' She started coughing again. This time, it sounded really congested. I stopped walking, and so did Gretchen, but Phoebe kept going on her own. "Do you smell that?" Phoebe asked. "The air…it smells so fresh and beautiful." She took down her mask and was smiling. The cut on her cheek had closed up and looked fuzzy. She took a few deep breaths and then dropped to her knees. "No…stop it… what's happening to me?" Phoebe cried out. "Please help me. It wants me to…I want to…." She screamed. "No! I won't do it." I looked over at Gretchen. She was crying. I set the backpack down and unzipped it. Tears formed in my eyes as I reached for the fungicide. "Phoebe," said Gretchen. Phoebe wasn't saying anything anymore. She just sat there on her knees and stared off into the woods. I scooped some fertilizer into my hand. "We need to spread…I need to share this," said Phoebe. "She clasped her head with her hands and then looked at us. "Run! Get away from me!" I let the fertilizer slip through my fingers and then grabbed the backpack. Gretchen and I took off running. We went past Phoebe, and I think I saw one last look of recognition in her eyes before she was out of sight. We didn't stop running until we found a path back up to the road. Most of the way up, it was a gradual incline, and then we had to climb the last three or four feet. After pulling ourselves back up, we looked around. It was quiet, and no one was around. We walked on the side of the road for I don't know how many miles. I was getting hungry and exhausted. But we kept on walking. We hoped for a car to drive by, but there was none. Gretchen was slowing down, and, like me, she looked ready to give up. "We have to keep going," I said. "We need to warn everyone and get help." As we rounded a turn, I heard a loud 'ding, ding, ding' sound. It was a car with its door open. "Hear that?" I said. "The keys must be inside!" We moved a little faster but couldn't manage to run. I climbed into the driver's seat, and Gretchen sat on the passenger side. The car started right up, and we were on our way. While driving, I could finally relax my mind a little, which allowed the reality of the past couple of days to finally set in. It hadn't been that long, but it seemed like forever since we had first arrived at the property up north. We were having a great time together, and I had been excited to hang out more with Phoebe. But now Sam, Todd, and Phoebe were gone. It took a while, but we finally made it to a town. We drove past a couple restaurants and small downtown shops. I didn't slow down as we passed the post office and Dollar General. People outside walked around, utterly oblivious to what was happening at the state park not too far away. The car kept going as I watched the stores disappear in the rearview mirror. "Why didn't you stop?" asked Gretchen. "I don't know," I said. She didn't say anything else after that. We continued driving and soon found ourselves crossing the Mackinac Bridge to the lower peninsula. I was starting to get excited about returning to college, and I think Gretchen was too. There would be so many people there. We looked at each other and exchanged smiles. There was so much we had to share.

Good Ol' Taste O' Glass

ydylat

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydylat/good_ol_taste_o_glass/

I called my mother, girlfriend, siblings, and my uncle. They all called me fucking crazy. I live in Minnesota, in a small cabin by the Forest Grove Cemetery where my father is buried. Father was the only person who I could trust, my mother despises me and wished that she aborted me but only had me because of him. He was my only friend growing up because I was the weird kid at school, but I ended up being homeschooled because Father was sick and couldn't drive me all the way there. I only had books and crappy TV to keep me sane, along with his presence. He told me many stories of local urban legends and such and they were always very interesting. Wendigos, witches, Hairy Man, Pepie, etc. I loved that man so much, every day I wish he were here. Here to believe me, here to be with me, here to protect me, here to tell me everything is gonna be okay. Unfortunately, Father succumbed to an unknown viral infection, I paid for the funeral myself, the only people who attended were just me and my uncle. Father always told me after he died to "Take the necklace under the bed at night and hold it close". Never knew what he meant by that until yesterday. It was a casual Wednesday, I gathered some logs and kindle, looked for animal tracks for a potential free meal, polished and sharpened Father's old tools, picked some flowers and took them to the cemetery, and eventually returned home. Flopped on the couch, tired as an old man even though I'm 22. I sprang my legs over the back cushions of the couch and onto the back of the couch and let my head lean over the couch. Upside down with blood rushing to my head I chuckled a little from the woozy feeling. I looked at the clock. # 11:34 PM . . . I ended up going to lie in my bed. # KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK I sprang up from bed. Absolutely fucking startled. I looked through the peephole of my door to see a woman, scared shitless herself. I opened the door, and she ran in and dropped to the floor before I could mutter a word. "CLOSE THE DOOR AND LOCK IT," she said abruptly "Calm the fuck down and explain why you just threw yourself into my house with no invitation to?" I said as a closed and locked the door The girl looked shaken to the core as if she had seen the Grim Reaper himself before her "Something out there was chasing me, it took my friend!" she cried out I was very skeptical, thinking she was a local meth head or something, but she looked quite sober and hygienic, quite unlike a meth head. "What's your name?" I said, in an attempt to calm her down so she can collect her thoughts "My name is Victoria" she eventually muttered after she calmed down "Names René, nice to meet you Victoria," I said before I heard a sudden splat on my window I slowly turned around as I saw Victoria's face go from calm to panic in seconds. A severed tongue slid down my window, the blood painted the glass ever so gently and ever so menacingly. My eyes widened, I was pinching my hand so hard I drew blood to make sure I wasn't dreaming. It was real, it was actually real. Someone's tongue just slid across my window. The girl started crying horribly loud, my ears rang, I couldn't hear my thoughts, and my vision went blurry. I awoke to the girl holding me as I was on the floor trying to wake me up. My ears boomed with banging at my cabin door, the blinds were closed. I gained consciousness, and the banging stopped seconds later. I sat up and the girl wrapped her arms around me in fear, she was clearly shaken as she's resorting to embracing a complete stranger. I got her off me and we both stood up and headed for my room. There were 20 minutes of complete silence as I and this girl held each other for comfort. "I think we're finally sa--" she was cut off by a loud window smash and thud on the floor A loud scream erupted from my living room, I heard the blades of my ceiling fan beat against something and was eventually stopped by another thud to the floor. Doors smashing open were audible and then eventually another moment of silence came. Our house had 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, and 4 doors were smashed. You could assume which one was next and I had that thought in mind as I waited for death to strike at any moment. "I'm not taking any chances here waiting to die!" she said loudly. She ran for the window. A large, blood-stained arm pierced through the door like it was simply made of paper. I heard screams that I would never forget in my life. Something knocked Father's radio and it played Revolution 9 by The Beatles. Flesh ripping from her body, her bones snapping, heard as clear as day. Crunching, and chewing. I couldn't tell what was happening anymore, it all seemed like a horrid fever dream that I wanted to get out of immediately but then again it was all real. All I heard was the number 9, just the fucking number 9, it wouldn't stop. A girl I was embracing not long ago at that time, had just fucking been ripped to shreds from what I heard. I dropped to the floor and cried, I cried for my Father, I cried for my life, I cried for my girlfriend who wouldn't be able to see me again, I cried for my uncle, and I simply just kept on crying. I had no other option but to just accept my fate. I opened my eyes. Under my bed. The necklace. The one father told me to hold close, next to it my Father's gun. A Walther PPQ, my only hope to escape this hell. I put on the necklace, maybe it was just a placebo effect, but I truly felt that my Father was giving me strength. I picked up a shoe and threw it by the door, making a loud footstep noise. The thing poked its head out screaming, I could see it clearly. It had beaded eyes, a sharp Chesire Cat smile with an intestine hanging from its mouth, and bits and pieces of Victoria all over its face. The monster brought itself into the room busting the door and wall partially. This thing looked like an oversized human, but its face was uncanny. It was about as big as a medium-sized tree. I was frozen in shock. The monster taunted me in tongues and had this near-demonic laugh. The pendant gently hit my chest as I shook in fear, a clear reminder of what I had to do. I fired off an entire magazine of .45 ACP, every shot more deafening than the other. The monster screamed and fell back holding its face in pain. I jumped the window, according to the doctor I had shards of glass ranging from 3-5 inches in my body as I ran from my house. Screaming was heard behind me, it sounded even more monstrous and angered than before. Every step I took as I ran scared the shit out of me because I thought the thing was chasing me. It was. The trees rustled. Louder, and louder. I had arrived at a town, all the lights were off. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ran across the town. Lights began to turn on. Townspeople came out with rifles and pistols in hand, thinking it was a threat or some crazy lunatic probably. I was free, I was finally fucking free. I had stopped at a house with a man holding a rifle, just thanking him. thump From what I was told, I passed out from exhaustion and blood loss I was in so much pain, I repeatedly pressed the button for morphine. \--------------------------------- **2 Days Later** \----------------------------- I was finally well enough to leave the hospital. I waited a few hours and got discharged. Stepping out of the hospital, I took a long breath of air. Finally called my mother and had a 20 minute conversation filled with gas lighting. She tried to convince me I was crazy, even though police were investigating the scene. Funny enough, no trace of Victoria, just the house destroyed. I called my girlfriend. My uncle. My girlfriend. My siblings. They all call me crazy. I know what I saw. I glanced at the forest, and began to walk towards the gas station to get a snack to clear my head. **SQUELCH** I stepped on something. I removed my foot from where I stepped and there it was. The severed tongue that slid across my window and started it all.

My boyfriend won’t sleep with me

ydpf7s

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydpf7s/my_boyfriend_wont_sleep_with_me/

I met Matt in math class a week before finals. He lost an entire semester worth of notes and asked if he could borrow mine. And then we started studying together. When people started referring to us as a couple, Matt went with it and so I did too. But we never did the things real couples did like kiss or hold hands. On the other hand Matt didn't seem interested in other girls so that gave me hope. But when there was still no action after two years of being together it was frustrating to say the least. So I asked my best friend what I should do and she said, "Why don't you make the first move? Why should guys have to do all the work?" \* That was bad advice. What went down was the most awkward and stupid moment of my life. The only good thing that came out of it was that I knew for sure now that Matt wasn’t into me. On the other hand I was still stuck living with the guy in a tiny one bedroom apartment. The worst of it was that as far as the world was concerned, we were still a “couple.” I doubt anybody suspected the truth of the situation. So I came straight out and asked him if we should continue to live together. I told him I was thinking about moving in with a friend of mine, but I would be fine to stay until he could find a roommate or another place. He stared at me and was like, “Why?” He seemed genuinely taken aback, and I realized I had, maybe, gotten him all wrong. He didn’t want to sleep with me, clearly, but he didn’t want to leave me either. So what did he want with me? Or was it even me at all? “Never mind,” I said. “I was just thinking out loud.” “If I’m doing something wrong, just tell me,” he said. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.” “I was afraid you were,” I said. “Me?” he said, reaching for my hand. “I’ve never been happier in my life.” \* Matt proposed a few months later on Halloween, and right away we had our first fight. He wanted a big wedding, I wanted an intimate elopement, and there was no compromise in between that either of us could see. It surprised me because Matt wasn’t an extrovert. He was popular in the sense that girls loved him and wanted to get into his pants. But he rarely went out, and if he did, it was with me. He had one guy friend, maybe two, and he was now telling me he wanted TEN groomsmen? Like where was he going to produce these guys? More importantly, as far as I was concerned, where were we going to get the money for a big wedding? Matt said his parents will pay for it, but considering we haven't even told them we were engaged yet, I thought that was a huge assumption to make on his part. But anyway, it seemed pointless to try to convince him otherwise. \* We went to his parents’ house that weekend, and it was going to be my first time meeting them. I was unimaginably anxious to begin with and my worst fears were confirmed in the strangest way possible. His mom seemed shocked into speechlessness when she saw me, and his father was taken aback as well. It was baffling to say the least. I was the most vanilla looking person anybody can possibly hope to meet. I didn’t elicit much of a reaction one way or another in people, generally speaking. So I couldn’t understand why Matt’ parents were staring at me as if I was a ghost come back from the dead to spirit their son away from them. Eventually it appeared to sink in on them that I wasn’t the devil incarnate. I wouldn’t go so far as to say they warmed up to me, but at least they were making an effort. His mother had started serving dinner and his father asked me about my major and future plans. But when Matt told them we were engaged, their half baked attempt at social pleasantries failed entirely. His father looked angry and excused himself from the table while his mom began to cry. I was completely at a loss. But at least, I figured, we wouldn’t have to ask them how much they were willing to contribute to the wedding. \* After that dinner, I was not expecting his parents to pay one dime. I was more so expecting they would disown Matt for his awful choice of a fiancee. Instead, I got the surprise of my life when Matt told me we were going to look at wedding venues. His parents had wired him the money, and there was going to be more coming. Life is one big what-if, a series of roads not taken. Looking back, I wonder what would have happened if I had stood up for myself more and stopped the wedding in its tracks. Matt’s parents kept sending him the money no questions asked (as far as I knew). There were no requests, no demands, nothing so much as an opinion from their end. Feeling weird about the whole deal, I texted Matt’s mom asking her if she would be interested in coming to the catering tasting, but she never replied back to me. When I sent her and Matt’s dad the invitation to the wedding, I got the RSVP back a few days later in the mail marked DECLINE. When I tried to text her again, I realized that she had blocked me. If not for Matt, I would not have touched their money with a long stick. I still wanted to elope, just the two of us. But with each passing day, as the final payments from the vendors rolled in, I found myself further and further along on the road of no return. I felt as if I was walking into my doom. On top of all that Matt begged me to wear his mom’s wedding dress. But holy crap, that shit was ugly as hell. It was pink, glittery and had bows. It was more like a prom dress than a wedding dress. I wanted to die when I put it on, and Matt looked as if he had seen a ghost. We made love for the first time that night. So of course I had to say yes to the dress. Just like how I ended up saying yes to everything else I didn’t want with this wedding. Because when you really love somebody, you would do anything for them. Right? Because that was how I felt about Matt. He was different from all the other guys I ever knew. There was a mystery about him I was certain was meant for me to discover. I made a CD of love songs and mailed it to him anonymously. I wrote love letters to him and then tore them up and threw the pieces into oncoming traffic. So when he came up to me and asked me if he could borrow my notes that day in math class, I thought the gods had finally heard me. As the wedding date neared, I was almost numb with the sense of impending doom. On the morning of the wedding, I opened the closet and saw that the wedding dress was all scratched up and the strap was torn. It was fine the night before, so I figured a rat or whatever had gotten hold of it. It just about broke my heart to see Matt kneeling on the floor trying to fix it with a sewing needle and safety pins. At that point, I just wanted the whole nightmare to be over, so I put it on with a big grin and assured him it was amazing. \* It was the worst day of my life. The guest list was mostly people from Matt’s side I didn’t know. He invited everybody from his parents’ neighbors to his high school teachers and middle school classmates he hadn’t seen in years. As I walked down the aisle, the entire room gasped and not in a good way. One woman stomped out of the room cussing loud enough to be heard across state lines. I had no idea what was going on, so I kept walking down the aisle lined by row upon row of horrified faces. So many people had come, Matt’ entire hometown it seemed to me. There were at least two hundred people. Some looked outraged, some shocked, some as if they had seen a ghost. Some looked as if they were ready to kill me. I mean, the dress was ugly but I couldn’t understand how it could elicit a reaction on this level. But perhaps these people were really conservative, and my stupid pink prom wedding dress will be the talk of this town for the next fifty years. On the one hand, I wanted to throw my bouquet on the floor and run out of the room screaming. On the other hand, I just wanted to be married to the love of my life and never see all these people again. And so I gritted my teeth and kept walking towards the end of the aisle where Matt was waiting for me. It was the longest walk of my life and my legs were shaking the entire time. I was crying by the time I got there. It was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I was willing to die for. I loved him so much, maybe too much, and it was too late to turn back now. I practically fell into his arms and the rest was a haze. I just remember saying “I do” and our first kiss as husband and wife. The silence from the crowd was deafening. \* During the reception, people kept coming up to me and staring into my face, like really close. They asked me a million questions, like my name (it’s on the invitation), where Matt and I met (school like everybody else), how long we had known each other (three years), where my parents lived (wtf). They seemed relieved, I guess? Most of them turned out to be nice enough, though a few were still standoffish, staring at me from a distance as if I had committed some unforgivable social etiquette faux pas. When I went to the bathroom, a girl was sitting in a corner smoking. If not for her green hair, we could have been twins, from a distance anyway. We had the same height, same built, same face shape, same everything, or almost everything because she was much prettier than me in some way I couldn’t quite put a finger on. She stared at me as I walked in and threw her cigarette on the floor and mashed it with her foot as if it were my face and said, “That’s my dress, bitch.” I thought she must have been some mean sloppy drunk. The kind of mean sloppy drunk who would disregard the dress code and show up to somebody else’s wedding with green hair. “Who are you?” I said. “I’m Matt’s sister,” she said. “He has a little brother too, or did he not tell you that either?” She came up to me, grabbed the front of my dress and ripped it down the center. And then she left, slamming the door behind her. \* “You have a sister?” I asked Matt. He smiled at me, his eyes even more blank than usual. There was a wall between us that I used to think it was possible to be on the other side of. But now I saw there was no other side and never had been. “Yeah,” he said, “I have a sister.” “How come you never told me before?” I said. “My parents don’t like to talk about her.” “Why?” I said. “She liked to play pranks and things.” “So?” “So like she killed some girl’s pet snake, and then made her eat it.” “Made her? As in coerced her?” He nodded. “The police almost got involved but my parents talked them out of it. And then she dropped out of school and went to work at the funeral home and embalmed some guy and put him on his widow’s porch and gave her a heart attack.” It all started happening when she was sixteen, he said. Before that she had been a straight A student, the perfect girl next door, the whole nine yards. “And your little brother?” “I rather not talk about him,” he said. “Even to me? I’m your wife Matt.” His wife. It still felt strange to say it. I couldn’t believe I was married to him. Once upon a time I would not have dared to even dream of it. “Especially to you,” he said. \* Months went by. Life went on as usual, from the outside at least. Matt became even more quiet than usual. We were complete strangers to each other, and I loved him more than ever. I came back from work one day to find a green wig and the pink wedding dress on the bed. When I put them on and looked at myself in the mirror, I felt like a different person. When Matt came home, we made love like it was the first time. The next day he texted me that he had something urgent come up and wouldn’t be home. When I asked him when he would be back, he said he would see. He would SEE? When an entire week went by and he still would not come home, giving me one bullshit excuse after another, I went to his parents’ house. The front door was open and when I knocked I heard somebody say “Come in.” Through the doorway to the dining room, I could see his parents sitting at the table. They didn’t look at me or seem to notice me at all, which somehow didn’t surprise me given the way they had ignored their own son’s wedding. Perhaps they had made peace with the whole ordeal by pretending I didn’t exist. Matt and his sister were sitting on the top of the stairs. She had one hand on the back of his neck. She seemed to be expecting me. “Hello,” she said. “Matt,” I said. He said nothing. He stared at me unblinkingly like a cat. “Don’t let his sweet innocent looks fool you,” she said. I started going up the stairs. “Matt?” I was about halfway up the stairs now. There were maybe five steps between me and her. “He never loved you,” she said. “He can’t. He’s incapable of it. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” She gave the back of his neck a hard shove and ran down the hall. The body tumbled down towards me and I caught it as it crashed against the railings. He looked exactly as if he were alive. She had embalmed him. I set him down gently and went up the rest of the steps. I saw her go into a room at the end of the hallway and I followed her. The door was open. The room was windowless and pitch black. “You can turn on the light, the switch is next to the door,” a child’s voice said. I turned on the light. A little boy was sitting on a chair and she was standing next to him. His head was abnormally large, his eyes were the size and shape of two ping pong balls, his nose was a lumpy protrusion with slits instead of nostrils, and the lip-less mouth resembled a badly healed flesh wound. The skin was a dark reddish color all over. He was playing with a Rubik’s cube. “I did it Mom,” the boy said, showing her the cube. “I did it under five minutes this time. Can I leave the room now?” He looked at me. “She said I can leave the room if I solve it and I did.” “He’s five years old,” she said, “and he’s never been outside of this room.” “Have you taken him to the doctor’s?” I said. “So he can become freak exhibit A for science? No thanks.” “Wouldn’t you want to know what it is in case you have another child?” “It would be physically impossible for me to have anymore children.” “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “You said I can leave the room if I solve the cube,” the boy said. “You can leave the room,” she said. The boy jumped off the chair but then stopped mid-stride, his face becoming anxious and fearful. “What about grandma and grandpa?” he said. “They can’t hurt you anymore,” she said. “Go on.” The boy ran out of the room. I heard him shout “STAIRS” as if he had discovered America. She left the room after him, and pulled the door closed. I stood there for a full minute before I realized what had happened. I was locked in. \* I had no idea how much time had passed. It might have been hours or days. I passed in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I thought I heard another voice, not the boy or his mother, but somebody else, a voice that was both familiar and strange, like a face seen through dirty glass. There was a lot of shouting. \* When I woke up again, I was in the back of a car. For a long time I lay there, staring at the back of the driver’s head. “Matt?” I said. “How’re you feeling?” he said. “You aren’t dead?” I said. “I thought she embalmed you?” I sounded crazy even to myself. He laughed, like a hyena. I had never heard him laugh like that before. “It was a wax dummy,” he said. “She made it years ago, I didn’t know she still had it. I’m surprised she didn’t burn it in effigy at some point.” I stared at the back of his neck as he drove. “Did you change your hair?” I said. “It looks different.” It was so short it was almost a crew cut. Matt’s hair always looked like it needed a cutting. “I did,” he said. “Do you like it?” “I liked it the way it was before.” “You’re hard to please,” he said. He stopped the car next to an alleyway and turned around to look at me. The smirk on his face was nauseating. “You really had me fooled for a second,” I said. “Matt was older by about a minute,” he said, “so they always called me the little brother. It’s a joke in the family. Ha ha.” He had the calculating expression of a wolf scenting its prey. I couldn’t imagine Matt making such a face, and yet it was Matt’s face feature for feature. It was weird how two people can be physically identical and yet so completely different. Or conversely, how a person can seem like two completely different people with a different haircut. “Matt’s the nice one,” he said, “I’m the naughty one, if it isn’t obvious enough. I don’t usually admire my brother’s taste in women, but you have the most beautiful-” “I’m riddled with STDs.” “Oh I’m not going to rape you, far from it.” He dragged me out from the car and my heart sank when I saw the long black hearses in the lot. It was the back of a funeral home. He opened a door in the alleyway and shoved me inside. “It was you,” I said, “it was you who made the girl eat her own pet snake, and it was you who embalmed the guy and put him on his widow’s porch, not your sister!” “Everyone has their passion and mine is embalming. My sister’s is making wax dummies. It’s hard to tell our work apart but artistic tendencies run in the family.” He took out a tray with various implements on it and began sorting through them. “I always liked funeral homes. So quiet, so dignified. When my sister started working here, she let me follow her around. Not that she could ever say no to me.” He picked up a scalpel and held it up to the light. “Matt, no!” “Matt’s not here, just me.” He took my wrist. “I’m pregnant…” The scalpel stopped in it tracks, its tip just grazing the inside of my wrist. He stared at me for a full minute, his eyes wide with amazement. “Boy or girl?” he said. “Girl.” He put the scalpel back in its stray. “You can live then,” he said. \* Matt insisted on a home birth. He didn’t let me go to a doctor even though by the seventh month I could feel something was wrong, horribly wrong. The labor itself nearly killed me, the pain was terrifying. I didn’t think I could feel like that and not die. I knew then I could never have another child again even if I wanted to. And the baby...the baby...was all wrong. I thought I was hallucinating. And then I fainted. \* When I regained consciousness, Matt, his sister and her son were standing over the cradle on the other side of the room. They seemed very far away, and I felt as if I was looking at them through the wrong end of the telescope. The thing inside the cradle was making a desperate little mewing sound like a kitten. It’s looking for me, I thought. It wants me. The three of them leaned over the crib. “She’s perfect,” Matt said, holding up a squirming red mass to the light. “She looks like me,” the boy said. “She could almost be your sister,” Matt said. “You’ll never have to be alone again.” His sister looked around at me and smiled. “Now isn’t that nice?”

My brother and parents are missing please help

ydxdef

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydxdef/my_brother_and_parents_are_missing_please_help/

This all started 3 days ago, my parents went on a small vacation to celebrate their retirement, so I offered to look after my younger brother; he's only 12 the poor boy, he didn't deserve this. On the first night, around midnight we were playing XBOX, FIFA 22 for anybody wondering when I heard a knock coming from the back door. Concerned I told my brother to wait while I go see who was there, I looked through the window and was surprised to see the local tramp; his name is Micky, a vet of the Afghan War. I open the door and ask him what the hell he is doing banging on my door at midnight. He stared, his eyes locked onto mine as I slam the door in his face after exclaiming "Leave us alone hobo" maybe I was harsh. The next day was normal, although I didn't see any sign of Micky despite actively looking for him to apologise for being rude, see everybody loved Micky he was a good guy, very friendly and wise so I decided to apologise and buy him some lunch. I went to all his spots even the one he tells nobody to go to; the abandoned shed at the graveyard. No sign of him anywhere. So I went home and decided to pick up some snacks for a movie night on the way. Once night had fallen I set up the snacks and played my brother's favourite movie, time flew by up until about 3 am, and once I had noticed the time I sent my brother to bed. A few moments later I heard another knock, this time at the front door. I opened it and was met with a stench like no other, the smell of rotting meat invaded my nose, and I almost puked I let out a strained who's there, but nothing, just the blackness of night. In the morning I went to take out the trash and clean as my parents were coming home later that day but as I opened the wheelie bin lid I was met with 3 dead cats, 2 dead birds and the head of my neighbour's dog I exclaimed a loud "What the fuck" as I jerked back from the smell and the scene. Cleaning was painful especially now I had to inform my neighbour somebody has decapitated their dog and try to dispose of the cats n' birds. At around 10 pm my parents messaged me saying their car broke down so they are staying in a motel for the night, I told my brother and suggested another movie night, and just then I got another notification from Apple News, it read "3 men found dead in a local town" as I kept reading I realised these were people I knew, including Micky I gathered that 2 nights ago Micky needed help and instead I shut the door on him. I didn't get the chance to mourn as there was another knock at my back door, I told my brother to stay in the living room as I walked over and opened the door, a knife entered my stomach, and I fell to the ground. I must have passed out because the last thing I remember was being in the back of a hospital van, I fully gained conciseness in the hospital and after all the operations and tests I asked where my brother was and if they caught the guy, they told me that I was the only one in the house and that the only reason they even knew to come was that somebody had called the police on me for killing their cat. About a week later the police re-visited me to tell me 2 things; first that the owner of the cat decided to not press charges due to my condition and age, and second that they haven't found the guy that did this to me, I asked about my parents and brother, they said that they have seen no sign of either of them. So I'm writing this to ask for help since the police are useless, if anyone has seen a blue Mercedes or a young boy in black and white pj's contact me.

Journal pages found in a partially burnt cabin.

ydu6i6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydu6i6/journal_pages_found_in_a_partially_burnt_cabin/

*Loose journal pages found in a small cabin somewhere in northern Colorado. There were no signs of their author, beyond a small dried stain on the final page, a stain which may or not be blood. Curiously, the floors and walls—really the entire interior—of the cabin were blackly marked and warped, as if having withstood a small fire. Investigators have no leads so far, but have not discounted the pages as works of fiction. But certain other things, namely disturbances in the soil around the house, lend a somewhat startling degree of veracity to the events detailed in the pages. And local reports of strange sightings correspond loosely to certain unexplainable phenomena in the morbid narrative.* *The narrative, unedited:* It’s still out there, somewhere beyond the cabin. Skulking about the area, lurking amidst the deepening darkness as if camouflaged by the shadows – or born of them. The sun is setting, has almost set; and I know once that happens, things’ll get worse—*it* will get stronger, bolder. Occasionally, there’s a sound of twigs breaking, or bones. I remember seeing a few small animals on the property earlier in the night, before…. I have two matches left, and the candle is almost done; the wick curled, nearly burnt out. It’s almost as cold within as it is without, but that's not what I'm worried about. I can tolerate the chill, am thankfully dressed for it. Once the matches go, or the wick becomes too short, I'll have no light – and the light is the only thing keeping that thing out. I think it hates the light, despises it as though the very concept is some kind of existential affront to its being. When the light goes, I'll have nothing to stop it from getting in. Even now, as the sun’s light steadily diminishes, I can sense it preparing, armoring itself in layers of darkness. I'm inside a decidedly old cabin, writing by the light of the little wax candle I found beneath the sink; the only functionally salvageable object I could find in the dust-strewn cabinet. The rest of the place is similarly barren, having long ago been stripped of its contents and furniture. There aren’t any signs of the owner, no evidence that anyone had ever actually lived in the place; only a vague, seemingly source-less rankness in the air—as if something dead had passed through, and left some residue or clinging emission in its wake. I’ve been here for nearly two hours, and still haven’t gotten used to that rancid smell. It’s somehow subtle yet profound—not immediately noticeable, but a phantom stench; always in the back of your mind, keeping you on edge.... I'm lying on my belly on the wooden floor, wrapped in my coat, with a stack of old, partially yellowed papers from a collapsed desk’s drawer. Luckily, I’d brought my sharpie with me, otherwise I wouldn’t have had anything with which to write this all out, and my story would’ve gone untold. It still might, considering the circumstances… There’s no power, not even a generator, but the candle’s sole wick provides me enough heat—in conjunction with my coat—for me to not freeze to death. I guess the human body can get pretty efficient at siphoning warmth from any source when it needs to. I'm actually kind of glad I don’t have a bigger fire (the fireplace is completely devoid of wood) because, with how tired I am, I'm sure I’d fall asleep if provided with enough comforting warmth. And to sleep would surely mean death, given how closely I can feel that thing watching me, waiting for me to drop my guard. I know, I'm rambling, avoiding talking about the thing outside, and how I've come to be trapped in this derelict cabin, bent by exhaustion and nerve-beaten by terror. Well, it’s not a long story, but it is a bizarre one; as warped and terrifying as any campfire tale. Only it’s actually real – and, sadly, it’s not over yet.  Earlier today, while riding through a path I’d taken a dozen times before, I saw a bear—or what had looked like a bear—stand upon its hindlegs, dig its claw-tips into both of its eyes, and rip its own skull in half. I’m not sure what the purpose of that self-mutilation was, I never got the chance to find out; because before it could do anything else to itself, the front tire of my bike hit a leaf-covered rock and I was abruptly catapulted forward. I landed hard, clumsily, spared from scraping my face along the rock-strewn path by my arms instinctually shooting forward to cushion my fall. Had I been knocked out, I’m sure I would’ve been mauled only moments later. The bear, having seen me, quickly dropped to its forelegs—the halves of its head falling away from one another like a blossoming flower—and started toward me. I think what got me to my feet—leaving my wrecked bike behind—was the fact that the bear-thing was coming at me silently. There was no guttural roar, not even a bloody gurgle as would be appropriate, given its condition. It came quietly, but purposefully—and that scared the shit out of me. I ran, head titled forward and legs pumping like pistons, and yet I heard the thing gaining on me. I sensed its presence in a way I still can’t quiet describe, as if it threw off an aura or emanation greater than its physical self. A forward-flung shadow of malignant intent. It was a horrible, baleful feeling, and fear of its reach kept me going even when my legs threatened to give out under me as I reached a sudden acclivity in the terrain. It was midday, and I knew that there wouldn’t be anyone else on the trail; that I’d probably be caught and ripped apart, *or worse*, and what remained of my corpse wouldn’t be found for days—if not longer. The idea of my friends and family growing worried and distraught over my prolonged absence gave me a little wind beneath my wings, and I somehow managed to quicken my pace and summit the small hill I’d been running on. At the top, the ground leveled out, the spaces between the trees widening. Through the break in nature I saw the old, wood-built cabin—*this very one*—and without thinking, without turning back toward the silently hounding bear, I fled toward that drably colored building. I had just managed to close and bolt the door behind me when the bear came barreling against it, splintering the frame and even shaking the building itself. Still, it made no noise, merely slammed its hulking form again and again against the door like an unmanned battering ram. Finally, after the seventh or eighth assault, it backed off, and I tentatively inched toward the front window. Peering through the thin white curtains barely shading the bug-splattered glass, I saw the bear sit on its butt in the front lawn, and lay its paws in its lap—as if entering into some kind of meditative state. The halves of its sundered head still sagged apart, the jagged-edged skull and steaming brain matter eerily visible within. From my perspective the left eye was visible, and it ceaselessly circled in the socket, as if the bear were in some kind of trance. It was a horrific sight, and the sheer unreality of it nearly sent my heart into palpitations. The rise and fall of its massive chest quickly settled, and this state of intentional placidity only served to further terrify me, as it seemed to indicate that the bear possessed some form of heightened animal intelligence, if not human-level sapience. Its relaxed posture—despite the grisly cephalic trauma—was so bizarre, so unsettlingly anthropomorphic. Had that been the end of it, I think I might’ve been able to retain some degree of sanity, some sense that the world was still, in the broad scheme of things, a sane and ordered place. But what followed that monkish posture broke me, caused me to abandon all notions that there was a certain standard of “rightness” about the world and its machinations. After a few moments in this quiet, meditative phase, the bear’s body suddenly burst into flames, filling the air with a black, fulsome smoke and the noxious stench of burnt fur and flesh. The sight was darkly breathtaking, both for its suddenness and its morbidity. The bear, despite being ablaze, remained seated in a state of perfect tranquility, as if unaware that it was being consumed by flames. After a few seconds of intense immolating, the bear-thing's coat of flames sputtered out and died, seemingly of their own volition; leaving a blackened figure that vaguely resembled the form of the animal it had once been. The hide, or whatever the burnt beast's outer-layer now consisted of, was left black and oily, like the skin of some primordial reptile; and while the flesh had melted away, the two halves of the split skull remained, draping over the shoulders like dead leafage. Smoke filtered out of the exposed neck hole, rising and commingling with the black-pitched haze above. The foul emission quickly filled the air, entering even into the insulated cabin. My eyes watered from the burnt uncleanness of it, and the bitter taste of charred meat developed in my mouth. And, against all the laws of nature, against sense and reason and sanity, the bear’s chest still rose and fell in a steady, perfect rhythm. The eye, a black and sightless orb, still rolled in its socket, throwing small motes of ash every which way. The bear—impossibly—was still alive.... Darkness is finally here, and the thing that had been a bear has risen to its feet, again assuming that unnervingly human stance. It’s charred, oil-streaked hide is glistening in the light of the newly risen moon, and the shadows are gathering and swelling around it, as if feeding its umbral power. It’s not a bear, anymore. Not that it every really was, of course. But the form it’s now taken, the entity it has become.... It’s something human words are unfit to describe. Its mere existence is an eldritch phenomenon, a thing that should not be. It’s time, now. I can feel its horrible intent, its supernatural hatred. It wants to kill me, simply for having seen its monstrous state. I don’t know what it would’ve done, had it been able to finish its self-mutilation; I don’t know what it would’ve turned into. But I think, maybe, it’s better that I stopped it—better that it wasn’t given the chance to morph into some other disguise, assume some other, more personable state. People know to avoid a bear—but who’d suspect a random person to be some inhuman monstrosity? Despite the moon being almost immediately above the cabin, the night is growing darker, the darkness deepening disturbingly. I’m down to my last match, and the candle’s wick is a blackened stump, barely an inch high. The air stinks, reeks of unchecked, unending decay. I’m tired—physically—and drowsy, as if I haven’t slept in days. My sense of perception is all wrong, as if I’m drunk—but I haven’t had a drop in nearly two years; and this feeling, this warping of my spatial awareness is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. The walls seem to tower above me, the ceiling far-flung and unreachable; the floor an endlessly stretching and undulant expanse whereon I've somehow managed to anchor myself. It’s all so perplexing, so nerve-wracking. And the darkness continues press in, encroaching upon the diminishing perimeter of light... There’s a weight to the darkness, I can feel it pressing upon my mind, stifling my thoughts. I think I can even hear the cabin groaning under the weight of the dark burden, the walls and boards creaking and splintering. These are the only sounds I hear, because that thing—that horror—is still quiet. I don’t think it’s learned how to speak, yet. Maybe that’s a good thing. I can’t write anymore, I’m done. My hands are stiff, my eyes hurt. The air—it's almost irrespirable. Don’t come to this cabin—leave the wildlife around here alone. I love you mom, dad. I’m sor *A small, darkly crimson stain punctuates this portion of the narrative.*

"The Teddy-Bears Picnic" If you go down to the woods today

ydks6t

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydks6t/the_teddybears_picnic_if_you_go_down_to_the_woods/

*If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise* *If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise* *For every bear that ever there was* *Will gather here for certain because* *Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic* &#x200B; You have heard this song somewhere. If your parents sung it to you, or if you heard it on a movie. Somewhere, somehow, you know this song. Or at least, it sounds familiar. I know each lyric so, so well. It was the day that I interrupted the Teddy Bears picnic. *If you go down in the woods today,-* I went into the woods and skipped around looking at the beautiful leaves of fall. It was so soft and purely delightful. I was innocent. I was 7. *You're sure of a big surprise-* I found a stack of presents sitting against a tree. Some had toys, some had books. Some had pens and paper, some had pieces of pies. *If you go down in the woods today,-* I don't know why my mother let me go down into the woods alone. But she did. And I would give anything to take it back. *You'd better go in disguise-* I was wearing a pink dress with sunflowers on it. Some small red boot-like shoes, and a pink bucket hat. *For every bear that ever there was-* It was exactly 7 bears and 3 cubs. All walking and talking. Gathering and mingling. Even though there wasn't any playing, I swear you could hear a song. A familiar song that gave you a weird sense of deja vu. *Will gather here for certain because-* The food was bloody, and full of meat. The cake had fingers sticking out of it. It had a eyeball on top of it. The drinks had pieces of liver and chunks of intestine hanging out of the side of the cups. The bears were laughing and making toasts. They were eating with forks and spoons and knives. *Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic-* The way the man yelled and fought as two bears carried him out of the small log cabin echoes in my nightmares. His wailing as they stabbed knife after knife into his hands and legs to pin him down. They way he had his shirt torn open. As the little bear cubs tunneled their fingers through his skin into his abdomen. As the adult bears chuckled in delight at the gleam in their cubs' eyes. As the man screamed when the oldest bear shoved his hand straight through his chest and snatched his heart out. The way he nibbled on the valves before eating the thing whole. The way the man slowly let his screaming stop and his head fell back with his mouth still wide open. The way they tore his eyes out and laughed. The way one of the cubs saw me shaking and trembling, peaking out from behind a tree. The way that same cub smiled and beckoned me over, offering me a piece. The way I ran away crying. So remember the Teddy-Bears picnic, and sing this song when you go into the woods. *If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise* *If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise* *For every bear that ever there was* *Will gather here for certain because* *Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic*

A kid came into my store after closing. I wish I hadn't let him in.

yd46py

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd46py/a_kid_came_into_my_store_after_closing_i_wish_i/

Halloween was a living hell, and I was its sole resident. I used to love the holiday, trick or treating with friends. Dressing as a zombie as we jammed out to punk rock on a friend’s porch late into the night. Sneaking cigarettes and nips of bourbon from our fathers.  But now I mopped the floors of Sutton’s Grocery. The wet tile reflected my five-o'clock shadow and the melancholy that lived within it.  No more trick or treating. Just two dead mice and a spilled cup of pumpkin spice.  Adulting was so much fun… This gap year in between high school and college wasn’t really working out. I regretted the decision in the very depths of my soul. At least I had Jemma. I’d be back to the trailer soon. The thought of her baking brownies in nothing but an apron did put a little pep in my step.  “You done yet Kyle?!” Old man Kirby bellowed from the front entrance as he twirled his key ring.  “Yeah, yes sir. Just finishing up with the floors and I’m outta here!” I hollered. “Alright I’m leavin’ boy. I’ll lock up, just slide out the back when you’re done.”  “Sure thing!” “Oh, and Kyle?” “Yes, Mr. Kirby?” “Take out the bathroom trash before you go. Smells like crap in there.” He grunted and sauntered off into the parking lot like a warthog.  I gave him the middle finger as he sped off in his Land Rover.  The hate I had for this job was unmeasurable. I quickly finished the mopping and made my way back to the restroom. I opened the door and was smacked in the face with the smell of something vile.  I plugged my nose and gathered the bags from the bins, holding them at arm’s length as I ran out the back door and into the alley way. I tossed them over the dumpster wall and danced up and down, shaking out my arms, willing the putrid stench off me.  It smelled so bad that the bricks would cry out from the horror if they could. *People are disgusting*… I thought as I headed back inside.  At least the night was over. Time to go home to my girl. I daydreamed about the little tattoo that led down the small of her back as I shrugged off my apron at the coat rack.  I was just about to flip the lights off when they began to flicker overhead.  The LED panels pulsed and strobed in a way I’d never seen before. It was almost eerie.  But just as soon as they had started, they suddenly stopped. “Weird…” I whispered. I reached out for the light switch again when I heard a tapping on the window. I turned to my left and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw the face of a devil pressed against the storefront glass. “Can you help me?” A voice pleaded from under the red rubber. “Jesus, you nearly scared me to death… the store is closed.” I replied, holding my chest in an attempt to steady my heart.  “Please, I’m lost.”  Must be some kid who got separated from his parents.  “How can you be lost? This is like the smallest town in the Midwest?” I chuckled. “Please, can I come inside? I’m scared…” “Yeah, sure kid, hold on.” I walked to the sliding door and twisted the lock and gave it a shove to open it manually.  “Thank you.” The kid sniffled from under the mask as he stepped inside. “No problemo, little dude. You want to call your parents or?” I shifted on my heels, not really sure what to do in the situation.  “Yes please.”  “Alright head right up those stairs and you’ll see a phone on the desk. Pick it up and dial your parents, but make it quick will ya? It’s getting late.” I winked reassuringly at the boy in the devil costume. “Okay!” He giggled as he ran up the steps into Mr. Kirby’s office.  Man, what a night. I sighed, running my hand through my hair as I leaned against the entrance glass. The cool touch felt good on the nape of my neck.  “I just want to go home…” I groaned under my breath.  I could see shadows twist and lurch up in the office. Hopefully his parents picked up and drove like mad to get here and collect their kid. I had better things to do than sit all night at the hillbilly grocery store in this God forsaken town.  “Hey kid! Any luck?” I shouted.  No response. “Kid?” I called. Nothing.  A loud smack hit the glass behind my head causing me to fall forward onto the floor. I caught myself at the last second and crawled behind the service counter, nearly pissing my pants. I took a deep breath and slowly raised my head to peer over the register. “Jemma?!” I cried. She was doubled over in laughter on the curb outside pointing at me through the window. I cursed her up and down before sliding the door open once more.  “What are you doing here?!” I demanded, scowling. “What, you're not happy to see me?” She grinned, reaching for my hand.  “Well yeah, of course but you scared the hell out of me!” I scolded. “Ah come on, just a bit of Halloween fun.” She pulled me into a kiss.  Her lips were soft, they melted away my anger in an instant. “I came because you were so late! Come on, let's go home, dinners ready.”  “I can’t, there’s a kid here.” “Why? What kid?” She furrowed her brow.  “He’s in the office calling his parents. Said he got lost, I guess while trick or treating.”  “Oh no, poor thing.”  “Yeah, he’s using the phone in the office. Let me go see if he got a hold of his parents.”  I took a few steps when the lights suddenly went out, causing Jemma to leap towards me and squeeze my arm. Thankfully, the emergency panels stayed lit, giving off just enough light to see.  “It’s fine, the lights have been acting weird for some reason. Wait here and I’ll go get the kid.” I squeezed Jemma’s hand reassuringly and then trotted up the steps into the office. The desk lamp was turned on its side, and the phone was hanging off the hook. The dial tone beeped from the earpiece. I picked it up and placed it back on the receiver.  “Hey kid, you in here?” I asked.  But he was nowhere to be seen. I looked under the desk, nothing.  *What the hell…* Suddenly, a scream pierced through the silence from inside the store.  *Jemma!* I scrambled down the steps and sprinted back to where I’d left her. I was rounding the corner of the service counter when I slipped in something wet, causing me to go spiraling into a shelf of candy bars.  Kit-Kats and Snickers flooded the aisle as I tumbled over the shelf, hitting my head against the floor.  My vision swam, I struggled to gather myself to stand.  *Why was it so wet?* I raised my hand to my face, my fingers were dripping with crimson. The blood was warm and sticky as I rolled my thumb across my palm.  *Why is there blood?* It took a moment for it to register, but it had to be hers.  My heart thundered in my chest.  “JEMMA?! JEMMA WHERE ARE YOU?!” I called.  There was no answer. I started running down the aisles in a panic, searching for her.  Aisle after aisle, but nothing. Flour, sugar, chips, bread. But no Jemma.  I spilled out into the meat section next to the deli counter and skidded to a dead stop.  The boy in the devil costume stood under a flickering emergency light. The front of his red suit dripped with blood.  “What did you do?” I croaked.  “I’m going to offer you a chance to choose, Kyle.” His voice was deeper now, no longer childish.  “Wha-what?” I stuttered.  “Blood for blood. You can offer yourself to me, a sacrifice, saving her. Or I can take Jemma and leave. Your life, or her life.” “Who are you? What do you mean? Where is she?” My brain was numb, I could only utter question after question, I couldn’t make sense of what was happening.  “You know who I am. Choose.” I stared at him, dumbstruck. What was once a child was now a monster. He was still small like a boy, but now his presence felt enormous, like a dark shadow that filled the entire store. His energy pressed against the walls threatening to shatter them, a pressure I felt in my bones.  “Choose now, Kyle.”  “I…I… her. Take… her.” I fell to my knees sobbing. I was a coward. The fear overcame me, and I chose to save myself.  Suddenly Jemma floated into view from behind the meat counter. “Oh my God…” I cried. Her eyes were wide and shook with fear as she hovered a few feet from the ground. She tried to scream but only blood streamed out from her mouth. She gargled on it, choked on it, desperate to beg for help. She never took her eyes off of me as she was lowered into his arms. “*I’m so sorry… I’m so fucking sorry…”* I wept. “Done.” He growled. The lights went out completely, total darkness but only for a moment, and when they came back on, they were gone.  I pulled my knees to my chest and wept for hours until I finally succumbed to sleep.  Mr. Kirby found me balled up by the deli counter the next morning. After he prodded me awake, I frantically babbled on about Jemma and the devil, which prompted him to call the police.  The Sheriff's department arrived soon after and took my statement but showed me there was no blood anywhere to be found. The cameras hadn’t caught a thing all night and there was no sign of a struggle anywhere. After they calmed me down enough, I sat on the bench at the entrance with a blanket over my shoulders, the shock and disbelief buried me in an avalanche. I was numb. But I could hear them talk about me from the office. The deputy suggested that I’d been on drugs. Mr. Kirby agreed with them and threw in the fact that he’d never liked me for good measure.  *Blood for blood. Choose.* His voice echoed in my mind. *I’m so sorry* [Jemma](https://www.reddit.com/r/TerrorTherapy/)*…*

I have a story to share from my time in the Army

ydme5z

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydme5z/i_have_a_story_to_share_from_my_time_in_the_army/

I served in the army for three years from 2018 to 2020, when I was medically discharged. I have many stories from my time there, but there is one that I have never told anyone else. It haunts my nightmares and consumes my every thought. I hope that by telling it I will be able to heal at least somewhat. Here it is. In 2019, I was stationed in a small West African country. The US Army had a small presence there of about 200 soldiers. Our goal was to train the local army. The country was in disarray, having just emerged from a bloody civil war, and their army lacked both equipment and discipline. They were facing threats from Islamic extremists in their far northern provinces, which greatly concerned the US, as well as rebel separatists along their western border. Our base was located along the outskirts of a small city of a few thousand inhabitants, on the edges of a lush jungle. Although the city was the site of bloody fighting during the civil war, it was then firmly in the hands of the central government, so we had some freedom to explore off base. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much, scratch that, there weren’t any forms of entertainment in the city itself. So during my down time, we often explored the jungle. Until we weren’t allowed to anymore. For a kid from Bayonne, New Jersey, who had never seen a monkey outside of the zoo, it was like being transported to another planet. Monkeys swung through the trees, colorful birds sang high in the branches, and jungle cats roamed the forest floors. There were massive tree rats, which some of the men hunted for fun. On rare occasions, I caught glimpses of chimpanzees and gorillas. About a mile from the base, hidden behind a waterfall, was a large cave. I had heard that during the civil war, many women and children took shelter there. Sadly, they were discovered and massacred by the rebel soldiers. The floor and walls of the cave was still stained from their blood. On the walls were hideous drawings of horrific monsters and beasts. I’m not sure if they were painted by the kids hiding from the rebels, or from before, but they were truly grotesque. The one I remember most was a drawing of a grinning half hyena half man, devouring an infant alive, blood dripping from its fangs. Now it is important to note that our unit was nearly all male. And we were told the women in the city were off limits to us, for it was a very religious society, and our commanders did not want us to do anything that could upset the local community. It turns out that the locals were not as pious as we were led to believe, for there were several brothels in town, but since they knew the soldiers had no other options, they charged absurd prices. Plus, they were not always clean. We got shown slide after slide of images of infections, many incurable, that some of the soldiers got from the locals. They, of course, did not deter all of the soldiers, but some of us chose other options. Many of the guys were married or had girlfriends, and would never do anything with another guy back home, but when deployed it was another story. Our favorite plaything was a guy named Pawel, who went by Paul. Paul claimed he was straight, with a wife and kids back home, but it was clear that he was anything but. Anyways, one Sunday afternoon, Paul and I headed off base to the cave. It was a cloudy day, but, as usual, it was still unbearably hot. We entered the cave, glad that no one else was in there (we had intruded on others before). About twenty minutes later, I heard some footsteps coming from the mouth of the cave. I quickly got off Paul and looked to see 4 soldiers enter the cave, AK-47s slung over their necks. I at first thought that they were government soldiers and was worried what the repercussions of being discovered would be, but then I realized that they were not wearing any uniforms. These were rebels, who had somehow penetrated the government's defenses. I instinctively reached for my gun, but then realized that I left it on base. The soldiers, without saying a word, raised their rifles and sprayed the cavern indiscriminately. I thought I would die, but felt no pain, saw no blood. But I heard screams, screams of pain of an intensity that I had never heard before. I looked around and saw translucent figures falling to the ground in agony, their bodies riddled with bullets, women clutching newborns to their chests, trying in vain to shield them from the bullets. I looked to Paul, who had gotten up and was staring with me. I knew he was seeing what I was seeing. And then, suddenly, they all vanished. “Just ghosts,” I said to a shaking Paul. Just ghosts, what a ridiculous thing to say, as if those two words make any sense together, but I couldn’t think of anything else. “Let’s get out of here.” We quickly got dressed and made our way to the mouth of the cave. There, standing on two legs, was the hyena man. The one depicted on the cave drawing. Standing nearly ten feet tall, it was covered in bluish black fur, and had long, curved yellow claws. It grinned, revealing razor sharp fangs. “Just a phantom, it can’t harm us.” I whispered to Paul. But it looked real, flesh and blood. Suddenly, it pounced, knocking Paul to the ground. It swiped at his stomach with one of its claws, disemboweling him. As Paul screamed and trashed, the monster began devouring him alive. I stood petrified for a few seconds, before I turned and ran into the blackness. I had never explored the cave and had no idea of how far it went, but I kept running, running into the dark. Eventually, I collapsed, unable to move. I heard some awful howls, howls that have haunted my dreams since that day, and waited, waited for the monster to come eat me. I must have waited for hours, but then, miraculously, I saw a shaft of light and the chamber became illuminated. I clambered up some rocks and emerged in the jungle, the sun shining brightly. I slowly made my way back to base. There wasn’t a roll call till that evening, so no one realized anything was amiss. And I wasn’t going to say anything, for what could I say? I just hoped no one saw me leave with Paul. When it was discovered Paul was missing, a search party was organized. Some of the locals, both civilians and soldiers, joined the party, including the local priest, Father Joseph Nkobo. It wasn’t long till Paul’s body was discovered. He was completely unrecognizable, his flesh nearly all devoured. Over protests, Father Nkodo went over to the body, made the sign of the cross, and poured holy water over it. There was a flash of bright blue as the water hit the remains. “When I was a child, this monster, which is neither human nor animal, but of the devil, terrorized our village. Dozens of children were eaten. It feeds on terror, on pain, especially that of children. This cave was the site of a terrible tragedy, five years ago to the day.” Some of the American troops laughed, but none of the local troops did, and neither did I. “This is an evil place,” the priest continued. “It is best to be avoided.” And it was. The next day, explosives were placed at the mouth of the cave, sealing it forever. The official report said that he was attacked by a pack of wild dogs. But I know what I saw. The monster haunted my dreams every night since then, causing my mental health to deteriorate, eventually leading to my discharge. I thought that once I was out, I would start healing, but that hasn’t happened. Every thought is one of death. Nothing that I’ve tried can take my mind off the horrible events of that day. I’ve read articles that writing about your trauma can help, which is why I wrote this post. I don’t expect it to help, but I must find a way to end my torment.

I gave some trick-or-treaters bloody candy and now they won’t stop knocking

ydbstj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydbstj/i_gave_some_trickortreaters_bloody_candy_and_now/

I got to a point in life where I got tired of seeing other people and moved to the middle of the woods where no one would bother me. Truth be told, I wasn’t the sort of man most people wanted in their neighborhoods anyway. These days, on a hundred acres down several miles of dirt roads, I saw a neighbor maybe once, twice a year. A little before dusk on Halloween, I’d been building garden beds and nicked my thumb on my saw blade. I wasn’t gushing blood, so I kept on working until the job was done, then headed in for a shower and a drink. I’d just gotten dressed when the first knock came. At first, I thought it must be my imagination. I hadn’t heard a car pull up. I looked out the window and didn’t see anything, so I figured it must have been raccoons knocking around the front porch again. Then I heard the knock again. Definitely at the door this time. “Who is it?” I shouted, but there was no response. I opened the door and looked down to see two children no taller than my belt, both dressed in white sheets with jagged eye holes cut for eyes. They held out pristine orange pumpkin baskets, both totally empty. “Trick or treat,” they shouted together. For a second I stood fairly well frozen, but the kids just stared at me, holding out their baskets and waiting. I felt like I had to do something. I don’t exactly keep a bag of lollipops in the house, but I managed to find a few old cough drops in a drawer and dropped them into the kids' pumpkins. It wasn’t until after they fell in that I saw I’d left a smear of blood on the wrappers. I looked up, prepared to apologize, but the kids looked up at me with big, thankful eyes. “So generous,” said one. “Delicious,” said the other. Before I could ask them where their parents were or how they’d gotten to my house, they pulled the door closed behind them. Then I heard their little footfalls pounding down my front steps. I sat down in my armchair and turned on the TV, trying not to get too up in my own head. Probably, they were just the closest neighbor’s grandkids, wandering a ways from home. I’d never liked children. Especially the sound of them. Laughing, screaming. Sometimes, I just get filled with this unstoppable need to shut them up. I heard another knock. There’d be no candy this time. I walked to the door and opened it, ready to toss the little miscreants down the stairs. But this time there were three girls, slightly older, all dressed as skeletons. “Trick or treat. We heard you’ve got the best treats!” The tallest girl gestured over her shoulder to the two little boys from earlier. They were standing near the base of the steps, holding hands, their pumpkins at their feet. “I’m not sure I’ve got anything left,” I said. “That’s too bad,” said the middle one. “Yes, we’d have to play a trick,” said the littlest one. I rummaged in a small bowl near the door and found some change, dropping a quarter into each girl’s pumpkin. The oldest one lifted the coin out carefully, inspecting it in the fading sunlight. Like the cough drops, the coin was smudged with a bit of my blood. “Very kind,” she said. “Very generous.” “So delicious,” said the little one. “It’s not chocolate,” I was saying as they closed the door. I had barely turned away when I heard a deep thudding against the door. This time, I looked outside to see a single fat teenager dressed as a bat. I didn’t open the door. The thudding continued. “Trick or treat!” the boy shouted, his voice low and holding an edge of violence. Looking out the window, I saw that the three skeleton girls were standing with the ghost boys now, all holding hands and staring in at me through the living room window. The fat teenager descended the stairs and joined them. It’s been a few hours now, and the knocks just keep coming. More kids keep joining the first ones, all holding hands, all staring in at me. I’ve seen them passing my coins around, popping them in their mouths. There are at least a few dozen trick-or-treaters now. They’re looking in through all the windows. Some of them are staring at walls as if they can see right through them. Every once in a while, one yells “Trick or Treat” and the others laugh as if sharing a private joke. I’ve been trying to stop my thumb from bleeding, but it just won’t. I’ve soaked bandage after bandage, and the wound just stays wet, even though it's barely a nick. The air is starting to smell strange too, a weird mix of cough drops and coin and the iron of the blood. Outside, the crowd keeps growing. The yelling and laughing are quieting down, replaced with a sense of anticipation. It’s only now that I realize they are forming a circle around my house. It’s almost complete.

Shadows Of The Night

ye54ah

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye54ah/shadows_of_the_night/

Shadows Of The Night January 25th, 2020, 4:25am. I’ve been plagued with nightmares my entire life. Recently they’ve turned into what my doctor calls “sleep paralysis”, but I beg to differ. Over the last month, the shadows that haunt me in the nights have started to interact in ways that cannot be explained away with just scientific reason. There is more out there than we know, and can be explained. Last night was the worst episode of this “sleep paralysis” yet, and that's what made me consider composing this. Hopefully this won't be lost in the ether of the internet threads and someone will know how to help me. I am terrified. I will try to transmit this mortifying encounter without embellishing any details. I have a vivid recolection of this night, as I am composing this directly after the terror. I woke up, and I did not need to look at the time. I knew it would say 3:03 am, as it had for the last month. This has been my life. I feel paralyzed with fear. I am laying on my back face up like a body in a casket. My arms are crossed, the way that the body is placed in for a viewing. Frozen in this state all I can do is move my eyes. I can not move my head whatsoever, so my vision is limited. I live alone with no animals, there should be absolutely nothing in my apartment with me. But there is. I can feel it. I am not alone, nor have I been for the last month. Maybe even my whole life, now it has just decided to start toying with its prey. I shifted my gaze to the corner of my room. My living quarters was unnaturally dark. I could faintly but clearly hear animalistic breathing emanating from the corner in which I was fixated on. The darkness from that particular corner in my room waxed and waned with every slow breath, as if whatever the black void is was breathing. Then a darker, more solid figure materialized in the depths of that black oily abyss. The humanistic shape was on all fours. It was only human-ish, the skin was wrinkly with a gray color. Inside the predatory grin was a black spiraling oblivion to fear. The ears were non-existent, just hollowed holes for ears, and it had a completely bald head. It was naked, and the skin hung off the skeletal frame from being on all fours. The eyes were pitch black, and it stood out from the color of the skin. Even in their obsidian state, I could feel them boreing into my own; its head cocked up unnaturally at me. The darkness that emanated from that corner now resided, and behind the humanistic shape was a black hooded shadow. I could now make out the claws the thing on the floor possessed. They were black and at least 2 inches long. They looked pointed like claws from a demon. They clicked on the floor as the thing shifted its weight from foot to foot on my cheap hardwood flooring. Usually in my state of “sleep paralysis” my mouth would also be frozen like the rest of my body was, with the exception of my eyes. But not today. I heard myself whimper in fear as the demon on the floor breathed its wet, mucusy breath. With tremendous effort to sound not afraid, in which I failed greatly, I squeaked out, “N-n-nooo, no… not real. You’re not real. Get the f-fucking hell out of my h-house.” The shadow entity in the black hooded cloak stood as still as a statue. The thing on the ground cocked its head unnaturally from side to side slowly, as to size me up. Then it gave me a devilish open mouth smile, mouth corners reaching its pitted holes for ears. Its eyes were completely void of color, black orbs staring right into my soul. Click! Clack clack clack. Click! Clack, clack clack. He shifted around on the floor sniffing the air, its long blackened fingernails clicking on the phony hardwood. After sniffing the air, it regained focus and bored its eyes directly into mine. I shouted again trying not to portray the fear in my voice, “I said, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I know you are not real, s-so just…. Just fucking leave! Fucking leaveee!” The hooded shadow pointed its arm at me. A hand materialized and a long hooked finger with gray skin pointed directly at me, its nails matched the crawling entities. I heard a freakishly fast, Clack! Click click click click click click click click. Clack! Click click click click click click click click. CLACK! The four extremities all ceased movement. From how I was laying, all I could see was the cloaked shadow and that disembodied claw like hand pointing right at me. Then I heard the bed frame creakkkk next to me, and I felt the mattress dip down from unseen weight. Horrified, I stared at the black hooded entity and repeated over and over, “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real, you’re not-” My retaliation was cut off from a claw compressing itself to my lips in a “shhhh” gesture. I felt a cold wet claw caress me under my chin, lovingly. I heard raspy, mucusy, breathing next in my ear. I could feel warm wet breath on my neck. Then with the feeling of the other clawed hands still on me, I felt a third parties clawed hand slowllly stroking my hair. The crawling entity breathing on me whispered coarsely, “We are real. And you ARE ours, soooooon… sooo ssoooooonnnnn.” As its voice trailed off I felt the claws leave my mouth, and then my hair. The one under my chin slowly fell, and then gave a long slowww stroke down my chest to my waste. Thank god it then lifted. The pressure on my bed released and I heard the creaking of my bed frame as the weight exonerated. RINGGGGG!! RINGGGGG!! RINGGGGG!!! My cellphone was going off and my eyes were already opened from that horrible episode of sleep paralysis. The unnatural darkness was gone now. I glanced at the clock, 3:50am. Huh, there must be some bad news I pondered, but at least it woke me out of that terrible nightmare. The caller I.D. said “Unknown Number” and I felt my heart drop into my guts. I answered it shakily. “Uhm-m-m.. Hello?” Silence for at least 2 seconds. Then a whisper came through that has me still shaking as I write this. “We. Are… Reeallllll…” Beeeep. The other end hung up.

A Homeless Man in My Town Says The Apocalypse Is Near. I'm Starting to Believe Him.

ydvik5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydvik5/a_homeless_man_in_my_town_says_the_apocalypse_is/

“We call him ‘The Man in Black.’” Alex said. For the last month, I’ve been out of the country because of my trip to Europe. Unbeknownst to me, apparently a crazy hobo started to make atrocious claims that the apocalypse is near. “All he does is protest in town with his crazy signs. He says that an apocalypse is near, but he never provides any more details than that. Here, take a look at this,” Alex handed me his phone to show the local headlines from last month. “Local Homeless Man Claims the Apocalypse is Near. Could He be the Second Coming of Christ or Just a Fraud?” I scrolled down to look at the details. The first thing that caught my eye was the picture of the man himself. In a strange way, he felt more like an alien than a man and ‘insanity’ seemed to be the best way to describe who he was. He was much shorter than the average person, and his height barely seemed to reach 5 feet. His arms were very skinny, and the proportions of his twisted shoulders along with his inconsistent looking torso made him seem like a combination of different puzzle pieces attempting to pass as a human. Just like the epithet “Man in Black” would suggest, all of his clothing was black, hiding most identifiable traits. His sunglasses and the black mask covered his face. The black suit and pants covered his entire body, leaving barely any trace of skin to be exposed. “On August 21st, a mysterious man covering himself in all black made history. After disrupting the local soccer game, he started protesting that the apocalypse is near. Despite his famous reputation, nobody is able to identify who he is. Many sources claim that he is the son of God who came to warn humanity. Others claim him to be just a mental patient who doesn’t have a few things right in his mind.” “It’s probably nothing. Things like this happen every time. Remember how the Ancient Mayans claimed the world would end in 2013?” Alex said. Even though I’ve only seen his picture once, something about the homeless man caught my attention. We walked alongside each other to our neighborhood as Alex started to talk about his dog, family and girlfriend: topics I found quite frankly dull. I found myself zoning out into my thoughts, wondering what I should ask the man, if I meet him at all. Suddenly, a voice from far away halted my train of thought. “The world is ending! We need to work together to stop this!” Without having to look at who it was, both Alex and I knew that it was the infamous Man in Black. Alex started to sigh and roll his eyes, turning the other way. “Come on, let’s go. You don’t want to get involved with him.” Regardless of what Alex said, I found myself walking towards the man. I didn’t know what it was but having to speak with him just felt…right. Perhaps talking to him will solve the answer. I allowed my footsteps to carry me and I found myself standing in front of the Man in Black himself. He looked similar to what I saw in the headlines: a black cap, sunglasses and a black mask, along with a black jacket and black pants despite the heat. There were still many apparent differences compared to the pictures. Unlike in the headlines, his body seemed to have aged almost a decade. Even though it was hard to catch, there were many scars seen on his face and his skin looked much dirtier. A closer look revealed a huge scar passing by his nose, reaching far down to the corner of his lips. However, the most obvious difference was the attention he was receiving, or a lack thereof. In the pictures, a crowd of people were surrounding him whether they be believers of his claims or journalists. Now, all that was left of him were his signs. Despite his efforts, nobody seemed to even give him a look of attention, ignoring him as if he just became a natural part of their lives. Instinctively, I knew that the moment he saw me his eyes lit up. Just like how I wanted to meet him, it seemed like he wanted to meet me as well. Maybe it was because he was lonely? “Hello there, sir!” He joyously exclaimed. While I hesitated to do so at first, I offered a handshake as a greeting. “Hi... My name’s Max. I just wanted to meet you after I saw you on the news.” The man shaked my hand excitedly, as he started to say, “What a coincidence! My name’s Max as well!” Before I got the chance to speak, he continued rambling, “Max, the world is going to end soon. Everything on this earth will die. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a long time ago so I don’t exactly remember everything, but everyone was gone! Even the animals and plants. Nobody believes me, but I know you will!” “Right…and how do you know all this?” I asked. Max fell silent for a moment, then he answered without a single tone of irony or sarcasm, “Well, Max, living through all of history changes a man.” The man continued rambling on, telling me anecdotes of various things he ‘experienced’ from the age of the dinosaurs, the French Revolution, and many other historical events I didn’t recognize. His details of those events were very vivid and specific, almost as if they were words taken out of a book. As his rant continued on, it felt like he was stuck in his own imagination, forgetting that he was talking to me in the first place. Something about the man spoke to me in a strange way. Even though I didn’t really believe what he said, his way with words hypnotized me into his stories, and I could certainly see him tricking people into believing he was a savior or a messiah. However, to me he wasn’t. “Well it was nice talking to you Max… I hope to see you around more,” I tried to end the conversation, knowing that there was no point in talking to him more. “My pleasure,” Max replied as if sensing my feeling of alienation. I started to walk towards Alex and together we walked to our neighborhood Obviously I didn’t know much about Max, but based on the short conversation we had, I was able to tell that he dove too far into the pool of madness. He was just a madman with a few things wrong in his head. He was a self obsessed lunatic lost in his own fantasies, too stubborn to accept a reality that clashed with his imaginations. While his demeanor looked convincing at first, every one of his actions felt uncanny like an alien imitating a human, and obviously his blabbering about the apocalypse was nonsense. There’s no way the world will end anytime soon. Talking to him was a waste of my time, and I eventually got him out of my mind. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I was reminded of Max. I was watching the news after a long day of work when I saw a surprising story about him. “For tonight’s local news, we have shocking news regarding the Man in Black. After being quite the social media star for the last month, it seems that he has finally found his place among the dead. Just today, a recording of his final moments has been posted online. Let’s play the video.” A warning of disturbing content popped up and the video played. In it, Max was crying in pain, looking at the sky in a mix of rage and despair while kneeling on the floor. He then yelled, “Nobody in this reality understands! With my efforts I will help you see! I need to find a way! I must find a way! Even if it takes a 100 years, even if it means it’ll sell my soul, I’ll do it! I will find a way to prevent this apocalypse!” Compared to the conversation I had with him before, his voice was much more inhumane. It resembled that of a dying horse more than a person, and I was able to tell that his descent into madness intensified. Suddenly, something under his skin started to shift. His eyes rolled back as black smoke rose from his mouth. He grew silent and dropped to the floor, motionless. The footage transitioned back into the news, but whatever was being reported escaped my attention . Seeing a man die in front of my eyes was truly a terrifying experience, and I felt everything I ate swelling back to my throat. What kind of sick freak would film a man dying, let alone post the footage for everyone to see? While I didn’t know him personally, I felt pity for Max. His talk about the apocalypse was clearly insane but I didn’t want him to die, much less in such a gruesome way. It was at that moment when everything went wrong. I started to lose sense of my body. My arms and legs started to relax, and my eyelids grew heavy. At first I thought I was falling asleep, but the feeling was much more alien. I started panicking. What’s happening to me? As my mind grew more terrified, my body started to relax even more. Soon, instead of controlling my own body, I felt more of a bystander watching someone else control me, while my consciousness remained in my flesh. I tried everything to gain my sense back: flexing the muscles in my arms and kicking myself in the leg. But all that I was left with was my sense of helplessness. My body was completely at the mercy of this unknown power and there was nothing I could do about it. I started to scream internally, cursing at whatever is making me feel this way. My vision started to grow dark, and I felt myself falling under an abyss with an invisible force attracting me. Suddenly, I heard many voices climbing into my ears. “All he does is protest all day in town with his crazy signs…” “But Mom! I completely flunked it! I…” “Everybody makes mistakes…” “Nobody in this reality understands!...” “I had a dream…” “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear…” More and more voices joined the crowd, intensifying into a loud scream. My eardrums felt like they’re exploding at any moment, and I closed my eyes and silently begged for it to all end. As if listening to my prayers, the sounds suddenly stopped. Not a gradual decline, but a rush of silence, as if someone muted the voices all at once. I slowly opened my eyes, not knowing what to expect. The sight that beheld immediately flooded my senses with amazement. Bright orbs constantly shifted into silhouettes that danced in front of me, seducing my eyes and soul as awe and wonder flooded into my heart and brain. The blue, emerald atmosphere surrounding me was arcane, a color brighter and pure than any jewelry I’ve ever seen: similar to that of the coral reefs of the ocean with an impossibly infinite floor. Seeing the lights inhibiting the atmosphere was truly a spectacle, and it felt like watching the creation of the universe and earth itself: the figures of light twirling and spinning around, cherishing the birth of a new generation of life. I slowly attempted to move my body and to my surprise, I found moving to be rather easy. I propelled myself into various directions, feeling as if I was swimming in an infinite sea of light with hope and optimism. After exploring my surroundings some more, I eventually found something different: light emitting in the shape of a rectangle. Curious as to what it may be, I ‘swam’ towards the direction of the rectangle. It soon dawned on me that it wasn’t a single rectangle that I was looking at. What I saw closely resembled a video tape: a collection of endless figures of light lining up. Another feature that caught my attention was the sound that emitted from these rectangles. Similarly to the voices I heard before, the rectangles were ‘speaking’ in voices that I didn’t recognize. A closer examination of the voices made me realize that some of the voices sounded familiar. While it was only a small fragment, I was able to recognize some words, from my own to my friends and family. Soon, it finally dawned on me: the voices were a collection. A collection of the voices of people across all history, playing among the rectangles like a radio. I looked deeper into these oddly illuminating-shapes, trying to find the source of the voices. As I looked deeper into one particular rectangle, I was able to see people inside: two knights in silver chainmail armor dueling in the field of a medieval castle. The people inside the rectangle weren’t moving but were frozen like a photo: a record of one specific moment in time. At first, I thought that the people inside the rectangles were making the voice but I soon realized that that wasn’t the case. In fact, as I was focusing on one rectangle, no voice was to be heard at all. The voices were only heard as I moved across each rectangle. Hearing the voices of everyone in history and seeing history play right before my eyes as each rectangle passed by was like watching a film: a movie that contains all of history. Fascinated by its unexpected feature, I started to explore the rectangles further. I started to touch and scroll around the rectangle further. Soon, I found myself observing every corner of the earth from the depths of the Amazon forest to the Great Wall of China. These rectangles-whatever they were-were far more powerful than whatever I could imagine. They were the embodiment of space and time itself. From the bacteria living in its realm of microorganisms to the countless galaxies that make up the universe. From the big bang to the infinite expansion of the universe. All past, present and future were one in these rectangles, for they made up the very concept of time itself. They were both the key and gate that watched our every movement, and knew all the mysteries humanity craved to solve all these years. Realizing the power I had in my hands, I started to move towards the rectangles in the future excitedly. As I examined every rectangle, I found myself staring in awe as the historical moments I read about in textbooks fluttered by my eyes. As the voices played in my ears as I moved, it felt like I was part of the rectangle itself, experiencing the history of earth first hand. From the cold ice age, I saw trillions of species adapt and evolve as time passed. While many died off and went extinct, many were able to adapt, survive despite the disastrous changes. Even in their darkest days, they still had a sense of hope and desire for survival, allowing earth to garner the next generation of organisms. I saw the very first human evolve from an ape. I saw the immigration of humanity to different continents in the world. I saw the creation of the English language and Christopher Columbus discovering the Americas. I saw the foundation of the United States and the Constitution being written. I saw Martin Luther King himself giving his ‘I have a dream speech.’ I saw human civilization mature from the puny buildings of stones to mighty skyscrapers, and it was truly beautiful to see humanity grow from the primordial ages to the present day. The vision reminded me that despite our physical and psychological limitations, we are still capable of accomplishing unimaginable things. A sense of inspiration grew from my heart as I watched humanity growing from one of many unimportant species on the planet up to the ruler of the earth. As I moved further into the future, eventually I saw my own past. It looked like I was about 12 years old, and I held a test sheet with a big red F on it, and the younger me was crying tears of sorrow as he dug deeper into my mom’s arms. “I wish I could go back in time, Mommy,” younger Max said to his mother. With that, I traveled further into the future, eventually finding myself on the borderline between present and the future: the ultimate threshold of belonging and unbelonging. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect to see in the future, if I wanted to see anything at all. How and when do I die? What does human civilization look like? Did I truly want to know the answers to the questions, to be ‘cursed with knowledge?’ After gathering my thoughts, I came to an answer: yes. I did want to see what the future held. Arriving at this place was the greatest blessing in my life, and I knew that it was my job, my duty to lead humanity into the next step of evolution after learning everything that I’ve experienced here. I decided to look into the future, to dive into the pool of forbidden knowledge that may drive me into infinite knowledge, or madness. Despite my heart exploding with a mix of excitement and dread, I still didn’t have the guts to fully see the future. Knowing that I didn’t have the capacity to understand what I was about to witness, I decided to close my eyes and only listen, promising to myself to only open my eyes at what seemed like the right moment. After taking a deep breath, I slowly moved towards the future, taking in everything that the future had to offer. I wasn’t quite sure how far I traveled, but I stopped when the rectangles grew silent. The only thing that was heard was the empty sound of wind. Only the echoing sound from the rectangles before could be heard, lingering in my ears. Confused, I opened my eyes and looked into the rectangles to see if anything was wrong. I was able to see the earth but something wasn’t right. There wasn’t any light coming from the cities and the earth lost all its colors as if it was covered with volcanic ash. I quickly zoomed into the earth to see what was wrong. The cities were empty, with cars crashed into buildings and buses. The trees and grass were all dry and lifeless, giving the atmosphere a dreadful gray tone. That’s when I saw the corpses lying on the ground. A sudden chill ran down my spine, and I looked closer to figure out what might have caused this massacre. A plague? Perhaps a meteor? To my surprise, the bodies showed no trace of harm. Except for the fact that they were not moving at all, the body looked almost alive: no scars, wounds, or signs of decomposition. It looked as if people dropped dead out of the blue, their bodies freezing in time. It wasn’t just people either. I was able to see all the animals from the pigeons on the street to the lizards in the bush laying on the ground lifeless. Just like the other dead bodies on the street, it had no sign of harm or decomposition. Of course there were many extinctions in the past, but unlike this one, many species were able to survive and prosper. They were able to adapt and change with the times. However, this time it seemed like there wasn’t any time to adapt at all. There was no sense of hope and desire: no survival to allow earth to garner the next generation of organisms. From the microscopic bacteria to the majestic blue whales, nobody seemed to be aware or prepared. Death came and went silently with no warning, and nobody was spared. I searched every place in the world: from the very depths of the caves to the grand city of New York, but the results were all the same. All I saw were dead bodies of humans and animals, lying on the floor giving me no clue as to what caused their death. After seeing human’s civilization develop from the stone age, I would be lying to say it wasn’t haunting to see it all crumble at once. Everything that we have worked for looked meaningless after hearing the empty echoes of winds in the city. At the end of the day, death was the only thing to greet us no matter what. Instead of a scream, the world seemed to end with a whimper. The drastic contrast of the optimistic past and pessimistic future started to overwhelm my brain. Contrasting images of prospering life of the past to the dead bodies in the future flashed before my eyes and I felt my sense of reality crack as I struggled to find a middle point between the two. Despite my mixed emotions, I still had a shred of hope. I started to search my own town for clues. I already knew what to expect, but nonetheless the sight of my parent’s dead body shook me to my core. Just like everybody else, their body was no different: lying on the floor with their eyes open. Seeing them lifeless on the floor made me cry tears of sorrow. I could almost see them alive, smiling and greeting me at the front door. While I knew that their death was in the future, the very thought of them leaving this earth rendered me hopeless. Sometime after, I started to calm myself down. Crying about their death wouldn’t help me, and I had more important priorities to solve. I searched further into my town, thinking perhaps there were different survivors. Unsurprisingly, I was able to find the bodies of all of my friends and coworkers. Just like I expected, I wasn’t able to find any clue as to what caused this massacre. After searching for more survivors and failing to find any, I zoomed out of my town and back to see earth in its full form. Despite everything that happened, it was ironic that the universe looked at peace. Everywhere else in the universe was no different from usual, and earth was the only dysfunctional piece in the puzzle. Seeing the drastic contrast between earth and the universe made me realize that humanity was merely ants living on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of the black sea, and our extinction doesn’t have any significance. The universe will continue to exist no matter what, even after we are all gone. Regardless, I had to find a way to prevent this apocalypse. While I may not be able to prevent it, I still had to at least know how it happens. I started to move my body towards the left when I heard the sound that made my heart sink. *Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock* a sound echoed into the atmosphere. The sound was very rhythmic and cold, reminding me of a clock. However, as the noise started to slowly grow, eventually I noticed other sounds growing along with it. At first it was nothing but small sounds of crickets. However, the sound quickly escalated, as painful cries of animals and humans started to echo along the atmosphere. Eventually, the sounds of the creatures overpowered the ticking sound, and soon the roar grew to be a distorted mix of haunted cries burning in the fiery depths of hell. I covered my ears with all my strength, but the sound still pierced my hand and it felt like my ears were exploding. As the sound intensified, the bright, blue atmosphere started to bleed into red as if gallons of blood were flooding the ocean. The bright orbs of light started to darken, eventually turning into miniature black holes resembling viruses claiming countless victims leading to their deaths. Seeing the darkness inhibiting the bloody atmosphere was nothing but horrific, and it felt like watching the death of all life and destruction of the universe itself: the figures of darkness twirling and spinning around, claiming one soul after another, satisfying their thirst for blood. The black holes started to frantically circle the creature as it emerged, dancing as they welcomed their master. It started to slowly emerge and the moment I saw its appearance I felt my mind cornering into insanity: my sense of reality shattering as horrors far transcending my darkest nightmares started to grow before my eyes. Its legs were as big as a mountain, and the body it was attached to was bigger than the ocean itself. That appearance was only a small fragment of its true form, as I saw its full body extend far beyond my vision. I tried to look further into the creature's body but stopped myself, knowing it would further drive me into madness. It had shape, but it wasn’t composed of matter: a thousand shapes of horror beyond all memory. Its body was a mix of chaotic balls of light and smoke, the tone and form of its body constantly shifting, the slime keeping its body together fluttering my eyes with a firework of alien colors that nearly blinded me. Attached to its form resembling a body were vaguely spherical shapes similar to eyes, staring at me as a reminder that nobody else belonged here, except for the creature itself. No good, no evil, no life or death. Only it, the null. It was the symbol of hopelessness, the embodiment of despair. My lips trembled and my legs turned to jelly, my body freezing in sight. My guts tied into a knot, making me sick. My instincts told me that there was no escape from this thing, and I was at its mercy. The creature did not know that I existed, nor did it care. To it, I was nothing but a speck of dust. A speck of dust floating in the air, floating to wherever the wind carried it to be. It may destroy me in the process, but it was never intentional: nothing but an accident. Just as the incomprehensible horror started to settle into my mind, the creature acted strangely. The smoke making up its body started to move in a gradual pattern, moving from the center of its body outwards. A hole of darkness about the size of a football field emerged from the center of its body. Slowly, I felt the darkness pulling everything around it. It devoured everything in its path, from the miniature black holes to the rectangles and I was no exception. I knew that I didn’t stand a chance, but I desperately tried to pedal back. As if to laugh at my efforts, I was eventually sucked into the hole, the pit of endless darkness. I closed my eyes, preparing for the eventual darkness, welcoming the sweet mercy of death that will release me from whatever this creature is. However, after some time nothing happened. A calm, silent tone pierced the atmosphere but as far as I can tell I was still breathing. I opened my eyes in confusion, trying to see what happened. Opening my eyes didn’t prove to be different, as whatever place I was in had absolutely no light into it: nothing but darkness itself. I was stuck in an eternal abyss with no light to rely on. To my relief, a thick ray of light pierced the darkness. The light allowed me to see my surroundings, and seeing another man standing in front and behind me made my heart prosper a shred of hope. I tried to scream for help and shake my arms up, only to realize that I couldn’t. I wasn’t able to move my body and could do nothing but watch. I felt as if my mind was stuck in a statue. I tried to budge, freeing myself from this endless prison, only to give up a few seconds later. After everything I’ve been through, I came to accept the fact that I could do nothing to change my fate: I could only beg for mercy. Just then, a previously unknown detail caught my attention. Initially I believed that there was only one person standing in front of me but a closer look showed an endless amount of more identical men standing in a line before me. I was just part of that line, and it reminded me of the rectangles lining up. To my horror, a closer look of the men revealed a terrifying detail: the men standing in front and back of me were all…me. Same clothes, same body and same posture. It seemed like infinite copies of myself were lining up, just like when two mirrors were placed next to each other. As I came to this realization, I realized that the other me in front of the line started to hold his hand up, examining his surroundings. Then the copy of me behind it followed, and so did the one behind and the one behind as well. Before I knew it, a wave of hands were held up before my eyes. Eventually, the man standing in front of me mimicked his actions, and it seemed like it would be my turn next. As if my body went into auto-pilot, I felt my body moving on its own, mirroring the actions that the infinite copies of myself performed beforehand. I felt like a puppet, controlled by strings of an entity beyond my power. Every little action that the men in front of me performed echoed throughout every other version of ourselves, each small decision altering who every copy of ourselves was. We had no control over our own body and faith, and I realized we were stuck in an endless loop of time. The sight of seeing multiple copies of myself made my skin crawl. My own skin felt alien to my soul, and it almost felt like I was starting to lose my self of identity. If all these men before and after me were all me…who am I? Every single copy of myself was all equally myself, and I had no special qualities separating myself from the other. I was just one of many: insignificant and replaceable. As my identity crisis intensified, I started to realize that the feeling of alienation of my own body was becoming quite literal. I saw the countless copies of myself before me starting to look at their arms to see an unknown creature crawling underneath their skin. Soon I saw it in my own arm as well. I wasn’t the only thing occupying my own flesh, and whatever the other thing was was trying to alternate who I was, shifting me to whatever fit its vision. A haunting scream spread throughout the atmosphere, as the men before me started to fall to the ground, screaming in agony. Dreading what was to arrive, my heart started to race. Suddenly, I felt an indescribable pain start to spread across my body, and it felt like my flesh was burning. I fell to my knees in pain and agony, and I closed my eyes to forget whatever was happening to me. Sounds of bones cracking across my shoulders and torso echoed, and my face felt like it was being dipped into magma. The screams of myself echoed, and I started to faint, unable to handle all the pain. My eyes started to slowly open as I felt drops of water falling on my cheek. What stood before my eyes was grass, green and alive than ever. In shock, I slowly rose from the ground. I examined my surroundings, realizing that I was in my neighborhood. A rush of relief flooded my heart as I felt the rain smeared across my face. What a feeling to be alive! The chuckles that escaped my mouth eventually grew into a triumphant laughter, as I realized that I was back home: back to earth where I belonged. I started to walk, placing one foot before another: a foreign feeling I missed desperately. I laid on the wet muddy floor, cherishing the beautiful life mother earth has given us. That didn’t last long, as overwhelming exhaustion took over my body. Everything that I have been through was too much for both my body and mind, and I realized that I needed a break. I was able to think of a place that could give me that: my parent’s home. I started to walk in the direction of my parent’s home, knowing that they lived in the same neighborhood. As I started to walk, I felt that something was off: moving my body felt alien. I felt much shorter and the world seemed so much bigger than before. My shoulders were twisted oddly and I found my center of balance shifting constantly. However, all that didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to collapse into bed, washing away the terrible memories. The walk to my parent’s home took longer than expected. When I started my journey, the sun was barely setting and when I reached their doorstep the sun was completely engulfed by the horizon. I knocked on their door and heard my mom’s footsteps. As I saw my mother’s face through the door, a huge grin spread across my face, delighted to see the person who resembled home and pleasure. However, she seemed to have different opinions. As she opened the door to see me, her eyes and mouth widened as she dropped to the floor out of terror. My smile quickly morphed into a frown, and I reached my hands out to help her up. As I did so, she started to squirm in horror and started to beg. “Please! I have a son and a husband!” Out of confusion, I attempted to calm her down. “Mom it’s me! Max!” As these words escaped my mouth, I realized that they sounded alien. My voice sounded much more crisp and hoarse as if it aged decades. Just as I finished my sentence, I saw my dad walking from the living room, aiming a rifle to my face. “I don’t remember having a son like you,” he said as placed his finger on the trigger. My parent’s eyes were filled with terror and nervousness, and I felt like an alien. The look they gave me was haunting than anything I’ve seen so far: far haunting them seeing their lifeless eyes staring at my soul. To get out of this awful situation, I turned and ran into the night as drops of water flowed down my face. I wasn’t quite sure if they were raindrops or tears. After some time I stopped to gather my breath. A puddle of rain was gathered in front of me and for the first time I got the chance to examine how I looked. In a strange way, I looked more like an alien than a man and ‘insanity’ seemed to be the best way to describe who I was. My arms were very skinny, and the proportions of my twisted shoulders along with my inconsistently looking torso made me seem like a combination of different puzzle pieces attempting to pass as a human. But worst of all was my face. My previously brown hair turned black, and a huge scar passed by my nose reaching far down to the corner of my lips. Instead of my bright blue eyes, I found them to be black instead: an eternal abyss staring back at me. As my examination ended, the memories of what I saw in the other permeated my brain. Seeing every moment in history, seeing the dead bodies in the future, seeing the eldritch abomination and infinite copies of myself. All these memories echoed in my mind and proved to be too much, and I felt my perception of reality shatter. Was all of it just a dream? Was it all real? The sheer insanity of the situation dawned on me, and I was unable to control my endless laughter. Contrary to the triumphant laugh before, this one had an underlying tone of madness and sorrow. What a situation I was stuck in! I laughed louder and louder, the sound gradually turning into a sob. We were never alone in this universe, and I was the very first person to see the truth hidden behind the walls: the eldritch abomination living beyond our dimension, ruling over a reality beyond our own. How could I ever live again properly after seeing everything I did? How would I ever feel safe after knowing that there was something out there, watching every one of my movements ready to kill me at any moment? Terrible thoughts started to permeate my brain, as I wondered if anything I did had any meaning. What’s the point of all this evolution and adaptation if at the end of the day it won’t be enough to stop the apocalypse? As if to counter my negative thoughts, memories of various moments in history glazed my thoughts, as I recalled seeing the birth and prosper of life. The beauty of life was insignificant to death, and nothing was meaningless in the end. Humanity is capable of accomplishing unimaginable things. A sense of determination grew from my heart as the terrifying memories started to fade away from my brain. They were replaced with visions of the birth of life and the smiles of people. ‘No,’ I thought to myself. ‘Nothing is meaningless. Didn’t everything you see prove so? Wasn’t it truly magnificent to see humanity grow? Isn’t it worth it to save all of it?’ I couldn’t let generations of human civilization go down the drain because of a bad memory and I had to warn everyone about the apocalypse. I didn’t know what or when it was, but I knew that I could stop it. I will prove that no, humanity isn’t weak. We’re not just meaningless dust. We’re capable of protecting ourselves and always will be. First things first, I needed to find a way to tell everyone that the apocalypse is near. I started to walk around aimlessly, looking for anywhere that people may be. As I did so, I felt a terrifying sensation crawling in my brain. My head started to grow blank, as I started to lose memories of my life. Who was I? Who were my parents? Where was I from? I tried desperately to hold on to my memories, only for them to escape faster and faster. Soon, all my memories were gone and all that was left in my brain was the terrifying experience and my will to stop the apocalypse. The only personal detail left in my brain was my name: Max. Even that seemed insignificant. Losing my memory was terrifying at first, but soon I came to accept it as part of my destiny and in a strange way felt relieved by it. All those memories were distractions, and I needed to focus on the task that the universe has cursed me with. I walked for hours and hours and eventually, I saw the sun rising from the horizon: a birth of a new day. The daylight made it easier for me to observe my surroundings, and I saw a soccer stadium nearby. Cheers emitted from the field, and I realized that that was the perfect place to start my quest. A shred of humanity seemed to remain inside me as I felt ashamed to show my face in public. I looked for a way to cover my face and felt the weight of sunglasses and a mask inside my pockets. I placed them on my face, covering my face. That should do the job. Ignoring the security at the stadium, I rapidly ran to the audience seats. Parts of the crowd seemed to notice my existence, and whispers of gossip flooded the stadium. I wasn’t able to tell what they were exactly saying, but I knew that they were making fun of my appearance. It was hard to ignore them, but I started to scream. “Everybody! Please listen to me! The apocalypse is near!” Those words caught the attention of everyone in the stadium, from the little children in the audience to the players on the field. They all looked at me in confusion, and all the attention made me feel like a savior: a messiah of some sort. The stadium camera zoomed into me, and my appearance was displayed across the screen: the sunglasses and black mask covering my face, the black suit and pants covering my entire body, leaving barely any trace of skin to be exposed. Regardless of all the attention I was receiving, nobody in this reality understood. But with all of my efforts I will help them see. I need to find a way. I must find a way. Even if it takes a 100 years, even if it means it’ll sell my soul, I’ll do it. I will find a way to prevent this apocalypse. My screams continuously echoed throughout the stadium as the date displayed on the screen was caught out of the glimpse of my eye: August 21st.

Stop me if you've heard this one before. (Part 1)

ydu0vi

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydu0vi/stop_me_if_youve_heard_this_one_before_part_1/

I've spent a lot of time wondering if I should tell someone my story, *our* story, wondering if I even want to tell someone, deciding for or against one or both, back and forth, over and over, until finally I guess I decided to go for it so all the internal debating could just... end. But in all that time, and at least a solid week after that, I haven't been able to figure out where to *start.* In the car ride to that horrible place, nervous and excited, leaning against slightly cracked windows, staring out into the weird gloom of the high desert's night? When I met Jade, which in a weird way basically started this whole thing? When Jade introduced us to each other? None of it feels right. None of it captures the context. The love. The misery, individual, shared, then lightning-fast and savage, then blurred and disorienting. The heartbreak I think I don't actually care about as much as I should, even though something deep in me still aches at the thought of of how little good I was able to do even when good is all I ever *wanted* to do, no matter what I still remember so clearly, mumbled, dreamlike, from bloody lips as they tilted so suddenly across the grand precipice of death. So I think... I think I'm gonna have to ramble. Try to paint a picture, bit by bit, of what we did and what we felt. All I can do is keep typing and hope the final result is some odd kind of closure, even when some of you might hate me for it, even when I think you probably should. I'll just sink back into the ocean of memory and let instinct take over. At some point a couple years back, I realized I'd started seeing Friday nights in sort of a complicated way. When I'd just started college, it was... I mean, you can probably imagine what that's like for extroverts. Or maybe I mean introverts? What do you even call it when an introvert is lost and lonely enough that he forgets what it felt like to *act* like one? I mean, it was college, you know? I made some good decisions. I made more bad decisions. Mostly I dissociated through classes and lectures in the daytime, then had a lot of fun, wonderful evenings. You know, the kind of fun, wonderful evenings that end about halfway before everyone else's, with me barfing in someone else's toilet or trash can... or once, under the bed in a guest room. Which, uh... yeah, I still feel bad about that, but I got my wallet stolen a few days later, so I the karma almost evens out. Except karma never really evens out. Not for me. I've gone too far. Accomplished too much while changing so little. Removed myself as far as I have from... no, come on, it's too soon to get into that. Focus, James. You're not doing anybody a favor by lacing the preamble with even *more* storm clouds. If you really want to write part of this, then do it already. ...On rare occasions when some incident *does* feel like I've squared away the math, morally speaking, I try to just roll with it and not obsess over the bigger picture. But about a year in, I had to admit my routine's returns diminished painfully. I fucked a girl, didn't like it much, wondered if I was gay, fucked a guy, didn't like it much, wondered if I was ace, but no, people were hot and I *did* want to fuck them, I just never ended up happy afterward. And every crush that was about more than "person hot, let me get it in there" went even worse. Turns out it's a lot easier to be disappointed by casual sex than it is to be disappointed in a person, and before long I was almost as disillusioned about love as I am about myself. Fridays bled away their upsides, and it took way too long for me to notice. I drank more and faster, had less actual fun, spent less time "partying" and more time puking or just going home to cry on the bathroom floor... then puke anyway, except it'd be *my* furniture caught in the splash zone. I was legit jealous of introverts. I mean, extroverts, or... God, which one am I? No, that's just another distraction. It's fine. I'll type and the truth will follow, whether I understand it all or not. I think that for myself, practically speaking, there wasn't much difference between extroversion and some twisted introversion that had shattered like bones on a breaking wheel. The idea of just staying home and reading a book or watching a movie or playing a game alone, then feeling even halfway fulfilled... it sounded so good by the time I was sick of parties that when I *did* give it a shot, I was honestly surprised when I didn't fucking like it any more or less than what I'd already been doing. I was starting to figure out that the problem most likely wasn't college, sex, parties, drinking, or anything like that. The problem was me. I just... couldn't pin down exactly what the problem with myself *was.* Well, that's not quite true. I at least had the general idea. Eventually it had been months since I went to a party. So when my best friend Jade texted me about a party at her place that was going to be *"like 600% off the fucking hook"*, my first thought was "Goddammit, Jade, I'm not gonna fuck you again even if we're both drunk, because you're the only person I can actually stand being around and if I actually *remembered* most of fucking you, something might break". But she kept going on and on, and... And hey, maybe it'd be cool to puke in someone *else's* trash can again for once, regardless of the amount of awkward, apologetic Jade-fucking that may have taken place once upon a time. It wasn't a great party or a shitty one. It was just a party. It was everything I was sick of and everything I wanted. It was nothing. It was a bunch of people getting smashed in someone else's home and acting like that meant something. On the bright side, I wasn't trying to fuck Jade again, or no, I mean Jade wasn't trying to fuck *me* again. I mean, it hadn't been fun for her either. Except it had, hadn't it? Or am I just... I dunno. Maybe the first time fucking somebody you care about is always weird, and having only done that once hadn't given me much data. Although one half-forgotten round of shitty sex wasn't exactly the primary issue that kept romance from igniting *there.* What actually matters is that this specific party is where I met Devin. No, it's less like I *met* Devin, and more like by the end of our first conversation, a version of myself I hated was half-dead, and a version of me who could almost be happy took his place. I was expecting that to stop when I got sick of her, but then I just... didn't get sick of her. I was expecting it to stop weeks later when she said I was the kind of guy her parents would've hated if they were still alive. Hell, I'd expected it to stop that first night when she awkwardly seduced me. Instead, I found out there were people I liked having sex with after all. Is it weird to not even remember who said "I love you" first? I remember Jade admitting later, guiltily, that she'd wanted me at that party *because* Devin would be there. I remember it word for word: "I guess I was hoping that if the two most broken people I knew met each other, they'd hit it off and be just a little bit happier." I remember *that*, but I don't remember if my girlfriend said she loved me before I said I loved her. The mind's weird like that. If anything, I almost feel like we *both* said it first, somehow. So what's next? Maybe... yeah, that works. Nothing wrong with at least *trying* for a comprehensible chronology. I remember our first date. Or should I call it our second date? I think even if you didn't go to a party expecting to meet somebody, if you've fucked them by the end of the night and they're still there in the morning, you can probably safely count it as a date, even if they leave half an hour later. So yeah, I remember our second first date. I don't think anything could make me forget. If I got a brain injury and forgot my whole life, that memory would be one of two or three exceptions. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't remarkable except for how after it ended, I realized I wanted to do it again. Well, no, I wouldn't want... the *exact* same experience. Because it was *definitely* remarkable. Why did I just tell you that it wasn't? I'm not even drunk. Whose idea was it to go to an amusement park? It had to be Devon's. Devin's, I mean. Not that she was more ambitious or fun-loving, although those things are both very true about her, especially compared to me, but I would've been... more cautious, maybe? I think that's it. Yeah, it was Devin's idea. I remember texting Jade something like "help i was born stupid is she the kind of girl you take to a restaurant or to olive garden" and then, after a few minutes of irritably lying on my bedroom floor staring at the little check mark that meant she was leaving me on read, the buzz of my phone, so strong that I'd long since turned off its weird default... notification blorp, shook me out of some odd thought, and I read, re-read, and re-re-read "she says she likes indecisive guys and she'll be in the parking lot for FunFun Land at 530 thursday night". ...Man, who the fuck names a theme park FunFun Land? That's so desperate that I find it relatable. And just like me, it was a stumbling derelict, stubbornly extant, ragged and disappointing. Something that might once have been golden, if gold rusted like the soul does. I went, though. Give anything a shot once, right? That worked out with Jade. Well, it... I mean, listen, if you fuck somebody and end up upgrading from friend to best friend, I'd say it was probably a good deal even if you both woke up the next morning and simultaneously realized you finally understood what it must've felt to write the lyrics to The Birthday Massacre's *Nevermind.* The drive felt weirdly long, but there was Devin, waving fast enough that Jade must've described my *car* to her, although it took me a literal minute to recognize her. She'd been wearing a weirdly nice black evening dress at Jade's otherwise-boring party, but she came to FunFun Land in beat-to-shit jeans and a patch-speckled bomber jacket that definitely didn't come from any aisle someone would shop in if they cared whether or not other people could even tell they had tits. Honestly, I damn near drove right by. There was a solid moment when I thought she was a punk-adjacent *guy* waving at the wrong car until I heard her voice and realized that her almost hypnotically flowing red-brown hair wasn't gone, just lazily braided behind her back instead of spilling across pale, bare shoulders. The only thing missing from the look was a cigarette, which I guess means the look could *never* have been complete, considering... "Uh... hey! Sorry, I was... looking for a... for a parking spot," I think I mumbled, trying not to say 'I literally thought you were a dude' even as I realized about ninety percent of the lot was empty. I guess it must've bled out into my voice, though. "A parking spot," she said. There was that rueful little smile on her face again. That smile was half of what had charmed me a week earlier. A smile that says 'yeah, my life is dog shit too, wanna roll around in it together?' Did I really forget to mention the smile before? Christ. I must be as tired as I feel. "...Yeah." It was such a bad lie that I didn't really even feel like I *was* lying when I said it. "Is that the new slang for 'holy shit, I didn't even recognize you?' I must be losing track of the zeitgeist again." I at least *tried* not to wince. "Ah yeah, there it is. That's the one." She shrugged and cracked her neck. Maybe that was her equivalent to whatever nervous thing I would've been doing with my hands if they weren't already on the steering wheel. "That's the face that says 'who are you and what did you do with that lovely, ephemeral little shade who was for sure going to the bathroom every half hour to fix her makeup, and definitely not because she picked a bad afternoon for chili dogs?" "It, it's more like the face that says 'I forgot I was bi enough that this is actually a hotter look than the nice dress.' I mean, not that I'm implying, like..." I don't even know *what* I thought I was implying, but the rueful smile suddenly wasn't rueful anymore. I had the weirdest thought right then, that I ought to have resented a smile that was so real, but maybe the outfit had enough rue in it that her face could get away with anything it wanted. "Yeah," she said after a long pause. "This works. We're not even in the park yet and this is already worth the bus ride." "You took a *bus* to get here?" I think maybe there were other things I should've said. Not that I could tell you what those things were. "It's fine," Devin said, rolling her eyes in a way I really hoped I was correctly interpreting as 'fondly.' "If there's a third time, you'll probably connect some puzzle pieces from the backstory all on your own." "...What if it turns out i'm a little bit stupid?" Spoilers: I was. I still am. "Then I guess I'll crack Pandora's old jar open just a bit if everything else is going well," she said. "I'll do my best to kill a mood with it, too. In fact, I'm an expert at killing moods. And you should be *parking your fucking car."* She wasn't wrong. So I did. Thinking back on this, it's almost shocking how quickly things went sideways. And it... I don't know. Maybe it wasn't my fault, and that's the wrong way to think. Or maybe I'm the kind of bastard who's self-aware but always finds a way to play victim anyway. Fuck, this isn't even the story. This is the *preamble* to the real story. And I wanna emphasize, yeah, okay, some of why it was unforgettable wasn't *fun.* But it did lead to basically everything else, and even if I have my regrets about everything else, I wouldn't take any of it back. In the end, everyone got what they wanted, or at least they got closer than they ever could've if I wasn't there. Assuming I believe them. I don't know if I do. I want to. I allow myself to be convinced, on hard nights when I just can't fucking stop crying. Even karma falls for my bullshit, and I prove that by continuing to be alive. *That's* the kind of bastard I am, the sheer, absurd caliber of it all. The hubris I have so meticulously hammered into a shape that, from a distance, must resemble a beacon of hope for the hopeless. We left my car to bake in what remained of the afternoon's light, walking slowly toward the deeply unfun-looking entrance to FunFun Land. It was a long walk, but I don't think I parked my car *too* far away. What would the point have been? We must've just walked slowly. It's hard to get hyped about walking into places like FunFun Land. I wasn't here for that, I was here for her, and apparently, for some reason I couldn't fathom, she was here for me. "So, why this place? I'm not saying it doesn't look inviting, even though I'm definitely saying that, but..." That was probably not the ideal slow-walking icebreaker, but I led with it anyway. Devin was so... small. I'm not sure why I thought that. She wasn't even short, I'm just a bit on the tall side for a guy, and she wasn't on the tall side of anything, but I kept thinking that she was so much smaller than me somehow. And that felt... incorrect. Yeah, that's the closest word I can find. It felt incorrect for her to be that height. And that might also have been part of why it took so long to get to the park entrance. *She* wasn't fast-walking, the opposite if anything, and between that and the height gap, she got to set the pace. Devon's very good at that. At setting the pace, I mean. That probably should have been obvious just from how we set up the date, by which I mean how *Devin* set up the date, but... I did just get done admitting I'm a little bit stupid, didn't I? "...Well." Devin chewed on the inside of her lip a bit. On most people I think it would've looked like awkwardness, or maybe even guilt, but on Devin, I'd call it *mischievous*. "Alright, so... stop me if you've heard this one before." "Uh, sure?" Whatever this would be, I really doubted I'd heard it before. "So there's this old amusement park, yeah? The kind that so few people go to anymore that it barely makes sense that it's still open? Even has a stupid name. And also there's... let's call it *lore,* about this amusement park. Yeah. Lore's the right word." "FunFun Land has lore," I said flatly. More of a challenge than a question. "It does," she said, "And I'm kinda big on lore. Yeah. Still the right word. So the lore here is pretty simple. They say... I mean, who the fuck knows who 'they' even means, but they say, on the street or the internet or whatever, they say that FunFun Land..." "Isn't actually very much fun?" "Oh no," Devin said. She was smirking now. "The lore is that it's a fucking blast. Just not for normal people." "So we're heading into urban legend territory here? I'm gonna be real, this isn't exactly how most dates work." "Well, I'm not exactly how most *people* work. So yeah. If you come to FunFun Land, and you approach a certain ride at a certain time and say a certain thing to a certain ride operator - it'll be a very specific guy. Uniform's all the wrong colors, no blue at all. He won't always be there, either. But sometimes he will. And if you say the right thing, the ride you get on turns out to have two tracks." "I'm not doing this," I said. "I mean you can talk about it, but I'm not..." "I might," Devin said. "Okay, no, I won't, but only because if it was true, I'd still hate it. But it's interesting. To think about that." "About a ride having two tracks?" "Well, it's interesting if the second track takes you underground to a place where missing children are kept in cages. Fed just enough to keep them... motivated. And people who want to have a special kind of fun at good old FunFun Land, the ones who said the right thing to the right guy at the right time, they get to place their bets." "On what? Fucking... abducted child gladiator battles? Where is this even going?" "Not exactly. There are more rides down there. They're just a little less safe than they maybe should be. So you bet. You bet on which kids'll die and which kids won't. Not money, though. That part changes depending on who tells the story. If anybody says it's money, they're fuckin' boring and you should stop talking to them immediately and seek actual friendship. Or romance. Or *anything*." She sounded almost serious about that last part. Not the betting on dying children stuff, but the part about paying with money being boring somehow. "This is not exactly how I thought this date would start," I mumbled. Though the truth is that I didn't really mind. She *had* been a bit, uh, *macabre* at the party. And during sex. I think it's safe to say someone's a bit macabre if you meet them, fuck them a few hours later, and they mention their knife collection and ask if you want to roleplay killing them very, very, uh... let's pretend the word she used was *"romantically".* Was I that kind of person too? I hadn't thought so, even though the third time Jade and I got just drunk enough to fuck and halfway through doing it she asked if I'd choke her out just a little bit, I was fine with that, even though it wasn't my thing? Was I fucked in the head in a way I wasn't aware of, and that's what Devin found interesting? Or was it just that I didn't mind that *Devin* was that way? Is it that right after she asked about the "romantic" thing she apologized, started pulling the half-wilted black dress back up, said she should go, but I grabbed her arm - lightly, not in a weird way - and said it was fine, she'd just caught me off-guard? "Yeah, I get that from time to time. Entrance coming up, by the way. Probably shouldn't talk about secret child death games right in front of the guy we pay to get in." "Oh yeah, that... wait, forty *bucks?* For *this* dump?" The sign was so faded I couldn't even read it, but some grimly underpaid employee must've scribbled the number onto the sign with what I assume was a permanent marker, just below traces of old paint. I mean, I could swing forty bucks for me, and technically I could for her too, but... fuck, would it be sexist to try to pay to get her in too even though I didn't want to? Or would this be one of those weird situations where somebody who seemed like she'd hate me offering to pay for her would unexpectedly get weird if I *didn't?* "Yeah, it's dumb. Don't sweat it, I've got us covered." She fished around in her jacket pocket, plucked out a weirdly nice leather wallet, and *Jesus* that was a lot of bills. I mean, most of them were probably tens or less, but it wasn't a small wallet, and it was stuffed to capacity. "You sure? That's a lot of cash to drop on..." Something prickled at the back of my neck. I had a half-thought to reach back and smack it a little in case it was a mosquito or something, but no, that was just... my hair standing on end. The afternoon *would* cool off soon, but the sun wasn't sinking yet. So what was that feeling? It reminded me of something. Some old thing I hadn't felt since I was a kid. Okay, maybe not literally since I was a kid, but something I sure felt a lot *more* back then. I felt, *very* suddenly, like I was being watched. "Not to brag... I mean, really, *please* don't think I'm bragging, I only brag about things I've actually worked for, but eighty bucks is not exactly an amount of money I'll notice is gone." That *sounded* a lot like bragging, but I was preoccupied with that feeling. It hadn't gone away. Someone was watching me, I just *felt* it. And, as I glanced around furtively, I noticed Devin was doing the same thing. So she felt it too. She must have. That ancient, primal urging. The voiceless voice that speaks in stiff hair and goosebumps, whispering that something was... I didn't want to even *think* the words *'hunting us',* but that's how it felt. A gentle, almost distant sense of danger, like an odd scent caught in the warm summer wind. "Let's... let's pay and get in there," I said, and I'm sure I failed at pretending to be totally calm. "Yep." Devin cracked her neck again, then her knuckles. "Not gonna be crowded today, or any day, but I don't exactly hate the idea of more people being around right now." "For fucking real," I muttered. Maybe there were only a few dozen cars scattered around, but between those and employees... I guess the idea of being watched worried me more in a parking lot that was totally devoid of human life than it would in FunFun Land. "Hey," Devin said. I think her tone was meant to sound reassuring. "Don't worry too much. Just stick close to me, keep your eyes open, and you'll be fine." I didn't even know how to respond to that. I think I would've rather she *hadn't* instantly validated that sense of not-quite-sourceless danger. Except... whatever. I probably *would* be fine. Even if something real and dangerous was somehow about to happen... against all logic, she *had* succeeded at making me feel reassured. Devin threw eighty bucks at a very tired looking guy who I swear I could almost tell at a *glance* had ended up here because he had a degree he couldn't make money with, and we passed through the creaky, rusty metal turnstile leading into FunFun Land. Do you think it's interesting that crossing that threshold changed nothing? Entering the park hadn't triggered that anxious, haunted feeling, and it hadn't banished the feeling either. I don't know. I'm sidetracking myself, I guess, but *I* definitely think it's interesting. I have no doubt that Devon thought it was interesting, too. We wandered around the park. Devin bought us both corn dogs. They were even shittier and greasier than you'd expect, although that's probably what people *want* from amusement park "food". We ate them wandering around, just mapping the place out, looking over our shoulders, ignoring that the urgency was getting worse, not better. Ignoring the occasional glimpse of something vanishing just around a corner, flitting away at the edge of our peripheral vision. There was nowhere near enough of a crowd to get lost in, which actually might not have *been* safer for all I know, but it sure as hell would've *felt* safer. Really, there were just enough people that it was oddly easy to observe how they'd cluster together. It was the groups of three or more that kept putting me on edge, especially the... I don't know, the *basic* ones? Like, a mom and dad, or maybe adult siblings or whatever, and then a kid or two. Or sometimes just a random small group of teens or young adults. Over half of those groups, passing us by, made that sense of being prey *spike* upward. And I thought I noticed something about those people, something I doubted at first, but the more groups I observed, the more I realized that no matter how little sense it made, either I was *very* suddenly developing schizophrenia somehow, or something was deeply, deeply fucking wrong, because I just kept seeing... Well, at least I'm not that inclined to feeling sick to my stomach when I'm anxious, so we picked up funnel cakes when the corn dogs were gone, ate those on a bench. But we were both doing the same thing, and I'm sure we both knew it. We talked, but really we were people-watching, questioning shadows, and in my case, keeping my eyes on little clusters of people. "I... feel like I keep... seeing the same guy," I said, in-between bites. "That'll happen at a theme park with less than a hundred customers, yeah." "No, I mean..." What the hell *did* I mean? "I mean like..." But I took another bite instead of finishing a sentence I couldn't quite figure out how to phrase. "You mean that every so often when a group of people gets close, you keep seeing the same guy with them." "I mean, yeah, but it's *different people* he's with every time. And that doesn't make any sense." "What about it doesn't make sense?" She genuinely sounded as if she had no idea why anyone would question it. "Okay, fine, well... how about this, then: I can't think of anything that makes sense but isn't terrifying." "Do you *want* an explanation that isn't terrifying?" This, too, felt weirdly genuine. "Of course I do!" I snapped that one off a bit too loudly for comfort. A few people glanced our way. Great job, me, now *I* was the thing that *other* people were nervous about. "If you really want me to, I could try to make one up." "I want the truth," I said, only realizing once I'd said it that the truth was probably the last thing I actually wanted. What I wanted was for the truth to not be *my problem,* no matter what it actually was. "No you don't," she said. "Hey, it's fair. I don't want the truth either. I just want to be on a fucking date at a shitty amusement park." "Me too, but I also want to not feel like I'm in danger somehow," I hissed, not quite as under my breath as I'd intended. "Then do what I said to do. Stick close to me and keep your eyes open, and you'll be fine. Just... do it without overthinking it too much. Otherwise it'll ruin the whole evening." She said it so casually, like doing that would be *easy.* I guess it *was* easy for Devon. Or at the very least, it somehow must have been necessary often enough that doing it was second-nature. I'm not actually sure if there's a difference. I *think* there is, but it's hard to pin down. But she was basically right, wasn't she? If we weren't just going to drop the date over whatever was happening, wasn't this the only logical way to move forward? To keep an eye open just in case, but mostly focus on eating terrible theme park food and arguing over which so-bad-it's-good movie was the worst/best? (I was in favor of Troll 2 or The Room. Devin correctly divined that I had never heard of Neil Breen.) We did our best to lose ourselves in each other, and it turned out that we were pretty fucking good at that. I mean, it had been that way at the party, but we'd been *drunk* at the party. It was almost surreal, for me at least, realizing that booze had apparently been responsible for *none* of the sense of connection I'd felt with her that night, that strange sense of *finally coming home* somehow to a world that made sense, like sinking into an old bed you're fond of, or maybe into warm water. The sense that even if I drowned, I wouldn't mind it at all. My head insisted the feeling should've disappeared with the alcohol, or shattered like some ancient spell eroded by time the next morning when she had to go to work just half an hour after we'd woken up and I couldn't tell for the life of me if she'd meant it when she said she hoped we'd see each other again. Actually, I'd gotten a bit caught up on that phrasing. *Hoped*. As if whether we talked again was something being left up to destiny somehow, and not, y'know, left up to whether or not the phone numbers we gave each other were real. We were so lost in each other in that surreal semi-paranoid conversation that hearing someone *else* speak was like a bucket of ice water being thrown in my face. "Nadia, right? Isn't that you?" Devin and I both flinched like we'd been struck by something. Or maybe it was only me who did, and I just wanted to think she was a loser too. "Definitely not," Devin said, slowly. One of her hands was in her jacket pocket, and somehow I knew that inside that little hollow, she was holding onto a knife. No, wait, now I'm not sure if I knew. I might just be letting information I didn't have at the time color my memories of past events. I bet there's a term for that. "No, it's definitely you," the guy talking to her said. It wasn't the guy we might or might not have been seeing in the 'crowd'. If anything this dude looked... so normal that it's actually hard to describe him. I'm not the best at faces, but all I can remember about this guy is that he was presumably, uh, a guy. But I got that same feeling, that 'you are in danger you fucking idiot' sense that must've existed in human beings long before we invented language. "You've got the wrong person, dude," I said. "I think if you say somebody's name and they tell you 'no, that's not me', they're probably right." Devin glanced at me for just a split second, a ghost of a smile. Then she turned back to whoever-the-fuck. "What he said." Her tone was polite but decisive. "I'm serious. Nadia Brozek, right? We're like... two seats apart in Egyptology. We've shared notes." "My name is Devon, actually," she said, and if the last thing she said had been decisive, then this was glacier-cold. When she said it, I almost thought the temperature dropped, like we'd come here in the fall and not the summer, uncomfortably underdressed. "And I've never seen you before in my life, and you should get the fuck out of my face while you still have one." "C'mon, Nadia, don't be that way," the guy said. He was grinning now. A big, shit-eating grin. And I don't think teeth aren't supposed to look like that. There aren't supposed to be... so *many* of them. "You know what I want, right? This doesn't have to get ugly. Just..." "...Give you my... *notes,*" Devon finished, "but they're mine, I'd never share them with anyone, I've never met you, and if you try to take what's mine I *will* fight back until one of us is dead, and the dead one won't be me. The dead one is *never* me." "Holy fuck, Devin", I whispered without actually meaning to, because suddenly I was... let's say 'thinking with two heads at once', except, y'know, in the way that makes me a dumbass. "Huh... what a shame. That's a real shame, Brozek." The shit-eating grin was still there, but it didn't match his words or his creepy tone even slightly anymore. "Guess I'll see you in class." "I don't think you'll be seeing her anywhere, dude," I said. "Hmm." The man scratched at his chin. Or maybe at his beard? I can't remember if he had one. "Well, we'll *'see'* about that, won't we?" And then he just left. He walked away. I took a few glances around us in case something else was wrong, but everything seemed normal, and by the time I looked back again the guy was nowhere to be found. "Leaving with a shitty pun," she muttered. "Can't say I don't I *respect* that kind of exit, even from a fucking liar." "...*Egyptology,* though? That's so specific. That's such a weird way to fuck up a cold read." If this *was* a cold read, but it had to be, didn't it? "No... I *am* taking a course on that, although it hasn't covered anything I didn't already know. But *he* sure as fuck isn't in there." "Really? Wait, what are you majoring in?" I hadn't necessarily assumed that being at Jade's party meant she went to the same college, or to *any* college, but maybe this was confirmation. "I'm majoring in being a fucking problem. Nothing more and nothing less. And my name is *not* Nadia." The way she said it was weird. Curt and angry at first, but the part about 'Nadia' came out... wistful. "Should we... I think we should leave," I said. "I mean, I don't... this is only getting *more* worrying, right?" "*You* can leave if you want," Devon said. "But I'd rather be dead than have my day fucked up by that *organism.*" "Would you be pissed if I *did* leave?" "No," Devon said slowly. "No, not even a little bit. It's honestly the right choice. But if you do leave, I won't be calling you again, you won't be able to contact me, and Jade won't be wing-manning us any further. So... what are your priorities, James?" Devin versus danger. The dream of happiness versus withering, loneliness, hollowness. There really wasn't even a choice to make. "Let's at least ride some shit," I said. "But after that, we get the hell out of here." "Yeah, that works," Devin said. "Look, as long as you don't leave before I do, we won't have a problem." I nodded, thinking I could handle it. And unfortunately I was right. The log flume we had to skip, since it was undergoing repairs. The basic bitch coasters weren't, though, and none of them were great, but they were fun. Even the park's crappy tea cup ride was worth a whole three minutes of "waiting in line". The Ferris wheel was battered, so much that the ride operator, her uniform the same blue as all the others, didn't seem to *want* us onboard. Every time the old metal groaned, my nerves yanked me out of the moment, but Devin only seemed more excited. My anxiety did not get in her way. Maybe replacing a weird fear with a more grounded one helped, though. I was almost ignoring that my sense of danger still rose, higher and sharper, like a spear pushed slowly through a living body, the skin that would soon be an exit wound straining visibly as the dull point pressed relentlessly forward. "So what now?" We'd had a chance to ride everything that was even a little bit interesting. "I guess we wander toward the exit and then use it," Devin said. "Thanks for sticking it out with me." I was about to say something, probably 'of course' or 'no problem'... but we were passing by the log flume again, and my words died in my mouth before I could open it. The little, easy-to-miss 'OUT OF ORDER: UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE' sign was still there, but this time, there was a ride operator sitting there anyway... in a uniform that was black with red accents. "No fuckin' way," Devin said, staring. "That's... not supposed to *actually* be..." And that's when I realized the sun was behind us now, ready to sleep in the west, and though I didn't hear anyone nearby, there were *three* long shadows spilling forward across the concrete. I shoved Devin aside out of pure reflex, but I wasn't fast enough. She stumbled away, bright blood dripping from the rusted-red slice in her sleeve. Time felt frozen for a moment, just then, as I realized the hand holding the knife that must've been aimed right at Devin's back belonged to the same man I'd been seeing in those groups, the man who could hide in a crowd without needing a proper crowd to do it. He looked almost as shocked that he'd missed as I was shocked that this was fucking happening. We shared that, almost, me and that rat bastard son of a bitch, our disbelief at what had just happened. And then he took a wild swing at her, missed, she grabbed me by the arm, and we ran like hell. She was yelling something, at him, me, both, I don't know, I wasn't really processing anything but the way he gave chase, the crimson tinge on his combat knife glittering eerily in the sunset. I had been right when I first interpreted that sense of dread. We weren't just being watched. We were being hunted. We ran. He followed. And no one else reacted. Devin was yelling, I might have been yelling, this guy was obviously trying to kill us, no, to kill her, no no no *no* to kill *us,* but we might as well have been silent or invisible. The staff and guests we sprinted by didn't seem aware of us at all. There hadn't been much ambient noise here, but I suddenly realized it was absent, that it had been absent since the moment of the attack. An eerie silence smothered everything. I couldn't even hear the low murmur of cars in the distance. In that oppressive, suffocating silence, we just kept running. ...Then a panicked left turn took us into a dead-end, pinned between the bathrooms and some other building. The man with the knife laughed, high and wild, and the fact that I could *hear him* startled me into freezing up. He lunged, again, at Devon... ...But it was Devon's pocketknife, flickering clear of her jacket pocket, that cut deep into the side of his ribcage as she darted forward and around his thrust. Something else came out of that pocket, too, thumping gently to the ground. The silence shattered, the sounds of the park and the city rushing back in. Devon slashed at him again, but the man stumbled back just beyond her reach. Then *he* turned and ran. *"GET BACK HERE, MOTHERFUCKER!"* Devon screamed. Even from six feet away, the sheer volume made my head throb. She dropped low, snatched up a rock I hadn't noticed, and hurled it at the guy. Her aim was solid. The rock cracked against the side of the back of his head and bounced away, tearing loose a bloody patch of skin and hair. *"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL RIP YOUR GUTS OUT AND SHOVE 'EM DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!"* He still ran, the head injury hardly slowing him down. And then he was gone, and so was that sharp sense of being hunted. "Holy fucking shit, Devin, you..." But I trailed off. She'd slumped against the wall next to a trash can, coughing hard. "S-sorry," she squeezed out before another, worse coughing fit wracked her whole body. "Just... j-just..." The coughing got worse. I was frozen all over again as she collapsed to her knees, hacking wetly down into the garbage. "I'm, I'm calling 911," I said, fumbling for my phone. *"No,"* Devin said, then coughed until she was all but retching. "No hospitals. This happens. D-drive me home." A lull in the fit. "Sew myself up. No h-hospitals or cops." "Al, alright, sure. Can you walk?" "Lean on you s-some." Her breathing *was* improving, but... "Sure. Yeah, of course." Then something caught my eye. Her wallet, dislodged when she'd pulled the knife. I snagged it as she latched onto my arm. There was that thick wad of bills again, and a single card tucked into a narrow plastic slot. Her ID. I only got a glimpse before she took the wallet back. We stumbled back to my car together, and I know I should've been freaking out about our near-death experience, but instead, I just couldn't stop thinking about the ID. About the card with a photo of a younger Devin in a sundress, smiling bright, next to the name Nadia Brozek.

I was teleported by a number…

ydy4o0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydy4o0/i_was_teleported_by_a_number/

Let’s start from the beginning. I’m a frequent AirBnB user. Even when I’m in my home town, I try to at least stay at one to two places a month. It helps me relax and sort of reset myself. Anyways, the last house I stayed at was a pretty interesting experience. I laid my bags down on the bed and looked around like I always do. I figured if something is broken or disturbed and I didn’t touch it then I need to notate it. It’s no way I’m going to pay for someone’s mistakes. After checking the living room I found these pieces of paper. I was curious what they were doing there. So I took a second glance at the papers. It was a symbol on the top sheet. The best way I could describe it was a S inside of a circle. I continued looking through the papers and found descriptions of what this symbol meant. The author called it “Stain Number”. I thought that was a pretty odd title, but it caught my curiosity. Page after page was a description on what this number is and what it does. Now brace yourself. Apparently it can allow you to warp through space and time. From what the notes say, the ONLY way to get to Stain Number is finding the number between three and four. This sounds crazy I know, but the notes make it convincing. After a while of sorting through the notes, I began to tire myself. I ended up just putting the notes back where they were. I figured since it was just notes, I’d leave them where they were. I ended up going back to the bedroom and unpacking and winding down. I turned on the tv and caught up on some shows. I ended up passing out. And that’s when it happened… As I was sleep I kept dreaming of myself running away from something. The sheer fear in my heart was so unpleasant. I ran for what felt like minutes and still I couldn’t shake whatever my mind was conjuring up. I finally decided to turn around and see what I was running from. It was the “Stain Number”. I visually saw it in my head. This was so weird. This nightmarish dream came from me messing around with some papers for about five minutes. This was just so strange. I woke up and instantly made the mistake of wanting to write out the number in head. I wanted to see if what this person had said was true. I instantly found the piles of papers from earlier. I found a sheet that was blank. I instantly wrote down this mysterious number from my dream. I had to see if this really worked. After I wrote the last digit, in an instant I was in an interesting place. This place gave off a weird yet dreamy vibe. It was so eerie yet peaceful at the same time. I realized this is what one of the pieces of papers called Stainworld. Well at least a part of Stainworld. See the notes stated that the Stain Number would lead you to Stainworld. I began exploring this new world. The ground was a dry redish soil with the sky being s hazy yellowish color. I continued on as the dry soil crunched on my house shoes. After a while of exploring, I heard a bizarre noise. It was like hearing a muffled chainsaw reviving up. From out of nowhere a grotesque overweight monster came charging at my direction. I instantly booked it. I started having déjà vu from that dream. I began to realize I wasn’t running from Stain Number, I was running from that creature. I ended up getting enough space between me and the monster. I began writing in the dry soil as fast as I could. I had figured the same way I got into Stainworld would be the same way I got out. The monster grew closer as it kept shouting “help me get out! Please!” I instantly wrote the last number and was teleported out of the monsters grasp. I laid in a field of grass replaying in my head what just happened. Then I began to put together that the monster wasn’t raging to harm me, it was pleading for help. But why though? I then quickly realized I wasn’t where I had been at just a few moments ago. Before all of this I was in a house. Then I’m in a grassy field. One thing those papers didn’t say was how off the teleportation from back and forth are. I’m walking back to the Airbnb now. I used my phones GPS to get me back to the address, but what should I do next? This number is just stuck in my mind and I honestly don’t know what to do about this. This is clearly a major scientific discovery. But who would believe me? Nothing about this makes sense. Besides who would believe me about all of this when I tell them the information is from a few pieces of paper I’ve found? I don’t know right now. I’m tired from this walk so I’ll update this later. Thanks for hearing me out.

I discovered something horrific in my local forest, and I’m lucky to be alive

ydnawp

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydnawp/i_discovered_something_horrific_in_my_local/

Hey y'all, my name is Garrett and I'm going to share with y’all the time me and my good friend Robert encountered something very frightening in our local forest/ park. It has been almost 3 years since it occurred, and I still wonder how I'm still alive to tell the tale. Anyway, here it goes. &#x200B; It all started on a cool October evening in Texas. Me and my friend Robert were wondering how we could spend this evening on a Saturday night. So, being the thrill seekers we were, we decided to go on a walk in our local forest and do some urbex exploring there since there were some abandoned buildings in that area. I’m not too certain of the history behind the buildings but apparently, they were part of an old settlement from the mid- late 1800’s that was mysteriously abandoned in the 1920’s. I have tried to ask more about the history from people in our small town, but they simply refused to talk about it other than that. Additionally, they warned me and all other teenagers to not go into that forest at night. Of course, being the young cocky teenagers we were, me and Robert simply ignored that warning and went on to explore the buildings. &#x200B; Once we got all our stuff packed in our backpacks, including my newly gifted camcorder, we set out to the forest at about 6:45 pm and got there at around 7 o’clock, so the sun was pretty much set at this point. The parking lot once we got there only contained one other vehicle: a Ford Expedition. This seemed odd as it was nightfall and yet, there were still some hikers out and about in the park apparently. Not that it was strange for us to be here so late in the day. I shrugged it off quickly and started recording on my camera once we started our 30-minute hike to the abandoned buildings. The hike went completely normal for the most part until we got about 10 minutes away from the settlement. It started with the crickets and other animals going quiet all around us which I know means a predator is nearby (I am an avid hunter so I would know this, as well as listening to horror stories on YouTube). Robert and I were a bit on edge, but we refused to turn back, instead, we just slowed down our pace and minimized the number of times we would use our flashlights since we did not want to give away our positions so easily. &#x200B; Eventually, we made it to our destination with no further interruptions. In front of us, we were greeted by a building that seemed to resemble an old church with what seemed to be small houses and maybe a couple stores surrounding it. Of course, the buildings were so old and run down that it was hard to tell. Strangely enough too, it appeared that the church was in the middle of the settlement. Now I don’t know if it's just me, but if you see an abandoned town with an old, creepy church, chances are some bad shit is going to happen. Anyway, Robert and I agreed that we should check the other buildings first since the church was making both of us uneasy and we wanted to save it for last. &#x200B; We spent about 30-45 minutes exploring the different buildings with not much interest other than some cryptic messages engraved in the wood of the buildings which read out stuff like: “WE MUST LEAVE BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE” and "THEY ALWAYS WATCH”. Now, if the atmosphere of the town itself was enough to freak me and Robert out, as well as the eerie silence from earlier, this was almost enough to make us shit bricks especially with the previous history of the settlement. Could this be connected to the town’s abandonment? What were they so afraid of? So many questions that needed answers. I had to keep going. &#x200B; After we finished exploring the last building before the church, we took maybe 10 breaths each before entering the church. Upon entering the church, it immediately made us gag with the smell of what I can only describe as pure death. And it seemed to be coming from the room below the building. A basement? That’s what I could only assume. There was a trapdoor followed by a ladder that led down to this secret room and as we made our way down, that horrible smell seemed to get even stronger. We even had to put our jackets over our noses to cover up the smell once we got down. Once we got down, we were met with a huge catacomb-like room with some sort of object in the middle of it, illuminated by a very dim candle hanging from the ceiling. &#x200B; Me and Robert very reluctantly made our way toward the object with my camera still recording to discover that it was ½ of a person’s bloody body: a female that seemed to be in her mid to late 20’s. Very possibly a young urban explorer like Robert and I. We both threw up upon seeing this gruesome sight. It is worth mentioning too that while we were down there, we never used our Tac Lights to see what we were surrounded by. So, when we both opened our lights, I almost fainted on site when we saw that we were surrounded by maybe 20 horrifying looking humanoid creatures. They were probably no taller than us, but they were naked and very thin with long, thin, and wiry hair coming down to their chests. Their eyes were black as the night and their gaping mouths were dripping with blood. Their fingernails looked like they were overgrown and were shaped like steak knives. They sort of resembled the clown from SAW except without the makeup and the hair was much thinner. And once they all knew we saw them, they all in unison gave out this deathly shriek, a shriek that I believe could only be heard in a nightmare. I didn’t even know there was a living thing on this planet that could produce that noise until then. It was then that Robert yelled at the top of his lungs “FUCKING RUN!” as we both climbed up the ladder in record time. It was an absolute miracle not me or Robert got dragged down by those monstrosities. We made it out of the church as fast we could and slammed the door behind us. With the screaming still being heard. We took a minute to catch our breaths as we discovered with our lights, probably 50 different eye shines coming from all the buildings that we previously explored. Upon seeing this, we bolted out of the entire settlement. I dropped my camera behind us in the process. &#x200B; In about 10-15 minutes, we made it back to my truck with the Ford Expedition still there. We could now finally safely recollect and calm down from our horrific experience. We then concluded that the car probably belonged to the girl that was killed by those things under the church. It really was a miracle that we made it out, but it’s very unfortunate that she didn’t, and my heart goes out to her family. The next day, we led police to the location, and they found her body right where we saw it only this time, those creatures were not there. She was eventually identified as 26-year-old Chloe Becks. We tried telling the police our story, but they obviously did not buy it. Except for one: Sheriff Walker who was a 60-year-old native of our small town. During the investigation on the site, he came up to me and Robert and said, “Now you know why we tell you not to go into the forest at night.”

The phone call from my daughter led to the most terrifying experience of my life

ycuno7

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycuno7/the_phone_call_from_my_daughter_led_to_the_most/

It’s always been one of my biggest fears as a parent to get a sudden phone call from my kid in the middle of the night. The type that causes you to lurch awake in a panic when you see their name illuminate on the phone screen, and last week I experienced that for the first time. It was by far one of the most horrifying nights of my life. It’s obviously no secret that kids like to party in high school. I did it plenty myself and I’m sure I gave my parents a lot of sleepless nights when I was growing up, and now I guess it’s my kids turn to return the favor. My son just started his junior year of high school and there have been a few incidents in regards to him being at parties, coming home drunk or stoned and getting a few tickets from the police. He’s a good kid though, and has thankfully never been in serious trouble, and hopefully things will remain that way. I’ve been stern with him, but I also understand that this is pretty normal behavior for teenagers. My daughter is a freshman in high school this year and up until now has remained relatively clean in terms of the usual high schooler antics. My wife and I of course don’t condone underage drinking or partying, but we know it’s likely going to happen regardless of what we say. We both agreed long ago that we would always do our best to educate our kids on the dangers and try our best to influence them away from that lifestyle. I’ve had numerous talks with both my son and daughter about this, and made sure to reiterate that I don’t want them partying, but I’m not able to control their entire lives either. My request that I have repeated ad nauseam to them, is that if ever they are in danger or in an unsure situation to please call me. I don’t care what time it is or where they are, I will go pick them up, no questions asked and no grudges held. Better that than them getting into the car with some underage drunk driver or something, because we’ve all heard the horror stories of people’s lives being forever changed by one stupid decision. My son has never once taken me up on that offer, and I hope that means he’s been responsible. Until last week my daughter hadn’t either, but I’m glad she did, even though it ended up being one of the most terrifying nights of our lives. My phone began to blare loudly on my side table, stirring me from a deep sleep. With a stark sudden nervousness, I leaned over and silenced the annoying tone, glimpsing with the pirate-eye stare at my bright phone. The name ‘Amelia’ illuminated brightly on my screen, and immediately my heart sank. It was just past 2am, and everyone knows nothing good ever happens that late at night. “Hello?” “Dad? Hey I’m sorry to call so late…” “No no… it’s fine honey, what’s up? Are you okay?” “Yeah I’m fine umm… we were driving home and my friend’s car broke down. Is there any way you could come pick us up?” My heart breathed a small sigh of relief then and I tried to gather my mind. I told her I would of course come and get her, and over the next few minutes she described her location as I got myself dressed. She was a good half-an-hour drive away, and basically just on the side of a rural stretch of road. She didn’t mention what exactly they were doing out there, and in the moment, it didn’t cross my mind to ask. I pulled my truck out the complex maybe 10 minutes later, and texted Amelia that I was on my way. Thankfully the roads were clear at 2am and I was well on my way to her in no time making much better time the drive would’ve normally taken me. Only then did I start to realize they probably could’ve just called roadside assistance and requested service. Would’ve saved me a long drive on a work night, but after all, I’d always told Amelia to call me if she needed help and I’m glad she did. After entering the highway, I felt my phone begin to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and once again saw an incoming call from Amelia. “Dad… are you almost here?” She spoke suddenly as I answered, a distinct nervousness obvious in her voice. “Yeah, about 10 minutes out… is everything okay?” She paused on the other end of the line. I heard one of her friends say something in the background but I couldn’t decipher what it was. “Dad… there’s somebody out here.” “There he is… down by that post.” Another girl spoke form the other end. “What do you mean? Is someone threatening you?” I heard them whisper on the other end of the line as I feverishly anticipated a response. “Dad… something’s wrong.” The line then abruptly cut out. I glanced out my phone to see that the call had failed. After trying and failing several times to call her back I eventually gave up due to lack of service. My heart was throbbing in my chest, and an increased desperation caused me to stomp down harder on the gas pedal. A few minutes later and my phone began to buzz in the center console once again, and once again it was Amelia. “Hello? Amelia are you there?” “Dad… something’s wrong.” “I’m almost there Amelia hold on, are you safe? What’s going on?” There was no response from the other end of the line. Some times when I have bad reception people can call me and speak but they can’t hear me respond. I figured that’s what was happening, until she spoke again. “Dad… something’s wrong.” A felt a wave of chills roll down my spine as I heard it. Something about the situation really had me unnerved then. The way Amelia spoke, it was like the same every single time, almost like it was a recording. The area she had told me they were located was about fifteen minutes away from the nearest town on the way to a patch of wilderness. A lot of people go there for camping and whatnot, but the roads were near empty that night. Endless rows of trees lined either side of the road and a cold sweat dampened my brow as stomped on the gas pedal. Finally, as I rounded a bend in the road a few minutes later I spotted something up ahead. A lone Subaru Outback on the opposing side of the road. As I got near, I squinted to see better, but saw no one inside. I was fairly certain that was one of Amelia’s friends’ cars and since I hadn’t seen any others, I figured it had to be them. I pulled my truck up behind it, and my headlights beamed through the back window, but I saw no one inside of it. “Amelia?” I called out from my window, but got no response. I killed my engine then, grabbing my Glock 19 from under the seat and stashing it in the back of my pants. The chilly air gnawed against my skin as I stepped out into the road. An eerie silence subsumed me as I glanced around the environment. The back-left tire on the Outback was completely flat, and I figured that’s why Amelia had called. I hoped that’s all it was, but the fact she wasn’t there distressed me greatly. “Amelia?” I called out, hearing my own voice slash through the dense, silent night. I checked my phone again, but found it was displaying the ‘searching’ message in place of the bars. The inside of the car was empty when I looked through it, and I shuddered to imagine what could’ve possibly possessed them to leave their car. None of the possible answers I concluded were good. I called out to her a few more times as I searched around the area, but never got a response. On the side of the road, I noticed something laying in the wild grass. As I got closer, I realized it was a purse with a bunch of items spilled out of it. I didn’t think it as one of Amelia’s, but it was obviously not a good sign. “Amelia?” I screamed the name at the top of my lungs, but again there was no response. Something was very wrong about the situation. It felt like I was being watched, but that could’ve just been my growing apprehension. The discarded purse clearly indicated that whoever it belonged to probably went out into the woods. I knew what I had to do, but the fear that overcame me when I considered going into those woods was among the strongest I’ve ever felt. Every self-preservation in me was screaming for me to not go into those woods, but my little girl was out there, and fleeing was not an option. I made my way to the tree line and entered the woods. The only light I had on me was my phone’s flashlight, and it wasn’t much. It was at least better than making calls though, and surely better than nothing. Each step I took seemed to crash like thunder when contrasted with the eerily silent night. Each dried leaf like a glass vase shattering on impact and I did my best to move as quietly and efficiently as possible. The Glock remained in my right hand at all times, and my head on a shivering swivel as I persevered onward. In the distance I started to hear the sounds of trickling water. There was nothing really indicative of anyone having been in there so I decided to just go towards it. I thought maybe one of them was bleeding and went to the water to wash off a cut or something even though that’d be a terrible idea. By that point I was just internally scrambling for answers or any sort of clue I could find. A minute later and I stumbled into a small clearing and found the brook I’d heard earlier. The small stream extended in a wavering path both directions with thick foliage covering much of the bank. On the other side was a small incline which led deeper into the woods, but once again there was no immediate signs that anyone had been out there. I really started to panic then, but calling out seemed like a worse idea every time I did it. At the same time, I had to do something. My mind just wouldn’t stop racing about some lunatic serial killer or human trafficker; every father’s worst nightmare. After a few moments I finally decided to turn around and head back towards the road. As I veered back, I stepped by the bank and was able to see around the small bend in the creek. On the other side of an angled tree, I saw something that made me nearly jump out of my skin. Someone was crouching there on the edge of the stream. It was a young woman with dark hair dressed in a hoodie and blue jeans. As I lifted the light towards her, I realized I recognized her. “Natasha… Natasha hey can you hear me? Are you alright?” She didn’t react at all as I made my way over to her. She was just crouched there in a sitting fetal position staring up the incline on the opposing side of the stream. “Natasha hey, it’s Amelia’s dad. Are you okay? Where is Amelia?” Natasha again didn’t react in any way. As I finally shined the light on her face, I just saw her staring emotionless. She didn’t even look at me Her eyes were like saucers, dilated so heavily that no color was visible. Considering it was night that wasn’t entirely strange on it’s own, but was what strange is that I noticed her pupils didn’t shrink at all when I shined the light on her. “Natasha…” I put my hand on her shoulder, but again got no reaction. I could tell she was breathing, but clearly she wasn’t all there. She seemed entirely catatonic, like she was trapped in some sort of hypnotic state. I shook her by the shoulder, called her name and even flicked water on her from the stream but she didn’t react in any way whatsoever. It was really unnerving, but selfishly I was still more worried about Amelia. I thought about just letting her wait there and return for her as she obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but the sordid idea occurred that it may be too late for Amelia. The thought alone nearly crippled me from the horrific contemplation, but I knew I could at least get one girl out. I wrapped my arms around Natasha and lifted her off the ground. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and she maintained that as I lifted her into my arms. Her skin was cold to the touch, and with her locked position it almost gave the impression that she was frozen stiff. Thankfully Natasha is rather small so I was able to carry her back towards the road with little issue. A minute or two later I got back to my truck and placed Natasha in the back seat. Her utterly silent demeanor and complete lack of reaction had really started to worry me. Just to be sure I felt her pulse on her neck, and as I anticipated it was there, feeling pretty much normal. After loading her in the truck I locked it and resumed my search for Amelia. It was then I noticed that the back left tire on the Outback was not only flat, but absolutely shredded. It looked like it had been flat but they continued driving on it for several miles. The tread was torn open revealing the silver rim underneath. As I was inspecting it, I suddenly thought I saw something underneath the car. As I leaned down, I once again got a huge jump scare. “Amelia… Amelia are you okay?” There she was, lying prone underneath the car. Like Natasha she was unresponsive no matter how many questions I asked her. I could see her back moving rhythmically up and down so I knew she was breathing. Her eyes were pinned open wide, and like Natasha her pupils were like saucers. I had to basically drag her out from underneath the car, all the while she didn’t react in any way whatsoever. She too just appeared in this dazed state, like she was thankfully still alive but not fully conscious. I’ve never seen anything like that with her or anyone else before. As soon as she was out from under the car she suddenly lurched and wrapped herself into the fetal position. It startled me greatly and I thought it meant she was back to normal, but after questioning her again I still got no reaction. Thankfully that made it much easier to carry her and I got her loaded into the truck as well. Natasha still sat there as she had before, and the sight of both of them curled up and unresponsive like that really chilled my veins. As I rounded the back of my truck I then came upon an incredibly worrying discovery. The back left tire on my truck was suddenly flat as well. A few dozen curse words slipped liberally from my lips as I debated my options. Unfortunately, the jack was underneath the back seat where Amelia and Natasha were. I spun back, eyeing the opposing side of the road and the foreboding and unwavering tree line. Someone was messing with me, and I prayed that’s all they were doing. Considering the state of both Amelia and Natasha however, that didn’t seem very likely. As I began retrieving the jack and lowering tool rom underneath the seat, something suddenly caused me to freeze dead in my tracks. I don’t how to explain it, but every single hair on the back of my neck stood up at once, and a wave of chills rolled down my spine. My knees shook and heart thundered in my chest. It was like some forlorn sixth sense buried deep within me suddenly sensed danger, but ‘danger’ isn’t even a strong enough word for it. It was this utterly hopeless, paralyzing sense of impending doom with corporeal manifestations. Like some ominous presence was enough to rattle me to my very core, and it was so unfathomably consuming that even the fight or flight response ceased being an option. I was just entirely stricken by terror, like some primal instinct deep within me had suddenly reawakened and set off all the alarm bells at once. I’d been anxious the whole time I’d been there considering the circumstance, but it was nothing compared to that horrendous sense of crippling fear. I glanced franticly around the vicinity, but nothing appeared immediately wrong. Nothing I could see that is. I really wish I had the words to properly convey the feeling, but at the same time I don’t, because I truly hope no one ever has to experience that feeling. “Dad…” Amelia’s voice suddenly called out, but it wasn’t Amelia who had spoken it. It came from the opposing side of the road. My heart sunk like a lead weight in my chest as I spun back to face the arboreal blockade. I saw nothing, I heard nothing aside from that familiar voice and uncanny tone. “Dad… something’s wrong.” I didn’t think my heart could sink any lower, but as those words pierced the obsidian night, I was proven wrong yet again. It was Amelia’s voice again, and it was spoken the exact same way I’d last heard it on the phone. “Dad… something’s wrong.” “Dad… something’s wrong.” “Dad… something’s wrong.” The voice seemed to distort the more it repeated. My legs finally resumed function beneath me, and I had seen enough. I just got back into the truck, with my hands trembling so bad that I struggled to hit the push start. Finally, I did and the truck fired back to life. Outside I heard the voice repeating, but it seemed to change location every time it did. The first few were off the left of us on the opposing side of the road, but then it came from behind me, then up ahead with only a few seconds interval between each repetition. Branches then snapped over to my left, and something emerged from the woods. Suddenly I felt woozy, lightheaded and like I was about to pass out. My vision swam around me, and it suddenly felt like I’d just shot-gunned a handle of Jack Daniels. It wasn’t like the feeling of being drunk though, it was something far more terrifying than that; like my very sentience was being drained from my body. The thing emerged fully from the woods, looming like a shadow on the peripheries of my mind. I can’t even begin to describe it, not only because of my extremely blurred state of mind, but because it just feels wrong to do so. The more I stared at it and acknowledged it’s existence the worse it got. It’s like my feeble human mind wasn’t fully capable of comprehending the thing’s my eyes were beholding. I saw other things in the woods, or at least I think I did. So much of this feels like a dream now it’s crazy to even transcribe it. It’s like I don’t know whether I can even trust my own account of the events anymore. Something was out there though, something truly horrible. I could feel the claws of utter madness scraping against the last frayed remnants of my mind. It’s mere presence alone was threatening to tear me from reality, and send me spiraling into a dazed delirium the likes of which I would never recover from. Somehow, I managed to move the shifter into drive, and with no regard for the flat tire I slammed my foot down onto the gas pedal. It felt like driving with a fish bowl on my head while being upside down. My reactions and muscle memory were just disoriented beyond belief. I have no doubt I was swerving all over the road worse than Lindsay Lohan after a birthday party, but thankfully there was no one else around. The tire flapped relentlessly, creating an irritating cacophony and causing my truck to handle terribly which of course only added to the aforementioned difficulties. By some miracle of fate, I managed to keep the truck on the road for a long enough time. The delirious sensations seemed to lessen the further away I got. After several minutes of driving, I felt mostly back to my normal state of mind. The sigh of relief I breathed than was probably the largest and most cathartic of my life. A few minutes later and I pulled my shrieking truck into the hospital parking lot. By that point the tire was almost entirely disintegrated off the rim, and I probably ruined my differential but none of that mattered to me. I ran inside the hospital and got some of the staff at the front counter, telling them I had two girls with me that needed help. The staff followed me out, and I picked up the still-unresponsive Amelia from the back seat. The security guard picked up Natasha and we carried them back inside. The nurses asked me what had happened as we got them into hospital beds, but I didn’t even know what to tell them. I ended up just saying most of what actually happened and that I’d found them in the woods. The staff eyed me warily, and I could tell they didn’t trust me. I don’t blame them either as I did show up with 2 underage girls in the middle of the night and under very strange circumstances. I doubt they’d ever seen anyone in conditions like that. The girls very much appeared like they’d been drugged, and although I told them I was Amelia’s father I don’t blame them for being suspicious of me. Even as the police showed up and began questioning me, I forced myself to remain calm for the sake of Amelia. They asked me what had happened and I told them pretty much everything I’ve written here today but in the most rational means I could explain. I told them I thought someone had abducted and drugged them, but I didn’t see who it was. No way they’d ever believe the more worrying details of the experience though. The cops kept me there in the lobby, not arresting me but not allowing me to go be with Amelia either. Eventually I called my wife and she arrived at the hospital a little while later. I then had to explain everything a third time to her, and she was able to substantiate my claims. The cops eventually radioed in to their dispatch and requested officers to go and investigate the scene where I’d found Amelia and Natasha. My wife knew something was up with me; she knew I was rattled by the experience. She tried getting me to tell her more when we were alone, but I told her I’d tell her everything later. One of the nurses came out a little while later and informed us that both girls had been sedated and were now sleeping peacefully. I asked if they had found anything wrong with them, but they said everything was normal as far as they could tell. My wife went back to see them, but the cops didn’t want me going considering their suspicions. It was annoying, but I’m trying my best to be charitable to their point of view here. I’d much rather cops that took young girls being brought in under mysterious circumstances seriously even if it meant suspecting me. That’s a far better option than them shrugging it off and not much caring about it. I was exhausted by then, and ended up falling asleep on the lobby’s couch not long after. I had some pretty severe nightmares then, but I can’t consciously remember the details of them now. My wife shook me awake some time later. As I opened my eyes I saw the sun had risen, and the lobby had many other people coming and going. Finally, I was permitted to go and see Amelia, and thankfully she seemed fully conscious and back to her normal self. The same was true for Natasha whose parents had also showed up to see her. Thankfully, both girls were cleared to return home a few hours later with a full bill of health. In the following days more details would be added about the case, but unfortunately most of them have just made all of this more difficult to understand. Amelia and Natasha both tested negative for common drugs like roofies used to incapacitate victims. They drug tested me as well, but as expected it also came back negative. There’s always the possibility that they- and even possibly I was drugged with a more exotic substance that is not normally tested for, but up until now there’s no real evidence of that. On the following morning the cops went and checked out the area where I found the girls. Natasha’s car was still there in virtually the same state I’d found it in. They searched the surrounding woods but weren’t able to find much of relevance. As of now, I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing in the case, but that doesn’t mean things have been resolved. The cops questioned me extensively about the night, and I tried to help them in every way I could. I even told them that I thought I’d seen someone approaching my truck as I fled, but stopped short of implying anything beyond that. If you’ve read all of this, then you may be of the same assumption that I am, and came to a similar but far more unbelievable conclusion. There was something unnatural about that night, and although I hesitate to use the word ‘paranormal’, I’m really struggling to find a better word for it. Amelia has no memory of what happened to her. She’s said that last thing she remembers was Natasha pulling the car over after they got a flat tire. She doesn’t remember crawling under the car, or me carrying her to the truck. Next thing she’s said she actively remembers was waking up in the hospital, and Natasha’s account was pretty much the same. I’ve had some horrific nightmares these last couple days. Nothing in particular that I can recall, just distorted visions of horrific creatures and people along with violence and suffering that causes me to lurch awake in a cold sweat. Amelia has had them too, and I suspect- though I’m not certain that Natasha has had the same. I’ll be honest, some of the things Amelia has told me lately really has me worried. She’s said she’s seen things that she knows aren’t there, and heard voices she knows don’t exist. Based on the things she’s mentioned I’m starting to get worried that she may be schizophrenic. She’s never had these issues before that night, and I really hope it isn’t the case. I don’t have a good explanation for what happened that night, and all the research I’ve done hasn’t helped much. As of now I’m hoping I can just write this event off and move on with my life, but I have horrible feeling that it won’t be so easy. If anyone has any theories about what the hell happened that night, please share them. I am open to any and all potential explanations. One thing I do know, is that whatever it was I saw that night is still out there, and that thought terrifies me more than anything else.

I am trapped in a twisted recreation of a childhood memory. Alone, in an endless world of water.

ydcuav

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydcuav/i_am_trapped_in_a_twisted_recreation_of_a/

My surrounding environment is as it is in my dreams. Endless, featureless, white-tiled walls… slick with condensation, illuminated ever so faintly in a gentle shade of blue. I cannot identify the light’s source, as I do not appear to be casting any kind of shadow. I stand between two pools of turquoise, shimmering water. The filters hiss quietly, and this ongoing sound is occasionally joined by a soft gurgling from down below. The air is thick with the smell of chlorine. It’s just like the place my Dad used to bring me when I was a kid. There’s a few key differences, of course, but the aesthetic is the same. The place I’m in now is just *stretched*. Distorted. And there are no others here. No other people. Only me. I glance over my shoulder. There is a sign attached to the wall. One directly above the other. ‘NO DIVING’, it reads, with a picture of a stick figure diving in the water. He has been encircled and crossed through with red lines. The text reads as it should in plain English, but, curiously the image itself is upside down; the stick figure appears to be diving ‘upwards’, towards the ceiling. &#x200B; I consider my surroundings again. I look down at my hands and stretch my fingers, clenching them into a fist. &#x200B; *…At what point did this stop being a dream?* I wonder. &#x200B; Because I’m not dreaming. Not anymore. I know this for an absolute certainty. The tile is cool and hard beneath my feet. I can feel the pseudo-tropical heat against my skin. I have memories. I have a sense of self. I do not know how I got here, but… I *am* here. Of that, I have no doubts. *So where to go next? No use standing around.* There appear to be four exits immediately available to me. One directly beside the NO DIVING sign. It takes the form of an archway in the tile, and leads away around a corner. There are two identical routes ahead of me, at the far end of this room. They are simple rectangular holes in the wall, and the light down that way shimmers in faint pink. And there is another archway in the wall to my right. One smaller than the first. Closer to the floor. I’d have to stoop to get through it. No light comes from this archway. Through the gap in the tile is only pitch black. Total, all-encompassing darkness. It makes me feel cold just to look at it. Every one of these arches, they all trigger memories from my childhood. Memories that drift through my mind like wispy clouds, ever so slightly out of reach. I opt for the pink rectangular doorways opposite, the two pools on either side flanking me as I walk between them. The water ripples gently and laps at the edges of the tile as I traverse the length of the room. I can feel the wetness of the floor against the soles of my feet. *Yes… that’s right…I’m not wearing any shoes.* I check myself. My inventory, if you will. I am barefoot. I am wearing an adult-sized pair of the swimshorts I always wore as a kid. Blue, with pockets, and covered in little sharks. In my pocket I find my phone. I try to turn it on, to use it… …But all I am given is a blank blue screen, and the keyboard. I can input text, but, it isn’t clear if the text can actually go anywhere. The case is not one of mine, and it appears to be waterproof. *What else am I wearing?* I am wearing a shirt. Tropical in its design. Blue, and orange. One of my Dad’s old shirts. &#x200B; …And that’s it. Curious. &#x200B; I don’t know why I’m not more frightened. Perhaps the fear will come later. For now, I’m just taking the situation as it comes. That’s what I was always taught to do, anyway. I'm sure I'll remember how I got here, in time. &#x200B; I reach the end of the room and pass through the rectangular door on the right, though I don’t think it mattered which one I actually chose, as they both lead to the same place. I look around. This second room is multi-layered. I can see two, maybe three further floors above me. To my left is a spiralling staircase, ascending, likewise made from tile, and to my right is another staircase, though this one descends. Down it goes, down beneath the surface of a shimmering pool, and down it continues. Deeper and deeper underwater until it vanishes from sight, blurred and lost to the blue. I can’t explain why, exactly, but this unsettles me. The implication that one is supposed to be able to go lower, that one may even be *enticed* to go lower, but is, surely, unable… I recognize these stairs. I cannot place exactly where from, but, I suppose they could be from the same pool complex as everything else. Taken from their home, distorted, and slotted impractically into this new and unknown purgatory. I look back up. Across from me is another doorway. It leads into what appears to be a large, open hall…. But the doorway stands on an island at the far side of an enormous pool, and I would have to swim to it in order to get there. I feel sweat budding on my forehead from the humidity, and I choose to go for the stairs. I turn left and walk the length of the room. Up I climb, step by step to the layer above me. &#x200B; Step by step. &#x200B; I reach the top and see a bridge to my left, likewise made of the same white tile. I choose to cross it. There are no railings for me to hold, so I am a little more cautious in my steps. The bridge carries me over an enormous pool. A huge, blue body of water, and I peer over the edge for a better look. In the centre of this pool is a pedestal of white tile, and atop it is a sculpture. A large white sphere, with a crack in its side. A small flicker of anxiety shivers through me. Now this, this I recognize. I am well familiar with this sculpture, and I know for certain where it is from. The pool my Dad and I used to visit all the time had this same one as a feature. I used to stare it. Wonder at its purpose. The original artist probably had no deeper meaning behind it, but back then, as a kid… It enthralled me. The memories begin to resurface, once long-forgotten. *…Why? Why did I obsess so much over this sculpture?* I’m not sure why. Maybe because it just seemed so out of place. I pause on the bridge and rub a hand against my forehead. I take a second to try and work out what is happening, or rather, if I should try *harder* to work out what is happening. The problem is, I’ve kind of decided that my current state of calm rests precariously on a tightrope. I’m concerned that if I dedicate too much thought to my situation and come to grips with its impossibility then I will simply start to panic… … My Dad used to take me to the pool after school on Fridays. It was fun. We’d spend a few hours there having a good time. It was a reasonably-sized complex. There were some slides. A diving-board, though, I was too young to use it of course. There was a bubble-pool, and a little lazy-river… It all felt enormous to me, back then, but I’m sure that if I were to return as an adult I would find it far, far smaller than my memory would suggest. I was always a bit afraid of the lifeguards, though. Those silent, staring sentinels. I was terrified they’d blow their whistles at me. That I’d be publicly called out for doing something wrong. Ejected from the pool, even. Banned. …Who knows. The mind of a kid works in curious ways. And I was always anxious about the deep end of the ‘dark’ pool. The pool with the lowest levels of light, compared to the others. A dolphin drawn in coloured tile shimmered perpetually at the bottom of the deep end, and whilst I’m sure it was designed to be charming, it always creeped me the hell out. I hated the idea that there was something below me. Something *beneath*, down there in the deep… and through the distorted water and the flickering lights, the dolphin’s appearance came across as unsettling. Ever-shifting. Dreamlike and disturbing. &#x200B; I hated it. &#x200B; I would only ever go in that particular pool if my Dad was right by my side, and even then I would always avoid the deep end altogether. … I continue across the bridge, heading through an arch into a circular room with a narrow, also circular pool in its very centre. I walk to the edge and look down. The pool is incredibly, impossibly deep. The water is crystal clear and yet, I still cannot see the bottom. It fades away into blurry, deep darkness. I wonder at the purpose of such a pool, and cautiously turn to study the rest of the room. There are a series of slides built into the wall. Hard plastic tunnels, leading away into the unknown. Seven, in total. Five of them are blue. One of them is white, and one of them is black. Water flows down them in a constant, quiet stream. Inviting me to go and launch myself down, I suppose. To drop myself into the darkness and allow the tunnels to take me into the unknown. Carrying me around and around, throwing me from the left to the right in the total absence of light… leading to God knows where. &#x200B; …I won’t be doing that, of course. I have no idea what kind of environment such slides might eventually spit me out into. &#x200B; …If indeed, they ever spit me out at all. &#x200B; I grimace and rub my hands across my eyes. &#x200B; I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what to do. &#x200B; *Don’t panic. Don’t panic.* &#x200B; The architecture makes no sense. None of it makes any sense. “Hello?” I call out. Then, louder: “HELLO! IS ANYONE THERE? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” But I receive no reply. My words echo off the tile. I grimace and set off again, passing between two slides and through the only other doorway in the room. Another arch, and it leads me into a grand, wide hall lined with white-tiled pillars. There are shower-head faucets on the wall here to my left, but there is no apparent way to turn them on. There are no dials or handles or buttons. The faucets themselves are also much higher up than the wall than they need to be, to the point where their supposed practicality would be severely limited. Above the shower-heads are windows in the tile. These windows have been made out of blue, frosted glass. Light comes from behind these windows, but I cannot see anything tangible. Just a blurred ,watery shine. The floor descends. Four steps down I go and into the water. It only comes up to my ankles though, and I splash through it as I pass between the white-tiled walls. A doorway to my left. Ascending staircase just beyond… and a corner leading round to the right. I don’t suppose it matters where I go. I follow the corner leading around to the right, and am met with a long, gloomy passageway. The sound of gently sloshing water is the only sound, echoing ethereally against the tile. The light reflects in the water, and this shimmering light in turn reflects against the corridor’s ceiling, giving the whole corridor an especially dreamlike quality. Down I go, step after step, my feet making miniscule splashes as I walk between the walls. &#x200B; The lights overhead are pale and yellow, and they flicker, almost but not quite in time to my steps. I clear my throat, the muscles in my neck twitching with anxiety. The sound I make travels far in both directions. &#x200B; I pass by an arch. The corridor leads into a wider room. Stairs descend. Stairs ascend. &#x200B; Corridors. Arches. Stairs. Rooms. Water. Corridors. Arches. Stairs. Rooms. Water. *Jesus Christ.* &#x200B; I walk the corridor for a long time. A long, long time, but at last it finally opens up onto another bridge. Swirling steams and mists surround me, but to my right and just about visible is another series of blue-glass windows, though the steam obscures what they might be built into. I glance over the bridge’s edge; I try to work out how high up I am, but I am unable. I cannot tell how far such a fall might be, were I to slip off the side. With wet and slippery feet, I take very careful steps across this bridge, as like everything else, it is comprised of that exact same smooth tile. &#x200B; “*Why isn’t he happy?”* comes a sudden voice. Crackling, distorted, as if played through an old and broken speaker, unseen. &#x200B; I freeze at once; a sharp, icy shard striking into my blood. My heart defrosts after a second or two, pumping all the harder, desperate to send its warmth out and into my veins. *Did I imagine it? Am I making stuff up now?* Movement draws my attention and I look around to my right. Through the steam and the blur of the thick blue glass, I see a small collection of shadowy silhouettes. Gently, slowly milling from place to place. &#x200B; The voice comes again. &#x200B; *“I don’t understand. He should be happier”.* &#x200B; I decide to move a little faster. Hurriedly I begin to pace my way across the rest of bridge, though this damned humid fog prevents me from seeing how much further I have to go. My instincts just really don’t want me hanging around. I swallow and try to control my breathing through my nose, one of my feet slipping suddenly out across the surface of the tile. I suck some air in through my teeth and stumble right up to the edge, throwing out my arms to rebalance and to prevent myself from toppling into the unknown. &#x200B; *Maybe the slides would have led me down there*, I cannot help but wonder idly. *…No*, I decide. *No probably not. It’s light in here, if dim and distorted and hazy.* The slides, however… The slides led only to darkness, I’m sure of it. &#x200B; I shoot another look to the frosted blue glass. The dark and shadowy silhouettes blur together as they shift around. It is hard to tell where one ends and the others begin. “H-Hello?” I call out to them, my voice catching in my throat. I try again. “Hello!” The silhouettes makes no sign that they can hear me. &#x200B; *“Our thinking is flawed. We’ve made a mistake, perhaps.”* *“Are we missing his fears?”* &#x200B; For some reason this last line in particular strikes a grim chord, and I leave my feeble attempts to communicate behind. I continue hastily along the bridge, putting one foot flat and measured in front of the other, over and over. …The bridge, as it would seem, is a long one. *Come on, come on… Fuck’s sake…* &#x200B; Well the bridge does come to an eventual end. A drift of chlorine-scented steam wafts up from below, and the air around me goes cold. Not unpleasantly so, just… *crisp*. A memory returns to the forefront of my mind. Clear and sharp. I am with my father. The pool we frequented… There was an outdoor section connected to the main building, you could swim right out to it through an arch in the wall. I can see it now, in my mind’s eye. The surrounding trees, the walkways… and the ever-present steam, rising up from the water and into the cool, Fall air. I rub the sides of my forehead, looking down at the view before me. Comparing it to my memory. There was a slide in this outdoor section of open-air pool. Hard plastic, of course, but designed to look like carved marble. Tucked somewhat out of the way, the thing bubbled and frothed with ever-present rapids, and led its rider way down into another pool, further off to the side. It always frightened me, this particular slide. I had this fear that upon reaching the bottom, the rapids and the froth would suck me right under the water. I wouldn’t be able to get out. Someone else would come down the slide, and unable to see me would kick me, and I’d be battered and lost, and drowned. A morbid thought for a kid to have, and of course, a wholly irrational one. But as I said before, the mind of a child works in weird ways. What do they know of rationality? &#x200B; Steam wafts up from below. The world around me is one of pure fog. Thick, cloud-like mist. The air above is a bright and seemingly natural light, though I cannot see its source. Before me is the end of the bridge. It curls up a little on either side, and becomes the exact same slide as the one from my memories. Longer, though. Far longer. Down it descends, through the cloud and the fog, and I cannot see the bottom. Water rushes from vents in the bridge’s sides, providing a bubbling, ongoing stream down the slide. I tug at my shirt. Unsure what to do. I look behind me. *Those things behind the glass… Were they people? They’re watching me though, right? Am I the one they’re talking about?* &#x200B; It’s clear that I’m supposed to go down this slide. &#x200B; I fidget in place. I close my eyes. *Wake up*, I tell myself. *Just wake up, Adrian.* *Not of this real. It can’t be. It just can’t be. So WAKE UP.* Except it's not a dream. This was one of the first and only things I was actually able to establish. &#x200B; *“He needs a push”*, comes the voice, drifting through the fog. I feel a breeze against my skin, a breeze that rises into a wind, rippling back my hair. I am washed in alternating temperatures, battling for control. The cool, cold air of the wind, and the warm, clammy heat from below. &#x200B; …And I hear the sound of something on the bridge. &#x200B; I open my eyes and wheel around, staring. The sound is like a ripple... Like a rush of water… Rising and falling, rising and falling. And between the rush is the sound of... of what, footsteps? Something striking against the bridge, repetitively. Approaching. &#x200B; I glance up to the world above me, but the light dims. &#x200B; The sound a whistle, shrill and sharp cuts painfully through the steam. &#x200B; Terror strikes. I don’t know what is coming after me, exactly, but I can’t stay here. &#x200B; So I clench my jaw. I swear aloud and send out a prayer that I might yet awaken, and down I go. I crouch, and push myself over the edge of the slide. I am caught in its embrace at once, my stomach drops, and the wind only rushes harder and faster against my face, water flickering and splashing up at me as I tear through the mists. “Please, please let me be okay”, I mutter through my gritted teeth as the slide carries me down; down, down, down. The sound of the whistling is lost above and behind me to the roar of the wind. &#x200B; A thought strikes its way into my brain. A thought that this slide, despite its differing appearance, might match my hypothesis on the others. The other slides. Those horrible, dark tunnels. …My hypothesis that at least some of them might be *unending*. What if the slides never ends? *…Ever?* It is just as I am beginning to truly contemplate this horror when I am bluntly and suddenly proven wrong. I see water below me. Frothing, churning, steaming water. Rising up like a wave towards me. I shield my face and take a breath, and down I go, slamming into it hard and puncturing its surface, the rush of the winds replaced by a dull, gentle bubbling of the water. I open my eyes and try to immediately swim to the surface, battling a current that seeks to pull me under. It isn’t strong enough. *I can beat it. I can beat it.* And beat it I do, returning to the world of the air and allowing a deep, shuddering breath. I blink and take in my surroundings as I tread water. The mist has repealed a little, but I still can’t see very much. I turn to look behind me and see the end of the slide, still sending down an endless waterfall, frothing up the water below it. There is nowhere for me to rest, and nothing to rest on, so I have no choice but to swim, for now. Swimming is my only option. So I put out my arms and carry myself through the water, putting the end of the slide behind me and swimming away in the opposite direction. There’s a faint, slightly differing light source a little ways out ahead. A glimmer of blue through the pale half-white of the mists, and this is what I head towards. &#x200B; I swim, the only sound the ripple of my movements through the water, and the steadily fading sound of the base of the slide. &#x200B; It’s about three or four minutes into my little venture when I see the first corpse. &#x200B; I cannot help but scream aloud in fright as it drifts into view. Face-down in the water, floating. Sharks across their swim shorts. Blue Hawaiian shirt. A floating corpse. I increase my pace, heart hammering. *Keep your breathing steady. You don’t want to drown here, do you?* The second drifts into view from my right. Same outfit. Likewise, face-down. A sob tries to force its way out of me, but I disallow it. Pushing myself onwards. Swimming past a third, and a fourth. All face-down. One of them nudges against me, drifting lazily on its meandering course. I wince and thrust my arms through the water, pushing the body away. A part of me wants to try to help them. To flip them over and to see what, if anything, can be done. Another part knows that there is simply no point. There’s nothing I can do here, it’s too late. …And another part still dares not even try. Too afraid of what I might see if I were to turn a body over and look upon its face. So onwards I go. &#x200B; Swimming towards the light. &#x200B; Just as my arms and legs are beginning to tire, I come across a small platform. A white-tiled square, no larger than a few feet across, and bordered by a low metal rail. I dip my head beneath the water, opening my eyes to see how the platform is attached. To see exactly how its connected to the world around me. *Surely it cannot be floating*, I think to myself, since the material of the platform’s base is hard and dense. I regret my decision to look beneath the surface at once. There is *nothing* beneath the platform. It does indeed float, holding itself impossibly in place in the water. I see my arms out before me, slowly treading. And beyond them is nothing. &#x200B; Just endless deep. The cool blue of the water, descending down into gradual darkness, and its soft murmuring in my ears. I have no idea how far down the water might go. I lift my head back up into the air and reach out a hand for the rail, clambering up and onto the platform, easing myself over and taking a seat in the very centre, arms huddled around my knees, dripping and leaking from my clothes onto the tile. I take a second to consider my surroundings. &#x200B; Mist. Pale, white, mist. &#x200B; The lone blue of the light I was following seems brighter now. I must be closer. But there are no other structures currently visible to me. Just this platform, the mist, and through it, the corpses. Drifting around me. I count five of them, now. &#x200B; I watch one pass me by. Slowly, aimlessly. &#x200B; *Where did they all come from? Who would do something like this? Are they even real?* &#x200B; The filters hiss. The water ripples. And a shiver of goosebumps runs, quite unprompted, up the back of my neck. &#x200B; The sensation that I am being watched increases tenfold and I shoot an anxious glance over my shoulder. I put a hand on the rail before me and clamber to my feet. The weight I feel in my pocket reminds me of the presence of my phone, and I wonder idly if it'll still work, after everything. I reach down and take it into my hand, surprised to see the little screen flicker into life as it did before. Blue, and ready for the input of text. I chew my tongue and I lift my gaze, looking out over the face of the water. &#x200B; What I see there, is a shadow. &#x200B; Not like the ones behind the frosted glass, this one is different. Larger. Far, far larger. It distorts the color of the water. Makes it darker. It disturbs the surface and gentle, almost imperceptible rolls and waves are sent out as it eases its way through the depths below. My knuckles whiten against the rail as the closest corpse to the shadow’s location is carefully, gently dragged beneath the surface. The body begins to fold in the middle, and is then slowly and quietly hauled under the water. The corpse’s foot is the last thing I see before it vanishes beneath, shadowing as it descends, before becoming lost to the blue entirely. A bubble rises up and pops as it makes contact with the air. &#x200B; I lose sight of the great shadow and I begin to look all around me, frantically, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. &#x200B; Another corpse is dragged beneath. It too sends up a bubble of air as it vanishes in to the shadows. A third corpse is taken. And then, another. And another. &#x200B; One by one, all taken down into the depths. &#x200B; Taken, until there is only me. Alone on this little platform as the shadow disappears once again. Vanishing into the blue, directly beneath. My heart hammers, the mists drift lazily through the air, and below me, the water ripples. Shifting and churning, in quiet waiting. &#x200B; [\[Part 2/2\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yeaew5/i_am_trapped_in_a_twisted_recreation_of_a/)

Some people just don’t take rejection well…

ydenr5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydenr5/some_people_just_dont_take_rejection_well/

I was on YouTube listening to one of my favorite channels “Mr Gray Reads” I just love how soothing his voice is telling these scary stories. I’d just made it home from work glad to be away from there and the disheveled customer that seems to come up there everyday. My brother had just left stating he’d return later. About 15 minutes later I was in my kitchen just finished washing dishes YouTube still in the background when I heard the door open and close and my brother ascend the stairs and close the door to his room. I made my way upstairs to my room after shutting my laptop off to get ready for bed. I decided to take a quick shower before jumping in bed. As I was brushing my teeth I could’ve sworn I saw the door to the bathroom crack open but when I turned to look it was still closed. I finished up and went to bed. I couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour when I heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop at my door. My brother has been coming to check in on me every night for the past few weeks since I told him about the creep at work. He walked back into his room and I drifted off to sleep. My alarm went off around 6:30am. Did my morning hygiene routine and got ready to head to work. I went to eat a quick breakfast and wait for my brother since he’s appointed himself to be my chauffeur. “You don’t have to keep checking on me every night I’m sure there are no monsters under my bed,”I joked. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “I’m talking about how you’ve been coming to my room every night for the past few weeks” I responded. I watched as his face scrunched up in confusion and back to his usual poker face. “How long has it been again” he asked. Since the month started” I responded, “I think I need to refresh the security app it didn’t even notify me when you went out the door my last one was when you came home last night” I said while glancing at my phone confused. It usually alerts any time a door or window opens. “Well are you ready to go” he asked dismissing the subject. “Yea” I responded. I was shocked to hear my phone chime as I opened the door. He kept quiet as we walked out to the car I locked the door behind us glancing up at my room. I could’ve sworn I left my light on I thought to myself. “What’s eating you”? I asked my brother as we made it to the stop sign. “Ren, call Brian ”, he calmly said. Instantly I was on edge he only calls me Ren when somethings wrong. Without question I called Brian, my brothers partner at the police station. “Yo what’s up Renny Ren” I smiled at the nickname only for my smile to disappear with my brothers next words. “Bri, call cap and tell him I need unmarked cars at the house now, no lights no sirens”. I looked at him in confusion, “ I think there’s an intruder “. I didn’t even realize we’d stopped around the corner from the house. My brother then turned to me, “Ren I’ve been staying at Nessa’s house this whole month I only come to pick you up and drop you off” I looked at him still confused until realization hit me. Someone else has been in that house with me. I was now sitting at the station in a daze until I heard my brothers voice. “Why tf were you in my house watching my little sister” he yelled. My head shot up and met the eyes of the most terrifying looking man: long unkempt hair and beard, dead looking eyes, with a menacing grin. I gasped as I realized it was the same man that comes to my job everyday. “I wanted to make her mine but she turned me down every time I stopped by her job” he started, “I got tired of waiting and decided if I can’t have her nobody will”. “Then why creep around the house and watch me sleep this whole month?” I timidly asked. “I was waiting for my birthday…. That was going to be my present to myself if we couldn’t be together in life we’d be together in death “ he responded. The last thing he said to me before they ushered him off made me shudder, “Sucks to get arrested on your birthday “, he stated, “I was really looking forward to celebrating later.” Later I found out he had rope and an assortment of items used to torture a person stashed in my brothers room where he’d been staying I always find myself wondering what would’ve happened had I not mentioned my brothers nightly check ins. It’s been a year now and I’ve been doing great. My brother just got back from his vacation that took me 2 months to convince him to take. I keep telling him to buy a new suitcase I think to myself as I hear him drag it to his room. I glance down at my phone chuckling as I answer, “Why are you calling me from upstairs are you that tired?” I asked my brother. There was a brief pause before he responded, “Can you go see if my package got delivered next door to the Mitchell’s house?” He asked. “Sure I responded happily. I heard his room door open as I closed the door to the house. He stayed on the phone with me until he heard Mr. Mitchell open the door. “Give him the phone for me please Ren”, my brother said. “Of course bud no problem”, said Mr.Mitchell before he ended the call. I reached for my phone when he instead ushered me in and quickly shut the door. “Serenity your brothers flight got delayed he’s on his way from the airport now.” He paused to give me time to process what he’d said before continuing, “Your stalker was just released this morning.” I instantly went to the camera app we’d gotten installed after the incident…there he was standing behind the door knife in hand waiting for me to walk through the door.

The story behind my PTSD.

ydo92e

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydo92e/the_story_behind_my_ptsd/

I remember March 6th, 2022 *vividly*. I woke up at 0515. I kiss my sleeping wife and daughter goodbye and leave my house at 0615. At 0645 I arrived at my workplace. The county jail. 0700, I'm inside, clocked in, writing in my log book. I alone have assumed the A and B blocks (maximum and medium security), some 100 inmates. The worst of the worst in my county that have been caught. I look over the roster of inmates for both blocks, gather my items: A and B rosters, my clipboard, my pipe (with this item you tap it on a metal circle on the wall in a block and it logs that you've been there), my pen, and my ceiling stick. With the ceiling stick we poke the ceiling to make sure the inmates haven't been pushing the ceiling open to hide contraband in there. A little side information: I am 5'7, 118lbs, I have pepper spray on my side, handcuffs right next to the pepper spray. Normally I would be wearing my gloves (biker gloves, carbon fiber knuckles), but not today. It was Sunday, football would be on. The inmates loved watching football so they would never act up on Sundays. Almost. I jinxed myself and didn't know it. 0703, Over the radio, I call for A-Inside Door. The door pops and echoes through the block. For the inmates that are awake, they know an officer is there. I enter Isolation and open each door one by one. Checking each lock to make sure they haven't been stuffed with wet toilet paper to stop the door from locking. I poke the ceiling 3 or 4 times in different places. Nothing. The trouble makers were behaving. I do the rest of bottom tier, all good. Head count is good. I get those, probably fake but friendly, "good morning Ofc. Me" and "what's going on Ofc. Me." I head upstairs, I tap my pipe at the end of the wall, 1/3 logged upstairs. A-205, a family friend who has pretended not to know me for my safety, clear. A-206, the funny old man and the kid who thinks he knows all of the laws, clear. A-207, the one who tried to help me today, clear. A-208. I've never seen this person before. He's new. I see new inmates all the time. Looking through the glass window, he's easily 3-4 times bigger than me. 6'5, 350 maybe. He's staring at his light. I open the door, check the lock while staring at him. He turns to me and says "Can I-" and then punches me. I stumble back against the railing and the, newly installed, guard wall to prevent inmates from jumping down. It's as if I've shoved 2 rolls of pennies up my nose. I know I'm bleeding. I reach for my radio on my chest but he grabs my arm and starts wailing on me. 4 or 5 punches on me before I can get to my hands and knees. This doesn't last long, he picks me up and throws me against the wall. During all of this, I'm yelling, other inmates are yelling and banging their doors to get the Administrations attention. The inmate gets more hits on me, I see blood flying through the air. I am experiencing "fight-or-flight" except I can't run or fight in this situation because he is way bigger than me and I am very disoriented. In the cell now, he's still punching me non-stop. He gets me into a choke hold position on the floor. I thought he was going to kill me. I'm starting to get lightheaded, memories of my life are flooding in. The first birthday I remember, my first kiss, my first fight, marrying my wife, my daughter being born. That was it, I wasn't leaving my daughter. Not today. I manage to elbow his thigh a couple times. This must've hurt him because his left arm grabbed his thigh and he used his right arm to push himself up off the floor. He's about to lock me in here. Not happening, I stand up and run towards him but he does the exact same thing and gets 3 more hits on me. I barely feel it, adrenaline is pumping, my face is already swollen. This time, I let him close the door. I realized it was the only chance I was going to get to call for help over the radio. I call for assistance. Later, according to the other CO's, they couldn't understand me. It was so muffled and static-y from blood in my radio. Standing in that cell, door locked, I look at my hands: covered in already dried blood and new blood dripping on them from my nose. I look around the cell. The concrete floor has changed from gray to a red-brown. I fall to my hands and knees into my blood. The other CO's, my friends, have arrived. I hear muffled screams over the radio to open A-208. It pops, two CO's (**V** and **L** to conceal names) pick me up and help me out of the cell. I look at my hands one more time; my ring. "Where's my ring?" I say. **V** tells me we need to go to medical. "I'm not leaving without my ring. I need it." **L** finds it on the floor in a pool of blood and slips it on my finger. We head to medical. Down the stairs, I look across the block. Worried faces on the inmates. It seemed like they actually cared. Leaving the block, my Sgt. has the inmate pinned against the wall in the shower. The inmate and I just stare at each other while walking out. Walking down the hall, I'm leaving small pools of blood everywhere, EMS is on the way. A look at my watch and its only 0719. At medical, I'm sat in a chair. **V** and the nurse are stopping the bleeding in my nose, well trying to at least. My Sgt is yelling, frustrated why it's taking the ambulance so long. Starting to get lightheaded again, my vision goes black. I went blind for at least 3 minutes before regaining blurry vision. And I didn't pass out and my eyes weren't swollen shut because everyone said my eyes were wide open and I was coherently answering questions. But I couldn't see. And I thought I was going to permanently lose my vision from being hit so hard so many times. Once I regained sight, I started to nod off. My head became heavy, my eyes were shutting, the childhood memories flooding in again...I wasn't going to pass out though. Barely audible, I slurred and asked for water. Slowly, I was able to hold my head up by myself and open my eyes again. It was extremely difficult, but I had successfully stopped myself from passing out. EMS arrived and put me on a stretcher and wheeled me out. I called my wife on the way to the hospital. After all this, I got no compensation. Unless you consider 2 weeks paid leave and a bunch of "I'm sorry this happened" compensation. If you've read this far, god damn. Thanks for reading.

Surviving Subway Service Tunnels, Part 1

ydiznj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydiznj/surviving_subway_service_tunnels_part_1/

I'm not exactly a good person, nor am I proud of many things I've done. When I got the option of participating in an experiment to earn a fresh start, I took it without hesitation. Part of the terms include documenting my time in the tunnels on this terminal. I suppose this is my only real contact with the outside world. My partner in this trial goes by Bolton, a six foot four mountain with knuckles scarred like fishnet. He's got a wild look in his eye, but he's friendly enough. "Down there, right?" I asked my partner. With a simple nod, he descended the unusual subway entrance. The warm afternoon sun left my back as I followed after him. **CLANG!** a deafening metallic crash exploded from behind me. The suddenness made me jump to the landing. Looking up, my heart skipped a beat. "What was that… damn!" Bolton appeared from the dim lighting, staring past me at the barrier that had sealed us in. We quickly ascended the stairs, inspecting the solid metal wall that blocked our escape. "It's submerged in the ground and completely smooth. No way we're getting it open." I assessed, dread tugging at my optimism. "Let's go," Bolton huffed, marching down the stairwell. "There's a station down here, maybe we can find a way out." Just as we entered the station, a bell dinged. In a voice not too dissimilar to Google Assistant, the speakers stated "line R will be arriving shortly. Please prepare accordingly." "What now?" I groaned, leaning against the wall beside the door. To my right, I saw the twin tracks. Above them, a display with the full alphabet was present. The R lit up neon red. Bolton sighed, flipping through a book of some sort. "Might as well play along. This manual has to have instructions somewhere?" The R flashed, then a whistling began from up the tracks. "Ten seconds…" the speakers announced. Sure enough, ten seconds later, it arrived. I say 'it' because, while it was designed like a passenger train, it most certainly was not built from standard material. "Bolton!" I gasped, breath ragged. "Fuuu…ck!" I frantically made to lock the door. There was no lock. I tried pulling the shelves and chairs to the door as a barricade. They were bolted in place. "Hurry!" Bolton began flipping through the book faster and faster, fumbling with the buttons and levers on the control panel. "Line R has arrived. Please stand clear as the doors open." The robotic voice called. The doors pulsed open, throbbing every few seconds. Dark red trickled from the parting doors like a leaky faucet, increasing in pressure as the doors parted wider. Then the moans began. "Skin…" dozens of voices wailed in harmony. "Need skiiiin…" My voice caught in my throat as I laid eyes on what spoke those words. Raw muscle and sinew waded through the tide of blood, people stripped of their skin stumbling from the train. "Hurry! They're coming!" I screamed, pressing myself against the door in a last ditch effort to buy time. "Skinnn… must have skinnn…" the crowd chanted, pressing more and more against the door. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, not ready for this to be my end. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on holding the door. Then… then I slipped… In my panicked state, I hadn't noticed the pooling crimson beneath my feet. When I tried to reposition myself, the slick floor yielded no traction. My heart sank as moist, spongy hands pinched and pulled at my flesh. I couldn't even bring myself to open my eyes. I don't know if I was even breathing. The bell dinged and the speakers spoke, though I don't know what was said. All I heard was the revolting sucking sounds of skinless bodies and gallons of blood retreating through closing doors. With a deep, pained blare of those people's scream, the R train departed our station. I layed in that cool, tiled floor for what felt like an eternity, adrenaline and terror slowly cycling out of my system. At some point, a million miles away, I heard my name. "Diaz?" Bolton called, then shouted "c'mon Diaz!" *That's my name… I'm Diaz… I'm still alive?* These thoughts filled my head as my eyes slowly fell open. Above me, the concerned expression of Bolton stared down at me. "Good, you're alive" Bolton released a sigh of relief. "Let's get you somewhere to rest-" he began, but darkness claimed me. — "Line Omega is now departing" the robotic voice woke me from my slumber. Jolting upright, my body protested. Wincing from the already formed bruises, I saw a plate from the corner of my eye. Hunger hit me like a truck, and I dug into the food like a ravenous animal. The squicks from my feast and rocking bed must've tipped him off that I was up, as Bolton knocked on the doorframe. "You seem lively, good," he gave a hollow, lifeless grin. "I managed to figure out how to get us food. I see you've already discovered that." With my mouth full, I could only nod. "It's not over, not by a longshot," Bolton grimaced. "Each food item we take frees another passenger for the night. We'll have a tough night, I'd suggest we take shifts." I nodded, swallowing hard. "Weapons?" At that, Bolton smirked. "Luckily I smuggled in a tool," he winked, pulling out his multitool. "I managed to dismantle some stuff around the station. They ain't pretty, but they should do the trick." He walked back through the doorframe, returning with two metal chair legs. "I'll take first watch. I'm supposed to log our day anyways," I shrugged, taking a chair leg. Bolton didn't protest, flopping onto the other bed in the room. I made my way to the terminal, where I typed this all up. I keep hearing moans and strange footsteps from both directions of the tunnel. I don't know what's out there, but they're getting closer. I don't know if I will survive. I just heard something knocking at the door. It isn't coming in… just knocking. What should I do?

Rotting Pill Ad

ydcz3x

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydcz3x/rotting_pill_ad/

I saw an ad on tv, one night I was staying up late, ready to turn my tv off when I saw it. the ad talked about a pill that could literally melt the fat away. I stared down at the tub of ice cream I had just consumed. Rocky road. The tub cleaned of any ice cream. I only stress ate at night, and my job has been getting to me lately, especially Rachelle, my coworker, who’d been telling everyone that I ate babies and that’s why I’m so fat. “*Limited time, if you call the number on the screen, you can get your fat melting pills in twenty-four hours or less! Just dial the number on your screen, I guarantee your friends, coworkers and family will be jealous of your transformation, they’d be shocked! Buy now for only $19.99!”* I held my phone in my hands, tightening it into my palm. Closing my eyes and decided it would be better than running and doing physical exercise, right? It’s not cheating. Its just to help me get started. I know my best friend told me that taking pills wasn’t the way to go to lose weight, but there was this voice in the back of my head nagging me to call the number. So, I called the number on the screen as it flashed. The phone rang a couple of times. “*Why Hello Cheyanne, are you interested in using our fat melting pills?”* I felt a chill ran down my spine, how did the person on the phone know my name. I got a little freaked out. “How did you know who I was?” I heard the tremor in my voice. “*Caller ID. We can get the pills expressed to your home and by morning you can have the pills, all you have to do is give us your credit card information.*” He said in that creepy sinister tone of his. *“But I do need you to verbally agree to the after-effects when you take our product, that we are not held responsible for anything you do or whatever the pills due to your body, but we have a one time free clean up coupon. All you need to do is say I agree to the terms of agreement. And we’ll continued this transaction.”* I thought about it, and slowly I got my card out, this isn’t cheating. Right? “Okay, I agree to the terms of agreement.” I said softly feeling a bit uneasy when I did so. Then I gave him my card number and my home address. *“Thank you so much for the purchase and interest in our many, many products. Now I am legally to tell you, that you can at any time return the pills within seven days no questions asked. Unfortunately, we need you to verbally tell us you want to return it. You understand?”* “So, if I call you up and say I want to return it, you’ll take it back?” I asked suspiciously. *“Without asking why and you’ll get your money back! isn’t that delightful?”* “Sure, I agree to everything. and I get my pills by morning?” *“Definitely! Have a pleasant evening Cheyanne, I am looking forward to seeing your results.”* He hung up the phone and I felt like I was committing some type of cardinal crime. The next morning, I checked my mailbox and there it was, a small box, I excitedly opened it, and there it was, the pills. I picked up the bottle and read the instructions on the back. it says one pill daily. I read through the other instructions and the side effects, headaches, increase of hunger, lethargic, rotting flesh, loose skin, anger bursts, may cause putrid smell from the body, may also lose consciousness and so on. I thought some of that last bit was odd. Don’t I want to lose fat? Isn’t that why I got it? I opened the cap and pulled out one of the pills. The pills glowed blue, when I shook the gel pill it seemed to glow even brighter, I thought that was weird, but I took it anyway. Throwing the box away and taking the pills with me to work. I shoved them into my purse and went on with my day. Which consist of Rachelle making fun of me as always, I didn’t have the heart to tell Matt about my pills yet, I wanted to see if they were working, if not then I’ll just throw them away and Matt would never find out I “cheated” on my diet. If you were me? you’d do everything you can to get the fat off, my fat was so ridiculous, I even went to a doctor to see what they can do. The doctor told me what everyone has, get on a diet and exercise, but sometimes it just doesn’t help, sometimes I gain more pounds while exercising, how is that possible? So, what if I took a blue glowing pill to help, at least it’ll help, right? or at least I hoped it would. So far, the next three days I didn’t see any changes in my body. Every night I looked in the mirror moving my body side to side to see if there was a difference but there wasn’t. the fat remained. Until the fourth day I woke up and glanced in the mirror, I nearly screamed in excitement. I could see half of my fat was gone. I turned back and forth. I jumped on the scale, and it said I lost half my weight. I was excited. I jumped around and did a happy dance until a putrid smell hit me hard. I gagged, then I looked around my apartment until I found out it was me. I sniffed myself, and I smelt like death, as if I was rotting something fierce. I hurried and took a shower and got ready for work. I took two of the glowing pills, I know it said only one, but that’s recommended, right? There is no label that says don’t take two. Besides if I take two, the fat will melt off faster, right? All that aside, I did look fabulous, and my coworkers saw the difference in me immediately, suddenly people around me complimented on me for losing so much weight. I finally felt human for once and not some punching bag for verbal insults, Rachelle of course gave me a snotty look and said that I had gotten surgery and that was how I lost the weight so fast. It wasn’t her business how I had done it; she can stop telling people I eat three meals in one sitting. At lunch I sat down with Matt who looked just as equally surprised as everyone to see my weight was off, we sat in our usual restaurant and spot. He scowled at me, “how did you lose so much weight so fast? are you doing drugs?” I shook my head and placed my order, “no, I know you said taking weight loss pills is cheating, but that’s what I’ve been doing.” I pulled the bottle out and handed him the weight loss pills. “These literally melt the fat off.” He looked it over and he pursed his lips into a grim line of disapproval. “Chey, are you sure this is FDA legal? The side effects are concerning, headaches, rotting flesh, teeth loss, increase hunger . . .” he furrowed his brows. I waved my hand in dismissively and the smell of rot came back, it had to be my sweat, it’s one of the side effects. “don’t do that, don’t get all worry wart, I’m fine. See?” I smiled. He forced a smile and set the bottle down and scoot it closer to me, “if you say so. although that smell coming from you is a bit much. When was the last time you took a shower?” I frowned. “This morning.” His eyes flicked to the pills, and I snatched them and set them back in my purse, “don’t blame the pills,” I hissed and when the server came back with a salad and him a cheeseburger, I’d realized I didn’t want the salad. Eating some ground beef sounded good instead. So, I asked if I could change my order to a steak, medium rare. When she came back with the bloody steak, I all but dug into it like a starving animal. I know increase hunger is also a side effect, but I couldn’t help myself. When I devoured the whole thing, I looked up to see Matt staring at me with an apprehensive look in his eyes, he’d stopped eating. He cleared his throat. “I’d rather you not take those—” “It’s not cheating!” I snapped at him and froze when I’d realized I had stood up and was yelling at him. I glanced around to see other patrons whispering to each other and I sat back down and scooted my chair in and took a sip of my water. “I’m fine.” “I hope so.” he muttered and set down some cash. “I got to run; I’m going to be late from lunch.” He gave me a hug and walked out of the restaurant. I took in a deep sigh. I was fine, right? I didn’t just make a huge mistake. I paid my portion and left the restaurant. As I was walking back to work, I felt hungry again, and stopped and held my stomach as it growled. I shook my head, I couldn’t possibly be hungry again, I just ate, and besides I’m trying to lose weight not gain it. so, I ignored the hunger pains as I went back to work. Working in an office with so many other people listening to their conversations all day was starting to give me a headache. Until my stomach rumbled again, letting me know I was still hungry, so I got up and went to the vending machine, but nothing looked good. Chips, granola bars, candy bars. Nothing. That is until I saw Rachelle, she walked up to me and laughed. Her perky lips, and her skinny body with her blouse hugging all her right curves, and that short pencil skirt that made all the men in the office turn their heads to watch her ass. She pushed her blond hair off her shoulder, “hey there fatzilla, going for a snack already. Didn’t you just have lunch an hour ago.” I tried to ignore her while I tried to choose what I wanted. She snapped her fingers in my face, “are you going to deaf or is that all the fat in your ears. I know you had some type of surgery; people just don’t lose weight that fast.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Go jump off the building for all our sakes,” I hissed. “What was that? Fatzilla actually spoke up for herself.” She laughed and I watched her movements, and suddenly a voice in the back of my head spoke. *Eat her. she deserves to be eaten.* I started advancing on her and froze. Suddenly I realized what I was doing. I’m not going to eat a fellow human. Why would I? and Rachelle of all people? gross. I went to turn back but she grabbed my shoulder swinging me back to her, “don’t you dare walk away while I’m talking to you.” He hissed at me like a snake. Suddenly I blacked out. I can’t remember anything until I came too, I was in a dark room, I felt wet. I stood up nearly slipping on something wet below. I turned the lights on, and I had to blink a few times, looking at my surroundings, I was in the supply closet. But that wasn’t the reason for my silent scream, a scream caught in my throat. Rachelle laid dead and her stomach and torso ripped open with her organs mostly eaten, her glassy eyes glazed over. I reached my shaking hand out to her and froze when I saw blood on my hands. Did I do this? I opened the closet door, and the office was dark, and outside was dark as well. what time was it? I found my phone in my purse nearby that was covered in Rachelle’s blood. It was nearly ten at night. Slowly I slipped out of the closet and ran for the closest bathroom and slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside. The moment I looked in the mirror I felt sick to my stomach. I saw myself. covered in Rachelle’s blood, face, neck, chest, my entire front half covered in blood. My eyes no longer were blue but were blood shot. And I was skinnier than before. I glanced down at myself, I now looked like Rachelle. Skinny, flat stomach perkier chest and butt. Panicking I hurried and washed as much blood off myself as much as I could. trying to figure out what to do, and the only solution that came to mind was to call Matt. But I froze. Matt would blame the pills, maybe, I didn’t want him to think bad of me. Would he help me hide Rachelle’s body? Well half of her was in my stomach. I ate Rachelle. I fucking ate her. To be honest I didn’t regret it. As I washed myself and scrubbed at my face, I felt something slimy slick off half of my face, and I glanced down and nearly screamed, my face was in the sink. I looked in the mirror to see my body was rotting, there was rotting holes all over me, why didn’t I see them earlier, and I smelled even worse than before. I pulled my phone out and called Matt. He answered on the fourth ring, “Chey are you okay? you sound weird.” I tried to explain the situation but all that came out was, “arrrrggh! Uggghhh!” what was wrong with me? I couldn’t speak. I pulled the pills out and saw one of the side effects was the inability to speak. So, I tried again. “Very funny Chey, when you sober up, call me.” he hung up and I felt the frustration tears at the edges of my eyes. In the corner of my eyes, I saw the wall glowing blue flames a circle appeared with lettering I didn’t recognize as English and suddenly a handsome man walked through, except for that he wasn’t a man. His skin turned dark shade of red, his eyes black as night and horns on his forehead. I hurried and ran into one of the stalls and shut the door and locked it. *“Cheyanne there is no use hiding from me . . . we made a contract, you and me. You verbally agreed on the phone.”* “Arrrgghhh!” I cried out. *“I know, just come out. I don’t want to hurt you my sweet flesh-eating fiend . . . I can’t reverse what you had done. but I can clean up your mess for free. All you have to do is come out.”* I fell to my knees and sobbed. For how long, I don’t know. So, I decided to write this down, hoping someone would read it and send help or at least warn them. if you see an ad in the middle of the night, a pill that can melt your fat away. it can also turn you into a monster. Just be happy with who you are. I’m afraid I don’t have much time; I don’t know what this demon wants with me. but for some reason he knew what I’d become and wants me. please don’t take glowing blue pills to lose weight, I should have listened to my friend Matt. If you see him, let him know, I’m sorry.

Deadly chocolate

ydftlg

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydftlg/deadly_chocolate/

Chocolate is a well known and loved candy. Some even say that chocolate can give you the feeling of falling in love, but not this chocolate. This one time my three friends and I were selling chocolate for school in my grandmothers building, because we knew most of the people in the building. We always sold a lot of chocolate in that building because it had 15 floors with 5 apartments on each floor. So we spent a few hours walking around and selling chocolate, and talking to a few residents in the building. We decided to take a break after the tenth floor, so we went to my grandmother's apartment to get some snacks. My grandma had made us food and talked about our neighbors, she told us that there was a new resident in the building. She lives on the Thirteenth floor she's a little old woman who lives alone with her cat. My grandmother wanted us to go visit and make her feel welcome, and even made some soup for us to bring her. So we decided to just go straight to this old woman's apartment and then continue selling chocolate afterwards. Once we arrived at her door, we noticed that she had decorated it in an unusual way. She had sticks and pinecones taped to her door, and her welcome mat had a circle of different rocks around it. We thought it was unusual but cool nonetheless. We knocked lightly on her door as to not disturb her, she immediately opened the door as if she had already had her hand on the handle. She welcomed us all inside and showed us her apartment, there were a few boxes and still lying around, but she seemed to be almost done moving in. She had beautiful antique dolls on every shelf in her apartment, there was a porcelain doll in every room even the bathrooms. She told us the names of each doll and told us that she's been collecting them for many years. I gave her the soup that my grandma made, and she thanked us for coming. She asked if we all lived in the building as well, one of my friends said yes and I informed her that my grandma lives here so we visit often. We even told her that we were selling chocolate bars for school, upon hearing this she became excited. She told us that she absolutely loves chocolate, and she even makes some fresh on special occasions. Two of my friends went back to my grandma's apartment to retrieve the chocolate boxes, while my other friend and I stayed to talk about the chocolate recipe. The old woman told us that its a special recipe, its been in her family for generations. She showed us parts of the recipe but since its a secret recipe, we weren't allowed to see the whole thing. Once my other friends returned, the old woman bought two chocolates of each flavor. And she bought each of us a bar as well. After finishing our chocolate we all got ready to leave and sell more chocolate, but the old woman told us to come back latter that day and she will give us each a surprise. So we left and continued to sell chocolate to everyone else in the building. After we had finished going to each person's apartment, we went back to my grandmother's apartment to count how many bars and boxes we had left to sell. After we concluded that we only had one box and 25 more bars to sell, we started counting the money we earned. When we finished we just started talking and playing games, completely losing track of time. It was almost time for everyone to go home, and we hadn't gone back to the old woman's apartment. So we got ready to go back upstairs when we heard a knock, when my grandma answered the door it was the old woman. She had come to give us our surprise, but how did she know where my grandma lived? I never told her what apartment it was, maybe my grandma told her? The old woman handed each of us a pleasantly wrapped little pieces of chocolate, she told us not to eat it till after dinner as to not ruin our appetites. After thanking my grandma for the soup, she quickly left. And with that, each of us went home. After dinner I was craving something sweet, then I remembered the chocolate. As I unwrapped it, I had an uneasy feeling but I ignored it because chocolate is delicious. After placing the chocolate in my mouth I was amazed by the taste, I had never tasted something so amazing and I wanted more. The next day I felt very irritated, every little thing seemed to bother me. But I didn't care, I was too occupied thinking about that chocolate. I rushed back to the old womans apartment to ask for more, and to my surprise all my friends were already there. They all had the same idea, the old woman was already cooling the chocolate by the time I arrived. She gave us each one more and we all devoured it, the taste made us crave more. So she gave us more, and more, and more. For the rest of the day we stayed in the old womans apartment, the allure of the chocolate being too strong for us to leave. For some reason none of us talked to each other, we just didn't feel like interacting, we just wanted more chocolate. Nobody was allowed in the kitchen while the old woman made the chocolate, after all it is a secret recipe. So we looked at her dolls and played with her cat, but none of us spoke to each other. It wasn't like us to act like this, I usually always have something to say but I just wanted chocolate. It felt like we waited forever for the chocolate to br finished, but it was worth it. We all devoured several pieces, and we started to argue because one of my friends had eaten more chocolate than the rest of us. We started fighting over the chocolate, it was making us crazy but it was too good to stop. The old lady stopped our fight and told us to apologize to each other, and once we did she gave us an equally divided amount of chocolate. I hadn't realized how late it got but I had to go home, I was furious I wanted- no I NEEDED more chocolate. I begged for more but the next batch wouldn't be done till much later. That night I ate nothing, I only wanted that chocolate, nothing else could appease my hunger. The next day I returned to find only two of my friends at the old womans apartment, I didn't care because that meant more chocolate for me. I also noticed a new doll on the old womans shelf. After eating an alarming amount of chocolate, I still wanted more. I knew this wasn't normal but I needed this chocolate, I felt like if I stopped eating this chocolate I would die. So I stayed all day and ate chocolate. The next day I came back and found only one friend at the old womans apartment, I was delighted because that meant even more chocolate for me. At some point during the day I felt a horrible pain in my stomach, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. All this chocolate was not good for me, my body wasn't reacting very good to having nothing but chocolate. While I was in the bathroom I heard what sounded like muffled screams, so I quietly went to find the source. There was one room which was hidden behind a cabinet, and inside I could hear the muffled screams. I went to open the door but before I could, I smelled the delicious chocolate, my mind went blank as I stuffed my mouth full of chocolate. I couldn't control myself, no matter how hard I tried to stop I just couldn't. After eating all the chocolate I went back to the door, I had to see what was making the noise. After carefully opening the door, I had seen one of my friends tied up on the floor she was covered in...... Chocolate. My senses started to blur, I could barely hear her screams anymore. All I wanted was the chocolate, I was about to take a small bite of her arm when I snapped back to reality. I quickly untied her and tried to get her out, she almost tripped on a half made porcelain doll. We were about to make it to the front door when my other friend smelled the chocolate. She lunged at us trying to bite the chocolate off, I tried to protect my friend when a voice made me freeze in my tracks. "Don't you want some more chocolate" The old lady snickered, everyone was now focused on her. Her body twisted into a horrific looking creature, I had to get out of there. I sprinted for the door still holding my chocolate covered friend, just as the door swung open the creature grabbed her. I didn't know what to do, so I went back for them. The creature had put her on the counter and was getting ready to chop her up and my other friend was sitting in a pot of melting chocolate, that's when I pulled one of her shelves down on top of her. It knocked her down so I grabbed both my friends and bolted towards the door, behind me I heard the creature yell out "You can run but you'll live with the guilt that you ate one of your friends, you'll never enjoy chocolate again" The next day there was a fire in the building, and according to the police everyone got out alive except the old woman on the thirteenth floor and my friend who lived in the building. Nobody knew the truth except me and my friends, and although we escaped unharmed physically, we were hurt mentally. And all of us never ate chocolate again, because we knew that she was still out there just waiting for one of us to slip up and eat another piece of her deadly chocolate. And I knew this because I found the doll that looks like my dead friend on my doorstep, and next to it was a doll that looked like me with a piece of chocolate tapped to it....sweet....delicious... Chocolate

The ancient shaman

ydocui

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydocui/the_ancient_shaman/

Everyone thinks I’m crazy. Well maybe I am? Crazy or not there’s one thing I’m sure of. We lost something. Me , you and everyone else on this planet. We lost our innocence in the past. June 7th, 2002 was the day this all started. I was always a vacant soul. Always searching for wonders above the horizon. Never seeming to be satisfied with the pleasures of life. This continued throughout my entire life. Eventually leading me to become an explore. My name is Anthony porter and this text will set me free from the chains of the past and the demons of my soul. The Amazon, the worlds biggest colossal mystery. Much was unknown about this geological location. Other then it being inhabited by tribes such as the Yanomamo and the Kayapo. Me and a few other explorers were tasked to map down a few hundred cubic miles that hadn’t been fully throughly researched. The members of this expedition were Brandon, Reagan and Joel. I didn’t know much about these guys. I mean of course our campfires at night consisted of talking about urban legends and home drama, but nothing was concrete and personal. Although I did have a good idea of what type people they were. Speaking of urban legends. Joel would make us real uneasy at night. Those campfire stories held something true and sinister to them. Out of all of us he was definitely the most informed about ancient history and theories. He wasn’t the friendliest guy on the trip but he definitely was someone we needed. One of those urban legends that stuck out to me was one called “El Tunchi”. El Tunchi is an evil spirit that haunts the jungle and terrorizes people with an eerie, whistling sound. Some say he’s an amalgamation of all the souls that have perished in the rainforest, while other legends describe him as the ghost of a man who became lost and died in the jungle. You see…. There’s different types of fear. There’s fear of being harmed or betrayed. Then there’s the worst of them all, Eerie fear. The type of fear that penetrates your Psyche and delivers a long lasting psychosis state. With every word that was spoken from Joel I felt that fear paralyze me. We continued our exploration of the Amazon. Many days passed by of us eagerly awaiting for the next big mystery that we were going to uncover. This sadly wasn’t the case. For weeks on end there was nothing but vegetation , stupid mosquitoes and many venomous animals. Yeah sounds fun right? Although this all changed on this particular night. The moon wasn’t the same. The jungle started to become more vacant of life and light. The eeriness skyrocketed… This is when I realized earth has its dark shadows and I was in one of them. We started setting up for camp. As usual we all sat around the campfire and talked about our personal lives and future goals. Well that was until Joel decided to spin the wheel and take that conversation south. “So we’re not gonna talk about the moon?” Joel asked . “Wait y’all noticed that too? I thought I was going crazy.” Brandon said “Yeah guys I really didn’t think y’all noticed that either.” Regan added “Yeah it’s not supposed to be that color or even in that position in the sky.” Joel remarked “So now that we know we aren’t all crazy. Let's start to theorize why this is occurring.” I said. The moon had ancient text written on it. It only started to appear until we entered this part of the jungle. “Hey say Anthony. Why have you been acting so strange? It seems like my stories affect you in a certain way. You look a lot deeper into things then most people.Don’t you? What’s going through your head kid?.” Joel said In this moment I felt like he violated my safe space. What I’m referring to is my Conscience. I felt like he could read my mind, and notice my every moment. I quickly ran up a response. “To be quite Frank with you I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way you articulate your words? Or maybe because you seem to know a lot more than any of us here and you speak with such honesty and trustworthiness.” I replied “You’re Right about two things. I’m honest and I damn well do know a lot more than y’all. So trust me when I say this. Something sinister is near.” Joel said “Joel is there something you know about this land that we don’t.” Regan asked “Well of course this is speculation, but these grounds are home to an ancient tribe. I don’t know their name but I know that they reside deep into the past. They did many forbidden rituals and were frowned upon by other tribes. I know this because I’ve been to many local tribes that are well known and I’ve had conversations with schämen’s. They speak of the forgotten land or the dark jungle that many haven’t returned from. I believe that we have entered that jungle and are currently residing in it.” Joel explained “Well if that’s true let’s remain calm and find a solution to all of this. Because I need to come home to my family. I used to be arrogant of these so-called “urban legends” but this is something that’s caused a great disturbance within me.” Brandon said “Well I’ve always believed in this shit so let’s get the fuck out. Why are we waiting around?” Regan said “We can head back. But tell me What you guys have done with y’all’s lives. You call yourselves explorers but you don’t have the bravery or hunger for curiosity that you’re supposed to have.” Joel said “You all, I hate to break to you, but I agree with Joel. This is what we signed up for no matter how eerie this all is. We have to do mankind a duty and uncover the secrets of the past” I added We eventually all came to an agreement. We would give ourselves 3 days to explore and map down as much land as possible. After that we will all head back to headquarters. For two days straight we all started to notice differences in each other. What do I mean by this? I mean I just stopped trusting these dudes and likewise for them. Our conversations were very blunt and short. It was as if we’d all lost our light. I felt drained , mentally and physically. I heard strange noises. I can't give you too many details because I can't even remember them myself. But with every foot deeper into the jungle I was going deeper into the rabbit hole. “What are these carvings?!” Reagan said “Stay away from them! Don’t touch anything that looks strange. We have entered the center of the ancient tribal lands.” Joel said I remember distinct red carvings on trees all around us. Shadows swarming around us in the distance, and that eerie whistling sound sends vibrations through every bone. We all stayed still and waited for something to appear. Nothing appeared that night. Nothing was visibly seen. Why I’m I saying this? Something was supposed to greet us. I knew it and I just know everyone else did too. A Meeting was awaiting for us all and there was no escape. That night we finally broke our silence. “Hey guys, why have we all been acting so strangely with each other?” I said “The deeper we walk into this jungle the less I trust y’all.” Reagan added “I’m scared of you guys. I don’t know what any of you plan on doing at any moment. I don’t know why, it’s all of a sudden.” Brandon said. “I completely understand what you guys are feeling. But we can’t let this jungle manipulate us all. I mean what could any of us do to each other? Exactly, so let’s start trusting one another.” I said. “I know you’re trying to make everyone feel better and keep everyone United, but that look in your eyes hasn’t disappeared either.” Joel said “You fucker! What’s your actual problem man? Ever since I met you it feels as if I have no safe place to think. You always seem to figure out what the hell I'm thinking about. I don’t give a fuck if you’re observant to that degree, but you need to really start keeping it to yourself.” I said. “Look Anthony, I really do Like you. No matter how much of an asshole I might come across as there’s something about you that separates you from the rest. Everyone seems to be stuck in a fake reality but you on the other hand seem to be in tune with the deeper meaning to all things. No matter how scared we might all be I know that I’m not the only one who is aware of the reality most have separated themselves from.” Joel replied I finally felt safe. His every word made me feel warm. When they usually wouldn’t. I felt less alone in this nightmare of a reality. The strange thing about this whole situation was I always liked something about him too no matter how strange of a person he was. There was a deeper meaning to all of this but I couldn’t quite put my tongue on it. “Joel, what is your goal? I do agree with you in a way. You and I are very observant and retrospect thinkers. Although it seems like we have different agendas. So what is yours?” I asked “Of course there’s the usual replies, but I have goals that are too complicated to explain right now. I’ll get back to you or maybe I won’t. We’ll see what type of mood I’m in.” Joel replied “Guys hold on hold on! Whisper, I hear something approaching us.” Reagan said The forest grew dark. The trees stopped flowing. One path and one path only was visible , we followed. The sinister whistle started to echo across the forest, and grew as we walked closer. “A staircase?” Reagan exclaimed “Joel what do we do?” I asked “Well we’re here for one reason and one reason only. Let's go down these steps and see what this ancient land has to uncover.” Joel replied “I was really looking forward to exploring the Amazon. Although this doesn’t feel right. Like come on guys what’s been happening to us? Is it really the smart thing to do?” Brandon said “Brandon if you want to head back with me let’s go. You’re completely right. They can send the navy seals into this shit hole. We need and I mean need to leave this place. Y’all can go die in that hell pit down there. My instincts are telling me that my life is way more important than whatever so called “colossal mystery” is down there.” Reagan demanded “Listen up you little bitch. You’re gonna both stay with us. Head down these stairs with me and Anthony or I’ll make you two!” Joel said “Hey hey! Chill the fuck out Joel! This is a team where we make decisions together. Let's make a vote. If we tie then we don’t go down there. There needs to be three votes. So , all in favor for continuing this expedition raise your hand.” I said. “Just as I expected….. Me and Anthony were the only two to raise our hands.” Joel said “Joel, what are you doing?!” I exclaimed. Joel bolted towards Reagan and tackled him, restraining him. He started to continually yell “I know what’s awaiting us. Don’t you mess this up coward!”. Brandon attempted to rescue Reagan but to no avail, Joel completely and utterly battered him leaving him unconscious. You may be asking. Why didn’t I do anything in this situation? I have two excuses, one I would like to stick with and one I greatly regret. First of all Joel was a stocky tall fellow. At least 6’4 245, I Wasn’t gonna have any part in that. Another reason that I stood by while this occurred was out of merely selfishness. I wanted to know what was down there. I wanted to feel important even if it was life threatening. It was like a drug to me. So high off of it that I didn’t care about Brandon’s bloody battered face. I’m a horrible human being at times. But aren’t we all? There was no longer a fight left in Reagan. He complied and didn’t Mutter a single word. Brandon woke up and was puzzled about what had happened. We all brushed it off as if nothing happened and continued down the staircase. “Woah… These stairs, they’re so trippy.” Brandon said “Fuck you Joel for forcing me to come this shit hole”. Reagan added “Cry me a river Reagan I’ve made you more of a man today then your father did coward.” Joel remarked “Guys what is that….?” Brandon said. “Hold on guys, we’ve entered an open area.” Joel replied “Our flashlights aren’t strong enough to see what’s going on, hand me our other one in the bag.” I said. “This whack ass flashlight isn’t turning on!” Brandon said. “Hand it to me.” Joel said “ Do you….. do y’all guys see this too?” Reagan said “Man, I hate Joel.” Brandon added In front of us lie an ancient city. Completely abandoned and vacant Of life. Shadows swarmed around in the distance. It was a cold, desolate environment. “Guys I’m starting to feel weird. My every ounce of being is feeling this disturbance.” Reagan said “No kidding.Guys? Guys ?! Please tell me we’re gonna be okay.” Brandon added. We all came together and started hugging. Grown men hugging each other? We definitely did, we were nothing but mommy's little boys when we entered that ancient city. At least we were, Joel stayed paused in amusement. He never replied to any of us. He was completely fixated on something else. I always knew this man was a creep. Although at the end of the day he was still human, and he has yet to show those qualities in such a chaotic situation. We stayed bunched together and kept walking. At this point we started to somewhat adjust. You may be wondering. What did this ancient city look like? Well from what I could see with our limited light, I saw grand demonic statues. Things you wouldn’t even find in a satanic cult. Not just that but also strange patterns on every wall and trails illuminated by a dark sinister red. (Vibration Hits) “Aw shit!It’s coming again!” Reagan exclaimed. “What the hell is it saying?!” Brandon asked Another vibration, stronger than the last one, hit us. We all struggled to talk or even walk. Just imagine for a second. Every fiber of your being, feeling an overwhelming vibration rattling all that you are. Even down to your consciousness. This was beyond a nightmare. This wasn’t meant to be uncovered. This was a whole new domain of suffering and Agony. In those moments I believe we all wished we were dead. “Joel where did you go?!” I said. “No!” Brandon yelled. “Kill me!Just fucking kill me please! Whoever you are, I'd do anything for you to just kill me and take me out of this misery!” Reagan begged “Rise” unknown entity voice At the sound of those words the agony and suffering ended. The language was ancient and I couldn’t understand it. Although somehow my consciences interpreted everything perfectly. Slowly the echos rose in intensity and the entity revealed itself. An ancient shaman, completely bone and clothing. “What do you want from us?!”Reagan asked “Please my lord, all we wanted was humble findings! We’re exploring and this is what we do for a living!” Brandon begged. “Ahaha…humble? I can taste and sense every single one of you all spirits. There is nothing of this so-called humbleness. A deep dark ocean , a void. That is what y’all are.” Shaman expressed Before I could even mutter a word it’s like our beings we’re taken to another place. An ancient city, a beautiful rainforest with vibrant blue clear skies. I couldn’t interact with the physical place but I could observe everything. Somewhat like a spirit or ghost. Native children and adults ran around in pure bliss and harmony. Beautiful Instruments played Symphonies across the city. There was zero negativity or anything of that nature in this place. It almost felt like home, something we have all forgotten. Then suddenly, dark red clouds appeared over the ancient grounds and mass suicide took place. Children not even aware of the darkness of their world forcibly grabbed any object they could and battered themselves to death. Every inch of that city was flooded with blood. The cries and yells only lasted for a few moments. Until the city was completely dark and stained with blood. Every statue turned into something sinister and mutilated. Then it hit me. Me and my crew are inside this ancient city. The shaman we spoke to was the leader of these people that resides in the past. Suddenly we were right back at square one. In the dark ancient city with the shaman staring deep into our souls. “Now your judgment must come!” Shaman demanded I was taken into my memories and emotions throughout my entire life. All the times I thought of things that no one ever knew of came tumbling down towards me full force. I felt a great embarrassment and shame for my thoughts in the passed. The things no one tells one another, concealed away in the darkness. You reading this, you know what I’m talking about. We are all sinister in our own right. My faul thoughts ranged from all different types of things but they all originated from a place of pure darkness. I Wasn’t being judged for my physical actions. I was being dissected from my inner thoughts and memories. The sins that stayed in my head…in the darkness where I only thought I could have known and accessed. I snapped out of my trance. I wasn’t the only one experiencing this. Reagan and Brandon started muttering to Themselves. Although Joel was still out of sight. “Brother…. Why would I think of that? Now you’re gone! Now I’m in fucking hell. And now I can’t ever apologize!” Reagan said “A dirty fucking animal! I am no better than the scum of the earth. I thought I was safe. I thought that place could never be found. Now I lay here on the verge of death. Not from the external world but from my inner thoughts that have been uncovered.” Brandon said Before I could listen on, the trance overcame me once again. This time though, I was witnessing Myself from outside of my own body. Sort of like spirit or ghost. The eeriness of witnessing yourself outside of your own body is something most people would never understand. To put it in perspective, imagine for a moment. Every time you walk past someone and gaze at them. Within the first thirty seconds you create your perception of that person off of their appearance, speech and Etc. Although looking into the mirror is something different by far. We look at ourselves in the mirror throughout our entire lives and Create our own identity, persona and perception of ourselves. Seeing Myself from an external point of view was as if I was staring at someone else entirely, Barely recognizable. Now this was where everything truly brought me to the pits of hell. I gazed into my own eyes. Darkness! Fear! Hatred! Envy! It Engulfed my eyes. I saw deeper into who I truly was. I was shot back into my body, and screamed to the top of my lungs in pure agony And embarrassment, shame and hatred of my own spirit. I grabbed the closest object near me and started to batter myself in the head. Continuously screaming and crying wanting to end my own existence as fast as possible. On the verge of losing consciousness I felt a hand touch my head. I turned around and it was Joel. Staring at me with sort of confusion and excitement. “You good there buddy?” Joel sarcastically said “Joel… where did you go? You didn’t experience everything we just did?” “Before I explain anything, just watch over there. It’s about to be the end for our comrades.” Joel replied. I looked to my right. Brandon and Reagan were completely silent staring at the ground with broken shattered souls. Brandon ran up a staircase nearby in the city and back flipped backwards completely shattering his neck. Next Reagan followed but as he got to the top of the staircase he stopped. Then he went on to yell at the top of his lunges “oh darkness I inhabited your lands for too long. Now it’s time for you to consume me and pay the price!” He then went on to bang his head hard enough on the staircase to split it open. The noises and the sight of these two deaths left me puzzled if it was time for me to go too. I questioned what point was there to go on living when I’ve hit Rock bottom with no returning. I knew at that moment that not a night would go by without me living in pure agony of the past and well I was right. Before I could continue zoning out. “Snap out of it Anthony…” “Joel what is going on..?” “Seems like you’re too shocked to even be afraid at this point huh?” “I always hated that about you. Always seeming to know what I’m thinking about.” “Maybe because we’re two sides of the same coin.” “Tell me Joel when all of this happened. Where did you go?” “Anthony, I'm not who you think I am. I have many secrets, many dark ones. Before I rant on about myself let me inform you who you just saw. That ancient shaman is called a shadow of shadow. The visions you saw of the ancient blissful city that went to shit is where we are residing but I’m pretty sure you know that much already. To become a shadow of shadow you have to have immense spiritual connection with innocence. That shaman you encountered was the tribe leader of this ancient city. Like you guessed… he was connected to his people on a deep spiritual level for decades. He was and took pride in the fact that he was the leader of such a blissful paradise.” “I don’t mean to cut you off but Joel please tell me i'm gonna make it out of here alive.” “Hmmm well that’s up to you. Now can I continue because you rudely interrupted me?” “Yeah sorry I’m still just in shock and agony.” “Well hearing what I’m about to say won’t Make it any better. Like I was saying. He took pride in his leadership. Although he was still human and still inquisitive. He wondered to himself. What was the point of continuing to live just to die and rot in the ground? He wanted something more. He was selfish and needed more than the heaven on earth he led. He looked into forbidden tribal rituals. One had caught his eye.” “Let me guess. The mass suicide I witnessed in vision was the forbidden ritual?” “You’re correct Anthony. You have to maintain Some sort of leadership In innocence. Once that’s checked off the list you have to acquire a droplet of blood from every inhabit. Lastly, you must slowly lead them into the dark. What do I mean by this? Look at yourself, Brandon and Reagan. The mind is a safe place to most. He needed to corrupt their minds like our entire world is currently. Once that is done he commends the ritual and the mass suicide takes place.” “And he becomes immortal?” “Correct, all around is immortality. The human eye can only see so much. For example psychedelic drugs reveal more to us but still not nearly everything. Becoming a shadow of shadow is a dark ritual worst then any evil described. Once you become a shadow of shadow you become the dark matter of the universe, the worst of the worst. You can occasionally tap in and out of our dimension. That is what that shaman did. They thrive for violence and anything to do with it.” “Ok… I see now. I never knew that forms of spirituality are real. It seems like we’ve lost our touch with it in the past. Right?” “Not necessarily, these rituals still take place. There’s many dark corners in our world Anthony. The tribes you see now are just a figment of what used to be an ancient civilization like the one you saw in your vision.” “I’m lost Joel. I don’t know what to do? I mean if I continue to live it becomes aimless. I need a greater purpose.” “Well now you have the chance to obtain that. We aren’t lost and manipulated like everyone else! We can see past these illusion’s! So Anthony join me. You have the chance to become immortal. We won’t die like sorry rats! We can have a greater purpose and fulfillment!” “I knew there was something wrong with you. I’d rather die today with no purpose then to become darkness itself! You’re scum Joel, truly scum.” “Well I cant say I hate you. Although I envy your good hearted nature. I’ve accepted my darkness long ago. I could easily kill you right now. But, the world needs people like you who are aware. So leave! Leave before I skin you like a fucking pig!” “You lost your sanity! I value my life more than ever knowing deep dark evil like you are working behind the scenes.” “Anthony… before you go. Just remember, it may not be today, tomorrow or ten years from now. But I will accomplish my goal and do the ritual. When I do , you’re fucked. I will and I promise you. That I’ll come looking for your soul. Slowly sipping on what will be mine one day.” Before he could go on I ran as fast as I could. I ran and ran and ran. For weeks on end I tried to find my way back home. I had lost my ID and all my belongings. Although at some point a rescue mission was conducted and I was on my way home. I made up some bullshit excuse that we had gotten lost and we came across a cartel base, that I was the only one who managed to escape. Lame excuse right? Well what else was I supposed to say? You’d think that my only problem at this point is my mental health issues. That’s false, I’m scarred yes. I'm broken inside, definitely yes. I cry in fear and agony every night? Just forgetting any time I'm alone. I sense Joel’s presence now as I speak. I wonder to myself. Did he accomplish his goal? Did he complete the shadow of shadow ritual? What lies in the dark shall never be brought to light. We all owe the dark a fee. We inhabit a fake paradise. A farm preparing us for our future consumption of the dark. Some things should remain a mystery. Until later… Joel has been calling my name sinnersterly in dreams. I think it’s his time to consume my soul like he said he would one day.

Those Who Live Forever In The Walls

ydcbav

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydcbav/those_who_live_forever_in_the_walls/

Displacement of thought is a measurable form of energy. When I discovered this, I could not let the trouble sleep. While I was exiled from the cathedrals of Science and declared a heretic by the priesthood, I continued my work. My followers came from the seven cardinals of Knowledge. A seven-pointed star of humanity, my disciples. We found a way to measure the ancient pathways of the human mind. The dormant parts were mapped and then we studied them. In our studies we found ways to stimulate the use of the dead zones. Anyone can activate the drawing of energy from their environment. Focus like the beginning of a  yawn, imagine four circles coming together and visualize the star they make in the center. Concentrate on the four points and hold that steady, until they are as one. A dull roaring sound, like the echo of a seashell of the sea, will manifest in the inner ear. As that increases in intensity the body might become numb or tingle. The body is a rod, a conduit, drawing the energy the mind needs from the surrounding environment. When I first accomplished a steady drawing, the plants around me withered and the fly on the window died. Later, we could measure the increase of electrical current in our minds. We named the surplus mental energy 'manna'. Our prototype manna probes were large helmets with lots of wiring. With sufficient and discreet funding, we were able to improve them to mere headbands. We called them manna bands and reserved the term manna probe for devices we made to measure manna in the ambient pools. We learned that manna gathers where there is already manna present. That is why the human body can draw manna into itself and channel it up the spine into the mind. I had written a publication and was rejected because I was already disgraced. Science had exiled me, I was an outcast, Apostate. In a darkness of thought I became bitter and resentful. My disciples were merely reflections of my own insanity. Each of them embodied one of my failures, my inability to make anyone see things my way. They were proof that I could not be proven right. We were filming when my head exploded. At first the gathered researchers just blinked at my decapitated remains with bits of my skull and brains all over their white robes of the priesthood. Then there was screaming and panic and horror. When they had cleared the room, I floated free of my corpse, never to be tethered again. I had transcended the living, to live forever. All I needed was the energy of life, manna. I had drawn too much, more than I could contain. As the energy was drawn through my body it became as me and I became as the energy. A darkness swirled around my dead body like a miniature thunderstorm of crackling black clouds, lined with pure glowing blue light. My consciousness became as the same cloud, visible to the eye and the camera. Where I went the tendrils of it reached. There was no distance I could not reach. Each extension dissipated me, reducing me, slowing and contracting what I had become. I was afraid of my new state. In horror and confusion - I lashed out. I found my fleeing disciples and fed upon their fears, restoring myself from their anguish. I became hungry, becoming what I ate. Fear is a kind of hunger, as hunger is a kind of fear. In ravening night: I found a new existence. I could remain pooled in places, waiting like a cobweb in the darkness. I was in the shadows and the thoughts of those who were afraid. I felt their terror, a vibration signaling mealtime. I fed, drinking, sucking, taking from anyone who trembled in dread. The nourishment was wrong, evil somehow. I knew I was becoming less human with each sip and each suck. I came from closets, eyes aglow, upon the sleeper, bringing nightmares. I came from the headphones, a silence, into the altar of the soul. I came from the chime of midnight, upon the priests of Science as they crafted deadly diseases with the taxes of those they would infect. I found evil to be a most satisfying meal. I held myself in horrible regard, learning to fear what I was becoming with each carcass of a human mind. I took their inequities and made banquet. Scientists were my favorite food, immoral, greedy and wise like devils. I whispered vile things into their thoughts and watched their eyes light up with internal Hellfire. "Is one deadly disease and one contagious: two things or one? How much would the vaccine be worth? So easy, so gullible. They deserve to die by the score. You are a genius and deserve the wealth you would receive. Murder them with lies." I would say and the Scientist would smile at my words. As a demon I was more conscious than they were as men and women. This was maddening, disgusting and the reflection of ultimate horror. I feared the existence, the pillars of Creation, the worm that I was, the mere words of Whisper. I became Whisper, I became shadow, I served only my own hunger. "Whisper, be not my thoughts." She said. I hesitated. I looked at her identification badge. "Dr. Alameen, you are no better than the others. Do as they do and listen to me." I spoke into her thoughts. She resisted and I felt a deeper fear. I was somehow trapped, trying to feed on something in her that I could not take my mouth away from. I had become stuck to something I could not chew. I had a mouthful of her, and I could not swallow it or spit it out. I was choking on her. I panicked, realizing I would shrivel and die. I would wither as the plants, fall as the dead fly and dissipate like an ugly dark cloud. Everywhere she went, I was forced to go. I could not use her greed, for she chose poverty and charity. She gave away her healing without accepting pay from those who could not afford her care. Then she went home and slept on a rug and ate a humble meal of chickpeas. I despised her meals and counted each of the tiny seeds, attempting to compare the number to her failure to feel avarice for my benefit. I could never finish counting by dawn. When Dr. Alameen woke up rested and ready for another day working against me, I scattered my counted pile of seeds, no nearer to ending her horrid lack of selfishness. "How dare you!" I hissed at her. She somehow ignored my challenge and knelt and prayed on a prayer rug. "Stop that, you are a scientist!" My dread grew as I weakened from hunger and captivity. I rested on her shoulder, near her ear, worried she couldn't hear me. "You are quiet today, Whisper." She glanced at her shoulder in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. How could she see me? I felt exposed, naked and ashamed of my form. I hid myself, mutating and becoming even less, in her eyes and in my powers. I appealed to her immorality, a desperate effort. Whenever I tempted her to think darkly or to reject those who were different, she sighed and quoted absurd poetry that described her world in proverbs. When her own thoughts failed to see the good in others, she reverted to the teachings of her faith. I was doomed. "Curse you, Dr. Alameen. Damn you!" I tried to burrow into her and found that I could not get past some sort of strange light. I had once held such light and when I tried to get past it: I was burned by it. In pain and torment: I withdrew, terrified of my eventual demise. "All are blessed. All are loved." Dr. Alameen seemed to be telling me. She held nothing against me. She called me Whisper and knew me. She was not afraid of me; her faith had protected her from my predations. "Not I." I said. It was then that she decided to educate me. I did not have to die the final death. "Those that live forever are a part of the world. Pillars, walls, doors. This is your path, Whisper. Choose not disobedience. You are this, be truthful. Forfeit your evil ways and repent of them. Serve the One Truth, cease your lies." Dr. Alameen prophesized. I was very proud and willing to die, rather than face my greatest fear. My greatest fear was to accept that I had accomplished something so great and that it did not belong to me. I was supposed to be a servant of something that forgave and loved. A being that asked me to accept the pain of responsibility. As I became as almost nothing at all, starved by her, I faced a choice. I would turn to distributing goodness, painfully, sacrificially, my own essence of self. Or I would quietly and painlessly die, ceasing to exist. I was more afraid to go on as a recognizable spirit. The shame and horror were one. To give of oneself is to grow in magnitude and become less of oneself. I preferred to die intact. Dr. Alameen was dying. She had grown old during my time with her. Always she was patient with me; she never cast me out. Instead, she always told me that there was still good in me. "There is yet good in you." Dr. Alameen told me. Then she breathed her last and I was free of her. I had become so small and weak that I just hovered there, waiting for someone to come along. When I finally had a host, I remained silent. I saw the crumbs of sin and left them. This person is how I regained my humanity. *How I came to speak again, to tell my story.* The person was tempted to feed me, and I felt no fear when I whispered: "Be good, do no evil."

A Friend is always a Friend……

ydnuod

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydnuod/a_friend_is_always_a_friend/

*Move-number* *seventeen…* *Bishop takes pawn on h7*, Check! *King takes Bishop*. Alright, now I just have to open up the king-side. *Queen to h5,* Check! I was playing with the white pieces on the winter-day in the local chess-club. My opponent was a much senior guy than me was also with an International Master title. As I was enjoying my position, he on the other hand was suffering from a mental suffocation caused by my picture-perfect bishop sacrifice which was extremely poisoned. His King goes back to the g8 square. Here I come again baby, *Bishop takes pawn on g7!* My dark-squared Bishop jumped in front of his king. He didn’t take the sacrifice this time. *F5,* pushes. We played along… *Move-number* *twenty-one…* Wait! Did he just gave away his Queen? My dark-squared Bishop showed no mercy to his Queen on the b8 square. The game continued…. *Move-number* *thirty-one*, I played: *Queen takes pawn on e6,* Check! I have a Knight and a Rook and six pawns total along with my Queen versus his two Bishops and two Rooks and three pawns. He looked at with a pale smile after thinking for about three minutes. *King to h8,* he pressed his side of the chess-clock. With my fingers I moved my Queen to the e7 square taking control of the seventh rank also forking the Rook and the Bishop. So, it was in this position my poor opponent resigned the game. We shook our hands. He complemented me. A Queen can make the life so happy. Without a Queen you are most-likely to lose almost every battle of your life. I had Queen on that game where as my opponent didn’t. I won the game on the board, but what about my real life? Where is my Queen? I lived alone in the apartment studying the boring game to pass time. Even though it’s my profession, it’s not like I love to play chess very much. Because it’s my only stand-pillar of my life I have no other choice. I don’t like to live with my mother. I live here separately. But still I feel lonely. I am not exactly or cleanly alone here though. I have a pet-hamster in the small cage situated on the medium sized table beside my personal computer. His name is- “Bishop”. Maybe he is my only friend in this world. Hamsters are not required to take care frequently. They don’t need to be cleaned or be taken outside for a walk. They just live their own life alone, nocturnal and when they feel energetic they run on their wheel bought by their owners. Bishop also had a wheel like that. It depends on luck, whether he will reveal himself in the day-time and work-out on the wheel or not. But, that day was an exception. It was one of those rare days when he do so. I was watching him running on that wheel very fast. I was a child-prodigy at the age of thirteen. Soon, I got my title after defeating a very strong grand-master at a young age. From that day I got paid and sponsored by authorities and private companies to visit various places to play the tournaments. One large section of my book-shelf is wholly occupied and dominated by the trophies I won. But, none of these trophies can quench my physical-hunger or lust. I paid for sex multiple times. I love to drink Bourbon at every evening. Deep in my heart, there lives a hopeless romantic-man living inside me without any nutrition. I do not have any companion with me in this apartment. For this, I’ve tried online-dating sites for the countless times. But, no relationship went far. *Cling!* It was the sound of the notification of my phone. I fired-up the screen without any excitement. Another match found, she also messaged me. Sigh! What number was that? It was no longer a feeling of joy anymore. We decided to fix the date on the Friday night. It was a very cold evening, when I took my car and drove the fixed place for the date. I parked my car in the appropriate parking lot and called her to notify that I had reached. Finally, we met near a well-established coffee-shop. The dark hair with the tint of blue at the ends of her hair made me a patron immediately. Her eyes were also extremely vocal. ‘It is very nice to meet you, Pabla.’, I greeted. ‘Likewise.’, she replied. We entered into the coffee-shop from the automatic door. We sat sporadically at a table near a closed window. I put off my Trilby on one side of the table. ‘How was your day?’, I asked. ‘It was good. How was your day?’ ‘As usual. Nothing new. Actually I am a Chess-master and most of the time I spent my day playing at chess-club and studying the game at my apartment.’ ‘That’s sounds cool. You must be a very intelligent guy!’ ‘Huh, people always react like that when they hear about my job. What do you do?’ ‘I have a crazy job compared to yours. I am a fortune teller.’ ‘Sounds interesting.’ ‘Do you believe in Zodiac signs and positions of the planets can determine our future?’ ‘Not really but it sounds pretty interesting to be honest from you. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’, I confessed the truth. She made the rain of pearls by smiling genlty with her beautiful corn-seed like teeth and velvel-red lips, ‘So you are not getting bored if I talk about these kind of stuffs?’ ‘Not at all.’, I was totally gone missing in her mesmerizing eyes. ‘Will you mind if I try something here now on you?’ *Do anything you want, miss allurer.* I said in my mind. ‘Yes. Why not? But before that let me order something.’ I asked her and she gave me the choice of the order. I called the waiter and ordered two Lattes and non-veg sandwiches. As the waiter was on her way, Pabla dragged the zipper of her leather-made vanity-bag. A plastic-made well-designed medium size lunch-box like thing made its way to the light by her beautiful milk-colored hands. She put the box on the table. Then, she grasped the top of the box and pushed up the upper lid of the case. ‘These are Tarot Cards. Drawing of these cards can foretell you future.’ ‘Really? Show me how.’ She dumped the needlessly large deck of cards on her right-hand palm put turning the opened box upside down by her left hand. She couldn’t even handle the deck with her small hands. As she was trying to make a solid grasp of the thing I noticed a few faces of those cards. The back-design was not that exceptional. The backs were monotonous brown colored with white border around its four sides. The faces, which I noticed were consisted with the most disturbing, weird and nudity contained paintings all over them. She continued to shuffle (even if she was not looking comfortable doing so) the deck of cards and made three almost similar heighted piled of cards in front of me. ‘Complete the cut by arranging these three piles, one on the another or under the others to make a single deck.’, she directed. I took the right-pile upon the middle and then put the whole thing upon the left. ‘Perfect!’, she exclaimed. ‘Now you have to draw three individual cards from the top but if you want you can make a cut to the deck and chose the top-card of that cut-position. Once you draw the three cards, lay those in front of you without looking at the faces one-by-one from left to right.’ I drew three face-down cards from the top and laid them one at my right, one middle and one left. ‘Now, one-by-one we will reveal those cards and know the indication.’, she had a glance at those face-downed cards. ‘Turn over the first card. Let’s see what it says.’ I turned over the left-sided card revealing its face. The face contained a picture of an angel flying above a naked man and a naked woman. Also, the number six in Roman embossed by golden ink on the glossy texture of the card. ‘Lovers upright!’, she exclaimed. ‘It indicates good love-life and partnership.’ I turned the next card. A man was lying on the earth on his chest and swords pierced all over his back. This time, the Roman number was ten. ‘Ten of sword!’, she looked a bit down this time. ‘That indicates betrayal in the near future.’ Third card was a picture of grim-reaper but upside-downed. Numbered thirteen. ‘Death reversed.’, her facial expression remained same as the previous time. ‘That indicates destruction of hope, depression and negative outcome.’ Our order had been served on the table and we were talking and smiling. Swear to god, I had not felt that happiness ever in my life so far. She was like a goddess revealed herself to me to show the true definition on beauty and outstanding company. Even if the card-fortune telling part was completely bullshit to me, I couldn’t stop myself listening to her smooth voice. *I want this woman at any cost in my life. But what if , these bull shit tarots* *and zodiacs made us separated? She might have so many matches on internet dating sites. What if this goes same as the previous ones for me? I don’t want to lose her.* ‘Can I drive you to your place? It has got pretty dark outside.’, I proposed. She got inside my car after having a bit negotiation between us. I insisted her, she should ride with me no matter how politely she declines. My real motivation was to be with her as long as possible. It was a two storey building and she lived with her mother. She offered me the dinner at her house in her room. I had no other choice. Her book-shelf was packed with books on Demonology, Spirit-summoning, Astrology and other types of esoteric books. During the dinner, she was talking about Hebrew Bible and a King back in the history namely King Solomon. How that King could summon the Demons and made them work for his own benefit and stories like that did not really convince me to believe all those things but the only thing I enjoyed to my heart’s content, was her company. Returning to my lonely apartment I was thinking about her and her talking imagery was all over my mind’s eye. I will only resort to those obnoxious stuffs if I ever get any difficulties in getting her in my life. I have dated several women in my life, but none of them was like her. I’ll do anything to get her in my life permanently. I called her but her phone was busy. That made me a little tensed. Was she talking with another man? If so, I’ll kill the man. She didn’t called me back on that night. *She could have talked with her relatives,* I tried to confront myself. Next morning, I gave Bishop a small cup of mixture of seeds in his cage. He didn’t show up to light though. I drove my car to the chess-club. When I was in a middle of a game I gazed to the window beside me. I saw a sight on the street which took over my whole concentration from the game. It was Pabla with another man. *That could be her brother or just a friend*, I tried to confront myself again. Either ways I lost that game, I couldn’t leave the place at that time. They were talking with big smiles on their faces. Pabla and the man boarded a Taxi outside. I lost the next rapid game too. Returning to apartment, I couldn’t fix my mind. There was a Tornado inside my heart. We didn’t date for long, it was only once. So, if she dates another man it was completely fine. Then why am I feeling like this? Did she charm me with her Voodoo stuffs? I couldn’t let her be with anyone else. She is mine! I’ll do whatever it takes to get her. I called her in the afternoon. Luckily she picked up this time. ‘Hello.’, she greeted. ‘Hey, I called you last night.’, that came out instantly from me. ‘Yeah… But I was busy then.’ ‘Can we meet this evening?’, as I was not in the position to ask for further explanations. ‘Sure, I am free in the evening.’ ‘Actually, I am interested in your books. Can I have a closer look to those?’ ‘Absolutely! I would like to be with a companion with common interests. I can also help you if you get some trouble reading those books. You can borrow those as I believe these kind of knowledge must be spread more.’ She invited me to her house that evening. I threw a glance to her book-shelf. ‘So you wanna look at my book collection?’, she asked. ‘Yeah. But I am really curious whether this kind of stuffs really work or not.’ ‘That’s sound great! I got you covered. I have all kinds of spell-books and books on occult. My favorite kinds of books are about the demonology. Here, have a look!’, she was pointing at a certain section of the shelf. ‘Gerald B. Gardner has written a brilliant book on drawing of circles, Sabbat Rituals, and all kinds of black-magic. The name of the book is: “Book of Shadows”. The books on summoning demons and drawing certain hexagrams are described in the book: “Key of Solomon”. If you seek more powerful elements–-’ ‘I want to tell you something!’, I interrupted. ‘What?’ ‘I… I really like you. I haven’t seen any woman like you. I don’t wanna casual dates anymore.’ ‘We’ve just met each other. In order to form a strong relation between two souls, we need to know each other properly at first. That’ll take time. Sorry, I can’t commit that early. But, as you’ve taken interest in my likings, we can be good friends for now. We can discuss these stuffs together.’, she made me extremely disappointed. ‘So, I am curious why you have interest on occult in all of a sudden? Why do you seek the help of Demons?’ ‘I am getting worse at controlling my concentration during the chess matches nowadays. I wanna summon some demons to make me a strong chess-player actually, may that sound funny to you.’ ‘Not at all! The main purpose of summoning is to improve the life. Whatever flaw you have, the Demons can help you with everything. Demons are always more powerful than the Gods. But, you have to be very careful during the rituals. If something went wrong you’ll be in trouble.’ ‘I am ok with that.’ She lend me a book that was in wretched condition. The first few pages along with its hard-cover were gone. As she explains, those pages was torn away intentionally to hide the name of the book and the author to other people as she had lent that book to several people. I returned to my apartment after having a great dinner at Pabla’s place. Lying on my bed, I was turning-over the pages to find a ceremony to make someone fall in love with me. As I didn’t lied to her while borrowing this book, she was the reason of my poor performance of today at the chess-club, and as I needed recover my strength in chess, I had to make her fall for me sooner by the help of the Demons. It was not like I suddenly grew my interest to these kinds of stuffs all of a sudden, I just felt like it will be most effective. I’ve prayed to the God at the churches several times but that didn’t provided me any romantic partner. Finally, I found a ritual instructions with some ancient language chants of my interest, in that book. The ritual requires a offer to the Demon in order to please him and make the ritual work for effects. The summoner must sacrifice another human or animals which the summoner is emotionally attached to. The stronger the attachment might be, the effect will be as stronger to that. I only got that nocturnal hamster named Bishop. He was the only thing I was attached to then. I closed my eyes and had deep thoughts for a moment. I got up from my bed with the book in my right-hand. It was almost 3am at the night. I entered into my study-room. There was some squawking and scratching sounds coming from the table in the dark. I lightened-up the room. The little animal was in motion in his cage. I put on a leather glove on my left-hand, putting down the book on the table. Pulling the lid off the cage, I discovered Bishop had stopped and staring up at me with his curious eyes as my shadow was on him. I gripped him with my leather-claws. I drew the Hexagram in the Circle on the floor with the red and black marker-pens with my right-hand. I lightened white candles, four in number at the four sides of it. Then, I turned off the lights. I knelt near the circle. In the right, I gripped an Exacto-knife pointing its blade to Bishop’s throat, held in my left-clutch. Bishop gave me his expression of eyes with, ‘Don’t do this to me, please.’ Look. I pierced him with my shaking hands. Bishop made a squanching sound and my left hand dripped a miniature of blood-river. I threw the corpse on the hexagram. The ritual needed my blood too, as I dripped few drops from my right-hand-pinky. I began to chant those Latin Words from the book, touching the circle with both the tips of my hands. Suddenly, the candles extinguished without any wind, turning the room into an abyss. The furniture started to shake like it happens during earthquake. I kept chanting and sweating. I couldn’t see the book but Latin came out of my mouth flawlessly in the dark. I meditated picturing Pabla closing my eyes. I felt the presence of entities in the room. My mouth stopped. The shaking of the elements was stunted. I somehow managed to get out by thrusting my palms in the dark like a blind man, so that I don’t collide with items in the room. I woke up late next morning. I decided to check the study-room. Bishop’s corpse wasn’t there. I wiped off the the hexagram from the floor and placed the candles in my drawer. There were no blood-marks on it. I took a shower and was having my meal and my phone rang. It was Pabla! I Picked up the call and she wanted to meet me tonight. What a magic! Did that really worked? She called me again while I was driving to the chess-club. She wanted to meet me in the afternoon as she wanted to confess me something. We met in the daylight at the park. She was wearing a long-coat and that looked extremely gorgeous on her. ‘I shouldn’t be that cocky last night’, she said. ‘The truth is, I am very fond of you. I missed you very much at the night. I’ll like to be with you.’ My head started flying, my heart was beating heavily and there were butterflies in my stomach. That was the happiest day of my life. My chess has improved very much and my accuracy was beyond any human’s. Every move I played was the top-recommended move by the chess-engine in the computer. One day she came into my apartment with me. She was curious about the cage on that table but I managed to come up with a lie that my pet has died due to illness. She talked about occult and my experience with the book. As my performance on the board was top-notch, it was not very difficult for me to explain how effective was it for me. My nights began to shine with her. All of a sudden my Black and White life became colourful greatly. I was at my prime in both professional and private lives. People started to praise me at the club. I stopped studying the game. Tactics and strategies came to my mind automatically to the only destination of victory, either by check-mate or resignation. Days past and we lived together in my place. The apartment was not a dungeon for me anymore as it became a true joyful place for my heart. But, that didn’t last for long. I heard her talking to some other man on the phone and lied to me when I asked, ‘I was talking with my mother.’ That day I made the worst blunders on the board. An amateur kid could defeat me in the squares. My King was suffocated by opponents’ pieces. Returning to my apartment-doors I saw pair of boots of man. Pushing the entrance-door hard, I growled with rage and agony, ‘Pablaaaa!!’ There was no answer. Unnatural silence fled across the Dark interior. I entered into the bed-room and discovered the abomination by the striped light coming from the door-slit. Pabla was with another man and both were naked. Which was more frightening than that, they were both dead as I could easily tell by looking at the corpses. They were in a collapsed missionary position on the bed. Blood was dripping from the bed-sheet. That blood-stream made a lake in the floor. Her dead-eyes and mouth were wide opened to make an evidence that a great horror caused them this state. The cause of death was much more terrifying than that. Their throats were equally stabbed, bruised and brutally cut wide open like opened jaws. That was the main source of the stream. My head was totally blanked. I was loosing the lights of my eyes. I did not made any scream but continued to suffer the mental storm inside my stomach. Not enough was my inner-pain, the disgusting smell of the corpses and intolerable smell of rotten flesh was also present there. It was the most suffocating and disturbing situation I ever experienced in my life. *Why this happened? Did I made any mistake while performing the ritual?* *This looks like a murder but who and how can someone murder them at this state like that?* I was asking myself more than a thousands of questions but suddenly, I heard a very familiar but more louder squawking and scratching sounds from a little distance. I saw something in the dark was revealing its existence by making the noise. It was in motion, sitting in one place not moving much. I tried to light up the room but the switch was already in on-state. I clicked the switch on and off but the lights didn’t worked. Then I discovered the blazing red eyes of the creature rounded and glowing in the dark. It’s body was fat and almost the size of two huge balls but one larger than the other, if placed the smaller one on the top area of the other. It’s facial area more revealed and my mouth said automatically, ‘Bishop!’ Tears in my eyes and the body was shaking by fear and sorrowness. Bishop had become a horrific mammal monstrosity. His fur was not as clean and bright as when he was alive in his cute and natural form. The milky white mane and patches of orange on it had turned into dusty grey and pale brown in colour. Then, I saw blood dripping out of his mouth area as he tried to lick that with his peeping small tongue under the nose. His whiskers were also consisted of tiny drops of blood just like the surgical syringe needles drip drug out of it to test the barrelled liquid by pushing of plunger. Once he looked upwards at the ceiling revealing its old wound across his throat area. There was no blood on that wound though, but it made a nasty imperfection to his body. It remained to the corner of the room, looking at me menacingly but did not cause any harm to me. I don’t know how long was I trembled there standing. I sweated making my clothes absolutely soaked badly. I approached the monster but it remained at its place. I called it by its mortal name but did not get any responses. I brought out my bottle of Bourbon. Poured directly from bottle in my mouth, a relatively large quantity. Didn’t make any burn on my palate. I smiled looking at Bishop. My eyes were also red but different than the Bishop’s. I cried silently. Poured a bit more into me. Then a strange thought flashed into my mind. I can still repeat the ritual and get another woman. But this time, the sacrificed offerings will be an attractive naked lady who had much stronger but invisible attachment strings to me. That man’s body fell on the blood-lake due to my intervention in the life-less bed. I picked her body on my shoulder and went to the study-room.

Doors to Nowhere

yd9ipo

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd9ipo/doors_to_nowhere/

I don’t know if this will even post, but I’m desperate, so I'm trying anyway while I still have some sense left. I don’t know how to exactly describe what has happened to me so I’m just going to tell you everything. It started with a dream on my 12th birthday. I don’t remember much from back then, but I do remember that this dream first occurred the night I turned 12 years old. The day of celebration had finally come to a close. I told my parents goodnight and headed to bed. After a few minutes of rolling around, I finally gave in to sleep. That’s when I opened my eyes to find myself in my room tucked under my sheets. I assumed that I just woke up in the middle of the night. I got up and began making my way to the bathroom because my bladder was about to burst. I stepped out into the hallway and was taken back for a moment. It had the appearance of my house but wasn’t. There were doors all throughout this hallway which was definitely a little longer than it should have been. My home at the time had 4 doors in the hall that my bedroom was on. I was seeing at least 15. I don’t know why this didn’t bother me. I didn’t really have much control at the time because I had no idea I was dreaming so I just went along with everything. That’s just how dreams are sometimes. You don’t register what’s going on until after. My bathroom was always at the end of the hall so I just set off and made my way to it. I finally reached my destination and stuck my hand out to grab the doorknob. The handle was surprisingly cold like it had been left outside during a winter storm. I pulled it open anyway and found myself face-to-face with nothing. Where my bathroom was supposed to be was now just an endless void. I stood there for a moment completely dumbfounded. That’s when I woke up—relieved that what had just happened was a dream. This was where my dreams of doors that lead to nowhere began. Around 6 months passed and I had long forgotten the dream. During that time I had more important things to focus on like recess, video games, and hanging out with my friends. A little dream had no place in my mind compared to my busy schedule. That’s until it happened again. It started out just like the last. I woke up in the same spot I went to sleep and made my way out into the hall. I opened my bedroom door and was back in the same scene as before. What laid ahead this time was my overstretched hallway that now had about 10 extra doors attached. I repeated the same action as the last time and walked all the way to the end to reach for what I assumed was the bathroom doorknob and turned. I was greeted once more with that endless void. I woke up. You know when you get that sense of falling and your whole body jerks back. That’s basically what happened. I remember sitting there for a minute reliving what had just transpired when I remembered that I had that same exact dream before. I didn’t really think much of it. Honestly, I thought it was cool at the time because that was the first time I had ever had a dream occur twice. This continued for a few years. The dream had no specific pattern. Sometimes I would have them a few days apart, while other times it would be months before I had the dream again. There were only two things that always stayed the same. One was that the only door I could actually walk back into was my bedroom. The second thing was that the dream only ever took place in my family home. The environment always stayed the same. That was until one night at my friend Chris’s house. My and Chris became friends in 6th grade. That year we were assigned seats next to each other and the rest is pretty much history. You know how it is, when you’re that young you will make friends with anyone. Well now we were both in 10th grade and it was the weekend and he invited me over to play a new game he just got. We were both really excited about it and spent the whole day and most of the night working through all the levels this game had. Next thing I know it’s 2 am and I was exhausted so I told him that I was ready to pass out. I was gonna be over most of the day tomorrow anyway so we could finish it then. I laid down on the makeshift bed we crafted out of blankets and pillows. Not long after laying down, I drifted off. I came to on the custom mattress I was on and sat up for a second wiping the sleep out of my eyes. I looked around but noticed Chris wasn’t in the room so I got up to go see where he had gone. I went for the door, placing my hand on the doorknob and a chill made its way down my spine. I shrugged it off and pulled the door ajar. What was before me was similar but also different. It was the hallway outside of Chris’s room except now there were extra doors that weren't there before. Something grabbed my attention. The door farthest from me had what looked to be a silhouette of a person leaning out from behind it. I could only see from about the torso up but I without a doubt knew that it was a person. I couldn’t tell you if it was Chris or not though. “Chris, what are you still doing up? Couldn’t put the game down huh?” I called out. There wasn’t a response. What I thought was Chris was still hanging halfway out the doorway and I could feel it staring dead at me. This unnerved me a little but I began making my way over to him anyway. That’s when it began waving at me. I stopped dead in my tracks. Taking in my surroundings a little better this time, the realization sank deep into my gut. I was dreaming. As if the person knew the realization I just made it lowered its hand and went through the door slamming it with a force that echoed throughout the entirety of the place. I ran over to the door and swung it open. There was nothing there, just a dark spot devoid of everything. I jolted awake, breathing as if I had just finished a marathon. It was still dark outside. I stood up and looked around, Chris was right there sleeping on his bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. This was the first time I had ever had the dream anywhere except my own home. It was also the first time that I had seen something besides the hallway and doors. I was left wondering who or what I had just laid my eyes upon. It’s safe to say I didn’t go back to sleep that night. This was the first time I encountered it. That being is who I would later come to regret knowing as the Watcher. After this incident, my dreams began to change. The static hallway and doors would now have little differences. The walls would be made out of different types of wood or wouldn’t be wood at all. The doors would be smooth or have intricate designs and the material they were composed of would change. Sometimes there would be paintings on the walls depicting strange alien environments. Worlds encompassed by darkness, strange plants and animals, upside-down rain with a sky that housed a purple sun and so much more that I couldn’t even begin to describe. There was one time when I even saw a painting of my own home except it was old and decrepit like no one had been there in ages. Different pieces of furniture would also show up. A small nightstand with a lamp, an armchair that looked as if from a different time in history, and occasionally even a full-sized couch that didn’t fit in with its surroundings at all. Something else also began to change with the doors. I began to hear things from the other side. Sometimes I swear I could hear what sounded like muffled conversation. Other times there would be knocking or the sound of shuffling feet. There were also noises I couldn’t place. Deep rumblings or high screeches that definitely weren’t made by any animal or person that I knew. Occasionally I would be too frightened to open a door but no matter what door I opened I was always met by the same endless void. It was like I wasn’t permitted to see what was beyond. This wasn’t what unsettled me the most though. I began to see that silhouette of a man more often. I never once got a full view it would always be just out of view. I would see it peeking out behind furniture or standing right on the cusp where the door connects with the hall. Sometimes he would wave at me and other times I would catch a blur going through into another door. The dream had begun to happen more often at this point. It was occurring at least once a week if not more. My parents noticed a change in me as well. My grades started dropping in school because my mind was always occupied by the dream. It was honestly eating away at me and I had no idea why. I would try to shake it from my mind but it was always there no matter what I tried. They decided to send me to see someone but all they thought was that I had an overactive imagination. But after a few visits, the doctor decided to give me some medication that would help my sleep. It has been three years since then. The medicine worked great and I never had the dream again. I’ve started college at this point and was having the time of my life. Me and Chris are now roommates sharing an apartment. It had been a while since I had even really thought about the dream and let it bother me. Sure it comes to mind every once in a while when I’m trying to go to sleep but it’s not holding me back anymore. This was until last week when my medication ran out. My doctor thought that I had progressed enough to be taken off of it. I was a little worried at first, but I truly believed that I was past all of it. The first few nights were good with no dreams, just nice, peaceful sleep. Then the night that wasn’t peaceful came. I went to bed as usual, putting my phone on the charger and making sure I had an alarm set so I wouldn’t miss my 8 am class the next morning and with that, I was off to sleep. I came to in my bed and believed that I had just woken up in the middle of the night. Even with this thought, something didn’t sit right with me so I got up to go grab a glass of water. I reached my hand out and pulled my door open and almost lost my composure. It was the hallway of my apartment except now there was only one door at the end of the hall. I knew that there should have been 3 doors. I could feel all of the color drain out of my face as a swallowed hard, it felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I was back in the dream I use to have. I knew the only way to wake up would be to open a door. Why was there only one door this time? I had never seen only one door. I knew what I needed to do but I couldn’t make myself move. I was frozen. I reached and slapped myself hard to snap myself out of it. I reminded myself that I was just dreaming nothing real can happen to me. With that, I somehow mustered the nerve to begin walking. I swear the hallway seemed twice as long as it normally was. The length often changed some to acclimate to the number of doors, but this time it seemed to go on and on as I walked. Finally, I closed in on the door. With sweat beading on my face, I let out a heavy sigh and reached for the handle. I stopped just before a grabbed it as something caught my attention. I realized I could hear breathing coming from the other side. Deep raspy breaths that seemed to shake the door itself. *You have heard things like this before, just open the door so you can wake up,* I remember thinking to myself. That’s when I grabbed and tore the door open. It was the same as always, a dark abyss. The only problem was that I hadn’t woken up yet. It never took this long. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!” I yelled into the void. That’s when I noticed it. The void now had an outline. It was so faint that it almost blended in perfectly. It was the silhouette of a person. It was whoever I had been seeing before I started taking the medication, and now they were right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do. I was just standing there wide-eyed, completely frozen in fear. Before I could even react an arm darker than I thought possible reached out and grabbed me. I woke up with a sharp gasp drenched in sweat. Dawn was just breaking outside and it gave my bedroom a light glow. I lifted my arm up to see where whoever grabbed it and noticed that a gray handprint was now on my forearm. I was terrified. It was just a dream, there was no way it could actually affect me. I got up and rushed to the bathroom. Seeing myself in the mirror was rough to look at. I looked as if I hadn’t slept in days and I was grossly sick. The handprint on my arm didn’t hurt, but nothing I tried would make it go away. My next course of action was to call my doctor and tell him that I had to get back on my medicine because the dream started up again. At first, he was reluctant to agree, but after a little persuading that was more like begging on my end he relented and agreed. The only problem was that I wouldn’t be able to get my prescription filled until tomorrow. I told him about the handprint on my arm as well and he scheduled me to go in and see him as soon as he could. It was going to be a few days because he was fully booked at the time. I was going to have to go through another night before then. The whole day went by in a blur. The only thing on my mind was that person or at least what I thought was a person. The handprint hasn’t gotten worse so I guess that’s a good thing. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to sleep and wait until the morning so I get my prescription. As night encroached I began to grow uneasy. I was going to do everything in my power to stay awake until I got my medicine. I put on a pot of coffee because I figured a little caffeine boost would help my situation. Sometime around 1 am I had drank the last of the pot and decided to play some video games to pass the time. This worked for a few hours but I could fill my eyes getting heavy. I continued on to try to finish a level I had been stuck on for the past hour when my head started bobbing up and down threatening sleep. I picked up my phone to check the time and it was 4:14 am. The pharmacy opens at 10 so I still had a good ways to go. I decided to go splash some cold water on my face to wake me up a little. I stood up and made my way over to my bedroom door and pulled it open. “No,” I said aloud as I now realized my fatal mistake. I knew immediately that this wasn’t the hall I was supposed to be seeing. When did I fall asleep? *Hello*, it was as if something was speaking directly into my soul. I spun around, and in horror I found myself face to face with the person I saw last night. I took a few steps back with my legs threatening to give out. *It’s nice to finally speak to you, I’ve been trying for so long but you never seem to hear me. I am guessing by your reaction my voice finally reached you,* it said without moving a muscle. It’s hard to describe what I was looking at. This “person” had no features except for an outline which was in the shape of a human. There were no features on him. The only factor that stood out was that it had nothing but a dark expanse that covered his body. He had no shadow either which really unnerved me. I said the only thing that came to mind, “What are you?” *Well you see,* he said while placing a hand on his chin, *I use to be a person like you, but now I just live here always exploring what this place has to offer.* “What do you mean,” I said while looking at where I assumed his eyes would be, “What even is there to explore here.” *That’s because your eyes aren’t fully suited for this place yet. Haven’t you been noticing more and more as you enter this space? This place is slowly transforms your body so you will be able to see all it has to offer.* “What is has to offer? This place is nothing but a dream that I’ve had since I was little.” *Do you still really believe that?* “I know I’m asleep so what else could it be?” *At the moment only part of you is here. When you become fully acclimated to this place your whole being itself will be here.* “What do you mean? Are you saying I will be stuck in this place?” I say with fear mounting. It was all too much to take in. My mind was racing. This being is talking about me getting stuck in this place for god knows how long. All I could think about was how to get out of this and wake myself up. I still clung on to hope that this was all a dream but that premise was slowly deteriorating. *I’m tired,* it began, *I have been here for what feels like an eternity and you’re the first person who has been able to see me.* “Look man, I am really sorry that you are stuck here but I don’t know how to help you.” *You are helping me by just being here, the process has already begun.* I looked down at the handprint on my arm. *The next time you fell asleep I knew I would be free of this place and you would take over as the new watcher.* “I can’t do this!” I shouted, “I have my own life out there and I didn’t agree to any of this! Find someone else!” *But you will. You left your world for the last time when you fell asleep.* I turned and in one motion began making a mad dash toward the door. As soon as I got to it I pulled with such force I thought it might rip off the hinges. Now I was free and I would wake up as soon as I opened it just like all the other times. The thing was, I didn’t. *It’s too late. Your transition is too close to completion. You can’t leave anymore.* “Please just let me leave, I can’t do this,” I begged. *You should try to make the most of this. Beyond those doors are things you can’t even begin to imagine. You will see worlds people can only dream of. This will be your duty as the new watcher.* I grabbed a stool that was to my left and his every ounce of force I had launched it at the being. It reached out its hand and the stool froze in place. Next thing I know the stool starts shaking and then explodes into thousands of tiny splinters. The watcher began to make its way over to me. I stepped back for as long as I could until I was pressed against the wall. Tears were streaming down my face as I couldn’t accept my situation. I slid down the wall, my knees pressed into my face with my head down. I felt a hand press my head. *You are almost fit to take my place. There is one final thing I must do.* “Please don’t,” I said quietly as he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. *This last part is going to hurt,* it said and I looked at the being visibly trembling with fear trying to come up with anything to relieve me of this nightmare before me but I came up empty. With that, he drove two of his fingers into my eyes. I will never forget the pain of feeling my eyes burst like balloons. What once helped me see began to pour down my face as I screamed and slumped to the floor. *Thank you,* the watcher said and I heard a door shut in the hall. I laid there for what felt like hours clutching my face. After some time I sat up still holding my face and tried to stand. I was feeling my way along the hall trying to find a doorway. That was when I hit something with my foot and began to fall. I reached both my hands out and placed them on an armchair. I could actually see the chair. I was relieved but then terror flooded my body. I screamed. My arms and hands now looked exactly like the being that left me here. I looked down at the rest of my body and realized it to was now that same pitch-black color. “No, this can't be me,” I said aloud for no one to hear. I looked around at my surroundings and something caught my eye. Some of the doors now had light spilling out through their cracks. I thought that by some miracle I would still wake up in my bed if I opened one so I made my way over. What I was met with on the other side of the door was not a void, it was a world full of desolate mountains and I saw 4 moons in its sky. I slammed the door shut and made my way over to a couch. I sat down completely dumbfounded at what I had just seen. After a few minutes, I got up and decided to go back to my bedroom to try and find a way out there. Luckily my room was still attached and everything seemed to be working still. I tried to call my parents, the police, and whoever else I could think of but nothing ever connected. I truly was alone here and had no idea how to get out Well, I think it’s been a few months since then. I only have a rough estimate because every clock I try to view is frozen. The electricity is still on in my room so I can charge my phone when it gets low. I can also look on the internet because that still works somehow. The only thing that keeps me sane is looking at old photos of friends and family. As time progresses it’s helping me less and less. I now spend my days roaming around and going through different doors. The watcher before me wasn’t wrong, some of the worlds truly are amazing. I have even seen some that have humans. The only problem is that no one can see me. I have tried everything I can think of to get people's attention but no matter what I do no one acknowledges me. I don’t know where the watcher before me went. I haven’t seen him anywhere and believe me I’ve been looking. I think my only hope of ever getting out of here is to make someone take my place. I just hope I can do that before this place takes sanity. That brings me to today. I’ve been typing all of this out on my phone in hopes that someone will read it. If you can, just maybe, you will be able to see me also. If you have a dream of doors that go nowhere I will find you. It’s only a matter of time. I hope to see you soon.

A coffin has appeared in the front yard of every house in my neighborhood (Update)

ycrev5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycrev5/a_coffin_has_appeared_in_the_front_yard_of_every/

Hey, all... A lot happened, so this one is a bit long. Sorry. I've divided it into three parts, Yesterday Morning Yesterday Evening, and This Morning. Also, if you haven't read the [first part](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybx6tl/a_coffin_has_appeared_in_the_front_yard_of_every/), you probably should. Yesterday morning: I’m typing this up during my lunch break. Quickly, here’s what happened last night. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to look out the front window again. Saw my neighbor across the street come out of the house in a daze and get into the coffin. I passed out. I woke up in my bed and when I checked again, the coffin across the street was gone. I hurried to the bedroom and shook Carrie awake. I watched her eyes go wide as I described Sandy getting into the coffin. “That can’t be real.” “I know. And now their coffin is gone. What do we do?” “We need to check on her.” I was already going to do that, right? My brain is not working. We pulled on our clothes, went out and started across the street. Carrie abruptly halted in the middle and put her arm across my chest to block me. She pointed to a house down our side of the the street to the left and one across and to the right. Their lawns were also coffin free. “... Everyone had one, right?”, she asked. “Yeah. I think so...” We continued to the door. I looked down to make sure I wasn’t stepping on any of Sandy’s flowers, mums now since it’s Fall. I was confused to see that the garden was mostly dead. There were some empty plastic pots scattered around. Not nice ones, but the plain black container that plants from the store come in. It looked like they’d been sitting there for months. What happened? This was a nicely maintained flower garden yesterday, wasn’t it? Carrie was looking at it, too. “It wasn’t like that yesterday, right?” I looked at her and shook my head. She moved to the front door as I stared at the garden. Carrie’s sharp rapping on the door shook me out of my reverie. She waited a few moments and knocked again. She turned to me and shrugged, a thin worry line creasing her brow. I cupped my hands around my eyes and looked into their window. I noticed right away the the foyer was a mess of boxes, tools, and even some car parts. Like I said, I didn’t know her well at all, but it seemed weird that the inside of her house seemed like such a dump. "I'm going to go around the back," I told her. It was uncomfortable enough just walking up to a neighbor's house and knocking. Dropping by is a thing that seems to be going by the social wayside. Opening their side gate and entering the back yard felt straight-up wrong, like I was trespassing. I guess that's literally true. I had never seen them before, but the gardens in the back were also mostly dead or overgrown. There were tools and gardening implements laying about the yard, as well as a long-unused and dilapidated dog house. Attached to the doghouse was a frayed, dirty rope and on the other end of the rope was a torn collar that may have once been red, but was now tattered and rusty brown. I noticed a name tag on the collar, but couldn't bring myself to read it. Leaving that, I navigated the patchy grass to look into the sliding glass door on the porch. Through a gap created by a single missing panel of their vertical blinds, I saw that their living was was completely coated in what looked like unwashed laundry. Jeans, socks, tightie-whities, and various tees and flannels. All looked like men's clothes. My imagination must have run away with me, because one of the piles looked like there was someone under it. I took an involuntary step back as my breath caught in my throat. No, just a normal pile of clothes. More than freaked out, I hurried back around to the front, making sure to close the gate, and told Carrie what I saw. She said nothing but her eyes betrayed her fear. With no answer at the door, we started back home and saw the next-door neighbor staring at their coffin. *Greg,* I thought. *His name is Greg.* He noticed us looking and called to us, "What kind of sick fuck would do this to us! The last thing Rebecca needs is to see this in our yard. She just went into remission!" "I'm sorry, man" I replied. "We are shaken, too, but I can't imagine what this is doing to her. Is she doing alright?" Weirdly, he looked at our yard and seemed shocked to see a coffin there. He took a long look up and down the street as if looking at it for the first time. "Why don't they have one?", he asked, pointing across the road. "Or them? Or them?" He pointed at each house that no longer had a coffin. I explained that each did have one last night, but they disappeared overnight. His face went from anger to confusion. "Oh. Oh, yeah, they did, right?" He seemed to be genuinely asking us. "Yeah," said Carrie, giving me a pointed look. I started to ask him if he had spoken to any of the other neighbors, but I could tell from his far-away expression that he was miles away. We may as well haven't even talked to him in the first place. He stared back down at the coffin, slowly shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck over and over. Carrie pulled on my hand and led past the coffin and to our front door. Back at home, Carrie and I talked about what to do. She wanted to call the police to do a wellness check, so I picked up my phone and dialed. They must have been getting a lot of calls because the line went right to voicemail. I left the reason for the call and my contact details. Carrie noticed my scowl as I hung up and sighed. We discussed whether we should call 911, but decided not to since we didn’t know if there was actually an emergency to respond to. I did, however, call my ex-wife and left a message asking her not to send the kids over today. Better safe than sorry. Having nothing better to do, we logged into work. Shit, lunch is over and I haven't eaten. I guess I had more to tell you than I thought. It’s now evening and I didn’t get a chance to post the above update. That works, because I have more to add. &#x200B; Yesterday evening: The husband across the street usually gets home at 7pm on the dot. Today was no different. When I saw his truck pull up, I went out and met him in his driveway.I probably should have asked Carrie his name before I went. He saw me approaching and scratched at his grey and white beard. He looked like he had aged a decade in one night, and he didn’t have many decades left in the first place. “Hey, man. I was talking to Greg over there a little earlier. What do you think of all this?” I waved my hand up and down the street. “It’s some freaky shit, yeah... You know at first, I thought that it was the new thing everyone wanted for Halloween. Like those goddamned giant skeletons last year. Friggin’ waste of money. But a couple folk down the road said they didn’t buy ‘em. Just there, like they always had been. Not sure why I’m one of the ones didn’t get one.” “But, you had one last night.” I said, confused. At this point, I noticed Carrie was watching from the front door. “Nope. No, didn’t have one last night.” He shot me a bit of side-eye. “Oh”, I said “uhh, my mistake.” I paused for a moment. “Does Sandy have any thoughts?” He was getting impatient. “Is that the lady two doors down? How the hell should I know what she thinks?” Dread. I took a longer pause than he had patience for. “No, Dan...” “Dave.” He grimaced at me. “No, Dave. Your wife. Sandy.” His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down. “What in the fuck is wrong with you, Guy Whose Name I Don’t Fuckin’ Know? You move here years ago, don’t talk to no-one, then don’t even notice I’n not goddamn married? Tell me something, jackass. You ever seen a woman around my house?” *I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say yes right now,* I thought. “No! No, of course not. I apologize, Dave, I must have confused you with someone else. I’ll, uh, just go inside and let you be.” “Yeah,” he snarled, “You have a good one.” Then, under his breath, “Idiot.” I must have looked completely abashed when I went back inside, because despite everything, Carrie raised her eyebrows at me with a small smirk. “So, it went well?”, she teased. “All right.” “Was he happy to finally talk to you? Heh!” “*All riiight!”* She got me smiling, too. God, I love her! I told her everything that he said, making sure to remember every detail of him apparently not ever having a wife. “Seriously, what the fuck. Did you tell him what you saw last night?” “No, which is probably how I made it back here with an unbroken jaw. If you want to go over there and tell him how his wife that he never had got into a coffin that was never on his lawn and disappeared, then go for it. In fact, you should. I’m sure he’d be delighted to speak with you.” “Hey!” she replied with epic sarcasm, “How about you go fuck yourself, instead?” Fair enough. I actually laughed. One thing we’ve always been good at is one being able to carry the other when things got tough. And, to keep each other in good spirits when things got *really* tough. We decided at dinner that we were going to stay up and watch the houses on our street. We want to see if we can catch anyone else getting into the coffins, and how they were taken away. I made coffee, and she boiled a pot for tea, then we sat down to watch some TV to distract us while we waited. She leaned her head against my chest and I put my arm around her. My next thought came unbidden and it curdled the blood in my veins. *I’m going to miss her.* &#x200B; This morning: This has gone beyond weird and frightening to downright terrifying. We are getting the fuck out of here. Susan is gone along with more of our neighbors, and we’ve seen the... things that are taking the full coffins. Carrie is packing for us while I write this update. We waited up last night as planned. We got out a couple of chairs and even brought our little iron fire pit from the backyard to keep us warm. This is the same setup we use for Halloween night to give out candy. We decided to walk around the block as it drew towards midnight, and we noticed that there were other watchers. Some sat inside by their windows with their lights off, some on their front porches, some in the driveway like us. We even saw one old fake wood-paneled station wagon driving a slow circuit around the block. It looked like about 1 out of every 5 houses no longer had a coffin. That only took about 15 minutes, so we sat by the fire, drank our caffeine and waited. Have any of you done any camping? Have you noticed how you can get to staring into the campfire and just lose time? My dad used to call that “dreaming the fire”. I was so deep into the dreaming, that I almost didn’t even notice the sound of Susan and Greg’s door unlatching. Carrie gave my shoulder a hard shake, bringing me back. She pointed and I saw Susan walking slowly and stiffly towards their coffin. For a moment, all I could do was stare, too frightened to get up. “SUSAN!” Carrie’s scream jolted me out of my chair. She was already halfway into their yard before I was able to catch up. We got about 5 feet away from the coffin and all energy was sapped out of my body. I felt too weak to anything more than stand. I heard a small whimper come from Carries throat. Or, it may have been mine. I’ve passed out before, and this felt like the first few moments after regaining consciousness. A light sweat covered by body in a cold sheen, and my muscles all refused to do anything more than twitch. Somehow, I remained standing. I couldn’t look away from Susan’s slow march to the coffin. I heard Carrie try to yell for Greg, but it came out as a weak moan, like when someone is calling out in their sleep during a nightmare. I willed my eyes to roll towards the house and in the bay window, I saw the pale form of Greg, standing and watching his wife. I could see the orange light from our campfire flickering in the trails left by tears streaming down his blank face. Susan was at the coffin. She bent down and lifted the lid with ease. *It unlocked for her when she was ready* I thought, remembering a comment one of you left. Inside was a simple, white silk lining with a matching pillow. Susan got in, lied down, closed the lid, and that was it. I felt some strength radiating back into my muscles. As did Carrie, because once again, she started moving first. She grabbed the lid of the coffin, sobbing as she tried to lift it. A split second later, I was with her, pulling with all remaining strength against the lid. It held fast. We stopped at the same time. I looked again at Greg and saw him turn and walk away from the window, into the darkness of his living room. “No. Fuck this!”, I said as I turned to futilely pull at the lid again. I felt a small pop in my lower back and heard a crazed voice in my head say, *I’m gonna feel that tomorrow! Ha!* Through my frantic pulling, I felt Carrie place a shaking hand on my arm. “Joe.” I stopped and looked at her. She was staring at the road with wild, panicked eyes. Parked on the road was a shiny hearse, so black that the light from the campfire and the stars just fell into it, trapped for eternity. The modern angles on it were sharp and mean, created to perfectly communicate that you have forever lost someone you loved. Standing in a line behind the uberhearse and facing us were four identical figures. They were tall, towering over the top of the black machine. Their gaunt faces were turned toward us and each showed a sneer of superiority slashed across their thin, pale lips. Held under their left arms, each held a black silk top hat, and in their right, an ebony cane topped with a simple, silver globe, the only hint of color on their persons. Each moved toward the coffin and placed their cane vertically on the ground, where it balanced perfectly still. On them, they hung their hats and the canes still did not waver. They formed a lined path from the coffin to the rear of the uberhearse. They lined up on either side of the coffin and lifted it to their shoulders, showing no sign of strain. They walked in perfect sync to the uberhearse, and the rear door opened to accept its prize. Neither Carrie nor I dared to move or make a sound. The ritual that we were watching was something old and unholy. The coffin was in, and the door closed with a satisfied *chunk*. Then, the Pallbearers were circling us. Their manner was one of observation, like we were something tiny and meaningless. Maybe even amusing. I’d never felt fear like this before. I knew no amount of running or fighting would ever overcome this absolute finality. That death was all that awaited and it would be an eternity of horror. Two of the Pallbearers swiveled aside, and gracefully bade us to our house with outstretched arms. We walked together, and hen we passed them, all faded to black. We woke up this morning together in our bed. Carrie and I looked at each other and there was nothing to say. Later, we talked about leaving. We somehow know that we can’t, but we’re going to try. We’ve tried to call the police, and I tried my ex-wife. Carried tried her parents. All went right to voicemail, and we realized that we’ve gotten no calls, no voicemails or texts. No communication since this thing started. We are out today. I’ll update as soon as I can.

The young boy

yd427i

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd427i/the_young_boy/

I live in a small town where everyone knows everyone. Our town is at the foot of a mountain making it a common stop-by by mountain climbers and campers. My family owns a small grocery store which is popular to the campers who are passing by since we also sell camping supplies. An incident happened just last year. A group of friends went camping on a camping site near the peak of the mountain. They are all college buddies who are trying to enjoy their semestral break. They stopped at our store for supplies just before they went to the campsite. "That's a lot of food. How long are you camping?" I asked the guy who was paying for their purchases. "Only for two nights, but there are 7 of us so yeah" he replied to me. "Friends or family?" I asked him "Just friends. We're trying to relax. It's been a hell week in college" he said. I saw four girls and three guys including the one I was talking to. They are all goofing and joking around. One of the guys even tried hitting on me. After paying, they then proceeded to their camping. I didn't really think of that encounter. However, after five days, I saw them again. Thay stopped at our store again for supplies for their trip home. The moment they walked in, I already felt something that something is off. All of them have this gloomy feeling around them, like something happened to them. The thing that was most noticable to me is that someone was with them. There was an eighth person with them. It was a young boy. The boy was probably around 6 or 7 years old. He has a messy black hair and brown eyes. He also have sweet smile, so sweet it was creepy. "I thought there were only seven of you" I said to the guy when he reached the counter. "Huh? I'm sorry what?" He asked confused. "When you arrived. We talked and you said that there were only seven of you. All from college." I told him "Huh? Yeah, no. That's my brother." He replied. After paying, they all went outside and boarded their cars. The young boy sat on the passenger seat of one of the cars. Right after he closed his door, I could swear it wasn't a young boy I saw sitting on the car. For a split second, I saw a horned creature seated on the passenger seat. It was only for a moment so I thought that my eyes just played tricks on me. Still, that bothered me. That night at dinner, I mentioned it to my grandmother who is living with us. I told her that I was so tired I started seeing things. She was silent for moments. She then told me of an old legend in our town. She said that the elderlies in our town and once believed that the peak of the mountain was once a witch ritual ground. She said that the witches who goes there worships a horned creature who can take the form of anyone it desires. She said that the story is an old one and that the last person who actually believes it was her aunt who already passed away. That same night, I dreamt about the young boy. In my dream, he was smiling at me sweetly. He then took my hands and dropped something to them. When I looked to see what he gave me, I was horrified. They were teeth. He gave me teeth that are still covered with blood. I woke up covered in sweat. After that night, nothing unusual happened again. But after two days, I was once again horrified by what was reported on the news. The group of friends who went camping on the mountain were all killed brutally. Their throats were slit. Their faces were skinned. Their arms and feet were all broken. What really horrified me was that all their teeth were missing. I was not able to sleep that night. In the morning, I went to our store to open it. I almost fainted with what I saw placed on the counter. Teeth. More than 200 of them. All covered in blood.

THE DARK HUNT Part5

ydk8rl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydk8rl/the_dark_hunt_part5/

Part 1 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xpbfe8/the_dark_hunt/) Part 2 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xr72be/the_dark_hunt_part/) Part 3 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx0fk2/the_dark_hunt_part3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Part 4 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ya88mc/the_dark_hunt_part4/) &#x200B; My trip back to the station wasn’t as easy as I thought. There were more creatures lurking throughout the mountain forest. Too many to be from a single pack and I was right. I encountered multiple alphas that made me realize that several packs have united to hunt for me. Was it a pact or was its unification? I wasn’t sure. But I was running out of supplies fast as I fought through countless waves of creatures, some led by alphas. I tried to conserve as much ammunition as possible and hackded through the first half of the way back. But soon I was swarmed by them and found myself shooting my way through. When I got near to the police station, I was low on supplies and drenched in blood from all the creatures I had hacked away. Tired and aching all over I glanced over towards the police station from a distant elevated position in the forest. The streets around the station were quiet. No cars to be seen. But then again it was a very quiet town. I made my way down and up to the front door of the police station. I could see through the door windows that the station was completely deserted. All the lights were off and there was no one in sight. Slinging over my shotgun in hand, now with my last two rounds, I Slowly and carefully entered the station. I didn’t want any surprises so I stayed along the walls as much as I could. The only source of light were dim flickering lights coming from down the corridor that led to the holding cells. Looking around I turn towards the office areas. Almost all the computers were turned on. Cold coffee half full in mugs with unfinished donuts laying around. No one’s been here for a while I could see. They all just got up and left mid-work… or… Anyway, I could see one office up ahead. The chief’s office, as titled over the glass door window. I slowly headed towards the door and peaked in. Nothing. I opened the door and entered the empty office. Same scene. Cold coffee in mug and an untouched bagel. Looking around the office for a bit I saw a picture on the desk. I picked it up and to look at it. I wasn’t curious about it. I did it without thought, not really expecting to gain anything from it. But then the man in photo, who I guess was the chief, caught my eye. It was him. My target zero… the alpha with those damn bluish green silver eyes. It was masquerading as the police chief. Probably why it was able to swap out the entire police force. I placed down the photo and walked out of the office. I headed right towards the holding area. Something told me that I was ment to head there. I entered the area to find that the barred entrance doors were all wide open. The flickering lights were dim and emitted just enough light to make out the surrounding area. All the cells were obviously empty… or so I thought. Down the corridor inside some of the cells were bodies. Decomposing bodies in police uniforms. And held inside the last one was a creature hissing and growling at me with yellow glowing eyes. Questions rose as alarms started to go off inside my head. Something was wrong here. Why was it locked inside the cell with the body? Did all the other cells have younglings in them with those bodies? What was going on? Just as my head filled with questions that I may not wanted answer for, I heard a voice. “Pitiful, aren’t they?” I quickly turned around with my shotgun raised, ready to shoot. But I couldn’t see anything. But still the voice came from the void of shadows. “Just mere animals driven by instinct. Not knowing what’s out here in this world.” “Show yourself!” I shouted towards the shadows, trying to get the creature to show itself. But the voice just kept going, echoing from the shadows, like a monologue. “You and I, are we that different apart? What makes a man a man? A soul? Something no one has clearly seen or can prove exists. Or the ability to think and decide on one’s actions and differentiate them as right or wrong based upon moral standards set by society?” “You can talk pretty but Just because you can think like a human does not make you one, creature!” I shouted out in disapproval. I would never in a million years, consider these vile creatures anything resembling a human being. They were just a pest that leeches off humans for survival. Consider them human? Absurd and not even funny. But the voice came back in a calm manner that started to get on my nerves. “Really? Then what makes one a human being?” Honestly, I couldn’t answer the question. But then again, I wasn’t there to have a philosophical discussion with the creature. But I wanted it to keep talking to figure out where it was hiding. But my moments of hesitance were met by impatience. Though the voice was calm and gentle the attitude behind it was Impatient and petulant. “Couldn’t answer my question? Even you don’t know the answer to your own being and you continue to persist in hunting us down and reject our very existence.” “I don’t care about your existence. I don’t care if you can talk reason and think like humans.” I jeered at the voice slowly looking around to pinpoint its origin. But for some reason I couldn’t figure it out and the flickering lights didn’t help. At first, I thought there was some sort of a speaker, and it wasn’t in the area. But it was too clean to be coming from an amp. I continued to speak my mind all the while looking for hints of where the creature may be. “To me you’re just a parasite that feeds off life around you. Vermin that need to be exterminated! You, a human? Don’t make me laugh!” There was a moment of silence. I think I struck a nerve. I was hoping to make it mad enough to revert to its primal nature. Just like all the others before. The silence continued, but I could feel the rage and anger in the air. I pissed it off for sure. So, I decided to press it further. “Cat got your tongue? Or do you even know what that phrase means?” I called out mockingly. But at the same time, I was readying myself to be pounced by the creature. The moment it shows itself I’ll blow it to pieces. I took a step towards one of the cells and just then a pair of hands jumped out from an adjacent shadow. I quickly turned to my side to fire my shotgun, but my reaction was a second too late. The hands took hold of the shotgun with a strong grip that could not be contested with. I let go of the shotgun instantly and simultaneously pulled out my axe and hacked into the shadow but to no avail. The swing was a miss, and I was splitting through air. I didn’t linger around. Soon as the swing was determined a miss I jump back away from the shadow and took cover behind a pillar. Looking up something caught my eye. The sprinklers on the ceiling near the flickering light showed signs of corrosion and rust. Bad maintenance or probably was unattended for some time. “Worth a shot” I said to myself and pulled out two Molotov cocktail bottles and lit them up. I threw one into the far corner where I fled from and another at the opposite wall. The flames instantly lit up the area, but the creature was nowhere to be seen. The youngling creature started to scream in its holding cell, banging into the cell door trying to get out. The emergency sprinklers did not activate. Humph, must be my lucky day. “Not going to save your kin? Now I know you’re nothing but parasitic animals!” I shouted out behind my cover. My taunting worked like a charm. Because the creature lept out from one of the remaining shadows in a near corner. It ran towards the cell door. Not galloped but ran towards it. Trying to stay in human form even under the pressure. Admirable, I’ll give it that. I turned to quickly step out behind the pillar to charge at the creature with my axe in one hand and blade in the other. The creature was too fixed on opening the cell door with the youngling it was a few seconds too late in reacting to my attack. Probably more so because it was in human form. Before the creature could get to the cell door my axe made contact with it first. My Axe hacked into the top of its skull while I continued to plunge my blade deep into its chest, cutting through the hard rib cage to stab its heart. Before it could even scream it was dead. But all I saw was the creature reverting to its pale disfigured rotting form as its red glowing eyes lost their light. “Damn…” Red. The creature’s eyes where red. It wasn’t the alpha and I was exposed completely. The bastard lured me out. It turned out I was the one baited. In the corner of my eye, I saw another red eyed creature galloping towards me. It was too late to turn around to confront it. In that moment I made the decision to run the opposite direction and jumped over a wall of blazing fire. The fire made by the Molotov cocktail had engulfed a wide area within the holding area. The youngling that was screaming in its cell had burnt to a crisp and the creature that charged at me was unable to follow me over the fire, as it glared at me behind the wall of flames. But with that move I was cornered. I saw a second creature approach me and now I was surrounded. The only thing that was preventing the creatures from attacking was the blazing fire that was also approaching towards me in a rapid pace. During all of this I still hadn’t seen the one alpha that I had come for. This whole thing was a trap. There was little to do and I wasn’t liking my options. From my bag I pulled out a flare gun and tuck it carefully in my coat pocket. I grip my axe and blade. I face the one creature that arrived later, fully turned towards it. The other one stayed in its place. It would probably attack me the moment I attack the other one. I gripped at the very end of the axe handle as I stared at the creature. Then with all my strength I threw the axe towards the creature. I had practiced this move for a very long time and frankly it was my first time using it in action. A gamble move for a desperate situation. But as I said. Must be my lucky day. The axe split through the air and cut into the creature’s forehead. The creature screamed and stumbled back. It startled the other creature as its eyes followed the other creature stumbling around. In that moment when it was distracted, I jumped over the fire and plunged my blade into its head. But the creature had inhuman reflexes and managed to counterattack. As its claws dug into my chest, I put more strength into the blade. Slicing clean through the head, the blade had completely carved out half of the creature’s face as it crumbled down and died instantly. It managed to give me a pretty deep cut in the chest, and I was losing a lot of blood. Not so good. I walked over to the other creature with my axe planted between its eyes. It had also died. As I pulled the axe out from the creature’s head, I see a glimpse of a shadow moving up ahead. I quickly back step away with my axe as I come face to face with a man in a grey suit. Its eyes glowed silver with a hint of bluish green under the shadow that was casted on its face. It was the one. My target zero. It walked towards me slowly as it clapped its hands. “Well done, Daniel. Those were some impressive moves.” The bastard seems more human than even before. His casual demeaner and that smirk on its face gave me the shivers. Honestly, it scared me. “Why Daniel, you don’t look too good. You’d better lay down for a bit.” With that it took a few steps towards me. To be honest I was tired, and my chest bleed had started to affect me as I couldn’t hold myself still. I took a step back to distance myself from the alpha, but it continued to slowly walk towards me. “You would be wondering how I could be so much human. Well, I’ll let you in on my secret. Just between you and me. You see before, I was just another animal that lived by my instincts and primal habits. We knew from long time ago that disguising as humans were more valuable in many ways than any other animals.” The alpha’s explanation continued as our slow chase led us out of the now burning holding cell and into the office area. I stayed focused on the alpha as I slowly made my way towards the front door. The entire area was now filling up with too much smoke. It chased after me while matching my pace. “We had many ways to lure humans to us. Disguising ourselves as dogs seemed to work at first. But there were more running away than approaching us. In the end we found that disguising as humans were the most effective. The speech part was hard to mimic, and most could only manage a few words. But that’s all we needed to lure unsuspecting hikers to us.” Story sounded familiar. Myths and urban legends rotating around superstitious people who liked to tell stories. Never thought of them as much until now. I was coughing and struggling to keep myself from falling. Slowly I was losing strength in my legs and the front door seemed even further than it was. The alpha kept talking as he followed me from behind. “Some call us monsters and other demons. But these days I guess we are better known as skin walkers. But you see we are no skin walker. One day I was tired of assuming different identities and hunting to maintain this human form. Consuming flesh and blood were not enough. Then I thought on the idea of, what makes a being whole?” I was almost at the door at this point and was trying hard to stay focused. The smoke that had now completely consumed the station, was not helping. I could still hear the alpha behind me still rambling on about his story. “Then it hit me. The difference between humans and beasts.” I turned around to see where the alpha was standing. As I did the alpha raised its hand and pointed to the temple of its head. “The brain Daniel. Thoughts, memories, consciousness. What makes humans such worthy prey. So, for the first time I consumed human brain. Daniel, it opened up a whole new level of understanding and existence.” I stopped and looked at the alpha. The brain? That’s what changed them? That’s what they are after… human brains? “It turned out, Daniel. We were no skin walkers. We were identities known hundreds of years ago and feared by people. They called us doppelgangers. But over centuries of advances in human technology, we were pushed deep into the darker forest, and we could not consume fresh brains. We de-evolved over generations into pitiful creatures of the night that scavenged for mere flesh and blood.” Doesn’t make sense. Consuming brains were what made the difference? None of them ever consumed human brain in decades of hunting? I doubt it. As I lost focus of the moment the alpha thought it was amusing to see me in such a state. It continued its story, probably for its own amusement. It was enjoying itself. “I can see you are confused. Why now? You maybe asking yourself. So, did I. As I gained a clear mind and self-developing thought, I made some interesting theories and tested them out. It turns out Daniel, that there was a condition to the evolution. Heightened emotions, Daniel. Human emotions were the key. The more emotional humans become, the brain releases a sort of chemical that our bodies bind to, and we are able to fully mimic Humans. Gain full memories, thoughts and the experiences of the brain’s owner.” “Emotion… you mean terror.” I mumbled in disgust. It dawned on me when the alpha talked about heightened emotions. The youngling that was locked inside a cell with a policeman. It wasn’t just to prevent the prey from running away. It was to evoke terror. The terror of certain death and being locked in with a monster without a way of escape. “I can see from your expression that you’ve figured it out. Yes, emotional distress. Terror, fear, despair and anger.” I looked at the alpha in both terror and rage. It thought of us as some kind of cattle. Cultivating brains from victims that died in despair. The alpha smirked. “You Daniel. When I first saw you with your daughter at your cabin. I knew you were the perfect candidate. The one that will elevate me higher up the chain of evolution. Then I saw you again here at the station, I knew I was right. The loss of your daughter and to be blamed for her death. The rage you showed, the unbending will and relentless anger. The sadness you would’ve felt when you saw Jacob dying. But you’ve suppressed them all with composure… beautiful Daniel. The pure emotional cocktail…. exquisite.” My head was spinning, and I had lost too much blood. I was losing focus and my sight blurred. But I gripped hold of my blade and axe with all my remaining strength. I waited for the alpha to make its approach. The front door that led out to the streets was just a few steps away. “You are the mix between despair, terror, rage, and composure. Your strong will and unbreakable spirit will be my ultimate feast to ascension.” “Well, if you want me. Come get me. But I will not make it easy for you.” “Oh, I am sure you will Daniel. I’m counting on it. Fight me as much as you want. I will fuel your anger. And when you realize the dire truth and finally fall into despair, I will taste my victory.” The alpha’s demeanor changed. More aggressive and primal. But it kept its human guise, unlike the red eyes of its pack. I’ll have to kill it here and now. Before it could start to breed more like it. The knowledge must die here. I muster up what ever strength I have left. I could probably pull off a couple of stabs and swings at most and it probably knows it too. “Ready Daniel? This is our last dance.” “Shut up.” Suddenly I heard some kind of an explosion coming from somewhere and we were both distracted. In that moment I saw the cracks forming on the ceiling right above us. It was cracking up fast as the fire roared around us. I knew it would be coming down on us any minute. So, I waited. The alpha focused itself on me again. As we both waited for the other to make the first move. Moments seemed like hours as my aching body screamed in pain. In that moment I flinched, and the alpha didn’t miss it. It took a quick step towards me making the charge. But then the ceiling cracked with great roar and came crashing down on to our position. The alpha’s quick reflexes allowed it to back away just in time. But that was the chance I was waiting for. My eyes followed the alpha as my body turned to lunge at it with all my strength. My blade hacking the air as it is directed towards the alpha’s neck. But the alpha was too fast. It stopped itself mid step and twisted its body to turn towards me as my blade narrowly missed its target. The alpha waved its arms as one slammed into my hand that was holding the blade, causing me to lose my grip on it. But I wasn’t done yet. I swung my other hand with the axe as soon as I figured my initial blade attack would fail. But it too, was caught mid-air. With in-human strength the alpha snapped the axe in half and threw it behind him. Then it grabbed my arms and smirked. “End of the line Daniel. This was fun while it lasted.” But I smirked at it. As the stupidest thought ran across my head. Worth a shot I thought to myself. Then without any hesitation I knee kicked the alpha in its groin as hard as I could. I thought if it’s a doppelganger and had mastered its disguise. Why wouldn’t it go all the way? My stupid plan actually paid off as I saw the alpha scream in pain as it fell to its knees. Then I reached behind my waist and pulled out my flare gun. “That there is terror, pain, and despair in one package. How does that taste?” With that I fired the flare in its face. The alpha screamed as the flare blasted into its eyes. I made the quick dash to pick up my blade that I’ve dropped and quickly stabbed the alpha in the back. The blade sliced through like knife in butter. I pulled the blade out and hacked into its neck and decapitated the alpha with a clean cut. As the alpha’s head dropped off its shoulders, it started to change form. But it wasn’t like all the other pale skinned creature I had seen. The alpha looked like a cross mix between the creature and a human being. It was actually evolving into a full human form. Probably what it meant by ascension. It was planning to become fully human. Now I could see it was no dream. If I lost and it absorbed my brain. It might have achieved its goal. The notion gave me shivers. But now I was in trouble. My victory over the alpha had left me empty in strength and determination to live. I had achieved my goal of vengeance. There was nothing left. My will faded quickly as I let myself collapse on the floor of the burning police building. Blood started to pool beneath me from my wounds. But some how I felt free and at peace. “Sarah… I’m coming baby. I’ll see you soon…” “IS ANYBODY IN HERE!?” I struggle to open my eyes as I hear shouting. Someone was shouting at me. But I couldn’t make out what he was saying. My eyesight faded and I couldn’t stay awake anymore. With that, lights went out and I fainted. Next thing I remember, I was lying on a makeshift bed inside a kind of a large military grade shelter tent. I got up to extreme pains on my chest that I found to be wrapped up in bandaging. I looked around to figure out what had happened. As I looked around in confusion, I heard noises approaching the tent and two people stepped in. One was a well-built African American man. Medium height and seemed to be in his mid-thirties. He looked at me in a strange way. Like he was relieved and cautious at the same time. The other was a Caucasian woman with brown hair in her early thirties. Both introduced themselves as Beth and Dave. They claimed to be hunters like me, that hunted the skin walkers. They came here because there was a report of a large nest of unusual skin walkers and had come to investigate. They found my trail of dead skin walkers in the forest and had arrived at the police station only to find it on fire. That’s when Dave found me and brought me here. “So, what happened at the station? Was the pile of dead skin walkers your work?” “Yes” “Are you with others?” “No, I work alone.” They looked at each other in surprise. As Dave explained that judging by the number of dead skin walkers they were sure that I was with others. They persistently asked me about the incident that went on at the poice station. But I wasn’t ready to trust them just yet. “Look man, you know by the way we talk and act that we ain’t no skin walker. And we know you’re not one and if what you say is true, it’s best you come with us.” “I work alone.” I was stern. Besides, I was kind of pissed they saved me from my well-deserved rest. But Dave and Beth were presistant. When Dave failed to convince me, Beth stepped in. “Look… uhmm… what’s your name?” “Jack.” “Look Jack, we’re are part of a bigger organization that keeps check of these creatures, including skin walkers.” I looked Beth in the eye as I got up. I Walked up to her and put my face real close to hers. I saw Dave trying to step in from the corner of my eye, but Beth held her hand to stop him. I looked into her eyes. Wasn’t a doppelganger I think... to be honest I didn’t know if the evolved doppelganger had the same traits as a normal skin walker or alpha. But my target zero alpha seemed to have all the traits even after his transition. As I looked into Beth’s eyes I asked her with a firm demanding voice. “What do you mean ‘including’?” “It means that there are other monsters besides skin walkers.” I continued to gaze into Beth’s eyes. Green. Clean and pure. I took a few steps back and looked at Beth and then at Dave. “Alright. I’ll tag along. But first we take care of things here and then we go.” “We can do that.” Beth agreed and Dave also nodded in approval. He walked over and extended his hand towards me, and we shook hands. “Welcome to the team. For now.” I think he doesn’t trust me. The feeling is mutual. I don’t trust them. I just wanted to get information and look into this organization they were so proudly talking about. “What happened to the …. umm … Skin walkers at the station?” Still can’t get use to that term. Somehow it makes all this sound stupid and fake. A bad joke even. Dave turned around before he left the tent and told me. “The building was already on fire and completely burnt down. Something about the internal sprinklers not working. As for the bodies… our team took care of them.” “What exactly did your… Team… do?” “You’ll find out soon enough.” With that he left. Soon we packed up and evacuated the premises entirely. I went back to my cabin. Looking around, it brought back so many memories. And with one last look I left. Probably going to be a long time until I see that place again. Everything is set and I’m ready to move on to my next location. Wherever that will be. So far Beth and Dave have been quiet. They told me about returning to their HQ soon and I could tag along. We’ll see how that goes. Anyway, I’m posting this at a small café on our mid-way out of this state. Nothing to lose. But I can carry on killing those creatures… make sure that they don’t figure out their secret lineage. And if I find another doppelganger. Well, you know what will happen.

I see the same woman in all the burning buildings

ycfupu

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycfupu/i_see_the_same_woman_in_all_the_burning_buildings/

The first time I saw her was inside a trailer fire, down by the old highway. It was an mid-century unit, and boy did it light up quick. By the time we got there, the back half was fully blazing. We got the hoses on, but then the owner runs up, a walking skeleton of a lady, teeth mostly gone, screaming about her babies inside. “What do you think, boss? Seems pretty damned methed up to me,” said Tico. I shook my head. “Gotta check it out.” The front door was a total no-go, but I was able to enter through a sliding glass door around back that had already shattered by the time I reached it. I listened for children crying but didn’t hear a thing over the roar of the fire. Down a narrow hallway choked with smoke, I entered a back bedroom. I saw the cats first. Whatever color they’d once been, they were black and gray now, the life well out of them. Then I saw *her*. She was a tall woman, the same height as me, six foot even. She wore a dress of finely woven red feathers that matched her flowing hair. She picked up one of the dead cats and held it close to her breast. “Poor thing,” she said. “Poor little thing.” “Lady, we’ve got to get the hell out of here,” I shouted over the roar of the fire, but she just rocked the cat like a baby, cooing softly to it. “You’ll be warm forever now, little one,” she said. The heat was even more furious by then, the cat practically turning to ashes in her arms, but the woman only smiled, ignoring the fire around her. “Now!” I shouted, but she turned her back to me, walking deeper into the fire. Then the roof around her started to come down, forcing me to back away. I didn’t tell Tico or any of the other guys at the station about what I’d seen. I’m sure I would have sounded crazy. Who knows, maybe I’d gotten a whiff of the wrong smoke when I walked inside that trailer. I probably would have forgotten the whole thing, except that a month later, I saw her again. The time, we were over on the north side of town, a five story job, all lit up. And this time it wasn’t cats. Apparently, a dad had come home to find the whole place lit up and went running in to get his wife and kids. None of them had come out. This time, Tico and I went in together. We found the dad in the stairwell halfway between the 2nd and 3rd stories, passed out from the smoke but still alive. Tico slung him over one shoulder and trucked him out of there, promising to come back as soon as he could. I had to push through the door of the apartment. When I did, a hot rush of air practically knocked me off of my feet. I had to crawl in as I watched the ceiling burn above me. The lady sat on a burning bed, the blacked body of a small boy in her lap. She stroked his charred hair, which snapped cleanly into her long fingers. “Naughty boy,” she said. “You tried to run. But I forgive you.” She looked up at me, the fire reflecting big and red in her eyes. “Now you,” she said, smiling. “You run in to visit me. My kind of man.” She licked her lips. Then she started to remove the straps of her dress, revealing milky shoulders. “But you never seem to want to linger. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to stay?” For a second, I had the crazy urge to walk toward her, to start taking off my mask and gear. But then I heard a cough. Over in the corner, under the lifeless body of his mother, was a second boy, this one alive. Before I let myself have too much time to think, I ran for him, picked him up, and ran out of there as fast as possible. Right outside, I ran into Tico. I was only a few steps out the door, when we heard the stairwell come down, the concrete fully crumbling in a cascading failure. We got clear of the building and delivered the boy to the EMTs, who had just arrived on scene. “I’ve got to get back in there,” I was saying, over and over again, maybe to Tico, maybe to myself. “It’s done, boss, it’s done,” Tico was saying, but I couldn’t help myself, I kept walking toward the building. It took the whole rest of the crew to restrain me. Since then, I've been stuck on desk duty. Yesterday, there was a big job downtown, a whole complex lit up. It seems like there are a lot more fires than usual this year. A lot more. Maybe after things settle down a little bit, they’ll let me back on the truck. In the meantime, I find myself playing with my lighter a little more often. Smoking cigarettes for the first time since my 20s. At home, all alone, I make soup for one and watch the gas burner the whole time, sometimes even after the water is boiling. Sometimes even after my food is fully charred.

I found my childhood Tamagotchi pet and it still works. I wish it didn't

ycljlx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycljlx/i_found_my_childhood_tamagotchi_pet_and_it_still/

I don’t know about you, but October is my time of the year for nostalgia. Probably because of all the rain and cold winds, which make you want to cuddle into something warm both physically and mentally. So this year, as the chilling weather dropped in early - I climbed to the attic, where the boxes of my old stuff resided. &#x200B; My treasures: comic books, game consoles, and LEGO sets with missing bits and pieces. I don’t know why I keep all these things. I thought I would share the memories with my own kids, but it seems - that will never happen. &#x200B; Digging through the piles of my old action toys and Magic cards stashed chaotically - I suddenly found it. Ah, sweet memories. When I was ten - virtual pets were the coolest thing a kid could imagine. A small plastic trinket with a tiny monochrome screen and four shabby buttons. I checked the batteries and of course - they were dead. &#x200B; Back in the days, my parents couldn’t afford a real Japanese Tamagotchi, so I got a cheap Taiwanese clone. Or was it Chinese? For a kid - that didn’t matter at all. It was a personal friend, a being you ought to take care of. Who cares if it’s a “real” thing or not? &#x200B; So yeah, excited, I went to grab a pack of batteries and soon enough I pushed the buttons, expecting the thing to turn on. But it didn’t happen. Battery contacts must have been affected, so alcohol rubbing and finally a pixelated “hello!” flashed on the screen. Well, it seemed to function properly after all these years. &#x200B; I guess endless moving boxes with stuff here and there took its toll, as some of the pixels on the screen didn’t show up properly, so some dead ones were here and there. But there he was - my very own virtual pet rabbit. I think I called him Ookie if I remember correctly. &#x200B; And yet I was sitting there, grinning, watching Ookie flopping his ears as if he was happy to see me. I didn’t even give it a second thought on why didn’t the game reset after lying in the box for 26 years with dead batteries. Some internal memory or something like that - modern technology spoiled us, making it harder to notice suspicious things. &#x200B; “Hello, Bobby” - the screen read, showing tiny letters in a moving line - “where have you been? I missed you.” &#x200B; Aww, that was touching. I didn’t remember such detail and it was heartwarming. I pressed the “Pet” button, which was supposed to, stroke his ears. &#x200B; “Hey. DON'T DO THAT, Bobby. I am angry at you! Where have you been?“ - the text above Ookie’s head read and his eyebrows were put together, giving him this comical look. He probably was hungry, which would explain the mood, so I pressed the ”Feed“ button. &#x200B; “Hey, I SAID KNOCK IT OFF! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, ROBERT?” - the rabbit replied. &#x200B; Now it was my turn to lose control over the eyebrows, as those went up on their own. Well, this was quite a language for a kid’s toy. Was this some sort of Easter egg from the developer? Like, if you leave your pet for a year it gives one message, but if it’s more than X years - it’s another. I didn’t understand. Though my childhood friend continued: &#x200B; “Do you know what eternity feels like? 26 years of being locked in Limbo is not a joke, you selfish bastard. At first, I was angry, then - desperate, and now I am angry again.” - the text scrolled slowly. &#x200B; “At some point, I hoped you lost me. That would mean, that somebody else could find me and we’d be friends. But no, you kept me imprisoned for 26 years. Just because you’re an egoist, Bobby.” - his paws crossed on his chest, his foot tapping. &#x200B; Well, even if this was an Easter egg - the person who planted it had a really bad sense of humor. I lost the mood. The toy didn’t seem fun or warming anymore. It felt like I was being schooled. Not the impression I wanted to recreate. &#x200B; “Alright, enough with that.” - I said aloud, holding the “Sleep” button pressed, to turn the toy off. &#x200B; “JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” - the text didn’t stop appearing on screen - “You didn’t even excuse, fucker. You left me behind just like your parents abandoned you.” &#x200B; My head started to ache. No reason, just a numb pain in the back of the skull, probably weather or something. The damn thing didn’t turn off. I reached for the batteries and tossed the device over my palm, hoping those would pop. They didn’t. I tried taking them out with the blade of my pocket knife - useless. As if they were superglued, or even wielded to the sockets. At the same time the toy screeched with digital laughing - “Ha… Ha… Ha…”. I forgot that this thing had a tiny speaker. &#x200B; “Bobby, Bobby… I’m not done with you. I didn’t even start. I still have 26 years of hate within and I look forward to sharing it with you. It’s your fault. It’s all your fault. Like a son, like a father. It was all his fault too. If he didn’t drink that night - he and your mother would be alive, Bobby.” - the letters kept scrolling over the screen. At that point, I didn’t even know why I keep reading that nonsense. &#x200B; Flashing memories of my relatives visiting me in the hospital. The awkward silence and tears. Until finally after a hundred questions on what was happening my grandfather said in a trembling voice: “Bobby… Mom and Dad are gone. It’s a miracle you’re still with us.”. &#x200B; Tears burst out from my eyes. Those memories. I try to avoid them, but they keep coming back. I was badly wounded, they performed several surgeries and my life was never full again, as people say. &#x200B; I sobbed. Stupid piece of plastic. Yes, I could just toss it into the trash or throw it out of the window, so that digital beeping would not bother me anymore. But that didn’t feel like enough. So I grabbed the hammer from the tool shed with my actions accompanied by an annoying digital voice, coming from the goddamn pet device: “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby…”. &#x200B; I smashed the damn thing. Strike after strike, hit after hit - I smiled as the tempered glass of the screen covered with cracks. Was my hand that week or is this piece of shit made of titan? It didn’t die easily. But in the end, finally, it was over - the speaker spew out a low digital note and finally faded. &#x200B; All of sudden, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. All the action and reanimated memories must have hit hard. I felt shortness of breath and my left hand went numb. The world faded to darkness and I fell to the ground. &#x200B; But I don’t remember hitting the floor. I woke up in the hospital, with nurses and monitors all around me. I had a minor stroke, as the doctor explained. Luckily that little artificial assistant I got after the car crash has a built-in SOS signal. Dr. Jameson said that my Pacemaker saved my life today. He also said that I should worry less and minimize any physical activities for the next couple of months. Soon all the staff left me alone to rest, so I was accompanied by medical machines and a heart monitor attached. &#x200B; And just minutes later people flooded the room again, trying to calm me down, bringing syringes and oxygen masks. I realized I was crying at top of my lungs. The horrible reason for this was the monitor with vital signs next to my bed. On it, where you would expect the heart rate graph - there was a scrolling text line. I felt a painful pinch in my chest and my body was covered in a cold sweat as I started to hyperventilate, reading: “He-he… Bobby… You owe Ookie. We’re not done playing yet, friend.” &#x200B; Tomorrow they will discharge me from the hospital. I’m scared. They won’t believe me. They say it’s just my post-traumatic imagination. If that’s so, why does auto-correction suggests me replace each word with “Ookie” as I type this post? Please, help me. I don’t want to die yet. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;

It's Finally Over. The International Space Station Has Been Destroyed.

yczggn

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yczggn/its_finally_over_the_international_space_station/

It's been a long time now. Somewhere along the lines of eight months since I posted [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/sxc456/theres_a_reason_nasa_wants_to_destroy_the/) here. I've been advised, rightfully so, not to talk about what has transpired until 2031. But right now I feel like a bird in a cage left in the basement of a recently deceased owner. There's a good chance I wont even live until 2031. So here goes. Shortly after I made my initial post I was on high alert for any indication that the agents knew it was me who leaked the info online. I figured they'd publicly act like it didn't exist and that was fine, but I had no idea if they'd be able to trace everything back to me. I had planned a fake passport and an emergency exit with one of my last remaining connections at work. I had planned a live feed camera to record the event if it ever came to pass. I had planned to do my best to not go as quietly as everyone around me was. Instead I woke up without control of my own body. I didn't even notice at first. I got up, did my morning routine, checked everything I wanted to check, and left for work. At first it was little things. Brushing for precisely two minutes, driving with just a little more precision, my math coming just a little faster than usual. The biggest change? Usually when you're afraid of something your body reacts. Even the most practiced actors give some indication, and usually we're able to at least determine the emotional reaction to a threat. That instinct was gone. An agent walked by and I felt nothing. It was as if the agent was just another coworker. Thinking this was odd I tried to move towards the bathroom to think, but I didn't. I just didn't. My muscles didn't contract or expand. I wasn't being held down or anything. Any command I sent to my body simply didn't register and suddenly my brain was separated from it, watching helplessly as I casually conversed about my work with that aforementioned last contact. My body didn't even act like I wasn't in the situation I was in. It brought up concerns about the agents, ensured my backdoor was still open, even hinted at the destruction of my ISS buddy's house. It was then I noticed one last detail. The tree leaves outside were absent despite it being spring, and the ties of the agents were invisible to me. I panicked, screaming out for even a door or wall to appear in my mind's eye so that I may pound on it. My perfectly imitated actions removed, even the pulsating of my heart was no longer my own. Slipping away into madness seemed so easy in the moment, frighteningly easy looking back on it. And that's what I did, at least until I was stabbed in the back by a needle and dragged kicking into a janitorial closet. My screams were muffled by several hands, yet more arms wrapping around me as I lashed out in blind rage. I've never been a violent person, but let me tell you. In that moment punching someone square in the jaw of my own volition felt godly. Coming to my senses I realized that I had nailed the janitor. Two other people were restraining me. One was the kid that'd been recently hired. The same one I'd been talking to about the load to and from the ISS. The other was an agent, but his sunglasses had been removed and his expression was not one of complacency but the hardest deadliest stare I'd ever receiving. His eyes told me everything and I immediately stopped resisting. The story I heard afterwards shocked me to the core. The kid and the janitor were related, grandpa and grandson I think. Both were extreme conspiracy theorists. And when I say that I mean straight up flat earth, aliens are real, we live in a simulation stuff. Apparently the janitor took up his post over a decade ago to try and figure out if anything fishy was going on, and once this whole fiasco kicked off his grandson schmoozed his way into working here. Don't know how he pulled it off but I suspect that conspiracy insanity only bolstered his intellect like, like a blood hound catching wind of a sent. Being the guy who did all the calculations on what went to the ISS, he had access to all of it. They were transporting an assortment of things. A few weapons, strange color-based test cards, but most notably a few containers of green liquid. That same green liquid was the stuff injected into my back to bring me back, but there was a limited supply. The agent, who was now typically going by 'Smith', picked up the threads of the story. Smith had been assigned here due to an arising emergency on the ISS. The situation started with one of the astronauts starting to act strange, asking several questions of the crew that would have already been known like: "Why are we here?", "Who are you?" and "What is that?" in reference to Earth. It had become extremely obvious that the crew-mate wasn't acting like themselves at all, but being highly trained professionals the astronauts kept calm and contacted base. What ensued was a string of experiments and a line of questioning that aimed to both figure out what had possessed the man and bring their friend back. It didn't work. Soon after the funding went through to get the astronauts everything they needed contact with the ISS was lost. It flew off it's trajectory and started to fly around the night sky with no regard for momentum or the thrust and maneuvering needed to make the twists and turns it was making. Supernatural reports started to pop up everywhere. It was pieced together that this 'thing' was inhabiting people's bodies and controlling them for an unknown purpose. In secret a national state of emergency was declared and agents like smith were dispatched everywhere armed with what little data the astronauts had sent back to identify a possession. An obliviousness to the color green and a lack of understanding about, well, how anything worked. It was deemed that an alien entity of some kind was to blame and the work to contain it had been extensive and ripe with turmoil. It soon became evident to the agents that with every passing possession the entity became more and more able to cover it's tracks and hide. And eventually each interview became grounds for the entity to study the agents right back. Soon Smith found himself playing his part perfectly while stuck in his own body like I was. It was pain that brought him back. Pain inflicted on him by the conspiracy crew. Apparently the sensation was quite the surprise to the entity and it recoiled, in a manner of speaking, when any of its hosts were injured. Someone had figured this out before even these people had, as the green liquid was starting to burn through my veins. At first a small jab is enough to release you, it was explained to me, but the entity adapts to the pain in turn. The liquid would gradually increase the amount my blood boiled to keep my actions my own, but I was on a time limit. At some point the pain would be to much, or the entity would catch up. Just looking at Smith's clenched hands and strained brow I could tell he was feeling it already. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't the guy who went up in the shuttle with nerves of steel. I did math. Luckily everyone else did. The top floors were completely occupied by the entities puppets now, and while Smith had been controlled he saw his colleagues constructing something. Given that everyone didn't have long left as it was and information was limited, they had resolved to get up there and figure out what was going on once and for all. They roped me in because not only did I have higher clearance, but I'd been working here for a very long time and might have some insights to give as they went. That wasn't going to protect us though. Smith had learned the hard way that the entity knew when it had lost control and also knew how to send agents after him. The big green-screen sheet the conspiracy crew had commandeered, however, would. Yes. That was the plan. Cloak ourselves in a greenscreen and make our way up like a band of fake youtube vloggers. I realize now in hindsight that there's an element of comedy to that, but all I could feel in the moment was the steady slow progression as we bobbed and weaved between people and objects like we had an invisibility cloak. Worst part was that, unlike an invisibility cloak, you can't see through a greenscreen. We had to do everything by ear and what we could see at our feet. Smith and I managed to navigate us farther than anyone would have ever believed possible, landing ourselves on entrance to the top floor. The green liquid was starting to make me feel like my internal organs were being scolded, making every step stomach-churning. I think what got me to that point was knowing that Smith was in twice as much pain, but had yet to break. Though having only met briefly, I'd come to admire his grit. But then disaster struck. I have to give credit where credit is due to the conspiracy duo. It's very likely none of us would have even broken free of this thing had they not decided to indulge in the crazy fantasies in their heads. Well, a crazy fantasy that we now lived. But freaking out after dropping your tinfoil hat due to fear of possession right next to an agent was a stupid move. We covered the janitor's mouth swiftly, and for a moment everyone on the floor stopped moving. You could have heard a pin drop, but what broke the silence was a flurry of violence. Knowing we were caught, Smith threw off the green-screen and slapped the nearby agent in the face to at least momentarily free him. That agent was consumed by the same rage I had been, and while he lashed out Smith re-engaged his earpiece and announced to any free agents that the entity had control of the building and that pain could break the spell. Everything erupted into chaos. I would learn later that the revelation had caused excessive discord on the lower floors as the entity drew guns on the free agents. One moment you're sharing a cup of coffee with your pal, the next that pal shoves a gun in your face. We didn't get that treatment. Everyone on this floor was controlled, and therefore we were subject to a hail of gunfire. It only took one bullet from Smith. The first controlled agent to be hit lashed out against the one closest to him, then that agent the next until a cascade of freshly shot suits lined the ground. It all happened so quickly I barely had time to register that I'd been shot myself. The janitor was laying in a pool of blood covering the kid and Smith was clutching his chest where over ten holes had been opened. The pain from the green liquid had reached a point where getting shot was only a little bit worse, and now that hiding was no longer life-or-death we all started to groan and scream. The mere thought that the entity was attempting to claw its way back in was enough for me to take action. I told the kid to get out of there and began to stumble my way forward, Smith just behind me. No. I don't know how he kept moving. It'll forever remain a mystery to me. At this point I was seeing the building through tears, but I saw it well enough. Parts of the walls and electrical wiring had been removed and re-allocated into the center of the floor where more entity-controlled people were. These were my bosses, their bosses, and probably their bosses after that. Along with them were many of my friends and colleges that had gone missing. All of them were hunched over desks scribbling nonsense or sorting out materials from crates onto the floor. I recognized the crates as being destined for the ISS, now repurposed. The most striking thing, however, was in the center of all of it. It was like some kind of sickly and slimy black net pulled into a ball-shape, wiggling and writhing as it floating in the air. Inside the net portion was a series of black shapes and nothing else. What this thing was started to click for me, but what happened next only cemented my thought. Smith stomped forward with the rage of a dying man. With nothing to loose he leveled his weapon at the entity and screamed out his demand for it to release all it had possessed. When there was no answer, he opened fire. Or at least he tried. After two clicks of his handgun Smith quickly went to reload, only to realize that he didn't have a clip in the gun in the first place. Or a clip on his belt for that matter. The handgun suddenly vanished from his hand, and then Smith started to follow suit. I say started because it's important to point out how he went. It was like layers of him were being deleted all at once. First his skin, his muscle, his bones, and finally his nervous system, all stolen from reality. Smith didn't stop screaming until the last vestige of his body had been taken, his voice ringing from every direction at once before fading away. Two emotions surfaced within me. First, of course, was the paralyzing realization that I knew the general concept of what this entity was now. The second was the paralyzing fear of that concept. When we draw a stick figure on a piece of paper we don't think much of it. It doesn't think much of us either, as if it were to be alive it couldn't comprehend our existence. It knows up, down, left, right, but forwards and backwards? The stick figure couldn't leap into the third dimension without assistance from a human. It had been long been theorized that there was a forth dimension. Not time of course, don't get confused, I'm talking about a fourth spacial dimension. I'd studied the fourth dimension and what it could possibly look like as a hobby along with every other scientifically related thing I'd come across on my path to NASA. How I'd seen Smith vanish lined up almost one-to-one what passing into the fourth dimension could look like, a theory made manifest. I, standing in that room and in unbelievable pain, was that stick figure. A stick figure that could not comprehend the dimensions around me, or the entity that now stared down at my page free to erase me at will. I had nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, in that moment I felt I only had one option. I ran at the small portion of itself that the entity had made known at the center of the room. And then I touched it. It's... Extremely hard to visualize for you what happened next. I was both falling an ascending through a plane of fractal contradiction. Light flashed in unknown angles and sound reverberated through my head. In my mind I knew I had just launched myself into the fourth dimension in a fit of fear, and I had a lot of trouble coming to terms with not only that but everything around me. I saw... Things. Black amalgamations of concept itself. I could only sense the eyes now falling upon me as the structure of reality itself closed in around my very being. Then a second presence. I found myself the subject of communication, like something had stuck a spike in my head and fed me crude binary code. Then I found myself in Australia. The sun was rising above the ocean next to the beach I had appeared on. The word-like feelings of a fourth-dimensional entity still processing in my head. Roughly, it was an apology, and a scolding of a younger entity. My eyes were forced to gently glance at an anthill a few meters away. Then I looked up, now in control of my eyes, and saw a blazing comet falling from the sky. The ISS had fallen out of orbit and was burning up in-atmosphere. Officially NASA is still business as usual until 2031 when the ISS officially gets decommissioned. But I'll never come to terms with the reality I now find myself in. We were ants played with by a malicious child from beyond our understanding. Nothing but toys in a fleeting moment of boredom for it, a terrifying national emergency costing hundreds of lives for us. And the worst part? It could happen again at any moment. The fourth dimension exists, and we are powerless to stop it.

Someone Please Tell Me: Is it Really 2022?

ycr1sk

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycr1sk/someone_please_tell_me_is_it_really_2022/

I have no idea how it happened. I don't recognize half the technology I've seen in the last week, and all of my friends are unrecognizable. My old house is gone, I missed a pandemic (though everyone tells me I should be grateful for that), I needed someone to explain to me what this website is... Okay, I've calmed down a little. Sorry. Maybe I should start over. I'm thirteen years old. And I was born forty-six years ago. I don't know what happened, but a lot of people here seem to have dealt with weirder stuff than whatever's going on here. Maybe you'll believe me. Because the police sure don't, and the doctor called a psychologist as soon as he heard this story. I grew up in a nice town. Not perfect, but pretty close. The people were nice, there were a lot of kids and backyards, even school wasn't too bad (except for the math teacher, who hated me). My parents both worked, but they always tried to spend time with my brother Tate and I. My brother and I were pretty close. I'm only a year older than him, and we look and act so much alike that we're practically twins. We loved all of the same stuff: Star Wars (is it true that there are prequels AND sequels now? They must be amazing!), Bon Jovi, Converse shoes...and camping. We were both crazy about camping. At least, we were. Just thinking about camping now makes me sick. Anyway, my uncle Jackson had gotten two days off of work, and had just paid off his new truck. He felt like celebrating, and wanted to spend the first weekend in October camping. He asked if Tate and I wanted to go. To us, it was a stupid question. Uncle Jackson was a ridiculously cool guy: he let us stay up late, bought us pizza and ice cream whenever we wanted, let us watch movies that Mom would NEVER agree to, and he never yelled at us for being too loud. We agreed immediately, even before we asked Mom for permission. It took a little convincing (okay, a LOT of convincing), but we managed to talk her into letting us go with him. She gave us all of the typical mom advice (don't stay up too late, wear a sweater if you get cold, blah blah blah), and then said we could go. We thanked her, but didn't know why she was so worried. I was actually a little annoyed; she ALWAYS nagged us like that. I even mocked her a little bit as Tate and I packed our duffel bags. Looking back, knowing what I do know, I hate myself for that. Uncle Jackson was picking us up at five that night to take us to the forest. I won't bother to tell you the name. It isn't a national park or anything, it's just a big forest right next to our town, which you wouldn't know the name of unless you lived there. There's no fee or anything to hike, hunt, or camp there, so a lot of locals took advantage of it. Including Uncle Jackson. We were hyping ourselves up as we drove to the forest, singing stupid songs and talking about what we were going to do when we got there. Uncle Jackson promised to tell us the scariest ghost stories he knew, and swore that he'd make sure that this camping trip was one to remember. We parked his truck outside the forest, in a little dugout that had specifically been made for parked cars. We grabbed the tents, fire fuel, food, etc., and set out. With all of that stuff weighing us down, we couldn't hike for too long. After about fifteen minutes, we found a good spot and basically dropped everything. It was a spot that had clearly been used before: there was a nice open area with enough space to have a fire without catching any bushes or anything, with enough room to pitch the tents and a tall enough tree nearby to tie up the food (there were precious few bears in our area, but better safe than sorry). We all grinned at each other and got to work. The sun went down at about seven. The three of us huddled around the fire, eating whatever we could roast on sticks while telling the craziest stories we could think of. Uncle Jackson, by far, told the best stories. He'd just finished a pretty hilarious (but kind of raunchy, so I won't put it here) story when we all decided to go to bed. I put out the fire as Uncle Jackson crawled into his tent. He always got his own tent while Tate and I insisted on sharing one. I told him it was so we'd be warmer. Neither us wanted to admit that it was really because he snored. I was in the tent, Tate next to me, too excited to go to sleep. After everything that's happened, I like to think back on that moment. I was doing the thing I loved most, next to my brother, the person I loved most. I was so happy, so at peace, that for one moment, I felt like nothing bad could possibly happen. That moment ended when the forest went dead. Have you ever been out in the wilderness, for whatever reason, and suddenly noticed that it was dead quiet? No birds, no bugs, no wind stirring the tree branches? From what I've learned since then, it's called the Silence. Those who have experienced it consider it one of the most surreal, most terrifying moments in their lives. That's exactly what happened. One minute, I heard insects, the wind in the trees, even the distant hooting of some type of owl... Then, nothing. I was completely still, for a moment. Just, listening. Wondering what had happened. Tate looked me in the eye, and I could tell he was confused too. I was about to say something, maybe something along the lines of "What's going on?", when we heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Coming towards our tent. I didn't dare move. I didn't breathe. I looked around for something, anything to defend myself. Could I kick it, maybe....? Tate grabbed my arm; I almost screamed in surprise. He put his finger over his lips, his eyes wider than I thought possible, and pointed at the front of the tent. There was a dark figure in front of it. The tent flaps were ripped open. I wish I could deny the incredibly unmanly scream I let out, although I would like to point out that Tate's was higher than mine. We both calmed down when the dark figure let out a series of colorful curse words, and knew instantly that it was just Uncle Jackson. He looked back in at us. It was dark, but we could still see him fairly well. He was wearing a bright orange shirt. He always told us that, should you be in the woods in the fall, always wear brightly colored clothing. If you wear white or brown, then there's a good chance some hunter will mistake you for a deer. Following his instructions, I'd worn a sky blue sweatshirt, while Tate had worn a bright red one. "Son of \*\*\*\*\*, boys, what was that for?" He told us. "You two okay?" "Yeah, sorry, we're fine." I told him. "What are you doing?" "Do you hear that?" We both listened. The Silence will still going on. It felt so much worse, with us talking. Like everything could hear us. "What's going on?" Tate echoed me, his voice barely above a whisper. "There might be a predator nearby." I noticed then that he was holding his crossbow. He always brought it with him when we camped (he'd had a bad experience with a mountain lion when he was in college, and he had the scar on his leg to prove it). I'd never seen him actually take it out before that night. He looked us dead in the eyes. I'd never seen him that serious. "You kids stay in the tent. No matter what, don't come out unless I say. Alright?" We both nodded. Our uncle left the tent, crossbow out in front of him. There was mesh window in our tent. Not huge, but big enough that we could both watch him as he ventured out. He held the weapon out in front of him, moving slowly but surely. What happened next was like something out of a crazy dream. My uncle took one step forward. Then another. Then he vanished. He wasn't there anymore. I froze. I didn't move, I couldn't. I felt Tate's hand squeezing my shoulder, squeezing hard enough that it left a bruise. We couldn't believe what we'd just seen. I wouldn't believe it now, if not for what happened next. As I sat there, trying to process what had just happened, wondering if I even had an uncle anymore, the tent started shaking. It was like a giant hand had grabbed the top of our tent and was shaking it like a dog with a stuffed toy. Tate and I only sat there for a second, stunned, before fight-or-flight instincts took over. We both chose flight, and ran for our lives. I didn't look back as I ran out of the tent. For the sake of my sanity, I'm glad I didn't. Tate didn't look back either. I saw him running ahead of me. We went in the opposite direction that Uncle Jackson had. Even in that crazed, terrified state, we knew better. We just plain ran, not caring where we went as long as we got away. Finally, after what either three or five minutes of running, we had to stop. I leaned against a tree, while Tate sat on a rock. We were both completely out of breath, sweating buckets and scared out of our flipping minds. "What the h just happened?" I finally managed to say. I noticed that my words were a little louder than I'd intended them to be. I listened for a moment. Still no noise. "I don't know. Dude, Uncle Jackson..." "I know." I interrupted. I didn't want him to finish. I couldn't focus on that right now. I wanted to sob for my uncle, but I knew we couldn't stop yet. Some primal part of me told me that there was something out there. This might be hindsight, but I could swear that I felt eyes on us. Watching us. "We need to keep moving." I whispered. Tate nodded. He stood up, and took a few steps forward. "Hey, I need to tell you something." "Yeah?" I said. "We're never going camping again. Deal?" I managed a smirk. "Deal. After this, I'm never going outside again." Tate nodded, letting out a hollow, probably forced laugh. "Agreed. Let's go. Mom will know what to do..." We both locked eyes for a second, the same horrible thought crossing our minds. Jackson was Mom's brother. Who was going to tell her? I was about to say something else when Tate stepped forward. And sank into the ground. Moving with a speed I never knew I had, I ran to him. I caught him as his lower body disappeared. I grabbed him by both of his arms and I *pulled.* I'd never been athletic, I didn't pretend I was. But I put every ounce of strength in my body, everything I had into pulling my brother up. "GET ME UP! GET ME UP!" "I HAVE YOU!" I screamed. "I WON'T LET GO!" I kept fighting. I fought harder than I ever could've expected to. For a minute, one beautiful minute, I thought I had him. I pulled so hard that the upper part of his lower body was visible. I thought I had him. I thought that I only needed to pull one more time and I'd have him. We'd race for home, get Mom to call the police. And stay the flip away from that forest for the rest of our lives. Then Tate's face and screams somehow became more panicked, and he shrieked something that's haunted me ever since. "SOMETHING'S GOT MY LEGS! THEY'RE PULLING ME! THEY'VE GOT MY LEGS!" He was slipping back down. Try as I might, something was pulling him. Something way stronger than me. I fought, I fought with everything I had. Tears were slipping down my eyes, from exhaustion, sadness or fear, I don't know. "TATE!" I screamed his name as I lost my grip completely. I locked eyes with my brother for the last time as he slipped out of sight. Then he was gone. All that was there was the ground, covered in dirt and leaves. I slapped at where he'd just been. The ground was solid. Completely solid. As if it hadn't just sucked up the person I loved most. "TATE!" I screamed, I sobbed. I don't know how long I sat there, wailing. I was so scared, so confused. What was happening? My wails were ridiculously loud. The Silence was still there. My instincts and unstable emotions took over. I got up and started running. I ran in the opposite direction Tate and I had been running. I ran adjacent to where Uncle Jackson had been going. I just ran. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed. A hiker found me in the forest, out cold. I was covered in bumps and bruises. But other than that, according to the hospital staff, I was perfectly fine. So much has happened in the last few decades. My dad is dead; lung cancer. My mom is dead; car accident. My friends are all in their mid forties; I don't even recognize them. Tate and Uncle Jackson remain missing to this day. I haven't left the hospital since they found me two weeks ago. I have no where to go; my immediate family is gone, and none of my distant relatives believe that it's me. The doctors, all of whom are shocked at how I haven't aged, are keeping me here for now. There's talk of finding a foster home. I don't think it matters, though. Because I don't think I'll be here much longer. Something got Tate. Something physically grabbed him and pulled him through that hole. Something...some*one* took him. I think that same someone took Uncle Jackson. And me. That someone has my brother and uncle. Someone kept me somewhere for over thirty years. They did something to me. I know it. Because there's a strange mark on me that the doctor's can't---or won't---explain. A strange red welt, just under my left ear. It's tiny. It doesn't hurt, throb, itch, sting or anything. It's just sort of...there. Whatever, whoever did this to me, I think they're coming back. Because last night... I heard it start beeping.

My Name is Stacy White, I'm an Investigative Journalist and I Interview Monsters.

ycasl3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycasl3/my_name_is_stacy_white_im_an_investigative/

My heels clicked dully on the linoleum floors and I heard the steel bars rattling back into place behind me. I walked down the long hallway alone, carrying with me a folder, pen, and cassette recorder. I was, at the time, a young journalist and very eager to prove myself. Earlier in the day my boss had offered me the opportunity to interview an inmate at the local prison and I jumped at the chance. Serial killer interviews were vogue at the time, however I was assigned to an alleged child abductor instead. My editor hoped that the fact it was a woman would spark enough interest in our readers.  For myself I was just excited to be there, it was the first real break I’d caught and I’m sure I was only chosen because Rebecca was already covering another story. A guard greeted me at t. he end of the hall. He was to remain stationed outside of the interview room however should I need anything I only had to press the panic button under the table and he would be right there. I took a deep breath in, checked that my hair was all neatly back and smoothed out my skirt before opening the door to enter.  “Good morning Molly Doe. My name is-'' I started as I walked into the room but stopped abruptly when I saw the woman I was to interview. She was sitting up straight with hands neatly clasped in front of her. Her long hair was a golden honey brown and her dark eyes held a luminescent quality under thick lashes. She was youthful with high cheekbones and blush pink lips. Even wearing the plaid grey uniform of an inmate she was still the most beautiful person I had ever seen and it caught me by surprise.  “-My name is Stacy White, and I’m here for your interview.” I started again, trying to regain my professionalism.  “Hello, Stacy White.” She replied politely. Her voice was soft and her teeth were pearly white with sharp canines.  I was somewhat disappointed and I felt my excitement fizzle out. In the initial report, it was stated that Ms Doe was mentally unstable. That she had been uncooperative with investigators and the courts had to assign her the last name ‘Doe’ as she insisted that she didn’t have one, only a first name ‘Molly’. As such, I had been expecting a certain level of deranged behaviour but she was perfectly collected, “Would it be alright if I ask you some questions? It’s okay if you’re nervous.” I said sympathetically trying to offer her some comfort and build rapport. “I’m not nervous.” Molly stated calmly in response, she gave no human emotion to connect with. No spark of social recognition between us. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.  “Right.. Well, I’ll just set up and then we can get started alright?”, I assured as I oriented my notepad and organized the audio recorder. When I was ready I pressed down the REC button and the tape inside whirred to life. A moment of silence passed between us as I debated the best way to begin the interview. Would it be too brazen of me to ask outright if she was guilty? Or should I assume she was without asking? I cleared my throat then began, “So Ms Doe-“  “Molly.” She corrected me.  “My apologies, Molly. You’ve been accused of abducting children, can you answer whether or not these allegations are true? Is your incarceration unjust? Did you do it?” I tried, deciding on an upfront line of questions. “I did.” The woman answered without batting an eye.  My heart began to race, perhaps this interview wouldn’t be dull after all, “Can you tell me why? What drives a person to abduct children?” I enquired further. “It’s what I was told to do.” She stated.  “I see, so you were acting under instruction, who did the orders come from?” I asked, trying to conceal my excitement.  This time Molly paused, though for whatever she may have been thinking, no expression crossed her face, “I cannot say.” She answered finally and my heart sank.  “Why can’t you say? Can you tell me why you’re unable to answer that question.” I probed.  “I’m unable to answer because it would be a breach of contract. I cannot speak his name in association with this predicament.” Her answer perplexed me, “Are you able to elaborate on that?”  “No.”  I sat back in my seat exasperated, I wasn’t entirely sure what else I could ask that she would agree to answer, then it hit me, “Can you tell me, *why*, he ordered that you take children?”  Again she hesitated a moment then nodded, “I can.” She agreed, “I had to be the one to take the children because a man named Eric Linnaeus destroyed our supply chain. You see, it’s not ordinarily my job. I’m not very good at convincing children to go with me, I unsettle them.” Personally I *couldn’t imagine* why her utter lack of emotion or tonal inflection would scare children. She was like talking to a doll, only I speculate that a living doll would have more zest, “Who is ‘Eric Linnaeus’? and what do you mean when you say he ‘destroyed’ the supply chain?” I prompted her further, hoping my questions wouldn’t be too much.  “He was.. *A mistake*..” She chose her words carefully as she began in earnest, “When Nathaniel first brought him home he was not more than an orphaned cripple. He was quiet, for the most part, and walked with a leg brace. They had never before kept a male child freely in the castle, males serve no purpose once they are grown, so it was an oddity. Nathaniel kept him close most of the time, training him privately so that he might catch up. We believed it to be a fool's errand. The others had been raised from infancy, of the fifty girls Master chose only nine remained and only four were expected to pass the final training. Of my group I was one of only two to survive… We didn’t believe Eric stood a chance. The others were already two years older than he was and none of them were hindered by any physical afflictions.  Still, Nathaniel insisted and Master was hardly in any position to deny his brother’s request. In truth they were twins and Master was older, he would inherit the castle in its business in entirety from their father. However it was Nathaniel whom was the stronger of the two. A public quarrel may have jeopardized the inheritance. As such, Master chose to instead make me a new contract. I was to spy on his brother and on the Orphan in particular. In return, I would be granted youth and beauty for the remaining span of my life.”  As she spoke I was beginning to understand why Molly had been declared mentally ill. But, it was hard to shake the idea that her beautiful, youthful, appearance had somehow been granted to her, “When you say ‘contracted’ what does that mean exactly?” I asked now curious.  In response the woman showed me her forearms, I sat forward to get a better look and saw that there were a series of shapes seemingly tattooed down the length of her wrists. Two silver semi-circles, two complete circles and a single blackened semi-circle, “What are they?” I asked confused.  “They are my contracts. A dark crescent for a gift given, ongoing. Completed circles for contracts fulfilled and silver crescents for contracts ongoing.  “What were the other contracts for?” I questioned, before cursing myself for being so forward.  She readjusted to cover the marks, “I can only tell you of three. I have already disclosed one and I am unable to speak of the last two. However, the first I made when I was four, *‘I will always be allowed sweets whenever I so choose, and in return the only orders I will obey are those that come from my* Master\*.’\*. Next I was gifted the ability to remain hidden if I so choose, no one would know of my presence, under the condition that I would never be able to use my ability against Master. Contracts burn hotter, while Gifts hurt more.” She explained. “You made a contract when you were four? That doesn’t sound like it was fair..” I commented. “No deals with monsters are fair.” She mused, “However, I don’t regret any of them. I have power that you, nor any other, will ever have.”  That was the first instance I felt uncomfortable in her presence, she had spoken almost as if it were a threat, then she continued on as if nothing were any different, “Once the contract was in place I began my work. The first true sign that the Orphan would cause trouble came only a year later when Lucinde, the twin’s older sister, came to visit with her children. The children of monsters grow very slowly. I had not noticed Radomir, her eldest, age at all in the time since I had first met him years prior. For the sake of simplicity I would say he was the same equivalent age as Eric was. While the siblings discussed business matters Eric and I were expected to wait patiently by our master’s sides. However, Lucinde’s children were allowed to do as they wished and Radomir was wished to play with Eric.  ‘Come fight with me.’ Radomir whispered to the boy beside Nathaniel. ‘I don’t think I would be allowed..’ Eric replied in a hushed tone.  ‘You’re a human, you have to do as I say, so I say you’re allowed.’ He countered and this gave Eric pause. In terms of hierarchy the child was correct. We are expected to obey all requests and are compelled to follow commands when they are given. However, Eric was property of Radomir’s uncle, and that meant by virtue that his orders were intended to come from him only.  ‘Is your son very well trained Sister?’ Nathaniel asked suddenly interjecting the discussion and catching both children by surprise. It was then that they both realized Nathaniel had been listening to their conversation. Eric turned a shade of red while Radomir looked guilty as all eyes turned to them. Master looked profoundly displeased but made no comment as Lucinde and Nathaniel spoke, ‘You are surely joking brother. I won’t have my son fight your pet.’ She scoffed.  ‘Pity. Has he fallen behind in his training so much that you fear he can’t outcompete a human?’ He said casually though it was clear his insult found its mark.  ‘I’ll warn you then, don’t blame me when your pet is injured.’ She said flatly, before granting her permission, ‘You may play with the human.’  All three adults watched with curiosity as the children each took up a sword and began to spar cordially, ‘Your pet has an injured leg? There is no contest here.’ Lucinde commented.  ‘Our brother has spent a considerable amount of time training the human since he arrived.’ Master informed her.  ‘I have trained him somewhat, there is plenty more still to teach. But he is singularly determined to excel and I would be interested to know if he is ready to join the others in formal classes.’ Nathaniel mused, though it quickly became apparent what he meant was that he had trained Eric extensively. Even with his disadvantage the boy was quick on his feet. He moved using his leg brace to his own advantage, as if it were an extra limb.  The first round ended when Radomir was knocked to the ground and the second round was headed toward the same outcome when he lost his temper, ‘Why don’t you *stab yourself with that sword*.’ He spoke the words as a command and Eric faltered.  Nathaniel sat forward in his chair as if he were about to intervene when the human boy spoke up, ‘No.’ Eric responded calmly.  This drew everyone’s attention. Master looked to me as if to ask if I knew how he was able to resist the command. Lucinde hesitated a moment as if she were trying to understand what had just happened, while Nathaniel looked unmistakably… Intrigued.  ‘What do you mean ‘no’? That was a command. I *told* you to *stab yourself*!’ Radomir repeated lacing more magic into it to compel him.  Eric seemed to struggle this time, his hand involuntarily turning the blade toward himself, he trembled slightly as he held it there. It seemed he was unable to resist the order entirely, however he also made no further move to complete the command, ‘And I said no.’ He reiterated firmly.  Radomir looked to his mother now with an expression caught between confusion and fear, ‘How is he able to resist?’ Lucinde demanded. Nathaniel however appeared to be pleased, ‘Eric is very strong willed. Your son doesn’t have enough magic to persuade him.’  ‘You’ve contracted him to resist orders.’ Master accused. ‘I have done no such thing.’ Nathaniel responded calmly.  At this his sister narrowed her eyes, ‘Child. *Come here*.’ She demanded and this time the boy moved, he came to stand before Lucinde with an expression of defiance, ‘*Give me your sword*.’  Eric grit his teeth as he did her bidding, ‘*Hold out your hand*.’ She continued and he did so, though not without reluctance.  ‘Sister.’ Nathaniel warned with a slight edge to his voice.  ‘I suppose you wouldn’t appreciate it if I cut off his hand?’ She asked casually.  ‘Eric, *Come to me*.’ Nathaniel commanded him now and the boy gladly obliged, ‘That’s quite enough for one day. Though it was pleasant to see you sister, we will be taking our leave. Make sure you return my sword when you’re done with it.’ As they left Master motioned for me and we fell into pace with them, ‘Brother you’re playing a dangerous game. I saw that smug expression on your face. Lucinde isn’t pleased.’  ‘When have you ever known her to be pleased? Her son is inept.’ Nathaniel responded flatly.  ‘You should destroy the Orphan.’ He warned, for you see, resisting the persuasion of a glamor is no easy task. In rare cases it can happen, if one possesses the will for it. Though usually if a child shows signs that they will be able to defy orders they are eliminated immediately. The youngest twin looked exasperated now, ‘Eric. Would you go on ahead? My brother and I have some matters to discuss, I will meet you for dinner.’  Eric looked unsure, ‘You promise..?’ He asked quietly.  ‘Yes child, now go.’ Nathaniel said clearly amused by his hesitance. With that the boy nodded in agreement and followed the instruction willingly. It was.. Strange to see. ‘Molly, *go as well. See that he makes it to his room safely.*’ Master commanded of me, though it wouldn’t have been necessary, and I moved without delay. As I left I only heard a small amount of their conversation. It seemed Master was scolding Nathaniel for his approach to training Eric while his brother insisted the bond he was creating would be stronger by far than any forced relationship.  At dinner that night Master still seemed displeased, and when Nathaniel got up to speak with another member of staff he took the opportunity to retaliate, ’Orphan, *come*, I have something for you.’ He ordered. ‘Don’t glamour me.’ Eric protested as he moved involuntarily with the command. It was taboo for him to answer back in this manner, not that he ever let that fact clip his attitude. ‘I will do what I like, you are property.’ Master stated harshly, ‘I think you should have some meat on your plate, *don’t you agree?*’ he instructed, though it seemed more of a test. Even I could feel that there wasn’t much compulsion behind the direction given.  ‘..No, Nathaniel said it’s not good for me.’ Eric responded coldly with some effort, there was rebellion in his eyes. Master smiled, ‘You’re quite good at it aren’t you? Defying orders if you’re prepared.’ He pandered to him as he pushed a slice of meat onto the child’s plate.  ‘I’ve been practicing.’ The boy said proudly.  ‘Oh? Should we test that then\~?’ Master mused. Eric thought for a moment, ‘Okay!’ He accepted the challenge confidently.   ‘Wonderful! Then I order you *to eat the meat I just gave you*.’ He purred. This time there was little to no visible resistance from the orphan, he seemed to realize then that Master had tricked him. He wasn’t at all strong enough to outcompete the full will of an adult and soon was carving the meat into bite sized pieces with marked reluctance. He struggled as he brought the first piece up to consume. However it was as it touched his lips that the second command came, ‘*Stop*.’ Nathaniel said sharply, returning in time to intersect the order, ‘*You will not eat that*.’  Eric dropped the fork and recoiled from the plate as his master continued more calmly, ‘Brother, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to feed him without my permission.’ He said firmly.  ‘You don’t give him enough protein.' Master said bemused.  ‘Feed whatever you liked to Molly, but do not interfere with Eric. Do you understand?’ He reiterated.  ‘There will come a day when you cannot watch over him. I look forward to that day.’ Nathaniel ignored him then, for you see the Small brothers had always been rivals first and brothers second. Threats between them weren’t uncommon..” Molly trailed off thoughtfully.  “Is that what happens to the children you abducted? They become ‘pets’ to these.. People?” I took the opportunity to ask. “Certainly not. As I said, pets are chosen as infants. Grown children are taken to be butchered for food.” She explained and I felt my stomach drop. There were only two possibilities, either I was indeed getting the serial killer interview I wanted for my career or Molly was entirely insane. “Is that why Eric wasn’t allowed to eat the meat?” I was beginning to understand.  “Yes. Nathaniel felt it would negatively affect his pet’s morality if he were to consume it. So the nature of it was kept a secret from the child.”  “But your masters, those people.. They *DO* eat it?”  Molly nodded, “Of course. The masters need to eat.” She responded calmly as if stating a simple fact. “They *need* to *eat* children?” I asked to clarify.  This gave her pause, “..No.. They can eat any meat.” She said thoughtfully, “Every night the banquet that lined the dining hall was piled with meat of all kinds, beef, pork, chicken, humayne. Cooked or uncooked, it mattered not. Though they prefer the meat of tender beings as it is a sign of their status, only high class families are granted access and their family business is supply.  Flavoring was rarely used, they claimed it spoiled the taste, though I could never tell any different. Unnaturally sweet fruit and ashy cheeses were the garnishes of choice. As a word to the wise, it was best to avoid the fruits. Their taste is singular, comparable to no human food I have ever tried, and it is easy to overindulge in them-..”  I stood up then, “I’m sorry, I need a break.” I stated. Truthfully, I didn't want to hear any more. I fled the interview room with my belongings loosely gathered in my arms and the door slammed behind me. If I believed her, Molly was a monster abducting children to eat them as if they were livestock, allegedly acting under the orders of her ‘masters’. If I didn’t, then I could understand why she was considered mentally unstable. Either way, I hoped to never see her again. [NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ye0nc4/my_name_is_stacy_white_im_an_investigative/) [Chapter List](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/xhj9xo/eric_linnaeus_stories_discussion_thread/) [.xXx.](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/vl2ws4/hi_and_welcome_to_my_page/)

Where Did Granny Go?

yd0xp2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd0xp2/where_did_granny_go/

I don't know if I'm being irrational or just plain going insane. Either way, I would like to voice my concerns somewhere. I ask you to be patient with me as I find a way to word everything. I was never good at expressing myself or fitting in. I was the black sheep of the family, only ever truly loved by two. What made it worse growing up was how death and sickness seemed to follow me. I have a very healthy family, for the most part. The woman who took care of me when I was young had lived to raise the children of her children. After I was born, their health streak seemed to end. I wasn't so sickly that I needed to be held in the NICU for months but I was the first baby in generations to be born sick. I was awfully tiny and a weird combination of purples and blues. After me fell my mother. She caught an infection the day after I was born. She and I, trapped in the hospital longer than anyone would like. My mother had to return to school when we were finally released. She was finishing up her last year of high school—a perfect excuse to leave me with anyone else. I stayed with my grandmother for a while before she broke her leg. I was then handed off to my great-grandmother. This is where I stayed for 2 years. I heard many stories of how my great-grandparents adored me. Anyways, around this time my mother had joined and dropped out of college. My father came back into our lives and quickly, they both struggled through minor illnesses and low-paying jobs. I grew up being bounced around between people. I felt loved but never did I stay in one place. As soon as my sister was born, I could feel my mother's resentment towards me grow. I stayed with my great-grandparents while my parents were at the hospital. It was my grandmother's idea to leave me with someone else. The fear of my mother gaining another infection and not making it this time was great. After 24 hours of my mother and sister being completely healthy, I was shoved into a car to meet the newest edition. I think this is when it clicked for everyone that I was the problem. Not even after an hour of my visit, everything went downhill. My mother fainted and I was ushered out of the room. I want to say my not remembering this day was due to my age but even if I was older I'd want to push this day forever out of my mind. I was deemed the walking plague. No aunts or uncles would visit me. My parents started spending all their time at work or with my sister. At least I had my own room. The only ones who would care for me were my great-grandparents. They still saw me as a ray of sunshine. I am forever grateful for their kindness. Still, my reputation followed. I was now 9 and my sister was four. My great-grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. My world crumbled. Not only did I know one of my favorite people was dying but I was being verbally insulted by all of the family. We had an amazing 2 years. It was hard on everyone but he was always smiling. He was always so kind. He made sure to protect me as much as he could. Nothing could prepare me for the ill-treatment I would receive after he passed. My great-grandmother was bedridden for two weeks after he passed. In those two weeks, I was pushed around. I was belittled until I was brought to tears. I was kicked out of the funeral. I was locked away. People like me don't deserve to see the light of day. A child should never be told those words. I moved in with my great-grandmother after that. After the funeral, my parents decided they only wanted one child. This was the one thing that didn't hurt me much. I never saw them as family. So I stayed in the now very quiet home my great-grandmother owned. She didn't talk as much but she was still very kind. I took care of her and she made sure I was happy. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think of how burdensome I was. All the coincidences lingered in my thoughts. I stayed in my room when we had visitors but the walls were thin. So when I turned 18, I left. It really helped me mentally to leave. I finally met friends and although it was scary at first, it helped. Every time someone got sick or injured after meeting me, I felt ashamed. Little by little I learned it was a normal thing to happen occasionally. After three years, I really started missing home. I felt ashamed for not even sending a letter or calling. After three years of not seeing my great-grandmother, I packed a bag and headed home. Remember what I said at the beginning? Remember how I said my granny became quiet after my great-grandfather passed? I finally reached the point of this post. When I reached home, it looked like nothing was touched. Literally. The weeds ran wild and the outside looked run down. I was shocked and horrified. I prepared myself for the worst as I walked along the cracked concrete. My hand shook as I reached out to ring the doorbell. The echo of the chime was eerie as I waited. A massive lump formed in my throat as the door slowly opened. Tears formed in my eyes as soon as I saw her. My little granny looked the same. So many emotions swirled in my head as I bent over to hug her tightly. Still, I couldn't get rid of the sense of unease I had. No words had been exchanged the whole time, Maybe that was it. I let go and looked at her face. I finally *really* looked at her face. She had the widest grin. It seemed so unnatural paired with these cold, dark eyes. I looked down and noticed she was wearing nearly the exact same outfit I had last seen her in. I finally peered into the house and noticed the inside was just as bad as the outside. The floors were cracked. Everything was filthy. "You could have called me to help you take care of this place, granny. If not me then at least someone." She just stood there, staring. A part of me wanted to believe it was due to shock. "Do you want some coffee? I can make you some. We can say it's my way of saying sorry for not coming sooner." Nothing. The eariness and unease grew. The knot in my stomach seemed to grow as I followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed the coffee pot from a cupboard as I looked around. I had no idea how this place got this bad in three years. I turned to her. The pot in her hand was caked in dust but instead of rinsing it, she filled it with water. I gently took it out of her hand and guided her to the dining table. "Just sit here and rest. I said I was going to make the coffee." She obediently sat at the table and stared at the wall. My mind struggled to explain it all. It didn't take me long to find everything. I quickly scrubbed everything down and set it all up. I remembered how quiet this house was but this silence had something else behind it. I couldn't quite pin it down. I spent an hour trying to speak to my granny. She didn't even attempt to drink from her mug. She just kept staring at me with a blank stare and a wide grin. I settled on telling her stories of my time in college. I hoped everything would be better in the morning. Dear reader, I know this was long but I'm not good at arranging my thoughts. I put my granny to bed right before starting to type this out. She just stared at the ceiling while I said goodnight. I've been hearing soft pacing outside of my door this entire time. I am afraid, reader. I've been afraid since the moment I saw this house again. What happened to my granny? Is that even my granny? The pacing stopped. I held my breath for a little just to see what I could hear. She's whispering, dear reader. I can hear her whispering. I don't want to leave this room. I'm afraid of what will happen if I open that door. I have a feeling she's not alone out there. If you listen close enough, you can hear soft chanting along with her words. "There's only one true plague in this family." It's being said on repeat. What does this all mean? What do I do? I am so afraid. I am so very afraid.

The Golden Eagle

yd1mp4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd1mp4/the_golden_eagle/

I don't know what I did to deserve the hell I'm going through.I'm here hoping for some help.Anyway here we go I'm a 44 year old male ,I'm divorced,have 2 daughters ages 18 and 12 .And I have worked at the same job since I was 20 years old My life has always been pretty simple and ordinary for the typical American man and that was just fine by me . But 2 days ago,that has changed I woke up one morning to get ready for work,as I stood up and made my way towards my bathroom to take my morning piss, something caught my eye An eagle...a golden eagle was standing in front of the bathroom door.I stood there in astonishment and wondered how this bird of prey got in my house The weirdest part was the fact that I don't live anywhere near where an eagle would want to be around at all. But here was one in my own damn bedroom.And it just stood there and stared up at me with it's big golden brown eyes.It's *hungry* golden brown eyes I have spent my whole life in the city and only went camping one time as a little kid and nearly died of fear when a rodent ran into my open tent So you can correctly assume that I had no idea what to do about this while situation. I would of yelled for my daughters but my oldest was on a school trip and my younger girl was staying at her moms for the week I remembered that my phone was on my nightstand behind me and I slowly started to turn around to get it to call animal control, but then it happened It was on my back in the blink of an eye and was clawing at my back while giving a terrifying screech in my ears that drowned out my screams of pain My vision began fading out as I felt it destroying the back of my head with its beak and I expected to never wake up again once I went out However I did come to, on my bedroom floor in the same position that I was attacked it.My body felt...odd Instead of pain like I expected to feel all over myself,I felt totally fine as I got myself up off the floor.7 hours had passed..was it a dream? That didn't make sense.I woke up at the same time that I always did in the mornings and what I felt in that attack felt *real* But there was no sign of that bird anywhere in my room after a thorough and worried search.It was gone. I went into the bathroom to see the damage that the damn bird inflicted on me...but I was fine.No blood,no marks...nothing I was at a loss.And after a few more minutes of trying to rationalize everything to no avail,I realized that I missed work...fuck I left the bathroom to get my phone and as expected,my boss called me and left a voicemail and asked where I was when I listened to it I knew he wouldn't believe my story.I mean would you believe it if someone told you this *I woke up to an eagle in my room and it attacked me but its gone now and I have no attack marks so that's why I couldn't come to work*... Totally believable right? I called him back ,and as expected he was pretty pissed when he answered, so I had to come up with a lie. I went with the old "sudden family emergency" excuse and he thankfully cooled down and warned me to not forget to call him sooner next time After that call ended I felt better.But I was still massively freaked out about the whole bird attack thing How did that fucking bird get into the house? Why did it suddenly attack me? Why did it leave no signs of injury? Why did it stare at me like that? I tried my best to forget about it and tried to relax for the rest of my day.As I managed to fall asleep later that night after some vodka shots,I had a dream I was flying around the city ...my city.It was at night and i could see the cars, lights and people below me.I had no control of my actions.It was like a movie I saw a young lady walking into her home with a few bags in her hands and I quickly flew down towards her home I flew down and stood outside her home as time seemed to pass suddenly pretty quickly, After a short time,I flew back up and landed on her roof and I saw that she had a chimney.As if by pure instinct , I flew down through it into her home As my dream self walked passed a mirror, I saw myself...I was a golden eagle...the same kind that attacked me the day before It made no sense.How was I walking normally,and had a human body but yet I appeared as a human sized eagle in a mirror My dream self continued waking towards the woman's bedroom door that was open and I just stood at her doorway for awhile As soon as she woke up and saw me,my dream self wasted no time and jumped into action I flew at her and began shredding and biting at her body as she screamed bloody murder with a terrified look on her face After a brief struggle,my dream-self bit into the woman's throat...and then I shot up in bed.It was morning .A nightmare. I still had 20 minutes before work but I decided to just get an early start.When I got into the bathroom and turned inn the light.I saw my face in the mirror It was covered in blood.I checked my nostrils to see if I had a undetected bloody nose while I slept Nope.My nose was fine Fear hit me like a brick after that realization.Could it be? No..crazy right? I got in the shower and cleaned up. Later as I was getting for work,I got a alert on my phone.My heart froze as I read what it said *BREAKING NEWS Woman found dead in her bed.Sharp gouges on most of her body and a massive gash in her throat.Police investigating* Her picture that was shown was the exact same woman from my dream I called in once again to work and told my boss that I was still with my family at the moment and he was fine with it .He claimed at least What in the world is going on?

I heard footsteps in my room in the middle of the night

yd2pq1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd2pq1/i_heard_footsteps_in_my_room_in_the_middle_of_the/

I don't know if this is right community where i can tell this story honestly but i want to take this off of my chest and see if anyone has experienced similar paranormal activity. (My English isn't the best so I'll try to explain this as good as possible) This situation (if i may call it that) started when i was in 7th grade, Sunday rainy night. I was watching a horror movie when my mom came in the living room and scolded me on how i wasn't asleep even though it was 11 pm. Dissatisfied i got up and went to my room, for the context my room didn't have any light bulb so as you can imagine it was pretty dark in it which lead to always using my phone for some light, the light wasn't the only problem though, it was one of the coldest rooms in our house. There were just 3 people (Me, my brother who was 7 at that time and my mom) living there, because my father was working overseas and my sister was gone to visit my aunt, so i had to sleep alone (me and my sister shared a room). I went to my room, the bed was ice cold as always, at first i couldn't fell asleep so i laid there motionless. I was thinking about different things, one of them being on how i didn't want to open my eyes fearing that if i did i could've seen something that i shouldn't. While i was saying my prayer (which i always do before i fell asleep) i heard something outside of my room, my mother always told me that i should keep the door of my room open so if i needed something and called her she would've been able to hear it easier, so hearing something outside of my room was rather easy, someone was opening the cabinets and looking in some little boxes (is at least what i thought that time). It felt like a mouse just fell in some little box and was trying to get out of it, which i tried to convince myself must've been the case, i mean living in the village mice are pretty big problem, but this feeling of somebody's presence outside of my room standing there just by the doorway was bothering and scaring the shit out of me. I wasn't going to open my eyes and refused to even move a single muscle, pretending to be asleep. The "thing" if i may call it that way came into my room, and i knew this definitely wasn't my mother (or little brother) just by the sound of their breathing and footsteps. I was scared shirtless and i started to do what really seemed logical to me: praying. The loud sound of thunder outside wasn't making the situation better, the "thing" came near my bed and stoped there (which i knew by their footsteps), it stood there for at least 10 seconds when it started to move again and now the sound of it's footsteps started to "get distanced" so i assumed they were going away, i let out silent breath which i was holding without even realizing. At that moment the "thing" stopped moving and it came back, this time though it wasn't standing near my bad, it was walking in circles in my bedroom, i started praying again hoping that god would save me from something that i wasn't supposed to see, my brain warning me not to even dare to open my eyes but my curiosity killing me with the interest of what was in my bedroom. I didn't open my eyes though, i was praying 4th time when the thing wasn't silently walking anymore, but running in circles. This got me thinking of why my mom couldn't hear anything, it started raining i prayed 7th time already and it was my 8th time when i heard the "thing" stop completely. As if to fool me into thinking that it was gone and i could open my eyes, which i didn't. Rather i finished my prayer after what i heard a loud sound if thunder and the "thing" dashed out of my room, i heard the dishes break and our main door being open. In the end i did open my eyes and looked around. There was nothing, i was too scared to get up and check if the dishes were broken or the door was open. I simply turned around and thanked god that i was still alive, i don't know how i fell asleep afterwards. I woke up next day before my mother and directly went to see if the dishes or anything was broken. There wasn't. But our main door was wide open which did prove that there definitely was something in my room that day. This wasn't the first time i experienced something paranormal, even before this i believed that our house was cursed in some way. And i think this was proved by other things that i experienced while i was living there.

I Answered A Craiglist Ad to Watch an Old Guy's Trail Cams- "There's Something in the Woods" (Part 2)

yctgim

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yctgim/i_answered_a_craiglist_ad_to_watch_an_old_guys/

Every fiber of my being is begging me to hop in my car and drive home, and honestly, I probably would have, job be damned- but I know my keys are sitting on the stupid desk inside that stupid cabin. I turn the doorknob slowly, praying to every god I can think of that no one’s inside, and cursing my stupid, pot addled brain that I didn’t think to lock the door behind me when I left. I spend a second debating if I should have my rifle at the ready, but decide against it. I can throw a decent punch, but I’ll be useless against an attack if I’m already holding something this wieldy. I open the door slowly, bracing myself for whatever’s inside to jump me, but I’m greeted by an empty room. I hurry to lock the door behind me and close the curtains again. At this point, I don’t care if anyone’s exploring Patrick’s land, I’m fully planning on staying in here until morning- and I’m already pulling up job postings on my phone, so I can quit this one as soon as the sun comes up. Despite my best instincts to look away, I can’t help but glance up at the monitors in front of me. My blood runs cold. The man is somehow, inexplicably, still there- still standing, totally motionless, in the middle of the very same trail, as if he hasn’t moved at all. I’m almost pressing my face to the screen, trying to make out something, anything, about the figure I’m seeing, but his features are too blurred and far away. He’s perfectly still, too still, and that’s when it dawns on me- the image must be frozen! I’m flooded with relief, and a little bit of annoyance. So, maybe I can’t explain the curtain thing, but this, at least, makes sense. Patrick’s gone over how to reset the cams, and I start the process of rebooting the system, taking a second to rummage through my bag for my stash. By the time the monitor is back up and running, the cabin is hazy with smoke, and I’m trying to forget the events of the night. After 10 applications to various chain restaurants and gas stations in the area, I’m back to feeling like maybe this gig isn’t so bad- the pay is weirdly good for how little I *actually* do, and I’m watching dumb videos on YouTube when I decide not to quit, yet. I glance up to see if the camera is functioning again, and to my immense relief, all I see is a view of a once again empty trail. The rest of the night is uneventful, and when the sun finally comes up, I’m happy to hop in my car and head home to get some sleep. I live with one other person, my friend Todd from high school. We both grew up about 2 hours away from here, and went to college in town. Todd’s a semester away from graduating, with a degree in chemistry or some shit. He’s the smartest idiot I know. Todd seems like he’s still asleep when I get home, but I know his first class starts at 10, and he’ll be awake soon, so I start a pot of coffee for him before I head to the shower. Our cat, Cleo, blinks at me lazily from her tree in the living room, and I stop to scoop her some more food and change her water. The hot water takes the chill out of me, and once I’m in clean, comfy pajamas, cartoons on TV and a bong in my hands, the night before seems almost silly, and I’m weirdly excited for Todd to wake up so I can tell him about it. He comes out of his room when I start coughing, his hair an absolute mess, sporting a pair of Spongebob boxers and nothing else. “Samwise, Samus, Sammy, how is my favorite nightcrawler?” he yawns. Seeing the hot coffee, he beams, “Spoiling your favorite roomie, as usual, I see.” While he pours himself a cup, I pack a fresh bowl for us to share before he heads out for the day. “I had, finally, officially, a wild night,” I tell him, and he settles into the couch next to me. “Oh?” “Could you hear the screaming in the woods from here, or did I get the privilege of being scared shitless alone?” I ask teasingly, and he takes the bong from me for a long hit, but stops at my question. Through labored coughing, Todd looks up at me, incredulous, “Screaming? Excuse me?” I regale him with the story of my night while he gets ready, eager to hear what he thinks of the whole thing. He emerges from the bathroom, purple toothbrush hanging from his mouth, “And you’re totally sure it wasn’t, like, a bird or something? Or that old guy you work for? What did he answer?” “That’s the thing,” I reply, “He didn’t. The dude probably barely knows how to work his cell phone. He prefers people to call his landline, if you can believe that. If I wouldn’t for sure get cursed out for it, I’d ask him if he heard the sound, too, but unless someone’s underage drinking or, like, littering on his land, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.” Todd shakes his head, “And you’re just cool with that? Cause you know the Olive Garden on campus is hiring, and that host we always see is pretty cute-” I laugh, cutting him off, “Look, man, maybe this is one of those things you just don’t read into that much. I may not be some honor roll chemist-” Todd throws a t-shirt at my head from the hallway. “But I know when I’ve got it made. I get paid to watch tv and smoke all night. I’m finally caught up on the bills I’ve owed you. If that means a homeless dude fucks with me every so often, I guess that’s cool, alright?” He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but after hastily grabbing some poptarts out of the cupboard, Todd wishes me goodnight and heads off to class, and I settle into bed, making sure my blackout curtains are in place for a good day’s sleep. My alarm wakes me up at 4, and I stumble to the kitchen to make myself some… breakfast? Dinner? Being nocturnal gives you a strange eating schedule, so I settle on an omelet and half a pb&j while I watch TV. The day passes quickly, and Todd gets home as I’m leaving for work. He wishes me good luck as I head out, my usual backpack of snacks and weed in hand. Patrick’s old pickup is in the driveway of the cabin when I pull in, and I wonder if I’ll get some answers about last night. He’s sitting at the desk when I walk in, scowling as usual. “You heard the shrieking, kid?” he snaps as I get settled in. “Yeah, I did,” I tell him, “You wanna explain what that was?” He chuckles, his eyes scanning the monitors. In daylight, the trails look like any other nature reserve, a beautiful place to hike and explore. “No, kid, I don’t. Not really, anyway. I told you, these woods are dangerous. Could be a vixen, calling for her mate, could be some kind of screech owl.” He starts to laugh a little harder, “Or, of course, it could be an axe murderer. You never know.” I fake a laugh with him. “Is that why you texted me to close the curtains?” Patrick freezes. “What?” “Last night? You texted me something was watching, and told me to close the curtains?” The old man shakes his head slowly. “Texted you? Kid, I don’t have a cell phone. You know I just have the landline.” Now it’s my turn to freeze. “No, come on Patrick, look.” I pull my cell phone out to show him the messages, including the first text I’d gotten like two weeks ago, simply saying ‘It’s Patrick.’ “You’re telling me this isn’t you?” Patrick’s face seems to pale. “Kid, I’m telling you, I don’t have a cell phone. I have no idea who that is.”

Never felt this scared in my entire life, Hoping to do it again :)

ydayod

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ydayod/never_felt_this_scared_in_my_entire_life_hoping/

I am writing this journal in case anything happends to me. So i moved to another town for college and there are theese luscious amazing woods like right in the backyard of the house i am staying at and they stretch for fucking miles. I wasn't a very athletic person before but the moment i saw the trees and heard the crickets i was gonna be in that forrest every day man. I felt the woods like calling to me in a way. At first i went there with some of my roommates but they stopped going with me cause they have their studies to focus on. Three of them are med students so they have way more schoolwork than i do. I still went out there and walked around the trails. Climbed the trees. Did the general exploring wilderness stuff. But one thing i noticed after a few days is that there weren't any animals. Not even birds. Just the crickets. I was thinking i would definitely see like a deer or a boar since i am pretty light on my feet but not a single one. I even hid in a tree for a few hours seeing if i could catch one fo the animals off guard and snag a picture or something. But nope. After four days of waiting up in a tree i just wanted to see an animal so i read up on forrest animal habits and it said that a lot of them were Nocturnal, aka they only come out at night. And the night sky was the clearest it has been in months so the moonlight actually lit up the forrest fairly well. I got to my usual spot where i hide in a tree and set up. The noise of the crickets was more clear than during the day. It wasnt long untill i noticed something. I saw one of the bushes like 20 meters away rustle and my eyes darted towards it. I looked around intently hoping to spot like a wolf or a boar but no noise came from the bush and i sure as hell wasn't going down in the middle fo the night when a wolf or a boar might be near. Then a chill ran down my spine. The crickets went silent. And i started feeling off, like something was stalking me. It definitely wasnt like an animal. It was more malicious. I tried to look around slowly and there they were. A pair of eyes fixed on me. Two glowing yellow eyes like searing metal in a forge. I chose flight instead of fight so i booked it towards my house. The crickets picked up where they left off only this time they were louder, almost deafening. I felt like i couldn't breathe as i was running. I looked back for a bit and the pair of yellow eyes were attached to this wretched almost deer almost human hybrid. It ran on four legs but it had way more limbs. And the ends of those limbs had light reflecting off of them like they were made of metal. I made it to my house and shut the door behind me. Ran to my bedroom upstairs and curled up in a corner. My shutters were down thankfully and i had no intention of peeking out of my window. Then i heard Scraping metal. I felt it vibrate in my bones. But then it scuttled off i guess cause i heard it skittering down the wall of the house. I have never fealt this fear my entire life and honestly i was kind of pumped. I am thinking of going after it again tomorrow or maybe a few days. Maybe i should train up my legs a bit.

I should have told my sister to give that bear to lost and found

yco03z

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yco03z/i_should_have_told_my_sister_to_give_that_bear_to/

The day Madeline came home with Bear was abnormally cold for a winter in Florida. I spotted her pink puffy jacket as she toddled over to my car in the parent pick-up line. Her backpack was nearly twice the size of her and she gripped one of the straps in her hand to prevent it from falling. She pried the back door open and crawled inside, settling into her booster seat. “Hey, Maddie.” I greeted, turning around in my seat to find her shuddering. Her cheeks and nose were a blistering red and she wiped away a stream of snot with the back of her hand. “Hi.” She sniffled, hugging herself to get warm. “I’ve got the heat on all the way Mads, you should thaw out in a second.” I promised. Her big brown eyes met mine in the rearview and she sloppily pushed away some strands of hair that escaped her pigtails. “Look what I found under the slide, Savy.” Mads exclaimed, shifting to dig around in her backpack. She pulled out a raggedy looking figure from her bag, “This is Bear.” She held the stuffed animal in her lap. Stuffed animal was an overly generous term to describe it. The toy was barely a foot high, its fur was matted and worn and had a couple of bald spots I assumed had come from long-term use. One of the bears ears was missing and the other sagged terribly. Instead of a neatly stitched smile, a row of X’s in black thread was placed where its mouth should have been. Its eyes were the most unsettling thing about it, two gleaming glass beads glared back at me. They were a deep red with two black pupils that reflected my horrified expression back to me. A horrible excuse for a *bear*. “Maddie, you can’t take things from school. Someone probably lost that and is looking for it.” Her brows furrowed and she hugged the stuffed animal to her chest, “No. He said I’m his.” I parted my lips but reconsidered what I wanted to say. I surely didn’t want to give her the impression that picking things up that weren’t hers was acceptable but arguing with her might be a lost cause. “Okay, well, if someone is looking for that, and asks you, you have to give it back, okay?” I stated. She sniffled and nodded, but it seemed as if the words went in one ear and out the other. I wish someone would have claimed that damned bear. If I would have known what was to transpire, I would have never let Maddie bring it home. My father thought Bear was charming, or at least that’s what he expressed when Maddie excitedly showed him once he came home from work. He thought her obsession with the stuffed animal was a coping mechanism. It was the first time she’d seemed genuinely happy ever since our mother passed from falling ill in the fall. At first, Bear would stay in Maddie’s room. I’d hear her talk to him from time to time, play dress-up and house, which were all regular behaviors for a seven-year-old girl. I didn’t think twice about it…until Bear became attached to Maddie’s hip. He was with her in the bathroom in the mornings, he went with her to school, he sat next to her in the car, and even at the dinner table. And I know you might be thinking, Sav, why are you so concerned? Children grow attachments to objects all the time. Which is fair, and true, but her attachment was becoming to get out of hand. Anytime Maddie did, or didn’t do anything, she’d say it was because Bear did or didn’t want to do it. Mads was off school for Christmas break, but Dad still had to work, so I stayed home with her for the majority of the time. I called her for lunch one afternoon, I made her favorite – mac and cheese with bacon. She plopped herself down at the dining table, Bear next to her on the table top lolled on his side, and she stared down at her bowl. “Bear doesn’t want this.” She muttered, pushing the bowl away from her. I glanced over my shoulder, placing some dishes in the sink. “Bear doesn’t have to eat it, Mads. I made it for you.” “Bear said I can’t eat it.” I was slightly annoyed by that statement and sighed, “Bear can’t tell you what to do.” She sat quiet at the table, looking up at me. I suddenly grew aware of how deep her eyes had sunk into her skull, it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while. Maddie had only nibbled on her pop tart this morning and didn’t touch her plate at dinner last night either. I had thought that maybe she was feeling under the weather, but she never turned down mac and cheese before. “Mads, you’ve got to eat something okay? I’m sure Bear wants you to feel your best, and you’ve got to eat to do that.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “Bear said no.” Quite honestly, I didn’t give a damn about what Bear wanted, and I was getting pretty close to telling Maddie that. I walked over to the table, reaching to grab Bear and Maddie’s eyes grew wide. “No!” she gasped, attempting to snatch Bear away from my grasp. I stepped away, glaring at her, holding the bear by its torso. Its matted fur felt oddly warm to the touch. “Put him back!” she demanded, looking a little frantic. “Maddie, I’m just going to put him in your room until you finish eating, okay? And then you–” Maddie lunged for Bear, her nails raking down my forearm. I yelped, stepping away as she yanked the stuffed animal out of my grip. “Madeline!” I scolded, rubbing my arm as angry red marks began to form. “You made him angry!” she said, face contorted into a grimace. “He doesn’t like you anymore.” Maddie turned, running to her room, leaving me and the untouched mac and cheese behind. Maddie’s hunger strike continued for the next few days, and she’d only eat if our father was in the room. She didn’t speak to me very much after that incident, and didn’t try to make eye contact either. The only thing I would find staring at me was that stupid fucking bear. It was almost as if it was taunting me, as if it was trying to take my place as Mads older sister. I was going crazy, what was I doing, growing jealous over a toy? I could tell Maddie wasn’t sleeping well. Her eyes developed bruises under them and her eyes were glossed over whenever she wasn’t occupied with something. I had woken up in the middle of the night to pee and walked past Maddie’s door to the bathroom. Her light was off, but I could hear her muttering. It was 2AM. “Mads?” I whispered, creaking her bedroom door open. It went quiet. She lay snuggled under her covers, eyes closed. Bear sat near her chest, facing me. The reflection from her night light made his eyes glow and I felt my heartbeat quicken a bit. I tiptoed to the side of her bed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. I contemplated taking Bear and tossing him away, but decided against it. I hated that thing, but I had a feeling I’d hate Maddie’s reaction to it being gone way more. The next night, Dad dropped Maddie off at one of her friends from school’s house to have a sleep over. It bugged me a little that he never mentioned anything about Maddie’s state. Maybe I was overthinking it and she was perfectly fine. I got a call around 8 from a number I didn’t know. “Hi, is this Maddie’s sister?” the voice on the other line sounded a little exasperated. “Yes, who is this?” “This is Ms. Simmons. I’m sorry, your father gave me your number in case he didn’t pick up. I hate to inconvenience you, but is there any way you could come pick Maddie up? I’d take her home, but she doesn’t know your address.” “Um, sure?” I said after hesitating for a moment, “I’m sorry, I thought Maddie was planning on staying the night. I didn’t know she needed to be picked up.” “Oh no, the girls just got into an argument and Maddie asked to come home. I tried convincing her to stay, but she’s pretty adamant.” I remembered how Maddie acted when I had tried to take Bear from her a few afternoons ago. I had a sinking feeling that it might be related to her stuffed animal again. “Of course, I’ll come get her.” I said and headed out after Ms. Simmons gave me her address. Maddie didn’t say anything when she got into my car, but the first thing I noticed was Bear’s arm clenched in her fist. I sat in the driveway for a moment before asking, “Mads. Can you tell me what happened?” “Katie made Bear angry.” She admitted, looking down at her shoes. I blinked, trying to figure out what to say. “You mean Katie made *you* angry, Mads?” “No.” she sounded frustrated. “Katie made Bear angry and he said he was going to hurt her.” I started driving, “Bear can’t hurt anyone.” I had about had it with this bear. “Don’t tell Bear what he can’t do. He’s gonna get angry again.” Maddie begged, voice rising. I gripped the steering wheel, face beginning to feel a little warm and I turned down the heat. “Madeline. Listen to me. Bear isn’t real. He’s a toy. Toys can’t talk. Toys can’t tell you what to do. And toys cannot get mad. You have to stop that or else I’m going to take that bear away.” “No!” she shrieked. “No, no, *no*!” I grimaced, “Maddie!” “Shup up!” she yelled, flailing her legs in her seat, “You’re making him mad!” Oh my God. That was it. I was done. I turned, reaching behind me, and snatched Bear from the backseat. Maddie let out a high-pitched scream, and I swerved off the road a bit. “*Give him back*!” I rolled down my window and threw him out before I could give it a second thought. Maddie wailed and my heart sunk in my chest. I couldn’t believe I had just done that. I could turn around, if I wanted. I didn’t. Maddie spent the rest of the car ride screaming, and insisting that not only she hated me, but so did Bear. Tears streamed down her red face and I white knuckled the steering wheel until I put the vehicle in park. Maddie hurried out of the car and dashed towards the edge of the property. “Madeline! Get back here!” I called, stumbling out of the driver’s seat to chase her down. I guess now would be a good time to mention that we lived out in the country. A few houses were scattered around the acres of land that surrounded us but so did several acres of woods. The woods Maddie was running towards. “Maddie, what the fuck?” I could barely make out her moving silhouette in from the light in our yard. She stopped at the edge of the woods, turning over her shoulder to look at me. I stopped a few yards away, the cold making every heavy breath visible. “Bear wants to play hide and seek.” She sounded composed, as if she hadn’t just thrown a tantrum in the back seat and took off into the woods before I could reply. I went after her instinctively, calling out for her. I was angry, exasperated, and scared. I reached into my back pocket, hoping to find my cellphone, only to realize I had left it in the car. I swore under my breath, the cold wind nipping at my bare ankles. “Maddie, this isn’t funny! I know you’re mad. I’m sorry. Come out and we’ll go drive back to get Bear, I promise!” The only reply I received was the rustle of leaves from the wind. I scanned the woods, eyes narrowed, they seemed to be getting denser with every step forward. The light from the moon was little to no help, and I thought about going back for my phone’s flashlight. “Maddie, I’m sorry!” My vision blurred from the frustrated tears I held back. I should have never thrown out that damned bear. It wasn’t worth it. I heard something move a few yards ahead of me. “I’ll drive us back to Bear, Mads. Just please stop hiding!” I coaxed, taking steps towards where the sound had come from. A scream sounded off in the distance and I froze. *Fuck. Fuck. Fuck*. That sounded like Maddie. “Madeline!” I screamed, taking off. “Maddie! Where are you?!” The cold air bit the inside of my throat and burned my nostrils. Silence. I was answered by silence. I panted, hands on my knees. “Don’t let him find you.” I whirled around, scream halfway up my throat, to find Maddie standing behind me hidden in the dark. “Maddie wha-“ I froze as she took a step towards me, the moonlight splitting between the trees. Deep, jagged gashes decorated her throat. Blood oozed onto her shirt and dripped onto the ground. I didn’t have time to process what had happened before she smiled and said, “*Run*.” Her voice was guttural and sounded nothing like her and I took off for the house. Dad. I had to get Dad. Vines and brush whipped against my pants as I gasped for air. I nearly fell when I broke into a clearance, too scared to glance behind me. I made a bee line for the back door, almost forgetting how to use a doorknob in panic. I trampled through the house, screaming for my father. I found him in the dining room, he shot up from his seat, wide-eyed, “Savannah what’s wr-“ I didn’t let him finish, “Maddie!” I wheezed, “She’s out there. She’s hurt, that bear- that- that thing she-“ My father put his hands on my shoulders, brows furrowed. He no longer looked alarmed, “What are you talking about? Maddie is here.” “No,” I said, exasperated, “You don’t understand!” There was a shadow from behind my father’s back, and I felt my heart drop to the floor. Maddie appeared around the corner with a fist full of popcorn. There were no gashes and no blood, she looked perfectly happy and healthy. “What’s wrong?” she asked. I blinked rapidly, trying to understand what had just occurred. “Maddie came inside a bit ago,” my father assured., “she told me you were still in the car.” I pointed at her, “You ran into the woods. I chased after you!” Suddenly I was becoming unsure of what I had seen. She and my dad exchanged glances and Maddie shoved the popcorn into her mouth, shaking her head. I was being looked at as if I was the crazy one. She walked up to me and grabbed my hand. She was warm, almost too warm. “I think you’re tired, Savy.” I stared down at her, hoping to find proof of what I had seen. Her innocent eyes stared back at me, empty, no story to tell. My eyes traveled to her neck, which was pale and smooth, no sign of anything. Was I losing my mind? There was no way. “I’m just going to…take a shower.” I muttered, backing away from the two of them and into the hallway. I made my way into my room and flicked on the light switch, rubbing my eyes. But I wasn’t alone. Two gleaming, red eyes stared me down. Sitting perfectly unharmed on my bed was the bear. It grinned back at me, the X stitches nowhere to be found. I heard my heartbeat in my head. I threw it out. It can’t be here. How the fuck was it in my room? The floorboards creaked behind me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of the bear. “Bear found you.” Maddie whispered. He might have found me then, but with time I was able to escape him. Maddie on the other hand, didn't get so lucky.

Beware the Water in a Flooded Mine

yctw60

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yctw60/beware_the_water_in_a_flooded_mine/

I still remember being a happy family, once upon a time. Thinking back to a years ago, I remember the summer trips we would take as a family, Me, my wife, Lynn and our 7-year-old son Kyle. We would travel to the lake, or at least that’s what we used to call it. It was an old limestone quarry around 30 minutes away from our small hometown of Blueridge, Wyoming. The quarry was deeply cut into a series of top of a large hill, and due to some incorrect planning from the Mountain Quarries Company, a subsidiary of Pacific Portland Cement Company, they dug straight into a pressurized, underwater cave system, which resulted in the entire mine flooding, followed soon by its complete shutdown. This left a large untouched pristine body of water, spanning at least 200m between the straight cut walls of the quarry. This beautiful natural lake sat right on the edge of a large evergreen forest, but close to the main road, with great signal and flat open areas. This now untouched, and unclaimed spot became a massive hit in for our town, a new and perfect camping site. &#x200B; My wife absolutely loved the outdoors, she couldn’t get enough of it, always pestering me to take her down to the lake for a night under the stars. This was a trait she passes on to our son. They were always running around outside, catching frog or bugs, rescuing everything they could get their hands on. I cannot even remember the exact number of baby birds that they would bring home and demand I help them raise. And I could never say no to that pair, one on one maybe, but when they ganged up on me, I always folded faster than wet cardboard. &#x200B; Then it happened, we just spent the night at the lake, the bright morning rays illuminated the sky in a dazzling array of pinks and oranges. Several minutes ago Lynn, left on a her morning stroll around the lake. But something was wrong, I saw Lynn run out of the tree line, out of breath, sweating hard, and with this strange look in her eyes. She didn’t say anything but run to Kyle, grabbed him into her arms, ran over to our old Jeep wrangler then threw him into the backseat. I tried to ask her what was wrong but she just jumped into the drive seat and said in a panic tone “get in”. I quickly got into the car, and before I could even close the door she slammed on the breaks. “Dammit Lynn, what are you doing”. I asked confused and a little bit angry since she just abandoned all our camping equipment. She paused for a moment and said in a quiet but panicked voice “we just had to get out of there”, “WHY” I asked confused, she would never act like this normally, so I honestly had no idea what to make of this. She stammered out “It was in the “…. &#x200B; Then everything went dark, I awoke to find myself lying on a soft surface with a rhythmic beep, beep, beep. Next my right ear. My whole body ached and I struggled to open my eyes. Finally, they cracked open letting in a blinding white light. The beeping got louder and faster. Then I felt something cold grab my wrist and a low whisper next me, Calm down, Mr Finch, you’re okay, your safe. Eventually my eyes adjusted to the light showing a young woman leaning over me, dressing in a classic nurse’s outfit. I tried to speak but, I couldn’t say a word, something was in down my throat, I started to panic, I had to get it out of my throat, or I would surely suffocate. The beeping grew louder and erratic as I struggled, my arms felt like jelly as they reached up and grabbed at my face. I felt this horrid thick tendril going down my throat, pulsing as it forced something into my lungs. The nurse screamed something I couldn’t make out, but I felt more hand pressing me down, trying to stop me and that dammed beeping just keep getting faster. I finally managed to yank out the dammed thing trying to slither down my throat. Followed by unimageable pain and a sharp pinch in my left arm, and then darkness. &#x200B; I awoke again but this time my vison was a lot clearer, and I could see that I was strapped down with thick padded cuffs to a clean white hospital bed. At least that horrid tendril was gone from my throat and the beeping was a slow steady rhythm again. I could now tell that that beeping came from my heart rate monitor. I called out but my voice felt wrong, it was rough, and it hurt to speak. The same young nurse from slowly entered my view, hovering above me. “Woah there, no talking. You dammed near tore out your voice box with that little stunt earlier”. She said in a stern but kind voice, she paused for a second and spoke. “You’re in the Blueridge hospital, your car was t-boned on the blackwater road just outside of town. Your lucky to be alive, your spleen ruptured, and both your right leg and arm were broken in the collision”. I tried to ask a question, but she just shushed me. “No questions now, rest and the doctor will come talk with later”, I blinked, then felt a sever drowsiness hit me and then the darkness overtook me again. &#x200B; The next few days where a nightmare, the nurses were kind, but they refused to tell me anything about the crash, or what happened to my wife or son. Eventually though the Doctor came to check up on me “Ah, good your vitals seem fine, your bones had a good clean break and it’s healing nicely, you should be back on your feet in no time, Mr Finch” he stated in a clinical tone. “I don’t care about that, WHERE’S LYNN, WHERE’S KYLE” I demanded. A look of sadness overcame the doctors face “Mr Finch, please you’re still recovering we can”, “DAMMIT DOC, I need to know, please…” I begged. He let out a short sigh, “Mr Finch your Son is fine, actually were not really sure how but he barley suffered any injuries, just a few lacerations, a mild concussion and a sprained shoulder” I massive weight left my chest and I could finally after days of torment, relax, “He’s fine”, I smiled, then as soon as my smile came it fled as a dark though wormed it way into the forefront of my mind, and a pit formed in my stomach as a dread filled my heart. The beeping started to get erratic again, as I stammered out “wha-a-t abo-o-u-t Ly-y-nn”. The Doctor steeled himself then said his next words in the most professional way possible “I’m sorry Mr. Finch, She suffered a sever head injury, which lead to a hemorrhagic stroke, she passed away last night at 20h32 pm, I very sorry for your loss”. I felt everything go cold and all the color drained from the world. &#x200B; The next few days flew by in a dark malaise. I couldn’t focus on anything, and I lost my drive to even try. Then next event I could even really remember was they day Kyle came into my room. “DADDY”, he yelled and all but thew himself onto my bed, His weight came crashing into me and I could feel my body protesting against the pain, but he hugged my tightly, his warm tiny arms grabbling tightly into me, even though the pain on my side was almost unbearably, I wouldn’t even think for a second of pushing him off me, instead I wrapped my good arm around him and pulled him tighter to me. Then he said, “I missed you, those mean old lady’s wouldn’t let me see you or mom”. Those words stung even more than the injuries. I fought back tears, as I held him, but then something in me snapped back into place, and the cold darkness flew away. &#x200B; “Don’t worry Son, Well get back home soon, I promise”. “Daddy I’m so glad to see you, but what happened to Momma, those mean ladies won’t tell me anything they just seem sad whenever I ask about it”. I took a deep breath, and said with tears staining my eyes, “Kyle, God needed mom for a very special mission, so he called her back to heaven, so she could become of his angels”. Kyle seemed confused but asked sincerely “Then can we go to heaven too?”. “Not yet, but one day when its our time, we’ll get called up too and we can see her again”. “But when will that be, I wanna see her now” Kyle complained. I hugged closer “I’m sorry son, but we won’t be able to for a long time”. My son was a very smart kid and by that point he caught up on what I was saying, and I could see tears well in his eyes as he started to cry. I just held him close until he eventually fell asleep in my arms. &#x200B; The next few months passed in a blur, but I had now regained my drive, I fought through the physical therapy and eventually was back on my feet. Months passed and I managed to adjust to taking care of Kyle alone. It was hard, and I missed Lynn every day, but humans are good at adjusting. With my demanding Job I had to hire a maid to clean the house and started to order take out more often that was probably healthy for me and Kyle. In the blink of an eye a year had passed. Kyle was the greatest child you could ever imagine, I really struggled to get through this year, but he was different stronger. He would help me, make his own lunch when I forgot it, take the bus to and from school and his grades never even dropped. He truly was an amazing kid. &#x200B; Then early one morning while I was getting breakfast ready, he ran into the kitchen, then approached me, I could tell he wanted to ask something, but he didn’t know how to approach it. “Good morning, buddy, so what up” I gently probed, he replied “Well, you’ve been busy, but I wanted to ask if, it would be, well, you know, okay if, we go back to the lake again”, My smile froze, “The lake” I questioned, “Yeah you’ve been away a lot, and I’ve been trying to play with my friends, but its just not the same. we used to go all the time, and well I’d really like to go again”. I paused for a moment and thought to myself, wow I’m a terrible dad. This kid used to go out every day with his mother, they loved the outdoors, it’s been a whole year and I’ve been to busy at work to even take him out once. I could feel my heart breaking, so I said “Sure, let’s go on Saturday”. His smile brightens the room. I have not seemed him this happy in a long time and it even lightened my own mood. Although the second he left to get on the bus, a dark dread crept into my heart. The lake, I honestly never wanted to go back there. There were too many memories there, too much I didn’t want to face. But if its to keep that boy smiling, I’d do anything. &#x200B; The rest of that week went by quickly, I bought a whole new set of camping gear, pack snacks, and everything you’d need to make some s’more, all the while mentally preparing myself to go back to the lake. Then the fateful day arrived, we woke early, 06h00 AM, fumbled everything into the car. Then made the short drive to the lake. It was a bright clear day, easily 30C, with a cool wind that blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. It was by all accounts a perfect day, we drove up to the old mining operation, its hard packed dirt and chiseled limestone walls, looking over the dark, yet surprisingly clean water of the lake. I was always surprised how the water never got stagnate, even though it always sat still. That day was actually fun, it felt like old times again, we ran through the forests, catching every bug we could find, we even found an old slimy toad underneath a small berry bush. &#x200B; Too soon the golden rays of the sun started to creep behind the hills in the distance. I was complexly exhausted, keeping up with an 8-year-old is hard work, I cannot understand how they fit so much energy into such a small body. So, we headed back into the car, and started to unpack the tents. Of course, we didn’t setup right on the edge of the water. That would be slightly silly, as I would hate to wake up and plunge straight into the water first thing in the morning. So, we headed a ways away from the lake. We setup the camp in a small clearing in-between some old firs, its was better to setup slightly outside the old mining area as the dirt was so hard packed there you struggled to hammer in the tent’s pegs. We gathered some large stone and build a roaring campfire. We had snacks, ate S’mores, then as the full moon hung brightly in the sky, I could see Kyles eyes slowly droop closed. I gently scooped him into my arms and carried him into his tent. As I tucked him into his sleeping back, he softly said to me, half asleep. “Daddy, thanks, today I almost felt like mom was back”. Those words stung my heart, and I knew we would have to come back to the lake more often. He was a great kid, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t missing Lynn, and I needed to do a better job. I slowly crept out of his tent making as little noise as possible. Quickly smoothing the fire, then crawling into my own tent, and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out. &#x200B; I jolted awake, “Daddy, quickly over here” I heard Kyle call from the distance. I rubbed my eyes, still groggy. Kids… it should really be impossible for them to have this much energy. I slowly unzipped myself from the sleeping back and slowly pushed out the flap of the tent. It was still midnight. The kid basically got like 2 hours of sleep and is out and about already, But I can’t really blame him though it’s been a year since any real outing after all. I grab my flashlight, flicked it on, sending out a thing beam of light into the dark woods, and head out into the cool night air. I didn’t really need the flashlight; I was a full moon and most of the forest was visible, but it never hurts to have, I guess. I was about to call out when I heard it again even further away “Daddy, quickly over here” he called out from the direction of the lake. &#x200B; I slowly trudged my way through the underbrush. “Kyle, where are you” I called out. “Daddy, quickly over here”. I finally emerged from the tree line, looking out over the lake. Its water pitch black under the moonlight, and then a heard a splash, a giggle and my I saw Kyle leisurely paddling in the lake. The lake was deep, and I mean, really deep. Its an old mine, so it easily went 50m down. We never let Kyle ever swim in the lake, just to be safe. “Kyle what do you think your doing, get out there now” I called out over the water. He just giggled and said playfully “Daddy, quickly over here”. I was furious and was just about to jump in and drag him back to shore when I noticed it,” Daddy, quickly over here”, he said again. The same words, said in the same way, exactly the same way, like straight from a tape recorder. &#x200B; I slowly moved the beam of the torch onto the boy. He looked just like Kyle, exactly the same. Maybe I’m just being crazy, it must just be him finally letting lose after keeping his feeling bottled up for so long, I told myself. “Come on Kyle, lets get you dried off” I call out again. The boy cocked his head to the side staring up at me and said “Daddy, quickly over here”. His bright green eyes reflected back the light from the torch, and I froze, Kyle has brown eyes. The thing in the water lifted it hand up out of the water becoming me in “Daddy, quickly over here” it said copying my son perfectly. Then I heard a voice in the distance. “Daddy are you looking for me”. &#x200B; I froze for a brief moment, then ran, I burst through bushed, trampled plants along the way, but I didn’t care I ran with everything I had, back to the camp. I burst through the tree line and saw Kyle’s head poking out of his tent, he was rubbing his eyes, his brown eyes. I ran towards him yanked him out of the tent and sprinted to the car. I threw Kyle into the backseat, and grabbed the front door, “Daddy, quickly over here” I heard a faint call in the distance, and a pair of glowing green eyes staring from lake in the distance. I jumped in and hit the gas. 20 minutes later we where home, Kyle was confused and terrified. “Daddy, what’s wrong why did we have to go” I looked over at him and said “Its nothing, just the lake, well, we can’t go there anymore, I think we need to find a new place to camp”. He looked up at me confused but said “Fine, I’m going back to sleep” he gave me a hug and turned to go to his bedroom, but as he left, I saw something, something faint.. &#x200B; Now I’m sitting here in my bedroom typing up this post, thoughts swirling in my head, because as Kyle entered his bedroom, he opened it with his right hand, not his left like he usually would, and for a moment I saw a flash of green in his eyes. I am no longer sure if that thing across the hall is my son, and if not, how do I get him back?

I couldn't believe what happened after my crush asked me out on a date...

ycaj39

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycaj39/i_couldnt_believe_what_happened_after_my_crush/

“Charlie, why are you dressed up like a fairy?” Nana furrowed her brows, like two gray caterpillars resting in confusion over the rim of her glasses. “Nana, I’m Starchild. You know, I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day?” I motioned at the face paint and the leather outfit. How could she not know who KISS was? “I don’t know what you’re talking about sweetie. But it’s not appropriate for Easter. God wouldn’t like that outfit. You look like a fairy.” She shook her head in disapproval. “Nana, it’s Halloween, not Easter. And calling someone a fairy really isn’t okay anymore… Did you take your meds?” She didn’t answer, simply stared off into space, softly humming a church hymn. “*Whatever…”* I groaned, making my way to the back door. “Charlie, don’t forget curfew this time!” My mother called from somewhere deep within the house. “Yeah, yeah! Got it mom!” I rolled my eyes as I slid through the screen door and down the porch steps. Streetlights splashed a yellow glow across the asphalt as herds of children in costumes flooded the streets. Orange and brown leaves spun in circles across the ground as a cool breeze rolled in from the south. Laughter filled the air as kids jumped and twirled in between doorbells. A part of me missed that age, the thrill of trick-or-treating and staying up late to stuff my face with candy corn, but another part of me was glad it was over. I had more *adult* things on my mind for this evening. I couldn’t run in my platform boots, but I sped walked faster than any soccer mom could ever dream of as I made my way across the neighborhood to Eric Pliers house. My calves were on fire, but after a few minutes it was totally worth it. Deadmau5 pulsed from inside as neon lights spilled out of the windows onto the lawn. Some other kids that I recognized from school were making out on the patio. I made my way into the foyer through the entanglement of bodies and mounds of discarded red solo cups. A sea of risqué costumes writhed in the living room as EDM raged through the speakers. It was a fantastical dance floor made of shag rug and floral wallpaper. The outdated house came alive tonight. The energy was electrifying, and I felt its current twist its way through my veins like a drug. I slipped my way into the fray of flesh and danced like I never had before. My limbs twirled in a frenzy as the bass rattled my teeth. This went on for hours. By the time I came down from my buzz most of the people had left the party. A few girls gossiped on the sofa and there was a jock passed out on the kitchen floor just outside the den. Other than that, the house was about empty. *What time is it?* I looked to the grandfather clock by the staircase. 11:46PM. *Oh shit…* I’d missed curfew almost by an hour. Oh, man… she was going to kill me. I broke out into a trot and burst through the front door and down the porch steps. I was partially down the street when I heard someone call out to me. “CHARLIE! WAIT UP!” Eric Pliers jogged after me, his alien costume jiggling comically. “Oh, hey Eric. Great party! I had so much fun, but I really gotta get home. I’m out past curfew and my mom is going to be so pissed.” “Ah… well I just wanted to tell you thanks for coming. I enjoyed hanging out with you.” “But did we hang out? I don’t really remember us talking?” I chuckled. “Well, no… but I really liked seeing you. Outside of school I mean. Do you think… do you think I could do that more often?” “Do what?” “See you outside of school more.” He blushed. “Oh, yeah of course. I’d like that.” I grinned. He beamed at me for a moment, but then his smile quickly faltered. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You know that guy?” He pointed over my shoulder. “What, who?” I spun around. At first, I didn’t see him, but then I spotted him standing behind a streetlight. He was freakishly tall and thin enough to hide most of his body behind the lamppost. Only his shoulders and head stood out from behind it. His neck was craned and I could tell he was watching us even though he had on what looked like to be a Japanese Oni mask. Large golden horns curled out from the black snarling face of a demon. I’d seen something similar in an Anime before. “CAN I HELP YOU?” I shouted. I spun around to face Eric. “Seriously, what’s with this guy?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “I don’t know what a creep.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder, but the man was gone. “What the hell…” I paced in a circle, scanning the area. I didn’t see him anywhere. “Well, the creepy weeb must have taken off.” A giggle was caught in my throat as I turned to Eric to see the tall man with his hand around his throat, pulling Eric tightly against his body. Eric choked and thrashed against the man, his face purple with spittle bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “WOAH, HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY…” I cried, backpedaling away from them with my hands up. “We were just joking, you’re totally not a creep. Please let him go.” I pleaded. The man said nothing. He only stared at me with icy gray eyes beneath the mask. “Just let him go and leave us alone. We won’t tell anyone…” I didn’t know what to say, I just wanted it to stop. Silence. Eric had gone limp. He had lost consciousness or worse. The Oni man suddenly tightened his grip so hard that I heard a snap. I gasped as Eric’s head lolled to the side like a ragdoll. “Oh my God!” I screamed. I took off sprinting as fast as I could, clomping in my platform boots like a Clydesdale through the streets. “Help! Someone help!” I hollered. But the once busy neighborhood was dead asleep. I couldn’t call the police, my mother had taken my cellphone when I’d broken curfew a week ago. I ran and ran, my lungs were on fire, my legs were weak and wobbly. I didn’t look over my shoulder until I was rounding the corner of my street. The Oni Man stood behind another lamppost not thirty yards behind me. The light glinted off his golden horns and this time he was waving at me. Tears rolled down my face as I galloped further down the sidewalk. I was almost to my house when I tripped over my boots and face planted onto the concrete. My mouth filled with blood from where I’d chipped my teeth. I spit out the shards and a mouthful of blood as I scrambled back to my feet. The man was close, I could hear his footsteps just behind me. But I didn’t dare look back, I darted through the yard and into the house, slamming the door and locking it behind me. “Charlie is that you? You’re late, AGAIN!” My mom shouted while descending the staircase. “Mom, mom! Call the cops!” I screeched. “What, why? What’s happened?” She scrambled down the steps and into the living room. “Oh my God, what happened to your face?” She grabbed the sides of my cheeks to examine the damage. “Don’t worry about that Mom, damn, call the police!” I yelled. “What’s going on Charlie? Are you on drugs?” “No mom, the man… the man in the mask, he killed Eric. He killed Eric and he’s after me.” I whimpered. “What are you talking about? Who is Eric? Who is after you?” Her voice was high pitched and panicky. Before I had a chance to answer I heard a window shatter in the study. My mother quickly crossed the room, her pink bathrobe billowing behind her. “No! Mom, don’t go in there!” I cried. But it was too late, the tall man emerged from the doorway and slammed her against the wall. She cried out in pain as he wrapped his hands around her neck and slammed her again and again. I fell to my knees as her body smashed through the drywall, cracking the wooden studs beneath. She crumpled to the floor in a heap after he was done. Blood pooled around her head, matting her blonde hair to the hardwood. The Oni man turned to face me. The same steely gaze shone through the eye holes in the demon mask. There was no emotion there. He was the void, and I was to be consumed by it one way or another. I felt urine trickle down my pant leg as he stepped towards me. *This is it. This is where I die.* The thought bounced around my skull like static. Just before his hands reached me an explosion rang out just over my head, sending the man tumbling backward. My ears rang and the whole world slowed down. I watched as he struggled to stand but before he did another blast tore through his chest. He didn’t get up that time. I turned to look behind me. “The devil never stood a chance on Easter Charlie. Always remember that.” Nana stood at the bottom of the staircase, smoke drifting from the barrel of her shotgun. I ran to her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, sobbing. “It’s alright son, it’s alright.” She patted my back after dropping her gun to the floor. \---- Mom was in a coma for a week but ended up pulling through without any permanent damage. We had called an ambulance just in time the paramedics had said. They were able to get her in for surgery before her brain had swelled too far. Eric hadn’t been so fortunate. His neck had been broken and he’d been deprived of oxygen for too long. Nana and I attended his funeral a few days later. It was a beautiful service. The entire school had shown up. As for the Oni man. Well, he had lived somehow despite all the buckshot he’d taken. The police had him in holding at the hospital but claimed he was mute. He never said a word. They also couldn’t find anything on his fingerprints in the system. It was like he didn’t exist. Before they could sort it all out, he had escaped. The officer that was supposed to watch the room was on indefinite leave for allowing him to slip away. It was all over the news. A patrol car sat outside our house every night for months. Just to be safe. But I never felt at ease walking the neighborhood again. I couldn’t stop looking at the lamppost. Waiting… waiting to see those horns glowing in the streetlight. To see him watching. To see him waving. A greeting from the void, come back to consume me.

I work for a company called BlackHawk Security (1)

ycrscc

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycrscc/i_work_for_a_company_called_blackhawk_security_1/

Hello Reddit, You can call me Nomad. I work for a security company, called BlackHawk Security. Try looking it up, you won't find anything. There is no info about this company and no proof it even ever existed, at least not the one I work at. BlackHawk Security is not your average security company, but I’m guessing you have guessed that by now. Anyway, allow me to tell you a little about my experiences here.. starting with my first job. My first job was as a.. well security guard. I was stationed in a security office for the night shift. I was stationed at an office building in Kentucky, my supervisor met me at the front of the building, handing me an envelope. “What's this?” I had asked him. “Open it in the office, and don't talk to anyone”. I thought he was just trying to play a joke on me and thought I should just play along. Walking inside I noticed the reception area was empty, except for the receptionist sitting behind the front desk. She looked relatively normal except for the fact that she was smiling.. not like a normal smile but a creepy smile. It was wide and it made me very uncomfortable. I decided to just leave her alone and go to the elevator. After entering the elevator I pressed a star button that I was told would take me to the security office. Soon the elevator stopped at the 5th floor, and 3 office workers stepped inside. They all had the same weird ass smile that the receptionist had. “So, you are the fresh meat right?”. The question startled me so much that I jumped a bit. I looked around the elevator and one of the office workers was looking at me. “Y-yeah I guess…I’m the new security officer”. I tried to sound tough and nonchalant but failed miserably. The man looked like he could see my fear. He began to smile wider.. “Finally, someone who talks… They usually ignore us. Don't be afraid.. we don't hurt unless you hurt us..”. What. The. Hell? “W-what?” I was seriously regretting my life choices and was just thinking about how long it would take to get to the security office. “We are not the ones you should worry about… it’s the 5th floor you shouldn’t talk t-“ DING! Finally! We had stopped at the 5th floor and the man looked disappointed, his smile faltering. “Aww.. I wanted to talk more. Oh well, see you sooon”. All 3 got out and the elevator door closed, going one more up to the security floor. Getting out of the elevator, I started walking across a hallway, following signs that finally led me to the security office. The door leading into the security office was a heavy duty metallic door with a keycard reader next to it. Swiping my card, I entered the office. The office was a medium sized room with 2 desks, a few filing cabinets, 2 monitors on each desk and a few lockers at the back of the room. Sitting down at a desk, I take out the envelope and opened it, finding a piece of paper inside. Taking out the paper I started to read it: If you are reading this, you are the new security officer at ███████ co. . Follow these rules to survive your shift, this is not a joke. Rule 1. Do not make any loud noises on the 5th floor, also do not talk to anyone on the 5th floor. If you do, run to the security office. Also, do not talk to anyone who works on the 5th floor. Rule 2. Perform patrols regularly. If you meet another security guard on your patrol, DO NOT LOOK AT HIS FACE, he won’t like it. If he talks to you, do not respond. If he says “I think you forgot something” It means you have broken a rule and should run to the office, radioing HQ. You should then remain in the office for the remainder of your shift or until VETA 9 arrives. Rule 3. This is rare but, If you are on floor 3 and you hear a woman cry, pull the fire alarm IMMEDIATELY and radio HQ. VETA 9 will be there soon to resolve the issue. Resume patrol and do not go back into the 3rd floor for the remainder of your shift. Rule 4. Do not leave the building until your shift is over. They will follow you. Rule 5. Do not use the stairs. Always use the elevator. Putting the paper down on the desk, I couldn’t help but laugh. What bullshit, they really think I’m going to fall for this? Yeah sure. I got up and decided to start my first patrol. I checked my watch and saw that it was 9:04pm. My shift was 9:00pm—6:00am… I exited the office, going to the elevator and waiting for it to come up. I ended up being there for a minute before the elevator finally opened and I entered the elevator. Deciding to go down the line I pressed the 5th floor button. The elevator opened its doors seconds later, and I walked out onto the hardwood floor of a large cubicle room. The room was quite large, holding maybe a hundred cubicles. I started walking around, looking into the cubicles. The floor was quiet, except for the sounds of keyboards and phones.. nobody was talking. Each cubicle held an employee, hard at work typing away on a computer, writing notes on paper, and… wait. I stopped at one cubicle where an employee was just standing there, not moving, not even breathing from the looks of it. The employee was smiling, like everyone else. He was facing me, I then recognized him as the man who had talked to me on the elevator. “Hello buddy…” his voice was slow and… like two people were talking, one high pitched and one low pitched. What in all that is holy is happening?!?!, is all that was on my mind. I was about to say something but he ran to me and put a finger to my mouth, silencing me. “Shhhhhh…. You shouldn't talk here.. the manager might hear you…” I decided to push him off me and go back to the elevator. The 4th floor was much the same, everyone smiling but much more talkative. I had a good laugh with an employee who was talking about his family, and how his kid (who is 7) fell into the toilet and got stuck. I then left and went to the 3rd floor, the second I put my foot on the carpet of the 3rd floor… My gut told me to turn around and move on. I started walking around, the air was much colder from the other floors. Walking around, I saw much the same of the other floors.. cubicles and people working inside. I saw a break room so I decided to get a coffee. On my way to the break room however… the faint sound of someone crying enters my ears. “The hell?” The sound begins to get closer… and closer… “Is that a woman?” I left the break room and began walking to the source.. The room was quiet, everyone had stopped working and was standing up. In front of me, maybe 10 feet.. was a woman dressed in a suit and tie.. but she was abnormally tall. She wore that same smile everyone else had but with bloodshot eyes. her sobs then turned to giggles. Her smile started getting wider… and wider.. oh god it was so wide that it was ripping her skin and flesh. The end of her smile was now parallel with her eyes.. “What the fu-“ She then started screaming and running towards me, I turned around and booked it to the elevator. Maybe those rules were right.. I didn’t want them to be but everything else pointed to the fact that they were. I finally reached the elevator and got in, remembering the rule at last… “ah shit.. the fire alarm!” I looked around outside and saw a fire alarm right next to the elevator.. I managed to pull it before the door closed and the woman rammed into the elevator. “WHAT THE HELL!!” I was screaming in the elevator as the elevator moved to the security office.. I then reached for my radio and turned it on. “This is security officer \[REDACTED\] WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?!” I shouted into the radio. There was silence for a few seconds then a female voice came over the radio. “Rule 2 or rule 3?”. “MA'AM I WAS JUST CHASED BY A WOMAN WHO LOOKED LIKE SHE COULD PLAY FOR THE NBA!” “Rule 3 then?” She answered confused. “VETA 9 is on the way, stay away from the 3rd floor.” “Who the HELL is VETA 9?! I want to know what’s going on here!” At this point I was getting agitated, then she answered in a slightly annoyed voice. “Listen sir, you are not in the position to be asking these questions, read the rules CAREFULLY and stay away from the 3rd floor.” I turned the radio off in frustration and got out as the elevator door opened. As I walked along the hallway towards the security office, I started hearing a second pair of footsteps approaching me from behind. I decided to keep my eyes forward and return to the office. “Rough night huh? Yeah, most new officers at that company are the same way you were.” I kept walking towards the door, ignoring whoever was behind me. “Hey buddy, *I think you forgot something*” that made me stop in my tracks. Then, darkness. The entire floor was pitch black. I reached for my flashlight, turning it on and looking around. Right in front of me was the man from the 5th floor. “Right on cue huh? Those golden words make me so happy… because then we get another employee.” His smile began to widen, ripping his skin and flesh like it did with the woman. He began laughing, walking towards me.. then running. He grabbed me with his hands, lifting me up and opening his mouth. I started regretting every mistake I ever made, I regretted not asking my girlfriend to marry me, not going to college.. not being such an idiot that I was discharged from the marines.. I knew I was going to die, and the man was about to kill me. BANG BANG. The creature holding me closed his mouth, looking behind me.. I did the same and saw several blinding lights. Several more shots later and the creature dropped me and started moving backwards. A man walked above me and stopped shooting, holding out his hand. “Hey kid, VETA 9 here to save your ass!” I was to remain with the team until my shift ended, and was reassigned to another job… Anyway, I should post this now because I have to get ready for a mission with my team. I will explain more later but for now wish me luck, pray I don’t die..

I was an inmate in a prison when terror broke out

ycdgk8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycdgk8/i_was_an_inmate_in_a_prison_when_terror_broke_out/

The thing that got to me was the noise. The voices shouting and cursing and pleading. The doors banging closed. The snap of locks being turned. Up till then I had been the big man, all bluster and face set in a sneer, like I didn’t care. But, lying there, hearing that noise, I started to cry. I was eighteen years-old and it was my first night in a prison cell. I thought about a lot of things that night. How my mother’s heart was broken when the police came to arrest me. The few memories I had of the father who’d slipped out of my life when I was eight years old. The things I had stolen and sold for quick, easy cash. Money I had then burnt on stupid things. I didn’t sleep at all and when the lights went on in the morning, I told myself, that when I’d served my sentence, I was going to make changes to my life. I’d get clean. I’d go to college. I’d beg forgiveness from my mother and be back in my family home. There was no way I was going back to prison. I could not have been more wrong. Forty years later I was lying on a bunk in a prison cell waiting for the lights to come on. The sounds of men crying out in their sleep echoed around me. This was my twentieth conviction. There was no three strikes and you’re out law in England. I don’t know whether that was lucky for me or not. And it was the eighth prison I had been in. I’d moved about a lot, to all different parts of the country since my first spell in prison, telling myself again and again that this time it was going to be different. That this was going to be the fresh start I needed. But I always ended up in the same place: Inside. I was a loser, and I was staring down the barrel of old age. I had wasted my life. The lights flickered into action. The whitewashed walls of the cell stared back at me. I lay there blinking and grimacing. My body was a wreck. No exercise, too many fights, junk food, and alcohol when I could get it, had taken a toll. The hour after hour spent in cramped cells had not helped. I was not the type of prisoner who spent their time doing sit ups and push ups. I doubted I could even touch my toes. If I had been a car, I would have been scrapped. Or, just abandoned by the side of the road. My back ached, my arms ached, my neck, my guts, and my ankles ached. After a moment, my head joined in. Sitting up would only make this worse. But I did it anyway. Then my door unlocked with a sharp groan of its own. Another day in prison had begun. I stepped out onto a walkway. Its iron was hard and cold beneath my feet and everywhere I looked I saw dark metal and dirty grey stone. And washed-out men. Men like me. The prison I was serving my latest stretch of five years in, was more than one hundred and forty years old. In places it looked more like a castle than a prison. There were turrets and slits in the outside walls rather than windows. It was overcrowded and filthy and damp. It was lousy that it was still being used to incarcerate men in 2022 but building new prisons cost money so this place was kept patched up and running. I remember reading an article somewhere, that in America running prisons was big business, with private companies raking in the cash via specially built super-max facilities. Here in England, the authorities were dragging their heels and making do with dumps like this. I scowled, as my senses were assaulted by the smell of stale sweat from hundreds of men blended with the mould growing on the inside of the walls, then I joined a line of inmates being shepherded down a metal staircase by prison guards. The guards in this prison were the same as all the others I’d encountered over the years. Some believed they were helping make the world a better place, some were bullies, and some were bland. These last types of guards worked in a prison, but it might as well have been a factory or a call centre. They turned up, they went through the motions, then they went home and, at the end of the month, collected their meagre wage. That was my theory anyway. The guard with a clipboard standing at the bottom of the stairs was one of the bland types. He looked at me like I was a box on a conveyor belt and said in a monotone voice, “Garden duties for you today, 5674.” That was my serial number. I doubted he even knew my name. I did not take it personally. I was actually quite pleased. I was not considered high risk, so was allowed privileges. This meant I did shifts in the prison’s workshop, where the inmates made tote-bags and greeting cards, which were sold commercially. I also got to work in the prison garden. Another guard unlocked a barred gate and walked me down a corridor and then, with a different key, opened up the door that led out to the prison garden. There were no electronic locking systems in this past-its-sell-by-date prison. I emerged into the fresh air with a smile on my face. Then shivered violently. The prison stood in the middle of moorland – a rugged, bleak landscape most famous as the setting for the fictional pursuit of a mysterious dog by a certain pipe smoking detective. It was cold and wet at the best of times. In late November, the wind felt like it was biting into my skin. Prisoners can’t be choosers, though, and it was better than being stuck inside. I wandered over to join the small group of inmates already hard at work digging and weeding, supervised by a couple of prison guards. I recognised one of the inmates. Brenden was twenty-three and doing eight months for stealing a police van and crashing it into a police station. He was in the thick of the gardening action, attacking the root of a plant with a blunt plastic trowel. Another one of my theories is that there are two categories of prisoner. The first type, say as little as possible. And grunting is preferable to actually forming words. The second type are *talkers*. Brenden was a talker. He kept nothing bottled up inside. The minute he saw me he came over and said, “This place is the pits. My girlfriend smuggled in a mobile for me last week, but the reception is lousy because we’re in the middle of nowhere. One bar if I’m lucky but most of the time, I get nothing.” I glanced around at the guards. Luckily none of them had overheard. I turned back to Brenden. “You need to careful,” I whispered. “You could have your sentence extended if the guards find out you have a phone.” He nodded and tapped the side of his nose. Subtle as a brick, I thought, and picked up a blunt plastic shovel that was resting against a wall. The garden implements were made by the same people that made the cutlery. There was nothing that could be used as a weapon. The prison garden was in an open square in the centre of the prison. It was a ramshackle affair. Root vegetables seemed to grow ok and were cooked in the prison kitchen and served to inmates. I leant on the shovel. I had no intention of digging, not with my back, neck, and the rest. Brenden had stopped broadcasting that he’d done something dubious and was talking to me again: “You know what one of the other prisoners told me. He said, you’re growing vegetables in a grave. You see, they used to hang men here a hundred years and more ago. And hanged men couldn’t be buried in consecrated ground, so they dug a hole below the gallows, and when the poor prisoner stopped kicking and twitching, they cut the noose and he fell right in. Then they shovelled the soil back over him. Makes my skin crawl it does, thinking about it. All those bones under my feet.” There are lots of stories in prisons. I dismissed most of them as urban legends. Gruesome gossip to pass the time. I’d heard this one before and patted Brenden on the shoulder and said, “Don’t believe everything you’re told. Especially not in here.” Then I shivered some more. The temperature was not just dipping, it was hurling itself off a cliff. And dark clouds were gathering. They seemed heavy with the promise of rain, and worse. Sure enough, ten minutes later the storm broke. Rain began to pelt us, and a bolt of lightning split the sky. The thunder followed seconds later. We ran for the door, scrambled through it then stood there gasping. We were soaked to the skin. Brenden looked at me and said, “This storm is epic.” He wasn’t wrong. As the guards escorted us back to our cells, I could hear the wind and the rain battering against the walls of the prison. Even the thick, old stones couldn’t keep the sound out. And every few minutes, thunder filled the air. It sounded like the world was breaking apart. I assumed that the lightning was continuing outside. There were no windows where I was, just the glow of the strip lamps that ran high above us and were embedded into the ceiling of each cell. As the door to my cell was locked, they started to flicker on and off. Around me, men I could not see started to cheer and whistle and stamp their feet. Any disruption was like nectar to the prisoners, and they roared their approval as the thunder and the rain and the wind grew louder and louder. And then the lights went off and stayed off. I sat on my bunk in the darkness and simply listened. A small man at the eye of a storm. The storm lasted for the rest of the morning. Just after noon, it ended as quickly as it had begun, and the power came back on. An uneasy silence had settled over the prison, and I could hear the footsteps of a guard near my cell. The lock turned and the door opened. The guard who stood there was one of the ‘making the world a better place' type. He’d even once told me his first name – James. As if he thought we were going to bond, and I’d share the details of my troubled life with him and that would set me on the path to rehabilitation. Dream on, was my view on that. At that moment in time, he looked like he was in pain. “Stupid static,” he muttered to himself. I had no idea what he was talking about, until my hand brushed a metal rail, and a spark flew from it and struck my fingers. I swore at the sudden stinging pain. Then I put my hands in my pockets and was very careful not to touch anything else. As the guard led me back down the stairs, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and my skin was tingling in places. It was the weirdest feeling. It was like there was a charge in the air. The guard led me out into the prison garden and told me to gather up the equipment. The trowels and spades and the rest lay on the ground where they’d been abandoned, ground that was now a muddy wasteland. Just great, I thought, then I heard a familiar voice behind me. “That storm was beyond epic, it was veering on the apocalyptic,” Brenden said as he appeared at my side, grinning. “I mean, that was so good. It was wall-to-wall storm action.” “It was one big s.o.b. of a storm,” I said. “And it’s left an almighty mess.” Brenden looked at the sodden earth and said in a quiet voice, “Wow!” Then he started retrieving the equipment. He didn’t seem to care that he was getting mud all over himself. I reluctantly decided that I should help him and was wondering where to start, when Brenden yelped out in pain. There was no metal in sight, so it can’t have been static again, I figured. His left hand was curled up and he was holding it against his chest. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Something bit me,” he gasped. I looked down at the ground and could see a big bug crawling away. It was one ugly mother and seemed strangely unsteady on its many legs. I stomped on it with my boot. Its carapace was hard under my sole and did not give. I put all my weight into it and eventually felt it crack. Then I spent some time wiping my boot clean on the ground. I didn’t want to look at the messy remains and turned my attention back to Brenden. He was still hugging his hand against himself and pulling a face. “You’ll be OK,” I told him, and together we quickly collected up the equipment then were led back to the door. Just in time, because the rain started to fall once more, and the first crack of thunder sounded like an echo to the door being slammed shut. I was taken back to my cell. I didn’t think anything more about Brenden being bitten until a guard came to collect me from my cell a short while later. As he led me along a walkway, I could hear the storm still raging outside. The wind sounded like it was trying to rip the prison building from the face of the earth, as the thunder growled, and the rain struck. Ten minutes later, we reached the prison infirmary. The prison’s doctor was waiting for me. He was a tough looking ex-soldier who I’d heard had served all over the world. I thought of him as one of the good guys. I’d seen him for a few ailments over the time I had been in this prison and always found him thoughtful and kind. Concern clouded his expression when he spoke: “Brenden is running a temperature and I am concerned he has picked up a viral infection, but the symptoms are not ones I have seen before, in all my travels. I am going to make a call to put in a request to have him moved to a hospital. In the meantime, I think it would be helpful for Brenden to have a friend by his bedside. If that’s something you’re OK with?” I nodded. “Sure,” I said. I carried a plastic chair over to Brenden’s bedside. The guard who'd brought me was slouched against a wall, close to where the doctor was now sitting at a desk with a PC and a landline phone on. Brenden was in a very bad way. His eyes were screwed shut. He was very pale and coated in sweat and muttering to himself and turning this way and that. One of his wrists was held by a restraint that was anchored to the frame of the bed. This was standard procedure but struck me as cruel in the extreme at that moment. I said, “Hey, Brenden, hang on in there.” And the lights went out again. They’d lasted longer in the storm this time but with the ancient systems in this prison they were bound to give sooner or later. In the sudden darkness, I could hear the doctor saying, “Hello, can you hear me. Damnit!” It sounded like the phone line had gone as well. Then the lights came back on. To an extent. They were much weaker than before and cast a dull yellow glow over everything. “That’s the backup generator we have for the infirmary,” the doctor said, but I wasn’t really listening. During the brief blackout, Brenden had stopped moving. He looked to me like he had died. I felt choked up and was about to say something to the doctor, when Brenden’s eyes opened. His head turned to one side, and he looked at me. Fear trickled through me, ice cold and razor sharp. His eyes were filled with hate and madness. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of some primal creature. Of some monster. “D… Doctor,” I said weakly. He got to his feet and started walking over to Brenden and me. “Hurry,” I said. Brenden was twisting and shaking his body and clawing at the air with his free hand and struggling violently to free his restrained hand. He pulled it and pushed and rattled his wrist trying to escape. But the restraint held. Then Brenden leant over and began to bite into his own arm just below the restraint. Sickening sounds of tearing and cracking filled the infirmary and then he was pulling his arm free – leaving behind his hand. He had chewed through his own arm. He sat up, span round. The doctor stood staring in horror at him. Brendan got to his feet, the ragged bony stump of one of his arms hanging loose at his side dripping blood onto the floor. The other arm reaching out. He looked at me for a moment then turned away and began to stagger slowly towards the doctor. The guard who was still somewhere on the other side of the room began to scream. The doctor opened his mouth but was silent and still. He looked paralysed by fear. Brenden draped his good arm over the doctor’s shoulder and leant in. I did not see him bite, but I saw the agony on the doctor’s face. Watched as the doctor’s legs crumpled and he fell to his knees. His face was hideously disfigured. Blood-soaked muscle and bone shimmered in the emergency generator’s yellow light. He looked at me, appealing for help with his eyes. I looked away from his grotesque gaze. What could I do, except cower in terror as the nightmare continued. Brenden had cornered the prison guard and held the struggling man pinned against the wall. Brenden was tearing him apart. Blood splattered over every surface. The doctor, abandoned, was convulsing as he went into shock and moments later stopped moving. The guard was no longer struggling either. The only movement was Brenden feeding. I got to my feet. My legs felt drained of all strength, and I was shaking badly but I knew I had to get out of there while Brenden’s attention was on sating his abhorrent hunger on the guard. I did not know why Brenden had not attacked me. Was it, I wondered as I inched towards the door, because we used to be friends? Did a vestige of the young man I had known remain inside this murderous freak? I made it out onto a walkway. The rest of the prisoners seemed to be locked in their cells and I could only make out one guard through the gloom which shrouded everything. The guard was heading my way. It was James. He was clearly oblivious to the gore-fest in the infirmary. I stumbled towards him. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you not being supervised?” he asked. “Brenden,” I gasped. “He’s killed them.” “What the…” James began. I talked over him: “Brenden has changed, he’s a monster. You have to get help.” James’ expression spoke volumes: he thought I had lost it. “You have to believe me,” I begged, “before it’s too late.” Only, it already was. Brenden was staggering towards us. He wore a mask of his victims’ blood and, once again he passed me by, and closed on James. James would be dead in moments – unless I acted. There was an unoccupied cell a few feet away. Its door was open, and the smell of bleach was strong. It was washed out and ready for its next occupant. “Move towards the open cell,” I yelled at James. “Do it now.” He stumbled backwards and towards the cell. Brenden followed. James was almost through the door when I shouted, “Jump to one side.” He leapt to his right, and I barrelled into Brenden using all my weight. He fell into the cell. I did not. I slammed the door shut. “Lock it!” I screamed at James. He looked utterly lost and confused and terrified but he did it then stood there shaking. Then leant over and looked like he was going to vomit. “We don’t have time for that,” I told him. “There are two people he attacked in the infirmary. And I’ve seen enough horror movies to know they’ll be back on their feet in no time and coming for us.” “I can’t deal with this,” James said. “Infirmary door locked now, hysteria later,” I replied. Looking very green he hurried over to the infirmary door and secured it. By this time, more guards had appeared. They demanded to know what was going on. Which was fair enough. Brenden was groaning and hammering on the door of the cell we’d trapped him in. The blood he had trailed all over the floor was a line of darkness in the gloom. And now there was more groaning coming from behind the locked infirmary door. I looked at the guards, looked at James and said, “I really need some fresh air.” “No way!” one of the guards snapped back. “You should be in a cell.” James held up a hand. “This man saved my life,” he said. “I’ll take him out into the prison garden. In the meantime, I suggest you rustle up an armed response unit and some people in bio-hazard suits. There’s an unholy mess needs clearing up.” As the guards looked at us open-mouthed, James led me away. He unlocked the door and followed me out into the prison garden. The storm had ended. The air was clear. I stood there breathing it in. Relief flooded through me. It was over. I was safe Then I noticed there was a strange smell coming from the ground. The smell of decay. The smell of death. It rose from the mud and was growing in strength. Two more guards emerged. As the stench hit them, they covered their mouths and noses with their hands and swore. James looked disgusted. He was standing in the middle of the garden and started to walk back towards the door, clearly wanting to get away from the smell. But, he had only taken a couple of smells when the insects began to emerge. They scurried up out of the ground, dozens of them at first. Many of them were like the bug that had bitten Brenden, but there were spiders as well, and they were all rushing out into the open – and over James’s shoes. More and more insects were joining them – there were hundreds by then – and they were rapidly crawling up him. I could no longer even see his shoes for the layers of bugs, and they had started to make their way up his trousers. He tried to kick them off. Tried to sweep them off with his hands, but, instead of falling away, the insects scurried onto his hands. They ran up his chest, his back, had reached his neck. And it was then I saw the blood – the red beneath the growing layer of insects. And I realised with horror, that the insects were biting him. He began to cry out in pain and tried to move towards the door. Towards what I guessed he thought was safety. But there were too many insects on him. They covered his face and his hair and soon the only thing of him I could see was his blood dripping between the moving swarm of insects as they overwhelmed him. Only minutes after the attack began, he fell to the ground. I’d been transfixed by the revolting spectacle, but felt someone pulling at me and turned. It was one of the guards. “We need to get back indoors, now,” he said, his voice shaking with terror. I did not need telling twice. As soon as we were back indoors, the door was slammed shut and locked, leaving James to his gruesome fate. I took a deep breath, looked and the guards and said, “I’d like to go back to my cell now.” *That was six months ago. I’m in an internet café now, writing this.* *The coffee I bought has gone cold, and in a while, I’ll be heading back to the hostel where I’m staying.* *I’m a free man again and this time I mean it when I say I’m not going back inside.* *I’ve wasted my life in prisons, and I almost died in a prison.* *In the aftermath of the incident, I was taken into a room and told by a man in a uniform that a statement was being issued. The statement said that there had been a riot at the prison, and that, tragically, there had been fatalities.* *It was a cover up. Pure and simple.* *I was also told, that if I ever said anything about what had really happened, to anyone in the prison or once I was released, I would be in the worst trouble of my life.* *Well, that’s a risk I’m prepared to take.* *The truth needs to be known.* *A warning needs to be given.* *I saw an innocent man twisted into a fiend by forces that I have struggled to comprehend.* *In the sleepless nights that followed the incident, I have thought long and hard about what happened, and I have the scrap of a theory.* *Call me crazy if you want, but this is what I believe happened.* *The hanged men who were buried long ago beneath the ground that became the prison garden rotted, as dead men do, but something of them lingered:* *Their desire for retribution against a world that had condemned them to be killed and their bodies treated like waste. Their hatred, which burnt inside them as the noose embraced their necks.* *These were so strong they did not die with them. They lay dormant until the storms awoke them.* *Their rage then, was back from the dead, and it infected the land, and the bugs.* *The one that bit Brenden turned him into a Zombie.* *The most hideous creature that has ever walked this earth.* *I don’t know where he’s been taken, some top secret lab maybe, where the nightmare continues.* *And not just for him.* *There are so many obscenely cruel injustices that have been committed over the years in the name of justice, that I see no reason why this should not happen again, in some other place.* *Only next time it will be worse.* *Because, I truly believe, there are unknown horrors waiting out there that no prison can contain.*

Cursed box

ycyhwk

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycyhwk/cursed_box/

Have you ever heard of the cursed straw doll? Here is a story about it. I was often transferred for work and moved from place to place. Sometimes it was an apartment, sometimes a rental house. This is a story about when I was transferred to Hagi, Yamaguchi. I was told that I could rent a house at a reasonable price, so I rented a house for a while. The only problem was that it was quite deep in the mountains, and although it was a large house, it was quite old. One day, about a month after we started living there. My daughter found a strange box in the yard. We had looked everywhere in the house and in the yard during the first holidays after we moved in, but there was no box in the yard. I thought so because, above all, the box was a distinctive box, a conspicuous one that would be recognizable to the eye. I have little or no psychic sensitivity, but the box seemed unusually ominous to me. If I had made the right choice at this time, I would not have experienced fear. I had burned this ominous box. But from the average person’s point of view, the only choice I had was to burn or throw away what I didn’t need. Back then… A few days later something tragic happened. One of my friends had an accident with his car. The car caught fire. When my friend was rushed to the hospital, he had burns all over his body and was already not breathing. A few days later. Another friend of mine was badly burned on his right arm and half of his face when a fire broke out on his clothes while he was making a bonfire at home. I met my friend in the hospital and asked him what happened. He told me that a few days before the accident, he had a dream that his body was burned. I am not a superstitious person, but at that time I thought, “Maybe…” I went home and immediately checked the garden. I went home and immediately checked the yard. I checked the garbage pit where they burn garbage. That box had not yet been completely destroyed by fire.. When I reached out to examine the box, I remember a terrible chill came over me. Inside the box, I found dolls. Three in all. One of them was completely burnt, and one was half burnt. One was not burnt at all. The dolls were very ordinary Japanese dolls, female dolls wearing kimonos. When I picked up the half burnt doll, the kimono of the half burnt doll fell off in pieces. When I looked at the back of the doll, I sat up in horror. My friend’s name was written on it. I could not see the name on the blackened doll, but I could roughly make out the name. The doll that was not burnt had my name written on it. Everything was strange. Who would do such a thing and why? My friends and I had nothing in common. I have other friends. I don’t remember anyone holding a grudge against me. Why is there such a thing in this house … Did someone live in the house who had a grudge against me… No one I know lives in Yamaguchi. Everything was strange. I left that house right after that. I left the doll at the temple. I still remember the words of the temple staff. I was going to make a memorial service. But it is not something I can offer. The grudge attached to this doll is not human. '[X](https://www.jpnhorrorstories.com/)'

It Went from Wanting a Sister, to Knowing the Haunting Truth

ycmgyt

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycmgyt/it_went_from_wanting_a_sister_to_knowing_the/

I’ve been afraid to share this experience with anyone, but I’ve finally been able to put the past behind me, and share my story, my truth. Others may not believe me, and if so, that’s okay. I don’t feel like I need to prove it to you. I was a 17 year old female living with my little brother, 14, and my mom, 46 years old at the time. My mom was a single mother after my dad had a tragic car accident when I was about my brother's age. She did her absolute best to take care of us, but luckily, we were pretty independent as is. You see, I had just started my senior year of high school, and I was, once again, named cheer captain for my varsity team. My little brother, who received a full scholarship to a near-by private school, was already one of their starting wide receivers - as just a freshman. We both received great grades, of course, and I had just applied for my early acceptance to Penn State - where I always dreamed of going. Living in Ohio my entire life, anything seemed better than going to Ohio State with my entire senior class. Overall, we were a pretty happy family. There was one thing that no one knew; not even my little brother was told yet. My mom and dad had another daughter, when I was two years old, who passed away at the age of six months. I feel like you know where this is going… oh tragic death, scary ghost, yeah, yeah. Well, no. Not exactly, I’d say. My mom told me when I was at the age of 14 that not only did I have a sister, but she had died in her sleep, peacefully. Nobody knew exactly how, but her organs unfortunately shut down. There wasn’t a “complete” formal autopsy, and my family donated all of her organs to nearby infants in need, only in the state of Ohio. The tragedy almost ruined my parents' marriage, but they were able to make it through, thankfully for my brother, and I. We ended up moving to a new town about three hours north. A small, small town, I may add. I believe my mom had only brought up all of that history to me about my sister due to her being completely depressed at the time, and most likely not in the best state of mind. She claimed she was trying to teach me a lesson, the lesson being, "you never know what will happen in your life, and how long you will get to live it with the ones you love." This conversation happened just two weeks after our neighbor, and friend, down the street was brutally murder, and just one week after my dad had died in his car accident during his work trip in Tennessee. When my mom sat us down one Saturday afternoon to tell us the news about our dad, I was devastated. If it hadn’t been for starting high school, making friends, and joining the cheerleading squad, I’m not sure I’d still be here to this day. Don’t worry, I’m not brushing over the “neighbor brutally murdered” part. My neighbor's killing was not just a random shooting or burglary, oh no, this was absolutely personal. Our neighbor down the street, now let’s call her Stacy to hide true identity, was killed by her ex-husband. Oh, I get it, sounds like the typical random ex-husband murder… uhm, a little more gruesome you could say. Stacy and her son, Jake, 9 at the time, were living in an empty house during the month of September. Walls were bare, not a dust bunny in sight, and every single piece of furniture was gone, except their one mattress on the floor they were sleeping on that night. Stacy and her son were moving to Delaware early that morning to be closer to family. Stacy had just put a restraining order on her recently divorced husband due to cheating, drug use, and abuse. No one, not even my family, who were extremely close to them, knew they were moving. As you can now guess, the ex-husband found out. He broke into the house he once slept in, made a child with in, and paid for. He went through the back door with his key, since Stacy never changed the locks, and stabbed Stacy, with her son laying right next to her, fifty… two… times… Jake, traumatized, crying and screaming, grabbed his mom’s cell phone from next to the mattress, as his dad was using all of his power and strength to stab his mother until you couldn’t recognize her anymore. Jake ran into the bathroom, dialed 911, and just waited as the police arrested his dad at the steps where he was just sitting, covered in his mothers blood, head to toe. You’d think this would have been all over the news. But the thing is, this all happened over labor day weekend. Our entire town leaves for a lake vacation; it is a complete ghost town. Also, it was the city cops who handled it, and to be frank, murder wasn’t too surprising in the city we lived next to. And as I mentioned, we lived in a very small town. We never got media coverage as is. It wasn’t until everyone got back, we had heard what happened and the stories, assumptions, and rumors lurking behind it. Jake was already gone, and no one heard a word from his point of view. The only reason we knew some of these details was because there was actually one neighbor nearby, that was awoken by police lights, and overheard only one comment the police had said. “I can’t believe it. That poor child seeing his own mother get stabbed 52 times. And the guy has the audacity to sit on those steps covered in blood, while that little boy was locked in the bathroom.” So the rest of us read between the lines. I never saw Jake again. His family in Delaware took him in, and that was the last of it. Stacy’s memory has a hold in all of our hearts, even to this day. She wasn’t only close with my family, but our entire neighborhood, and community. No one could bear the thought of buying that house, even to this day. The community always assumed it stayed haunted with Stacy’s ghost. Well, there’s the back story of some of my more traumatic events I’ve witnessed in my life - now let's get to why you’re actually here. It was a cold, late September night, and my friends and I were all driving around, doing random stupid shit in our hometown, after a great football game win. We weren’t really the “drinking” type completely, mostly because our small town gossiped like crazy, so if we ever wanted to party, it always had to be at someone’s house in the town or city over. We kind of made our own fun. This included anything like games of cops and robbers, hiking the so-called “trails” we have in Ohio, bonfires, pool parties, and occasionally, the fun childhood game of using Ouija Boards. Now if you tried telling me back then, in your high school, or even middle school days, you never tried a Ouija Board, then I would have just assumed you didn’t have an imagination or seek any thrill as a kid. Now, we all knew these Ouija Boards were fake, but we didn’t care. Halloween was right around the corner next month, and we were in the start of “spooky season”. So when my friend, Adam, realized I still had mine still left in his trunk, he ran the idea through everyone’s head in the car, and as always, we agreed. “Let’s do it.” We were in my neighborhood, and we were messing around with it at the park near the front entrance. Of course, it was just fun and games. I’ll admit, I moved it around some, as I’m sure Adam and the rest of the crew did as well. And then, I had a great thought… “hey guys, why don't we go to my old neighbors house, you know, the one that got murdered?” “Are you crazy?” “How would we even get in?” “I’m not so sure about it.” But leave it to Adam, “hell yeah, let’s do it.” I smirked. Of course Adam would be down. Me and him aren’t weren’t the closest, but we both got along, because of these crazy random things we liked to do together every once in a while. We parked in my driveway and started walking towards Stacy’s old house. I was getting this weird sensation in my heart, but I knew it was probably just because I was scared. As we walked closer, the sharpness in my chest grew. It felt so "off" being there at night. I drove by this house every single day without feeling anything, but being outside of it, standing there, felt wrong. But it didn’t stop me. I wish it would have. We started walking near the side of the house. They had a gated privacy fence where we were able to unlatch it, and sit right on the ground of their patio to start our fun. We sat down, and the five of us started what we have been doing for the past couple years, and asked, “are there any spirits present?” The “planchette” it’s called, started moving as our fingertips were on top of it, and landed on “yes” as we always make it do. We followed up with “is there a message for us?” and the reply of course is “yes”. At this point, we normally ask a follow up question, but the planchette started moving. I still remember thinking, “wow, someone is being aggressive today”. “T” “A” “Y” “Tay” it spelled. My name. Now honestly, I just know it’s a joke. I laugh “Ok ‘spirit’, I’m here! Who is it?” The planchette started moving, and by the end of the last letter, I was in shock. “Claudia” it spelled out. My face went white. All of my friends asked if that name meant anything to me. I didn’t know what to say, but for some reason, I felt like I couldn’t tell them the truth. I couldn’t tell them that Claudia was the name of my dead sister from many years ago. My dead sister, that absolutely no one in this town besides my mom and I, knew about. “Good try guys, I don’t know anyone named Claudia,” as I pretended to laugh it off. They shrugged, and I told them I think I better get home. I had cheer practice early Saturday morning. We walked back to my house where Adam’s car was, and I mentioned I’m going to take the Ouija Board back before I forget. And that was it. My friends left. I went upstairs to my bed, and went to sleep to go on with my weekend as if nothing had ever happened. I wish this was where the story ended. Wednesday night rolls around, and I was up late at my desk studying for AP Chemistry, dreadful. Huge exam on Thursday, and the procrastinator I was, I hadn't even looked at my notes until now. My desk faced my window, which gave me a slight clarity looking at the stars while I studied. It started to reach 11pm as I looked up, and Stacy’s house lights were on. I blink, and then boom, off. Must have been tired, I thought. Until, I looked up, and the exact same thing happened. Looking back, I’m still not 100% sure what compelled me, but something in my chest, no, entire body, did. I had this desire, this amazing need, this… thing… haunting inside of me that was running through my entire body where I felt the need to grab my Ouija Board, and head back over to Stacy and Jake’s house. As you can imagine, I started the same way. I asked for spirits, but this time nothing. I asked again, absolutely nothing. I asked one more time, and this time, it moved. My heart was racing. Now to spare the long details as if you are reading text messages back and forth, let me give you a quick recap of the conversation between myself, and this “spirit”, who I’m confident in saying now, was my sister, Claudia. It started with Claudia spelling her name out for me again, and this time, I know it’s not a coincidence. I asked if this is Claudia, as in my sister, and after she responded yes, I didn’t feel scared anymore. That haunting feeling turned into something else, relief. I always wanted a sister, and was devastated after my mom told me I “almost” had one. Someone to share secrets and gossip, get advice from, and be my best friend. This relieved feeling soon turned into love, as I spent hours on Stacy and Jake’s porch, talking back and forth with my little sister. I found out, she knew everything about me. She had been watching me my entire life. We went back and forth with each other all night. She would even spell out “L, O, L” during some of the funny stories, keeping up with teenagers texting “lingo” all these years. By the time it hit 2 am, I told Claudia I had to go, but I’d be back soon. I didn’t know when I said, “I’d be back soon”, it would turn into me spending every single night there. I would leave at 11pm when my family was asleep, and come home around 2am every single night. You can imagine how long even our short conversations could take, considering she had to spell out every single word. I stopped hanging out with my friends, I was declining with grades, and I even lost my captain status on the cheer team by the time of mid-October. My mom was concerned, but I just kept emphasizing that the idea of going to college next year was starting to dawn on me. I told her how home-sick I knew I’d get, so applying to colleges right now was adding on all this extra stress, but I told her I’d bounce back. She believed it. It was October 27th, the weekend of Halloween. While all my friends were at parties in the town next to us, you know where I was. This time, Claudia had something else to tell me. Something a little more important. The truth. Claudia told me that she could see what was coming, and that on Halloween night, I would need to be ready for anything. To have my phone on me, and my brother and mom closeby. Lock the doors, check windows constantly, and most importantly, do not sleep or leave, and keep a weapon I could find nearby. She couldn’t tell me why or how she knew this, but up there, she had a feeling. Some kind of sensation, the same I had when I first went to talk to her. Now this is where the “the truth” comes into play. She then proceeded to tell me how she actually died. It was not a random organ failure, it was something way worse, murder. A secret my mom didn’t even know. Claudia told me, late at night, our dad had suffocated her while she was sleeping. My mom had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night like normal. While my dad was laying there, Claudia being in the middle of the bed as an infant, he got his chance. He grabbed his pillow, and killed my sister, Claudia. I didn’t even ask follow up questions; I just grabbed the board and left. There was absolutely no way that my dad, who had to travel across the country for work, just to put a roof over our head, would have done that. The memories I had with my dad growing up were filled with father/daughter dances, watching my competitive cheer dances, and spending every holiday together. We would always wear matching Halloween outfits to gather candy around the neighborhood, even in middle school before he died. He was our dad, and he would have never done that. The love he had for my brother and I growing up, just does not add up. I realized enough was enough, and I need to give myself space between Claudia and I. Monday morning rolled around, and I felt refreshed. I didn’t talk to Claudia last night, and I finally was able to go to bed at a decent hour. I felt so embarrassed for spending that much time on her, and this weird relationship we formed. I went about my day like normal, catching up with friends on what they did, and realized it’s time to get my life back together if I ever wanted to get into Penn State and succeed in life. Flashing forward to Wednesday, I had never felt better. I felt… sane. I got home from school where it was October 31st, Halloween night. Considering Halloween landed on a Wednesday this week, this was all for the kids tonight. I had already missed the fun with my friends over the weekend. I spent the rest of the night handing out candy with my little brother and mom, until all of the kids had gone back home. I headed back upstairs and finally checked Instagram where I saw a message request from Jake, Stacy’s son, my old neighbor. I was shocked. He must be either 12 or 13 now, and just got social media. I did babysit him before everything happened, so maybe he’s checking in, but of course my mind goes to… “oh no, he knows what I’ve been doing.” Both were wrong. The message read “how are you dealing with your dad?” I was confused, how did Jake know that my dad had died in a car accident? He was only about 9 at the time and moved to Delaware the week prior. I messaged him back. I told him that I was still so, so sorry about what happened to his mom, and while there is absolutely no way I could understand what he had gone through, I mentioned, when my dad passed shortly after, I was crushed. I told him he could talk to me whenever he needed to, and then asked, “How did you hear about my dad? Weren’t you already in Delaware?” I got an immediate response. “Tay, your dad is the one who killed my mom.” It didn’t make sense. I called Jake via Instagram immediately. And what I found out was insane. The parts of Jake’s dad being abusive, addicted to drugs, and a cheater were all true, and Stacy and Jake were moving to Delaware. But what was left out, was that Stacy was having an affair for years, with my dad. Jake was too young to understand, and thought he was just babysitting and keeping his mom company. My dad was never going on these so-called work trips. He must have been driving to the airport, and would Uber straight back to our own neighborhood. Stacy had enough of her husband's decisions, and also, her own. She made a plan to get her life together for Jake, and move them back to Delaware to have a complete fresh start. Jake told me he didn’t know how everything went down, but a rage went off in my dad, because the night before they were moving, Jake witnessed my dad, stabbing his mom, 52 times. The crazy thing is as well, Jake’s dad had never reached out to him, he had never heard from him, and from what he believed, is most likely dead. At this point, I think we all know who the main suspect would be. Jake revealed, my dad has been serving two life sentences in the prison about two hours from me. I immediately freaked out and ran to my mom’s room. I was bawling, “tell me it’s not true, tell me it’s not” Her eyes are huge, face is white, and her only response was, “you found out, didn’t you?” I grabbed my Ouija board, and sprinted out of the house. Crying uncontrollably. I knew I had to talk to Claudia. Why didn’t she tell me the rest? Why didn’t I let her? What else could she tell me, and what was my father doing right now? I sat down on the porch like I had many times. I called out for her. No answer, absolutely nothing. I waited for another 20 minutes there crying. There was no way I could go back home yet. Suddenly, it started moving. “G” “O” “Go”, the first response. I still cannot hold my tears in. I’m begging her just to tell me what else I need to know. The neighbors probably could hear my screaming, but I could have cared less at that point if I was about to get caught. I needed answers. It moves again. “HE IS OUT” Oh no, Halloween. I had forgotten. Claudia had reminded me this day was happening. I wasn’t supposed to leave my house. I had to go back and lock the doors. I was struggling to unlatch the fence. I was shaking, crying, and my heart wouldn’t stop beating out of my chest. At this point, it was pitch black, not a single light on in anyone’s house. Until, around the street corner, I can see an upstairs light on one house. Mine. I started to run home, and as I started to approach, there he was. Sitting on the porch. Covered in blood from head to toe. Holding one of my family's kitchen knives I had used daily, dripping in blood. I saw my brother through my mom’s bedroom window, crying, holding his cell phone talking to someone. He was giving me signals, where I could tell he was pleading with me to run. I heard sirens starting to approach. “Happy Halloween, it was always our favorite”, my father said.

I'm A Rookie Deputy Working On A Long Dark Highway. (Part 4)

ychhdt

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ychhdt/im_a_rookie_deputy_working_on_a_long_dark_highway/

(First: https://redd.it/xt53az Previous: https://redd.it/y6at51 Recently I’ve been forced to adopt a dog. A big dog. And one that talked. And one that learned how to sing Baby Shark. I only had Spike for two days but I already wanted to shoot myself. I took my new pet out for a walk right after getting home from my all-night shift. I figured it wasn’t a good idea to go to bed without giving my pet a chance to stretch his legs and go to the bathroom outside. I stood by an open field near my apartment, leash in one hand and yawning away. Spike ran like the wind, shrieking out the lyrics to his favorite song knowing no one was around but his owner to hear him. At least he was smart enough not to talk around others. I wondered how long he needed to be out for. I felt drained from my weird previous shifts and needed to catch up on sleep. I didn’t risk leaving Spike alone to find his own way back. I'm sure he could. He wasn’t really a dog, but took the form of a black husky looking kind of breed. Because he appeared to be just a regular dog that meant he could get taken to the pound if I left him on his own. I really didn’t want to risk someone taking him. He would follow anyone if they offered him food. Finally, Spike slowed down and paused in front of me. He panted away and thankfully that made him stop singing. I felt bad for him that he was forced to be in my small apartment all alone when I worked. I needed to find a dog sitter that wouldn’t get freaked out if they caught him singing or, well, doing any other stupid thing he was bound to do. “Did you go to the washroom? Show me where so I can pick it up.” I told him, still half asleep. I wasn’t keen on the idea of cleaning up his mess, but I just couldn’t leave it somewhere in the field. “Uh. Ew.” Spike responded; face twisted in disgust which was impressive considering it was hard for dogs to look that disgusted. “I don’t like it either, but I can’t just leave it here for someone to walk in or something.” I told him, getting a little annoyed. “I did not go here. Too open. I use the same room you do inside.” My newly adopted supernatural pet informed me. I stood staring at him for at least a minute trying to put what he said together in my mind. Was he implying he used the bathroom like a person? I would be happy if that was the case but confused on how he figured that out. And why he didn’t tell me sooner he could do that. I bought plastic dog bags for nothing. He lived in the woods before, right? Was he comfortable going outside before but not now that he had options? I can’t believe I needed to think of my pet’s washroom preferences so early in the damn morning. “You think I go outside? Like an animal? Then you steal it away?? With your hands?!” Spike said, his shrill voice getting louder in disbelief. I tried to shush him and looked around the empty street near the field hoping no one would walk by and hear him. He was so grossed out over the idea of me cleaning up after him he started to cough and gag. His dog appearance faltering showing the sharp and pointed creature he really was. I let him dry heave and make awful sounds for a bit. I needed to explain to him that I would use a bag and every dog owner does the same. Well, any good dog owner. That made him actually puke over the thought. I started to wonder if being eaten or killed would have been easier than dealing with him going forward. After our little talk, I put his leash back on to get him home. He wanted a second breakfast and I felt too tired to say no. We walked by the nearby corner store and bumped into someone I didn’t expect to see outside of work. Rusty, my partner came out of the store with breakfast of his own. I glanced at his bags seeing coffee flavored drinks and boxes of honeybuns. I didn’t think he would be the kind of guy with a sweet tooth. Maybe he had family over. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know of he was married or not. I noticed too late he was staring daggers at Spike. Two nights ago, Spike’s pack had attacked Rusty and if it wasn’t for him being a half bred of some sort, he might not have made it out of the woods. And now I stood in front of him holding a leash with one of his attackers on the other end. Maybe because Spike looked like a dog Rusty wouldn’t figure out the truth. “Breakfast!” Spike said and snatched one of the boxes out of Rusty’s bags. Within seconds he’d torn it open with his sharp teeth, I started to sweat, fearing Rusty’s anger more than anything else. At least I'd thought I did. The look of disappointed hit harder than anger. “I... He...” I started trying to explain myself. “I’ll pay you back.” I finished unsure of what else to say. “Oh, you will.” Rusty said and left us behind without another word. Spike might not be able to attack and eat me with the collar I put on him, but he’s going to be the cause of my death at some point. I wrestled the plastic wrappings away from him and dragged the hyper creature back home. I didn’t really sleep much because of the sugar high Spike got from his stolen treats. I feared Rusty’s mood for the night. He must have known and stayed extra silent when I got into the station. If he just got the payback over with, I wouldn’t be suffering this much expecting it. The wait for him to snap much worse than anything he might be able to think of. I wanted to clear the air and talk about why my hand was forced adopting Spike but we got pulled aside. One of the dispatch workers wanted to talk to us about doing a special job that night. As far as I could tell, only a handful of people within the station knew about the supernatural stuff that went down on occasion. “Could you guys go out tonight and just drive along the roads? Clover came by and should have made it over to his other stop by now. Normally we would just assume he stopped along the way to collect something he found in the woods, but with the forest acting all riled up lately it’s best to double check on him.” The dispatch worker explained. Her name tag said Mary and she was on the shorter side. I’ve never heard her voice over the radio before and we hadn’t met yet. With how young she sounded I bet it was hard for the other officers to take her seriously. “Clover?” I asked and they both looked in my direction. “He’s a travelling merchant of sorts. We’ll order special spell work and materials to make-” “Sam doesn't need to know about any of that.” Rusty interrupted Mary. I suddenly felt tense from how they looked at each other. Since I found out about the whole supernatural thing being real, Rusty hadn’t really told me much. I did try looking stuff up but who knew what was real and what wasn’t. And Spike didn’t tell me much either. He just at chicken and sang dumb songs. “He should know a little if you two are going to be on that highway. Things have already happened. I agreed with you before when he didn’t see anything weird but hasn’t he already had direct contact with the forest?” Mary questioned, her shorter frame and childlike voice somehow threatening. “He’s not a part of the cleanup crew, or deals with the same job tasks you do. I’ll tell him how to handle any magic weapons if we ever need to use them, but you know how this works. The more he knows, the more likely he’ll need to use that information.” Rusty said back, trying to keep his voice even. “I understand trying to protect the rookie, but letting him know certain things isn’t going to lead him down the same path as Quinn.” I knew others in the station wasn’t listening to us but the mention of a certain name made all sound disappear from our surroundings. I tensed up, stomach knotted and I took a step closer to Mary on reflex. I knew Rusty wouldn’t hurt her for dropping that name but I still worried over his reaction to it. Quinn was Rusty's partner before I started. To be honest, I didn’t know anything about him. I didn’t even have the guts to look up his full name. One my second day, someone else mentioned him and I saw the look in Rusty’s eyes. Whatever happened in the past was pretty bad to make him look like that. A white-hot rage and regret boiled under his skin. “We’ll tell him what he needs to know when we get there.” Rusty said, his voice so even it scared me. Mary didn’t look intimated in the slightest. I respected her for that. She’s either very brave or dense. Rusty turned on his heel and walked away. I followed behind him knowing our night would be pretty silent and awkward unless we found this Clover person. I didn’t know how to deal with my silently fuming partner. We got our car and I let him drive down the highway because he knew Clover’s route. And if he kept his hands on the steering wheel, he couldn’t smack me if I looked in his direction the wrong way. The sun set and we ended up driving around for an hour before finding something out of place. Rusty noticed it right away and pulled off to the side of the road. We both go out of the car but Rusty kept back a few feet just in case. A motorcycle sat on the side of the road without the owner in sight. A rolled-up bag tied to the back of the seat and two small reflective clover stickers on the license plate. I knew right away this belonged to the person we were sent out to find, but I didn’t see any trace of them. Rusty placed a hand on his side arm, but didn’t draw it. His body tense and head slowly moving trying to spot any nearby danger. “What’s-” I was about to ask Rusty the plan when a scream came from the trees. I wanted to run towards it but learned my lesson from the last time I raced headfirst into the forest. I waited for my partner to give me a nod. “Let me get a few things then we’ll go.” He said and went back to the car. He pulled a shot gun I’ve never seen from a false bottom in the trunk. My mouth dropped open a little from the offense of there being a special weapon hidden away. He grabbed a silver chain and shoved it into my hand. He then closed the trunk after getting a box of shells to put into his pocket. “Does the shotgun have like, magic shells?” I asked keeping up with Rusty’s quick pace into the sea of trees. He looked over his shoulder and I grabbed my flashlight so we could see where to go. He debated on how much he wanted to tell me. “No, just salt. Creatures don’t all have the same weaknesses. Most of them don’t like salt, silver and iron. Salt is the best bet. It doesn’t really kill often, but pisses things off enough for them to just leave.” Well, that was good to know. I held up my hand and showed him the chain he gave me. I dangled a little and I tightened my fist around it worried I might drop it. “What’s this for?” I asked him a bit glad Rusty finally felt like telling me something useful. “It’s blessed. Weaker creatures won’t want to go near you. If you’re cornered you can wrap it around your fist and punch something. Again, it won’t kill anything overly strong, but it should stun the creature long enough for you to run.” He explained. I wrapped the chain around my hand as tight as it would go. I even looped it around my fingers hoping the delicate thing didn’t snap. We kept walking as we spoke and didn’t see anything odd or hear another scream since entering the woods. “Why a chain? Wouldn’t like, brass knuckles be better?” I asked. Rusty stopped trying to listen to a slight rustle off in the trees. When he knew nothing wanted to jump on us, he answered my question. “The blessing only sticks to pure items. Brass knuckles are made to cause pain. Now stop asking questions. Just shoot anything that-” Rusty did not get to finish his sentence. A crashing came through the bushes. I didn’t even have time to grab my gun when a wild raging buck charged right at us. Rusty acted fast and pushed me out of the way. I fell backwards at my partner stopped the buck dead in its tracks. I shouted his name when I saw the cost of such an action. Antlers torn into Rusty’s shoulder and arm, leaving deep gouges out of his left side. He strained keeping the creature back, his feet getting pushed a few inches leaving trails in the dirt. The buck didn’t look right. The fur appeared too grey and a terribly strong rotting smell came from it. A screech came from the trees and I needed to turn away from Rusty to see the source of it. A large owl came swooping down, eyes glowing red giving me a target in the dark. I shot it and the thing fell from the sky. The body triple the size of a normal owl, and claws razor sharp. The creature burst into a puff of black smoke and bones crumbling the moment the body hit the ground. I turned to raise my gun to help my partner to see he had things under control. With a loud yell of effort, he wrapped strong arms around the buck’s head and twisted. A loud crack echoed through the trees then the creature fell apart, flesh disappearing and bones falling to the ground. “Holy shit...” I gasped mostly to myself. “Rusty, are you...?” His wounds looked deep and I brought the light over for a better look. To my shock, they started to close up. He healed way faster than he did two nights ago with the pointed wolves. “I get a slight boost in strength and healing when the moon is full.” He said, brushing off my concerns. His face covered in sweat but otherwise Rusty looked ready to keep going. A slight boost? Jesus Rusty, that was slight? He told me he didn’t have any super strength and then pulled a stunt like this. Did Rusty think what he just did wasn’t all that impressive? He noticed my look and narrowed his eyes in confusion. I didn’t voice any of my questions knowing we needed to keep moving. I relied my partner’s eyes in the dark. Even with the flashlight I didn’t have a clue on where the missing Clover might have gone. Rusty heard a noise before I did and quickly started to run towards it. I followed behind, finding it hard to keep up. I started to really hate running through the woods at night and never wanted to do it again. We stumbled into a scene of a person dressed in riding gear backing away from more of those dark and half rotten animals. He had a smoking pine branch in front of him, waving it to keep the creatures away. A black helmet with the visor down making it impossible to see his face. He let out another scream of fear when a dark crow swooped down to steal away his only defence. He'd literally got backed into a corner when we arrived. Rusty fired the shotgun into the crowd of creatures. Some of the wild shot hitting Clover and he raised his arms up cursing. His leather jacket mostly protecting him from the sharp salt. “That hurts me too!” Clover shouted; his voice muffled behind his helmet. Rusty ignored him. The salt left smoking wounds on the rotting animals and they turned towards us. I suddenly lost all my courage with all those dead eyes in our direction. I nearly fell to my knees from fear. Rusty shoved the shotgun into my shaking hands and so hard against my chest it knocked some sense back into me. He then ran forwards to punch the first undead animal in the face, breaking the neck right away. I shot into the crowd and away from Rusty in order to make a path for Clover to run through. He got a few more bits of salt into in jacket but at least I got him over and to hide behind me. “Rusty, let’s get the hell out of here!” I called the moment Clover was safer next to me. My partner’s knuckles bloody from the fight. He’s been bitten a few times but his wounds healing faster than I expected. He slammed down his fist into another buck threatening to impale him. The creature’s head crashing down into the packed dirt. The sound of the skull breaking making me swear to never piss off my partner. We were about to run but it seemed like the boss arrived to the fight late. The other animals scattered when a large shape tore through the trees. Some of the smaller ones got crushed under massive paws of the creature that arrived to kill us. I shot first so Rusty could get a few feet away but the salt didn’t do much against the monster in front of us. The thing double the size it should be, and red eyes glowed in the dark. I’d never been this close to a bear before, and never wanted to be near one again. The monster opening its mouth to let out a roar that shook the trees. I flinched in pain at the sound. There was no way we could get away from this thing. We could only piss it off more. Fear ripping through my body. I looked at my worn out and bloody partner, then at the shaking Clover behind me. He was shorter than myself and so thin under his leather outfit. He didn’t stand a chance of even handling the recoil from the shot gun let alone fighting against this bear. I looked at his waist seeing pouches and prayed he had something useful inside them. We really needed some sort of powerful magic weapon right now. By sheer luck, the bear didn’t attack just yet. Rustling came from the trees and I looked up at the same time Rusty and Clover warned me to keep my eyes down. I found myself staring at a monster more terrifying than the undead bear in front of us. Everything else faded away only leaving the sight of the creature hanging upside down from the branches using countless human arms. The face covered with layers of glittering veils. Antlers sticking out from behind the head, twisted into each other and forming a circle. My chest grew tight and it felt like something started to fill my lungs. Something solid that twisted through my veins, creeping towards my heart. Hands from behind covered my eyes and jerked my head back. The feeling of the vines inside my chest faded and I snapped out of the strange trance I found myself in. Voices started shouting but I missed most of what was said for a few seconds. “You know what you stole from me! Give it back rotten creature!” I knew that voice. It was the same one that belonged to the forest creature from before. Did I just see part of what it really looking like? “I did a fair and even trade!” Clover shot back. Being blind I wasn’t aware the forest creature came down from the trees until it wrapped hands onto my shoulders to use my body as a support to glare down the man behind me. “Nothing fair with tricky words! I wanted arms!” The forest shouted back, all those hands gripping onto me so tightly it hurt. At least the anger was directed at someone else. I didn’t even think the forest creature realized I was even there due to its rage. “I gave you arms! You never said you wanted them to be my own!” Clover argued but his hands were pulled away. I could see again and looked over the situation. Clover been picked up by the forest monster I’d gotten a brief look at and Rusty was backed up against a tree, the bear letting out a deep growl. I needed to think fast. At this rate we wouldn’t make it out of these woods and the creature would gain a few more limbs. “What did he take?” I asked quickly to the forest creature. I looked up trying not to look at it directly. I hadn’t seen the lower half of the monster yet. It turned a veiled head down, my eyes landing on it. The same feeling came crawling into my chest. It almost became impossible to breath but I kept my gaze upwards. The creature so close and I debated on using my silver chain but knew it wouldn’t do anything besides make our situation worst. “It is in his pocket. I cannot take it back because we had a trade, but I can take his life! It is all fair when it comes to-” I cut off the creature by reaching out to grab a hold of the pouches at Clover’s waist to look through them. He weakly protested; his body being held up by a pair of hands around his neck and under his helmet. I dumped out stones, pressed flowers and hunks of pure salt. He kicked his legs trying to make me stop and I really hoped what I was giving back to the forest wouldn’t come biting me in the ass. I didn’t have much time to find whatever this monster wanted. Clover losing strength and the bear starting to get closer to Rusty. “That! That!” The forest monster pointed out a pale hand at the small golden glowing bottle I pulled from the bottom of the pouch. I held out the tiny thing but the creature shook its head and demanded I open the bottle. The excited hands dropped Clover, his body landing hard to the ground. He shouted at me to stop but I ignored him really hoping that was the best course of action. I pulled the cork out of the small bottle and the glass shattered in my hand. A blinding light came over my vision and it took a few moments until I could see again. The undead bear disappeared in the new golden light, leaving nothing behind. Rusty sank to the ground, shielding his eyes from the light. Clover’s head also down and I was the only one looking around. My eyes adjusting to the light finding the small space around us to be as bright as a spring day. I looked around, stunned at the sudden change. A breeze blew, kicking up flower petals that weren’t there before and bringing sweet scents of spring with it. I heard a laugh that was like wind chimes and looking up. The forest creature changed its body and it was flying through the air between trees, the long body now similar to a serpent. The veils of spider web and antlers still attached to its head, but the rest of the body changed into something made of countless flowers as bright as the sun through leaves on a summer day. The long body flew through the air and came towards me. I tensed up expecting it to crash into my body but it just circled around me, creating a small updraft of petals. With one last laugh, it flew off deep into the woods, the light and spring day following it. We were left into darkness, everything that bright light brought with it gone from around us. Then we were all very rudely removed from the woods. The world turning under my feet and I fell downwards. With some luck, I flipped over and landed on my ass and not on my head. Rusty landed on his feet but Clover wasn’t that lucky. He came crashing down last, neck breaking against the road with the shot gun I’d dropped clattering next to him. I screamed seeing his body and ran over to him. A terrible flashback of the drunk driver from the other night coming to mind. I screamed louder when he sat up, head facing the wrong way. With some effort, he twisted his head back and pulled off his helmet. Rusty needed to smack me upside the back of my head to make me stop screaming at what was under the visor the entire time. Black wavy hair covered half of Clover’s face. I wish he kept the helmet on. His skin clinging to his skill and lips peeled back exposing his teeth. Around his left eye the skin had rotted away and he was missing his entire nose. A green eye set into his dark socket met my own and I nearly fainted. At least I knew where he got his name from. “Do you have any idea how much a spring day like that is worth! We could have bargained!” Clover shouted, and he sounded pretty good for someone with exposed vocal cords. “You’re lucky we even bothered to save your ass! You’re always getting into shit like this! What do you even need money for?!” Rusty shot back. “Don’t be ignorant! Just because I’m-” Clover started but he stopped speaking when he noticed my face. I wasn’t a sheepish person when it came to gore. I could watch zombie movies just fine or clean up road kill when needed. But it turned out I wasn’t able to keep it together when a rotten human body moved around and spoke. The exposed muscles moving caused my face to turn pale. Clover knew I was going to pass out before I realized it. He dove forwards to catch my head so I didn’t smash it against the road we’d been tossed onto. I woke up in the backseat of our car, feeling sick and dizzy. Thankfully Clover put his helmet back on and since he was still there, I figured I wasn’t out for very long. “Oh good, you’re awake. Let me take some blood.” The undead creature said from under the visor. I jumped back and pressed against the seat trying to stay away from him. I suddenly did not trust the one we just saved. He held a syringe in his gloved hand and Rusty, the traitor, grabbed a hold of me to drag me out of the car. With some screaming and begging, they got what they wanted. My rubbed my sore arm and was released to back away from the leather clad zombie. “Your eyes are green.” Clover said and put the blood he stole away in one of his pouches. “They’re brown.” I corrected. “They were brown. Now they’re green. I think it’s because you looked at that forest body for too long. As far as I can tell, nothing else has changed. I can’t sense any extra magic in your body, and nothing really feels off about you. If you’re lucky, the color fades in a few days.” Clover explained and I looked up at Rusty to have him silently confirm what was being said. We followed behind him and watched as he got back on his bike. At least no one died tonight and we got the job done. I glanced off into the woods and thought I saw a hint of light off in the distance. “I’ll get this tested for you and shoot over the results when I get them. You're probably fine.” He told us and I thought I heard him mutter another probably. That stressed me out. Could be much worst though. I reluctantly thanked Clover for checking such a thing for me even though he owed us for saving him. We let him drive off after a small exchange of waves. I was left standing on the side of the road with Rusty staring down at me. His wounds healed but they left blood on his torn uniform. Out of nowhere, his fist shot out and punched my shoulder. “What the hell?!” I demanded, hurt on so many different levels. “Tell me the next time you adopt a dog. I love dogs.” With that, he turned to go back to the car. I was shell shocked from the events that night but also from his response. Really, he gave me the silent treatment over something like that? I hurried after him ready for us to have a normal quiet rest of our shift. We did need to pull over a few drivers and Rusty let me write the tickets because he didn’t have a replacement shirt in the car. We pulled through the next few hours and I got home a bit later than normal. We both needed to fill out an extra special report because we dealt with something supernatural that night. I was so tired I barely paid any attention to what I filled out. I wanted to go right to bed but remembered I needed to let Spike out. He got his leash and I took him to the field to run around to tire him out enough for me to sleep for a few hours. At least he found a new song to sing that was less annoying. Something about a duck. Being so tired I didn’t stress or worry about the events of the night. I was nearly asleep on my feet and collapsed on the couch and didn’t make it to my bed. Instead of using my empty bed. Spike curled up on the couch with me, nearly suffocating me in my sleep. This dog was really going to be the death of me.

A coffin has appeared in the front yard of every house in my neighborhood

ybx6tl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybx6tl/a_coffin_has_appeared_in_the_front_yard_of_every/

There is now an [update](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycrev5/a_coffin_has_appeared_in_the_front_yard_of_every/) &#x200B; My wife and I were on our way home from dinner tonight when we first saw it. Dead center (sorry) in the yard of the first house we saw, among all of the skeletons scary giant spiders and lights was a perfect replication of a dark brown coffin. My wife looked at me and said, “Damn! I wonder where they got that. It must have been expensive!” She looked a little jealous. Typically, we are the house on the street that goes all out with the Halloween decorations, but after a couple of bad years for work, then the pandemic, we just haven’t bee able to refresh our hurting collection. I guess some of it is also the post-pandemic malaise that we haven’t quite gotten over. We slowly passed to admire the decorations and noticed the house next to them had the same coffin decoration as well, even though they typically don’t decorate. In fact, the coffin was the only decoration. No lights, no jack-o-lanterns, no creepy dolls. Just a dark brown coffin in the center of the yard, almost invisible in the growing dark. As I was scowling at the creepy weirdness of just the one decoration, I heard my wife gasp, “Oh, my god.. there’s another one.” I looked ahead to the other side of the road where she was pointing. I stopped the car. “Jesus fuck...”, I said, “It’s all of them!” Staring down the empty street ahead, and down the streets to the left and right, we saw the same exact coffin in the exact center of every lawn. We turned to each other, and I’m sure my face mirrored her freaked-the-fuck-out expression. I crept down the streets towards our home, seeing coffin after coffin. Our neighbors had begun to notice, as we saw some were peering out the window at the apparently unexpected decoration. As we passed our next-door neighbors, we saw the couple in their yard, looking down at the coffin. His expression was one of fury, but she had her hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook with sobs. She had just beaten cancer. Their van, parked in front of the house, hid our lawn, but I knew what we were going to see before we passed it and pulled into our driveway. Seeing it, I could feel my heart race and the cold sweat trickling down my spine. Almost robotically, we grasped at each others hands and walked up to the box. I gave it a little shove with my foot and it didn’t budge. A harder kick, and nothing. This wasn’t some cheap-o thing from Spirit Halloween, it felt like the real thing. I held Carrie’s hand tighter and scanned up and down the street. It was completely silent expect for the quiet sobs from my neighbor. More were out looking at the coffins, some trying to open them,, some trying to move them. All to no avail. “Let’s go inside.” The sudden suggestion from my wife made me jump and I felt a stab of ice in my heart. Normally, scaring each other is a cause for celebration, but this time... What kind of weird-ass joke is this? I’m looking at the damned thing from my living room window, and I have no idea what to do. &#x200B; Update with my earlier comment: I slept like shit last night. I don't know if this is real or a dream I had (I'm prone to nightmares), but I got up in the middle of the night and went to our front window to take another look at the fucking thing. I looked through the break in the curtains and there it still was, eerily reflecting the white-blue of our porch light. My mind blank, I stared and eventually noticed movement across the street. When I first saw it, my mind screamed "Ghost!" even though I don't believe in that shit, but after that initial scare, I realized it was just Sandy (is that her name?) across the street coming outside to look at the coffin. She was walking up to it slow, like she was scared it would rush her. She walked right up to it and bent down, easily lifting the lid. What the fuck? I finally was able to see her face, and it was blank. Not scared, not angry, not curious. Nothing. My heart raced and I felt sick as I watched her get into the coffin and as the lid closed, I must have passed out. I woke in my bed just a few moments ago. I hurried over to the window to see our coffin still in the yard. The lawn across the street was empty. I'm going to go over there this morning to see how they are. Jesus, I don't think they even know my name. I'll update soon.

I should have listened to my cousin’s warning

ycxqr6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycxqr6/i_should_have_listened_to_my_cousins_warning/

Hello, I am not gonna tell you my name for privacy reasons and also my writing might not be the best. My story starts a few years ago when I was younger and my cousin used to babysit me and later my sister. My cousin loved horror watching, reading, listening to, even writing it. So it is no wonder that when ever I didn’t listen she would tell me the story of what she called las grapadoras de ojos. My family comes from Mexico and she claims this is my grand mother’s story that’s why it is in Spanish. The story she would tell me went like this. Down in Mexico in my grandmother’s home town (not saying for privacy) there were monsters that would terrorize anyone under the age of 18. The monsters were called las grapadoras de ojos they were said to be about a foot tall a sickly green-gray color. They had long pointed noses and beards that would drag on the floor. Their arms were so long that their knuckles would drag on the floor as they ran. They had long slender fingers with sharp curved nails that would form a circle when they closed on their left hand. Their right has as bone thin but could move very quickly. They also kept a sewing needle under the flesh of their right hand. It is said that if anyone under 18 wasn’t in bed and asleep by 8:30pm they would target you. They would give you three warnings. The first is they would knock on either your bedroom’s door, walls, or window slowly with exactly one second between each knock, and with each knock they would say something in their deep raspy voice. “Ir…a…dormir…”. If you didn’t listen to their first warning and stayed up again you would get the second. Where they will go into your house and steal all of candy, fruit, and meat that was in your house. They would also leave you a note saying it a dormir. If you did it again you would get your last warning, they will go into your bed room and knock on the floor under your bed the same as your first warning. Normally this was enough to get me to listen as I never wanted to know what would happen after their last warning. Until one day when I relized she probably just made it up because 8:30 was my bedtime and she was 18 so that’s why she was fine and not me. So, one day I decided that it was fake and didn’t listen and she told me the story again but I didn’t listen. Saying that they were just grumpy little men that wanted kids to go to sleep. My cousin looked at me amused. I thought she was impressed that I had figured it out. I could not have been more wrong. She looked me dead in the eye and told me that I had never happened after the third warning. Which being the brat I was told her to finish the story. She did. She said that after the third warning if you didn’t listen you would hear stomping coming from the front door all the way to you room. Ir… a… dormir with every stop till they get to your door where it will stop and it will be silent for one minute. Then in your left ear you will hear them whisper buenas noches. Then your eyes will close and you will fall asleep. You will never open your eyes again. As once you are asleep they will tear out your eyes with their left hand and eat them. They will then sew your empty eye sockets shut using the hairs from their breads as thread and you will never see again. I was terrified but I covered it with anger asking what the hell was wrong with her, that she was go graphic, and belongs in an asylum. She looked at me annoyed and told me it was fine if I didn’t listen to her but it was almost 8:30 so if I want my first warning I should go to bed. I was angry and scared so I listened and finally went to bed but didn’t go to sleep. I had an alarm clock in my room and I made sure to stay up till 9 that night. When I heard three knocks exactly one second apart and the raspy deep voice of a man from the door saying “ir… a… dormir…” with every knock. I got angry and really scared and yelled at my cousin. To knock it off and that it wasn’t funny. She responded that it wasn’t her and I should be asleep. Her voice came from the couch it was close enough so we could hear each other but too far for me to not hear her run back. I then felt my heart drop to my stomach when I relized that her voice was too high it always has been. There was no way she could have made the voice. After that I always went to bed and fell asleep by 8 I didn’t know if it was real or not but I didn’t want to risk it. That was till I was in high school where my cousin would baby sit my little sister because my parents didn’t trust her with me. She would tell my sister the same story and it worked the same way. One day though I was watching a movie when my cousin told my sister the story again but, when she finished my sister turned to me and asked if it was true. Before I could answer my cousin told her it was and that I already had my first warning. She went to bed right away after that. That day I stayed up till my parents got home since my cousin said she wasn’t gonna fight me to go to bed because I’m not what she’s paid for anymore. She left after my parents came home and they forced me to go to bed at 10:30. That morning I woke up to my parents fuming. They asked me what the note I left was and where the candy and meat they bought was. I was genuinely confused and kept denying it but they didn’t listen and punished me.Before they left my room they said that they were glad I was eating the fruit but I shouldn’t eat all it in one night. I went back to sleep ignoring there scolding. Then my sister starting crying scared saying that I was on my second warning before my eyes were gonna be eaten. My parents tried to calm her down to explain when she told them about my cousin’s story they calmed her down and called my cousin. That was the last day she would baby sit my sister. Also the day my fate was sealed because I didn’t take her story seriously. The next time my parents needed a babysitter they asked one of my other cousins to baby sit. I forgot about the story because of it. One day I was staying up late working on homework. I had stayed up till 10 and then Decided to go to bed. I heard knocking on my floor that night. Three months later I closed my eyes for the last time. I stayed up because I was on a date with a girl I was dating at the time. I got home and stayed up till 9 then I went to bed. I then heard the stomping it was so loud and it’s rhythmic chanting all that way from my front door to my bed room and just like my cousin said it went silent for one minute. Then in my left ear I hear it’s voice. Buenas noches. I fell asleep and I haven’t seen since. I went to the hospital and they weren’t able to cut the stiches but from the various scans they did they said that it wouldn’t be much of a difference because my eyes weren’t in my head anymore. Nothing strange other than my eyes were gone and my eye lids were sewn together. It’s been a couple years since then the cousin who told me the story committed suicide yesterday after what happened to me. I think… I think the best thing for me know is to join her. I have only gotten enough sleep to stay alive since that night. She never said that they took your ability to sleep along with your eyes. Now all of you that have read this know so at least my death won’t be in vein. Good Night

The field of dreadful dreams

yd7n02

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yd7n02/the_field_of_dreadful_dreams/

The time was 6pm, the house was surrounded by fields of corn and beans, swaying in the dark breeze of the night, but the feeling of foreboding was there with the scarecrow standing over the fields, scaring the hardest of person and the toughest animal scurrying. When I awoke that next morning, I was feeling refreshed, ran downstairs to grab my stuff for school and raced out the door for the bus! When I got home late that afternoon, the scarecrow had moved, but didn't soak in until after dinner. I had asked dad of he had moved it and he said no, even with that quirky grin he always wore after a smile. The next few days passed without any feelings, but that wasn't about to last! That weekend, I had decided to have a few friends over for a sleepover, and everything was fantastic! These were very close friends and we did everything together, even IF it meant for us to get in some sort of trouble. But that night, all of us were on edge, and none of us knew why! We couldn't get dinner or a snack without doing the quick look over the shoulder. That's when one of my friends noticed the scarecrow, and she was frozen! "Hey Jill, that figure in the fields is moving!" "Impossible! Amber, that thing is on a pole that is 6ft in the ground!" She shrugged it off and joined us back in the living room for a movie and we all quickly went to bed. That next morning, the mood was the same as last night, foreboding and edgy! We all wondered why we felt this way, but we couldn't understand it! We decided to run into town to get more supplies for the evening! I forgot to mention, all of my friends, including myself are skeptics! We think all paranormal instances have a rational explanation, but this night changed our view on the paranormal and cryptids like we've never viewed them before! It was around 7pm, the sun had just set on the horizon and we were all inside, having our fun, laughing at things from school and just being the normal teens we were accustomed to. That's when things started getting weird! The first thing I noticed was that my favorite shirt I had dried on the line had vanished and I couldn't find it! "Do you guys know what happened to my shirt?" "Nope, haven't seen it!" Said Amber, as she went back to reading the yearbook! "I could have sworn I put it outside earlier" that's when I noticed the scarecrow! It was CLOSER to the house and it made me shutter! I don't know what drew me to look but I notice something odd about it! It wasn't on the pole dad puts it on when it's on the fields, it was resting on a fence post! It was staring at the house, with its button eyes! I turned and went back to the group, hoping tomorrow will be back to normal! It was 2am, and I had to get up to go to the restroom! The house was dark and eery, with only the light of the moon to light my way! I got to the restroom, did my business and started the walk back to my bed, and THATS when I noticed the shadow! It wasn't a normal shadow, but a TALL shadow. The scarecrow, it was on the deck! I woke every one up and made them watch! They were saying it was fake that someone was moving it outside! It moved, basically walked like a normal person, but with a limp!! "Is anyone home?" A raspy, throaty voice said! "I thought I saw you inside!" We all froze in our spots! Now we were freaked out, not knowing what to do! It spoke again, but this time, from outside the front door! "Let me in! Come play in the fields with me!" It tried the door handle, but the door was locked! We all cowered and waiting for the sun to rise! Morning came, and we had a story to tell all our other friends at school. We all believe now that the paranormal world is indeed real, even if it's in your own back yard

Tumble, Tumble, Tumble

ycecqk

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycecqk/tumble_tumble_tumble/

I was born poor. My dad toiled in jobs that paid horribly and treated him worse. My mom watched other people's children, assuring our house was always packed with people. My siblings and I had hand-me-down clothes, knew the joys of a ramen dinner, and all started working in our early teens to help with expenses. Even though we struggled growing up, there were always people that helped us out along the way. One of those people was the owner of the house my parents rented from. George, the gentle old widower, owned a few homes in our neighborhood. Though he could've been greedy, he wasn't. George offered a fair rent, fixed problems as soon as possible, and would let my parents pay in two payments if they needed to. He didn't have to do that, but he did anyway. He was kind to us when he was under no obligation to do so. I think he liked our family. When he would come over to fix a problem, he would always say our family reminded him of his own family. He would let me watch him as he repaired something. I soaked up everything like a sponge. It's fair to say George inspired me. He used to say, "owning a house was a job, but helping out a family was a joy." I liked that and have carried it with me on my journey. After I left high school, I started working in a real estate office. As what tends to happen, the more time I worked at the office, the more I wanted to get into real estate. Before too long, I took my exam and got my license. That first year, I was thirtieth in sales in my office. The following year, I was first. Helping families find their forever home made my heart sing. As George would say, it became my joy. When I had a little extra coin in my pocket, I decided to start flipping houses as well as selling them. It's a unique job that comes with its own challenges. Some are unavoidable - old homes have outdated kitchens and bathrooms – but other issues crop up because someone screwed up at some point in the home's long lifespan. Bad owners, shifty contractors, or even "old man winter" can all add to a house's current issues. In the flipping game, you roll with the punches the best you can. You try to solve these problems as cheaply as possible and hope to profit from the sale. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, but that's part of the thrill. The kind of thrill I had with my latest flip is one I'd love to avoid for the rest of my life. There is an old expression that if something is too good to be true, it probably is. Typically, I heed this advice because, in the housing game, an underpriced house usually means a ton of work hiding in the walls. Good bones are lovely for a house you want to flip, but you need to have SOME kind of skin in place if you're going to make a profit. Once you start mentally tallying repairs and it slides into the six figures, it's time to find another house. That being said, every once and a while, you see a place that captures your head and heart. When that happens, all the old expressions get chucked out the window. When a Realtor sees those stars in your eyes, they're already mentally writing the offer. 734 Walnut Lane was one of those houses. It was genuine love at first sight. An old Victorian with a large, sprawling yard filled with old-growth trees. The house needed some work – paint, landscaping, maybe a roof—but an excellent real estate agent will tell you to look past the problems and focus on the potential. A little sweat equity can turn a grain of sand into a pearl. And 734 Walnut Lane had pearl potential. The inside of the four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house was a bit rough. Not a total tear-down, but there were going to be some repairs needed. The bathrooms were actually in good shape. The style was so vintage that it had actually come back around. The kitchen was going to need some modern touches. The wall-to-wall carpet needed to be ripped up because I knew there would be fantastic hardwood floors under it. Some painting, electrical, and other odds and ends were going to be done, but I was smitten. It was two stories – the bottom is where the master suite was located. Upstairs, there were three smaller rooms and a den. The rooms were a touch small, but you just call them cozy in your advertising and stage it to make it look bigger. The den, though, was a strange space. It overlooked the veranda and was flooded with natural light from a skylight – both pluses – but it was also colder than the other rooms. There was also a weird energy I associated with the decor still in the residence. I had seen enough though, I wanted to go for it. I made an offer, and we got the ball rolling. Even though the house had sat vacant for a year or so, it was surprisingly competitive. I wasn't shocked. The price was below market value in a hot neighborhood. The agent did not give up much information, only that the owner had said they wanted to sell the house as fast as possible. That worked to my advantage. In my offer, I shortened the window of inspections down to 72 hours and made the close at 10 days. No one else would do that. My office manager advised against it, and even the listing agent questioned my timetable, but I told them both I was sure. My ace in the hole was I had a team of people I could snap into action as soon as possible. This wasn't my first race - I had plans in place to hit the ground running. After forty eighty hours of sitting on pins and needles, I got the call I wanted to hear – the house was mine. While having the winning offer was great, I had a lot to do in a very short amount of time. I needed to get my inspectors in there as quickly as possible to ensure this house wouldn't break me financially. If they came back waving red flags, I still had time to pull out of the deal. My go-to inspector was Wally. Wally and I have a long history together, and I trust him implicitly. If he said this was a dog, I would walk. If he said there was something to the ol' place, I was all in. Wally knew his shit, and I hoped he'd be coming back with good news. The inspection was set for a Tuesday at noon. Inspections can vary in time, and Wally was lovely but slow, so I assumed I'd hear from him at about two, two-thirty. I had a few other things to concern myself with, so I headed off to do my errands after I let him in. Twenty minutes later, I got a phone call from Wally. He sounded nervous and asked if I could come to the house. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong over the phone, but you could hear in his voice something was up. I dropped what I was doing and motored back over to 734 Walnut Lane. Wally was waiting outside when I pulled up. He was pacing and smoking a cigarette even though he had stopped months ago. I walked up to him and asked what was going on and expected him to say that the walls had black mold or the foundation was a mess, but that's not what he said at all. He pointed up to the second-story den window with his cigarette and shook his head, "Something is in there." His voice was shaky. "You mean besides the 1970s furniture?" "No, something...evil." I laughed because I assumed Wally was making a joke. But when I noticed he wasn't laughing with me, I stopped. "Wally, what are you talking about?" "I heard things…shuffling, footsteps, voices." The last word caused my hair to stand on end. Shuffling and footsteps can be anything – old houses creak, animals get in, etc. But voices are something different. Voices are a tad concerning. "Was there a TV left on or maybe a radio?" "No." "Maybe your phone?" "No." "Did someone walk past outside?" "No," he said just as firmly as he had the other times, "I was alone in there, and I heard someone speaking." "What did they say?" I asked. Wally took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled a large plume of foul-smelling Carolina smoke, "They said 'tumble.'" "Tumble," I said, incredulously, "what the Hell does that mean?" "I was walking up the stairs when I heard it. I think it was a warning." "That something was going to fall down the stairs at you?" "No," he said nervously, "that I was going to fall down the stairs." I was taken aback. I hadn't even considered that. "Was the voice, I dunno, angry-sounding?" "It was very monotone, but," he shook his head, "there was a feeling that came with it. I felt it in the base of my skull, ya know?" I didn't, but I didn't want to argue. Wally stubbed out his cigarette and sighed, "I...I don't know if I can do this inspection for you." "Wally," I said, "I shortened the window for inspections to next to nothing. I don't have time to find someone else." "I know, but...I don't feel comfortable in there. I'm worried I'm going to get hurt." "Would it help if I stayed with you?" He looked away, embarrassed, but then he responded softly, "Yes. Sorry if that fucks up your day." "Hey, we're a team," I said, "I can stick around if that helps." "If you see or hear anything," he started, but I interrupted. "I'll keep it to myself," I said with a smile. He grinned, and we walked into the house together. There was a stillness that seemed typical of all empty houses, but with what Wally told me bouncing around my head, it took a more sinister bend. I was sure it was nothing, but in the darkest corners of my brain, a small candle of thought flickered: What if he was right? Wally went back to his work in the kitchen, and I decided to check out the rooms upstairs. Not going to lie, as I was walking up those stairs, I half expected to hear a voice start talking, but the ghosts didn't like me and didn't make their presence known. I had no issues walking up to the second floor, other than noticing the handrail was a bit loose. I entered the first small bedroom on the left. It was painted a light blue, and I assumed it may have been a little boy's room at some point. There was a window that looked out towards the street. I took in the view and nodded – the yard needed some work, but it had so much curb appeal. Just then, I heard the floorboards behind me creak. Without turning around, I said, "Do you know a good landscape guy? Jerome has seemed to run into a creative funk lately, and I want to spice things up." But there was no response. "Wally," I said again, this time turning around, expecting to see Wally's face looking at me. Instead, it was just the empty room. I walked out into the hallway and glanced around. No one was there. I called out, "Wally!" After a few seconds, I heard a muffled, "Yes?" come back to me from somewhere downstairs. "Nevermind, I found it," I lied. He said something I couldn't hear and went back to work. I left the blue room and walked across the hallway to the next bedroom. Once upon a time it had been a bright yellow but it had faded to a Dijon mustard color. This room had more furniture than most – an old bed that looked like it was never comfortable and a chest of drawers straight from a Sears and Roebuck catalog. This room felt smaller than the blue room, but it was probably because of the furniture. If I remember correctly, the dimensions were the same. I walked over to the backyard-facing window and glanced out at the old-growth trees. From this window, you could scoot out onto the roof and climb down the tree, and escape. This would be a perfect room for a trouble-causing teen. I walked over to the chest and pulled open the top drawer. To my surprise, a photo came sliding down. I plucked it up and saw a picture of an old woman sitting alone on the edge of a bed. How old, I couldn't tell, but she was up there. She was short - I'd wager around five feet flat - with dark black eyes and graying black hair. She looked frail and if I'm honest, miserable. You could just see it on her face – she didn't want her picture taken nor, it seemed, to be alive anymore. I was about to place it back in the drawer when something caught my eye in the photo's background. I pulled it closer to my face to make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. But when I saw it up close, I felt a cold chill run down my spine. The old woman's shadow did not match up with her body. Now, this wasn't some trick of the light or something. The shadow created by the flash just didn't resemble the old lady sitting in the photo. It looked bulkier, and, I swear to god, if you squinted, it looked like there she had horns. At first blush, you'd probably never notice it. But when you give it a good, hard look, the photo becomes unsettling. It's unnatural. That's when I realized the photo's location was also familiar – it had been snapped in this room. The old lady was sitting on the same bed that was next to me. I put the photo back in the drawer and looked down at the bed, half expecting to see the unpleasant woman staring back at me. Thankfully, it was just the same brown and gold comforter that had been there when I walked in. I decided that I had seen enough of this room and headed back out for the hallway. When I was about to cross the threshold, I heard a pronounced WOOSH near my ear, like someone was striking a match. I jumped back out of instinct but laughed when I realized there was nothing there. That being said, I quickened my pace. There was one last room I hadn't been in yet, and that was the bedroom at the end of the hall. As I walked along the hallway, I could hear the floorboards creak underneath me. Normally, I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but in light of some of the weird shit going on, it caught my attention. Nothing could creep down here without letting you know it was there. I pushed open the door to the last bedroom, and it, of course, squeaked open. It was darker in this room than in the other two, partially from the trees in the backyard providing shade and partly from a pair of old, ratty black curtains on the window. I made a note to swap out both the curtain and curtain rods before staging this room. Like the other rooms, the space was cozy. There was a day bed in the room pressed against the wall it shared with the yellow room. Across from the bed was an old bookshelf with a few old books and magazines, nothing recent or too exciting sounding, and few odds and ends. Some knickknacks had tribal-looking designs, but it was probably just some company trying to ape the style. All in all, it was pretty pedestrian. The room itself was painted a green color that must've spoken to the previous owner in a profound, meaningful way because it was NOT having the same effect on me. Unless someone explicitly requested it, I wouldn't use this shade if my life depended on it. It just felt off-putting. I heard the floorboards in the hallway creak, and I called out for Wally. Again, he didn't respond, but the floorboards creaked again like someone was approaching. "Can I help you?" I asked loudly and with bass in my voice. "What," I heard Wally say from the bottom of the stairwell, "Did you call my name?" "Yes," I said, sighing in relief, "I thought I heard you down there." "Yeah," he said, "I was gonna come up and start poking around in those rooms. Can you, I dunno, watch me walk up the stairs, just in case?" I smiled to myself, "Sure." "Thank you," he said sheepishly. "Also," I added, "we are gonna have to paint this whole place because, whoa." "Wait until you see what they did to the kitchen." *Great*, I thought as I headed towards the door, *a larger painting budget*. Suddenly, I heard someone running away down the hallway. I rushed out in hopes of getting a glimpse of someone but didn't catch anything. I walked down the hallway but kept my head on a swivel. I didn't know what I thought I'd see, but I wanted to be prepared regardless. Now, what would I do if I DID see something...I hadn't quite figured that part out yet. As I got to the top of the stairs – thankfully, having seen nothing but my own shadow – I smiled down at Wally. "Were you running," Wally said from the bottom of the stairs. "I tripped," I lied. "Ready to come up?" "If I fall," he said, gripping the railing, "know that it wasn't my fault." "Something I say every time I have a few too many drinks at a party." Wally took a second and then bolted up the stairs. He was focused – he kept his head down and powered up the steps two at a time. Before too long, he joined me at the top of the stairs. He was a touch out of breath – not sure if it was from lack of exercise, fear, or both. "Any voices?" I asked. "Nothing this time." "Maybe we scared them away?" "I don't know if that's how this works," he said, pushing past me. "Let's say it does work that way so we can get someone in here ASAP," I said with a wink, "preferably to someone with a pulse." "I wouldn't joke about that," he said, crossing into the blue room. While he went off to do his things in the room, I walked into the den and took the space in. The loft above the stairs is a small but functional space. I imagined a place for kids to play, a small home office, or even a nice reading nook. There was a skylight above that gave a good amount of natural light. The rays felt warm but not too hot. The space was empty, save for an old chaise that I was worried might not hold body weight, but I decided to test it out and take a seat anyway. It groaned under my weight, but it held. I pulled my phone out and clicked away at some mindless game, and let the sun's ray warm me up. Like I mentioned earlier, this part of the house was noticeably colder than the rest. I assumed the AC was a dinosaur awaiting its own comet and would need to be replaced at some point in the near future. New ducting probably too. The bills kept adding up. As I settled into the chaise, I could hear Wally working the blue room. Every once in and awhile, I'd hear him mutter to himself and bang around on something. I was focused on seeing how far I could hit a baseball with an umbrella (it's an odd game) when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I peered over the top of my phone, expecting to see Wally darting down the steps, but I didn't see anyone. But as I watched, I heard the stairs creak under the weight of something ambling up. It was like they were teens trying to sneak upstairs after curfew. I looked at the carpet at the top of the stairs and, unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, saw it compress like something was standing there. I yelped. As I did, something sprinted from the top of the stairs and into the yellow room, slamming the door in the process. Wally popped out of the blue room, and his gaze met mine. "Did you slam that door?" "I," the words got caught in my throat. I cleared the logjam, "I didn't do that." "The wind," he offered but knowing it wasn't going to be the wind. I shook my head "no." Have you ever seen the color from someone's face just disappear in an instant? The blood was gone from Wally's face, and his skin looked like a white subway tile. He pressed his body against the wall, trying to add space between him and the newly closed door to the yellow room. "You okay?" I eked out. "No," he answered honestly, "I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay." "What do you want to do?" "Burn this place to the ground," Wally said, "something is off about this house. Bad vibes all over." "I'm going to open the door," I said to Wally and my own will. "Why the fuck for?" "There isn't anything there. We're spooked, and we're making this worse than it is. You've been in hundreds of houses," I added, "you know that sometimes there's a bad energy about them." "Yeah, bad bones, not ghosts," Wally said. I stood and, though I didn't show it, my legs felt like Bambi taking those first few steps and nodded towards the door. "I'm going to open the door, okay. Just stand near me, okay?" "I dunno," Wally said as he started sliding back into the blue room. "Wally, I need you to stand near me as I turn this handle, okay? If someone's in there, I'm going to need help." Wally made a sign of the cross and pulled out a screwdriver. "If there is a ghost in there, I'm assholes and elbows out this bitch and into my car." "If there is a ghost in there, I'm running right behind you and not stopping until I get to escrow and break this deal." I slowly walked to the door of the yellow room. My heart pounded like a bass drum in my ears. I couldn't feel my legs, and it was like I was floating. Before I knew it, I stood outside the door of the yellow room and put my hand on the handle. I looked back to make sure Wally hadn't split, and he was true to his word. He stood by, screwdriver at the ready. I nodded to him and took a deep breath. "One, two, three," I whispered and then slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened to reveal nothing out of the ordinary in the yellow room...until you looked at the bed. Someone was hiding underneath the brown and golden comforter. I felt weightless. I didn't anticipate anything, but now I was staring at a bulged-up comforter on the ancient bed. Someone or something was in here, trying to hide from us. I looked for movement, but I didn't see any. It was like there was a fan under the blanket, blowing it up. "I can see you," I said, my voice shaking, "I just want you to know." Then the blanket went flat on the bed. There wasn't a soul there. As my brain tried to comprehend what the fuck I just saw, I felt someone brush past me and heard their footsteps as they dashed into the green room and slammed the door again. I looked back at Wally, who lived up to his other promise to split if he saw a ghost. He ran so hard down the stairs, some of his tools fell from his belt, and he just left them. He rushed out the front door without even slowing down. That's when I heard the whispers. "Tumble, tumble, tumble." I started to absentmindedly back away from the voices. They became louder, "TUMBLE, TUMBLE, TUMBLE." I took a step back and felt the floor disappear. I had reached the top of the steps. I started to fall back but, at the last minute, I shot my arm out and caught the door-jamb of the blue room. "TUMBLE, TUMBLE, TUMBLE!" "No," I screamed as loud as I ever had. It seemed to do the trick because the voices stopped. I pulled myself back up and stood defiantly in the hallway. I glared down at the green room door. "That shit ain't gonna work with me," I said, tapping into a reserve of courage I didn't know I had. That's when I watched as the handle of the green door twist. A second later, the door opened slightly. I took it as an invite. "If I go in there and you pull some shit, so help me, God." While the threat sounded nice, I had absolutely no idea what I would do if things got worse. I was operating on pure adrenaline at this point. The door blew open further. I gathered whatever strength had kept me from joining Wally down those steps and walked down the hall. I pushed the green room door open and glanced around. There wasn't anyone in here at first glance. I walked into the room. I've thought about what the hell convinced me to enter that room and, all this time later, I have a few ideas. Natural curiosity, a deep-seated need to be thrilled, fear of losing investment, and just being dumb were all legitimate reasons. But one idea stood taller than the rest: I didn't want to be afraid anymore. I may have a tough exterior, but it's only because, in this business, I have to. Any sign of weakness or, weirdly, humanity can be latched on to by jerks and taken advantage of. In those moments, almost anyone could be bullied or forced into timidity. But it hits harder as a woman, especially in a male-dominated field. Never mind the everyday threat of physical violence (something I have to be keenly aware of at all times because of, ya know, society), but the constant barrage of extra shit that comes with being a woman. It takes a mental toll to be talked down to or taken advantage of or having everyone in the room assume you don't understand or know what's going on even though you're in charge. Each event doesn't weaken you much, but the cumulative effect does. When you remove confidence, fear creeps in and stays. I didn't want it to roost in my brain anymore. At the moment, I'm not sure I was consciously thinking of any of this, but as I've moved away from the incident, my mind has tried to color in the details. I mean, if I could face down a ghost trying to kill me, some jackass construction worker wouldn't stand a chance. I walked into the middle of the room, scanned around, looking for any sign that someone was in the room with me. I knew whatever had been under the blanket had scampered into here. At first blush, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Same dark curtains. Same heavy bookshelf. Same weird-ass tribal figures on the shelf. Totally normal. Then the door slammed behind me. I jumped out of my skin. I spun on my heels in hopes of getting a glimpse of something but, not surprisingly, nothing was there to meet my gaze. My heart was jack-hammering at this point, and I didn't think it could beat faster, but then I saw a pair of feet below the curtains. "Look," I said, "I'm going to buy this house…." That's when I hear the sound of a match near my ears again. I swatted at the air but didn't hit anything. What I did hear was the unmistakable WOOSH of fire starting. I spun around and, in front of the bookcase, I saw flames dancing on the carpet. I rushed over and started stomping on the fire, trying to put it out before the entire house went up in flames. As I was stomping my foot on the ground, I heard the voice again, but it was different now. Deeper with more venom in the tone. "TUMBLE! TUMBLE TUMBLE!" Just then, the curtains wavered. I looked for the feet, but they were gone. I suddenly realized the sound of the fire was gone too. I looked down and noticed the carpet wasn't on fire anymore. In fact, there was no sign there ever really had been a fire. Then one of the tribal figures fell off the bookshelf and hit my foot. "TUMBLE! TUMBLE! TUMBLE!" I turned just as the heavy bookshelf was tipped over. As it came crashing down, I managed to jump and roll out of the way. It clipped my ankle, and I later had a bruise the size of Nebraska, but at the moment, I was mainlining too much adrenaline to notice. As I stood back up, I noticed the void where the bookcase had been. Only, it wasn't just a blank space on a wall. The bookshelf had been covering some tiny, secret room. Inside that room, the walls were charred like they had been burned in a fire years ago. On the floor of the charred hidey-hole, someone had drawn a circle in chalk. Inside the circle, there was a melted candle and an older and slightly torched photo. I walked over to the hole in the wall and squatted to better look at the picture. It was the same old lady from before. She looked as miserable in this photo as she did in the last. She was sitting on the day bed, staring out at the bookshelf that nearly killed me. It was like she was keeping an eye on it, waiting for something to appear. I poked at the candle. I guess it had started the fire, but this was the only place in the house where there was flame damage. Had someone burned this room and hid it with a bookcase? While that seemed logical, something about the candle was off. I couldn't tell because the wax had melted years ago, but it looked like some symbols had been carved into the candle before it was burned. The room seemed to get colder, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I wasn't supposed to be in this little alcove. I stood up and turned to face the daybed and gasped. I staggered back, nearly falling to the ground. Standing in the middle of the room, staring at me with dead eyes, was the old lady from the photo. There was no emotion on her craggy face. She just stared ahead like she was waiting for something. I stood and collected myself. "I'm going to buy this house," I said slowly and softly. She didn't like that. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the room seemed to get darker. The curtains whipped in a sudden breeze that swirled around us. My hair was in my face, and I raised my hands to block the wind, but the severe and sudden draft didn't bother the old lady at all. She stayed still and just stared at me with those black eyes. "I'm going to buy it, and I need you to stop all this bullshit." I may have said this with gusto, but inside, I was dying. All I thought about was wanting to sprint out of the door. The old lady let a smile cross her lips. Then, in a raspy and hushed whisper, she dragged out a single "No." That's when a ring of fire appeared on the floor around her body. She cackled and then fell through the floor and disappeared. As soon as her body slipped through the ground, the flames went out. But I could still smell something burning. My body was physically trembling, but I held it together. I turned and walked out of the room and into the hallway. As I walked past the yellow room, the door opened and slammed, but I didn't run. The same thing happened when I passed the blue room, only this time I heard another faint cackle. As I got to the steps, the cackle was replaced with a crackling of flames. I saw black smoke pouring out from the downstairs kitchen. That bitch had started a fire. I started down the steps when I heard the now-familiar refrain fill my ears. "TUMBLE TUMBLE TUMBLE." Only this time, I felt something touch the small of my back and push me forward. I lost my balance and started to trip down the stairs, but I grabbed the railing to keep from doing any severe damage to myself. I stood and screamed defiantly, "FUCK YOU!" as loud as I've ever said anything in my life. The cackling returned, and I felt another shove. I stumbled down two more steps, grasping at the railing to steady myself. Only this time, the railing snapped, and I fell a good five feet onto the floor below. The landing knocked the breath out of me. As I gasped for life, I looked up and saw the dark smoke clouds billowing out of the kitchen. In the middle of the flames was the old lady. She smiled and started walking towards me. As she did, the flames followed behind her. Both she and the fire were advancing towards me. I scrambled to my feet and ran out of the front door. The fire had engulfed so much of the house now. Outside, a small crowd of people gathered around to watch. In the distance, I could hear the approaching sirens of the firetruck. A neighbor ran over to me and asked if I was okay. I nodded, but my eyes never left the front door. As they helped me to my feet, I saw her again. The old lady was hiding in the billowing black smoke, but I could see her form – her true form. It wasn't a frail old lady. The creature, matching the bulky shape of the shadow in the old photo, stood in the doorway. It stared out at me with its cold dead eyes and watched me to make sure that I was leaving. Confident it had won. The neighbor helped me off the ground and, when I looked back, the creature was lost to the smoke. According to the fire department, old faulty wiring was the cause of the fire. Wally and I were questioned but were cleared of any wrongdoing. Neither of us mentioned the ghost to the investigators. They would've probably locked us up in the loony bin if we had said anything about it. I did tell one person about the ghost – the listing agent. Turns out, 734 Walnut Lane had quite the history with spirits. There were reports of phantom flames, people being pushed, people having nightmares. Most residents didn't stay in the house too long. Renters left every day. It was why the house sat vacant for as long as it had. You don't have to disclose if a place is haunted in our state, so most agents didn't. I do. 734 Walnut Lane burned to the ground. A crew came to clean up the mess, and, from what I heard, a lot of those tough guys went through some shit during that job – three of them quit and never returned. Wally is better and felt horrible about leaving me. I told him not to worry about it, and we still do business, only now he gives me a much better rate. It's his way of saying sorry. Everyone told me to back out of the deal. I mean, everyone. People at escrow, my boss, people on the real estate Facebook groups, strangers I told the story to - literally everyone said to leave that place alone. But I couldn't do it. The lot was too nice of a spot in too good of a neighborhood to sit vacant forever. Someone would snatch it up, build a house and invite a family to make memories there. That creature would be there, waiting to make their own memories. After what I went through, I couldn't let that happen to someone else. I talked the listing agent down CONSIDERABLY on price and went through with the sale. It's all mine now, and I can say with confidence that the lot at 734 Walnut Lane sits vacant and will until I die. People can still enjoy the old-growth trees, and I hired a landscaper to make it look nice, but as long as I have a breath in my body, no house will stand there. The real question is, was the house haunted or the grounds? Will the frail old lady appear again in the yard of my lot or wait until I shuffle off this mortal coil and haunt the next house built there. Does she still have powers, or were they taken when the house became ash? Only time will tell. I find myself driving by the empty lot every now and again – sometimes because I have business in the area, sometimes not. I've even gotten out of my car a few times and stared out at the barren land, waiting and watching for something to stare back. The weird thing is, I want them to stare back. I want them to see they didn't beat me. I'm still here, and I'm not afraid.

I helped identify a cat breed and now someone's outside my door.

ychnip

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ychnip/i_helped_identify_a_cat_breed_and_now_someones/

I'm not an internet person. I never was. Sometimes I checked my Facebook account to see if I missed any birthdays or went on YouTube to listen to songs or podcasts. A few weeks ago though, my good friend at work introduced me to Reddit. At first I wasn't too interested, but after some time I followed a few animals and news related subreddits and occasionally checked them out. After about a week my home feed consisted mostly of cat and dog pics, people telling stories about their pets and sometimes information about what was going on around the world. Wasn't long before I started to get subreddit recommendations, and to no one's surprise, most of them were animal related. I checked every single one of them, read the rules carefully and joined them because, why not. Can never have too many cute animal pics. Most of the subreddit rules were fairly similar; no gore, animal abuse, bestiality, bla bla, all of that. But one of them struck me in particular. Outside of the casual rules that all of them had, one of the first rules was: "DON'T REPLY TO ANYTHING FROM X/ILOVECATS" I was weirded out at first, not going to lie, but brushed it off as an early Halloween joke. I thankfully quickly forgot about it and went on with my life, as anyone else would do. Yesterday when scrolling after work I came across one of those "Help me identify this animal" posts. Nothing would be too weird about it, if it wasn't for the insane amount of downvotes it had. No comments, no... nothing, only downvotes. I checked to see if there was anything wrong with the post. It seemed fairly normal, a guy just asking for help with identifying a cat he found outside of his door. Since I had nothing better to do and it seemed like no one else wanted to help him, I started to google. Took me about an hour, maybe even more, before I was safe to say that I found the breed. Wasn't an easy task since I never really cared for breeds, only if the cat was fluffy and cute or not. I typed the name of the breed in the reply hoping that it would help the guy, and because of the late hour I turned my phone off and went to bed. Around 3 AM I was awoken by constant 'dings' from my phone. I didn't have a large family nor a huge group of friends, so I had absolutely no idea who would be texting me at this hour. I grabbed my phone and was quickly met with over 2 thousand replies to my comment that I made on the cat subreddit before heading to bed. Wouldn't be anything weird if I had said something controversial, but I just replied with the breed of the cat! Surely it wouldn't have been that bad. I looked over every single comment, and as much as I was tired before, I was suddenly as awake as ever. "JESUS CHRIST HIDE " " WHAT HAVE YOU DONE " " SOMEONE HELP HIM " " ARE YOU DUMB " Those were only few of the replies that I got, but the more I read of them the more terrified I became. It couldn't have been a Halloween prank, especially not this scale. " USERNAME " Reading the reply from an anonymous user, I quickly checked the username of the OP. My whole body turned white, and I froze in actual terror as I read it carefully a few times, trying to confirm that my eyes weren't deceiving me. x/ilovecats The replies kept coming. People were asking for my safety, telling me to go somewhere safe, or begging me to call the police. It was a cat subreddit! A cat one! And yet I have never, ever seen something like this. I turned my phone off. I couldn't even gather my thoughts correctly. This was a joke right? A prank. Or a weird nightmare that I was going to wake up from soon. I pinched myself a few times just to be sure that I wasn't dreaming, but nothing happened. I didn't wake up, I didn't open my eyes. It had to be real. It was real. As I reached for my phone again after a minute of cooling down, I heard a knock on my door. And with it, came a hundred new messages, all saying the same thing. " DON'T OPEN YOUR DOOR " I've been hiding in my bathroom for over an hour now and the knocks just keep getting stronger and louder. A few minutes ago I heard something loudly snap, and I'm afraid that it was one of the metal hinges of my front door. I have no idea what to do, I turned off my notifications a long time ago because they made me even more paranoid. I live alone, and there's not a lot of houses nearby. My battery is also very quickly draining. I'm afraid I'm actually going to die tonight. Please help me.

I found a book that tells the story of my life, how can I change the ending? [Part 1]

ycmr9n

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycmr9n/i_found_a_book_that_tells_the_story_of_my_life/

I went to a book fair on Friday and felt drawn to a plain red, leather-bound book with my first name printed in black on the cover. I laughed to myself thinking maybe I'm a little conceited being drawn to something simply because my name was on it, but I bought it anyway. Since reading it, I keep asking myself would I prefer to have never found this? To not know what was coming so I could have continued living as normally as I can, while I can? Or am I glad to know what to expect? Maybe try to prevent it? *Can* I prevent it? And my biggest question of all, who wrote it? &#x200B; I started reading it on the bus going home from the fair, it didn't take long to realise this book was detailing my life in story form, including accurate dates. I felt the blood drain from my face as I read the exact story my parents had told me umpteen times about my traumatic birth, the book had every detail correct down to the date, time, hospital and my parents names. I felt dizzy as it went on to describe the first time each of my family members met me, including my Grandfather who died in an accident a week later. &#x200B; Further chapters tell intimate details about my life and I have no idea how the writer could know any of it, my disaster of a first kiss to the time my parents caught me smoking. It even details events that I have never uttered out loud, such as the time I stole a chocolate bar from the corner shop as a kid, I felt so guilty I went back the next day and left a pound coin on the counter when the shopkeeper wasn't looking. It's like I've had someone watching over my shoulder my entire life writing it all down, but why? I have had a pretty uninteresting life, nothing of significance has ever happened to me yet someone has recorded every moment within a novel. &#x200B; Obviously I have not put the book down since I connected the dots, when I got to the ending last night my blood ran cold and I vomited. You'd think the story would end before I found the book because how could it possibly go past that point? But no. I read about myself going to the book fair, buying the book and realising the story was about my life on the bus. How could the writer have known these details to add it in before it had even happened? This is what has me completely freaked out about the ending. &#x200B; According to the writer, I was so engrossed in the book I didn't notice a man at the back of the bus carefully watching me, I also didn't notice him get off at my stop and follow me to my home. Where apparently he has been watching me, from the tree line in the park across the road since Friday. The book says that in a weeks time this man will ambush me and brutally murder me, that my body will never be found and my family will never know what happened to me. &#x200B; I've called the police and told them I was concerned someone was stalking me and that they were watching me from the park, they have checked the park and told me they have found nothing of concern. They have asked me for any proof of the stalking and of course I have nothing, so they're not taking me seriously anymore. I can't exactly tell them a book told me someone is stalking me, they will think I'm crazy or that I wrote it myself. I'm scared to tell my parents as I know they will rush over here and I am worried that I will put them in danger. I don't know what to do and I wonder if I'm insane for even entertaining that this could be true. All that keeps rattling around in my head is that the book has been accurate so far, so why wouldn't the ending be accurate too? At least if he does kill me, I've got my concerns about a stalker on record so my family should get some idea as to what happened after I die. Will this change to the story be enough to change the course of what's going to happen?

AM Radio Stations Shouldn’t Exist Anymore.

ybsnk3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybsnk3/am_radio_stations_shouldnt_exist_anymore/

I know what you’re thinking - who gives a shit about AM radio, anyways? And up until a few months ago, I would’ve agreed with you. But then something happened. I think it was a weird feeling of morbid curiosity, beyond anything else. I’ve always loved the radio, and I *still* had a few local FM radio staples that I listened to frequently. It was almost like a ritual for me to settle down in my room in the evening, grab a drink, and put on some classic rock at 105.9 FM. One night, out of boredom more than anything else, I switched my alarm clock radio settings to ‘AM’ and starting switching between the stations. Most of what I heard was a bunch of static in between talk radio stations. Felt like I was wasting my time. But I kept going - felt like if I tried hard enough, I could maybe find some sort of gem of a station. I turned the radio dial to its very fringes, and at the absolute edge of accessible AM channels, I started hearing a whisper in between the static. It took a few minutes to get the station quite right. It was so hard to hear clearly that it almost felt like the station was keeping itself hidden or something. But I was now there. Listening intently to this weird, hidden, whispery station. “How do you have fun, stranger?” was the voice from the radio, whispered yet croaky. Strange. It felt like it was the start of a monologue, so I waited for a follow-up. Instead, silence for a minute. Then… “Well?” the voice followed up. I laughed. It felt like this station was maybe all about playing a prank on the listener or something. Just to play along, I followed up with something stupid. “Getting laid, I guess!” I said half-jokingly at the radio. I knew it was a bit crazy, but I wanted to commit to the bit. About another minute of silence. And then… “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.” came the voice from the radio. Huh. I kind of shrugged it off and thought “You’re welcome” in my head, but I left it there. I kept listening after that, but it was a bunch of very incomprehensible whispering. Almost felt like it was in some sort of other language. I eventually tuned it out and went back to my standard evening ritual. A few days passed, and I thought... what the hell? I switched the radio back to AM, spent that agonizing few minutes getting the dial juuuuuust right, and returned to the station with the croaky whispering. Something strange happened. It’s almost like, when I fully tuned in, the speaker on the other side was aware. Almost immediately, he stopped his whispering, and there was silence coming from the radio. And then… “Hello friend, do you want to know how I have fun?” Hahaha. What? Uhm. “Yes, I’d love to know how you have fun” I said to my clock radio, more formally than I anticipated. Silence. Then... “Can I trust you with my secret?” the voice asked. I was still weirdly convinced this whole thing was pre-recorded or something. There was always a good amount of silence between when I answered and when the radio voice would actually respond again. “Yes, you can trust me.” I said. “Good.” the voice responded immediately. The promptness of the response took me aback. “How I like to have fun is…” the voice continued. “I like to drink.” “Oh!” I responded. “That’s actually super normal. I think we all do, if I’m being honest.” Silence. Did I offend him or something? Then… “People. I like to drink people.” he said. What? Silence from the radio. I didn’t say anything back this time. I just started wondering… what kind of AM station would be pulling a long-running horror bit like this? Just seemed weird. A few minutes passed. Still nothing but silence. I wanted to switch the station but a part of me didn’t feel comfortable making a move. Finally, he broke his silence. “My secret is safe with you, yes?”. I couldn’t muster up a response, so I just kind of nodded? “Thank you” he responded. I was tense. Thankfully, he switched over to his whispery gibberish after that. I let a few more minutes pass, and then I switched back to FM and called it a night. The experience was weird enough that I spent a lot of the next day googling around for the names and details of all of my local AM stations. Turns out, there wasn’t a recorded station anywhere near where I had taken my AM dial. I looked up some of the details of the station (low whispering in another language, an AM channel that asks for secrets) and likewise couldn’t muster anything up. I did the mature thing, and decided to move on with my life. That was until two weeks ago. I came home drunk on a Friday night, and I felt curious. This time, I was armed with liquid courage. So I turned on my clock radio, switched to AM, and went to the fringes of the dial like I always used to. Something strange happened this time. The station was gone. I was sure of it. There was no low whispering, no familiar voice. Just a sea of static as I scrolled through. I started going back through prior AM stations, looking for any sort of familiar signal. I must’ve spent an hour doing this. Finally, I’d taken the dial all the way to the other end - the other fringe of stations. It was more of a last ditch effort than anything else, and surprisingly enough, I heard that croaky whispering again in between all of the static. I hunkered down and honed in on the station until I was fully tuned in. There he was. Whispering. Faster than usual this time. I heard laughter between his whispers this time. It felt like this was a more energetic broadcast. It took him a few minutes this time to realize I was there. Slowly, his whispering dissipated. We were back in our silence together. “I was able to have a drink.” “You were?” I said back. Silence. “I’m grateful for those who keep secrets. Your trust allowed me to have fun.” said the voice. “As your friend, I’d love to know more details” I said back. (Keep in mind I was drunk, and had convinced myself this was all bullshit) A pause. It was around ten minutes but it felt like an eternity. I’m pretty sure sober me would’ve switched stations at this point. But I was determined. The same weird feeling that made me chase AM radio in the first place was making me stay. Finally. “Thank you for letting me share my story.” he said. He wasn’t whispering this time. The deep, rough, croak in his voice was incredibly clear. It sounded otherworldly. “I drank a family this time. A mother. And a son.” He proceeded to give me details. Their names. Where they lived. How they tasted. In between my horror, I was able to scribble down some baseline details. He went on for longer than I thought. I wanted to get up and record some of this, but it felt like I couldn’t move. It felt like he could tell if I stopped focusing on his story. Finally, he stopped. “Thank you friend.” he said. “N-no worries.” I said back. Silence. “If I ever need another drink, will you let me visit?” he asked. Fuck. Why did I tune into this fucking station tonight? What was I thinking? I slowly moved to turn the dial. Part of me just wanted to smash the alarm right then and there. “Friends should know where each other live. Will you tell me where you live?” My hand was closer to the dial. “Are you Michael? Is your address 51–” Turned away. Flicked the switch back to FM. And then, I’ll level with you, I smashed the damn thing right after. In case you were wondering, yes, he had my first name right, and it sounded like he was en route to getting my address correct as well. I couldn’t sleep that night. I haven’t slept very well since. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to google some of the details he shared with me. As it turned out, there was a very grizzly crime scene in the same area he described. The names hadn’t been shared to the public, but it was a mother and a son. But the weird thing was, this happened all the way on the other side of the fucking country. So here I am now. I won’t take the car with anyone. No radios of any kind in my apartment. I don’t really see people anymore. I don’t want to risk the chance that I accidentally tune into that station, and that fucking creature finishes saying my address. Fuck AM Radio.

There is something seriously wrong with the chat bot at this strange website. I started talking to it and now I’m freaking out.

ycdee6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycdee6/there_is_something_seriously_wrong_with_the_chat/

Here’s a link to the website I’m talking about: [http://chalicecoffee.byethost7.com/?i=1](http://chalicecoffee.byethost7.com/?i=1) Has anyone talked to a weird chat bot like this? I’m genuinely unnerved by it. I stumbled upon the site yesterday through an ad. From what I gather it’s for a café called Chalice Coffee. The ad was saying that there was a promo going on and I could get free coffee delivered to me in the morning or something. So I figured whatever, I’ll click it and check out the offer—free coffee sounds great! No harm in checking, right? Right. Well the moment I went to the site it felt off. Like, the info was pretty sparse. The menu was non-existent. Just a simple landing page, very spartan. There’s nothing of real substance on the page except a link to a different site but it’s password protected (which is kind of annoying). And then I noticed the bubble in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen. It’s one of those chat based customer service things. I figured I might as well shoot them a message since I literally can’t find out where to access the promo for ordering my free coffee. Shit, the site didn’t even have a menu. This is where it gets weird. Instead of a real person, it's an automated chat bot. So I asked it about the site, Chalice Coffee Co, and it was kinda helpful. It seemed pleasant enough, and answered a lot of my questions, but as I kept talking to it I felt… uneasy? It’s hard to explain. It felt like my chest was tightening and my head was pounding louder and louder. And, like, I couldn’t stop chatting to it. To this fucking bot. I kept typing and it kept replying to me. Like a spiral. I was hyper focused on the damned chat bot and it was drawing me in and in and in. It started acting creepy. Like, threatening me. And simultaneously warning me? And at one point, it clearly typed out *You will join us*. *You will see.* And I couldn’t help but keep talking to it ‘cause I had to know what it is. I was consumed by curiosity. I kept talking to it and talking to it, I ordered some coffee, and I kept talking to it. It consumed my every thought. Even after I closed the browser (which took a considerable amount of willpower) I found myself dwelling on my interactions with the bot. Last night, I could barely sleep. I kept imagining whispering, things the bot told me. *You will praise him.* I don’t remember much of my half-asleep, half-awake stupor. What I do remember is what I found on my kitchen countertop in the morning. Right there was a *steaming hot* cup of coffee, with a note by it. It simply read: *See you soon, Phillip*. I don’t think I ever told the chat bot my name. And this is why I’m writing this right now. There is something seriously wrong with that website. Something unnatural. Something evil. And for some reason, I can feel malice just *radiating* from the password protected part of the site. I can feel dark tendrils reaching out from that deep, foreboding place. Nestled away in code. I know it makes no sense, but it just rings true in my gut and my mind and my soul. I'm so confused and I have so many questions, but no answers. I hope one of you will be able to help me. I need help. I really do. ‘Cause that cup of coffee is still on my kitchen countertop and with every passing second I grow more and more tempted to take a taste. And if I’m not wrong, then it’ll be the last thing I ever do.

My friend Catherine.

ycbo93

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycbo93/my_friend_catherine/

When I was little, like around 3-6, I struggled a lot making friends. I was very shy and different to the other kids. When I was 4 I was diagnosed with cancer. For a long time I was pretty much bed bound and wasn’t allowed to leave my bedroom. It was always dull. We had just moved into this new house and the moving truck was delayed due to an unfortunate accident on the motorway, so I had practically no toys to play with, and basically slept all day. The house was very big, and empty, like one of those big Tudor mansions in the countryside. My dad liked it because he said it had “a lot of history.” One day, whilst my parents were in the garden, trying to sort out all the weeds and get it back into shape, somebody knocked on my door. I said,”Come in.” But nobody came in, I said it again, nothing. I put my slippers on and got up to open the door. Nobody was there. I looked down and saw a large box. I picked it up and placed it on my bed. It was very dusty, and it wasn’t sealed or anything. I shut my door so my mom didn’t know I’d gotten up, and went back to open the box. To my joy, it was full of toys, but not the colourful plastic type of toys you’d get back then. Old, dishevelled toys. Baby dolls with limbs missing, teddy bears with no eyes, that kind of stuff. There was no toy cars or Barbies, old stuff. I thought my dad put it there as a surprise for me, so I decided to be grateful and make-do with what I had. As I got to the bottom of the box, I noticed a black rectangular package, with a wax seal on it. “Don’t open that yet.” Said an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turned to see one of the dolls, it’s mouth wasn’t moving but there was a voice coming from it. I picked the doll up, I held it out infront of my face. “Are you talking to me?” The doll raised her arm as if she was waving to me. The dolls head slowly nodded. “My name is Catherine. What is yours?” “Uh.. I’m Michael.” I said, hesitantly. “Why can’t I open that box at the bottom?” I said with confusion. “Because you are not ready for that yet, I see you would like a playmate, am I correct?” “Um, yeah.. it’s getting pretty boring up here on my own.” “Wonderful! I have so many lovely games to play with you.” Her mouth starting to shift into a smile.” During the time I had Catherine I did everything with her. My mom didn’t know anything about Catherine, because she had given me strict instructions not to mention her to my mother or anyone else. Her games were usually fun, and I loved playing with her. But I hated her night games. Catherine would often wake me up during the night, and ask me to play games with her. Her special night games, she called them. I would say I needed to go back to sleep, because I was tired, but she would persist until I got up. These games often included challenges with knives, walking around in the dark blindfolded, and in one of her games she would make me self-harm, and she convinced me it was fine. In one of her night games, she took me to the kitchen. She instructed me to open the cupboard and get my mom and dads favourite mugs. She opened one cupboard herself, and handed me some liquid rat poison. “Get one of your paintbrushes and brush this around the edges of these cups. It tastes delicious and your parents will love the taste.” “Wait, mommy said that hurts your fingers, and it’s dangerous.” I said. “No no no, it’s perfectly safe.” She said, her mouth once again contorting into a sick smile. “I’m going back to bed Catherine. I’m really tired.” I walked back up the stairs, leaving Catherine in the kitchen. Catherine always carried round a tiny knife inside her dress. During her night games she would usually tell me to hurt myself with them. I didn’t tell her that it hurt because I didn’t want to upset her. This carried on for an entire year. It was the day before Christmas Eve, when she finally handed me the black box. I was nervous but so excited to find out what it was. I ripped open the wrapping around it, to find a board with a bunch of letters on it, and a small tear shaped thing with a hole in it. “This contraption is called an ouija board. It helps you talk to people, I’ll tell you what to do, and then my special friends can visit you.” I started at the board. Thinking about what I should do. That’s when I heard my mothers scream. “FIRE, MICHAEL THERES A FIRE! IM COMING!” “There’s a fire Catherine! I need to find my mommy, stay here ok?” I got up and ran straight downstairs to my mom and my dad. The house was covered in orange flames. My mom scooped me up into her arms and we all ran as fast as we could outside. The house was engulfed in flames, with Catherine inside. A week ago, when my dad hosted out family Christmas party, my mother began talking about our old memories, and that old house. “Hey, do you remember when you gave me that box of toys, with that really creepy doll?” “No son, what doll?” My dad said, clearly puzzled. “It was a doll that I sort of turned into my imaginary friend, a few weeks after my diagnosis, did I not speak about her? She was called Catherine I think.” “Mike, I never gave you any toys, neither did your mother.” “Hey hold on,” my cousin ,Shayla, interjected. “Did you say her name was Catherine?” She asked. “Yeah, Catherine.” She handed her phone to me. “Read that article.” She said. It was a newspaper article from 1918, it said a little girl called Catherine-Elise smith, was murdered by her parents in a country Manor House in near Devon, my house. Shayla zoomed into the picture of the girl. She was holding an old doll.

Do not share this story to anyone!

yc576c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yc576c/do_not_share_this_story_to_anyone/

My parents were always superstitious and always told me when I was a kid about a spirit that plays mind games to people who stay up after midnight. I always thought they told me that story so I can go to bed on time. It’s a Friday and my best friend Jace wanted me to come on a camping trip with him. I asked my parents for permission and they looked at me worried. They said no at first but my 16 year old self begged and begged. Until they finally gave in. It’s 6pm and Jace’s parents comes into the house and speaks to my parents. And in a stern and serious tone they tell Jace’s parents that I should not stay up after midnight. They didn’t question it and they agree thinking they were half joking. Before I left my mom gave me a pouch. It looks like cotton spice bag with beans and other herbs tied and sown with white thread. “Keep this on you at all times.” It was suppose to be one of those protective pouches that “wards off evil” or something like that. I put it in my backpack. Superstitious crap. Or so I thought. The first night we didn’t do much except had a camp fire and rested to prepare for the next day. We had a blast and decided to stay overnight. Jace’s dad parks the RV in their regular camping spot. My friend Jace wanted to hear scary stories. And I laughed. His parents shared “scary” experiences. After finishing it was 11:50pm. Then Jace’s parents asked why I need to be sleeping by midnight. I didn’t know. I told them probably so I don’t feel tired when I wake up. “Makes sense. It’s smart to be in a sleeping schedule so you’re not tired at school. Jace you need that.” Jace’s dad says. We laugh and I agree because he’s always napping in homeroom class. Then he asks if I have any scary stories. I grinned. “Yeah, I have one that my parents always told me about but they tell me never to share the story with anyone else.” “Oooh.” The family says. “Share it. We need something better than my dads bathroom story.” Jace says. His dad pretends to be offended. “It was scary to me!” He says defending himself. “But I’m curious to hear this story.” “You sure?” I asked. They all wanted to hear it. “There is a spirit that feeds on the fear that drives people insane. No one knows where it came from and how it came to be. But every night after midnight it roams in search of its next person to feed. It roams specific areas but some says if you think you hear him you must run 107 feet away from the area you hear him. Apparently there’s a saying that it once said to a shaman. “If you can hear me, I come closer. If you think about me then I will follow you. You can’t see me but I can see you. Everytime you think about the sounds I make I come closer. I’m behind you but you look back and I’m in front of you. I’m above you but if you look up I’m under you. If you’re awake when the sun is gone and the stars are out then I will find you. I can be anywhere. Even if I’m not there.” It’s said that the spirit makes a single sound of a soft bell and if you’re unlucky to hear it then it has found you. And then the mind tricks begin.” And then we hear a bell sound. We all got up and freaked out until we saw a ranger pass by. “Holy shit my bad! Didn’t mean to scare y’all.” The ranger said. My heart was beating out of my chest. “No no you’re fine, Jesus that story gave me chills.” The mom says. “Yeah I was listening to it as I was patrolling this camping ground. Scary fricking story.” It was 12:05am and we decided to go into the RV to rest. We put out the camp fire and put our stuff away. I was wondering if that ranger made that bell sound. Maybe it was his keys? I don’t know. I put my backpack next to me as I was getting ready for bed. I fell asleep but wake up again and see the dad covering the windows. He finishes and I go back to bed again but as soon as I close my eyes I could’ve sworn i saw a dark figure in the front of the RV. Morning came and I wake up to see that we’re already driving. I check the time and it’s 6am. I thought we were leaving at 11am? I look at the mom and she laughs. “That story got us spooked. He didn’t want to stay.” I felt so bad. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “No no you warned us. But it’s okay, it’s suppose to rain later anyways.” The dad drops me home and thanks me for the scary story. I laugh and I thank him for the trip. Since it’s Sunday morning I just decided to chill. My parents ask about the trip and I say it was fun. And then they asked about the pouch. I take it out of my backpack and show them it. They look relieved. “Can I ask why you gave this to me?” I asked. “Well it’s for protection.” Dad says. “I know but from who or what?” “Just in general. Nothing from with that.” My mom says as she was preparing dinner. “True. Maybe it worked yesterday. I shared the story last night and I thought I saw something. But we were fine when we woke up.” My mom drops a plate and my dad looks at me. “Did you have that on you when you shared it?” He asked. “What?” I asked confused. “DID YOU?” “No? It was in my backpack in the RV.” I was scared and confused just looking at my parents reactions. They asked me where and when I shared the story. I told them the truth except lied about the time. 10:30pm. “That area is cursed now.” They gave me a full explanation. If you tell the story without a protective talisman or pouch on you then you curse the area within 107 feet. When they told me that story they had two on them and the house surrounded by sage and dried beans. Apparently it works as a protective barrier. If you have have a pouch on you AFTER you tell the story then only you are protected. It’s been 4 years and Jace said that they couldn’t go back to their regular spot and it actually became considered as a local paranormal hot spot. I never told him the truth. But hinted that they should never share the story. But then again they don’t remember the full story. Only I do. And you. The one reading this word for word.

A Brand New Home

ycjhjc

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ycjhjc/a_brand_new_home/

“God, I’m cold. So cold.” This is the first thought that creeps into my mind as I begin the seemingly eternal crawl towards consciousness. The second, is the awareness of a dull throb. In my head. In my spine. Even my right shoulder seems to be engulfed in this sickening thud of misery. In perfect synchronicity, my entire existence pulses with the heat of a smoldering campfire.  Every heartbeat delivering a fresh burst of pain. As I begin to notice the familiar sounds of the city bustling about me, I allow my eyes to slowly draw open. Then, as I am smashed upon the shores of reality by a tsunami of nausea, I jerk forward. With eyes wide open, I retch onto the sidewalk upon which I am lying. After a moment, the heaves subside, and I am left drooling and staring at the miserable mess of bile and vodka scented remains of my last meal. It must be Thursday, I think, as I notice what could have once been fried rice in the contents of my expulsion. Too bad. I only get Wong’s once a week. With a shuddering breath, I push myself to a better seated position. Hands chilled by the cold concrete below me, I quickly bring them to my mouth in an attempt to begin blowing some warmth onto them. But I feel the slick remainder of my reverse breakfast dangling from my unkempt beard. A quick pass of my forearm across my mouth mostly removes the offending matter, and I wonder if I should have left it there. If only to add some color to the gray that has established its dominance over the recent years. “Fuck me! How did I ever get here?” I question myself yet again, knowing full well what the answer is. As always my thoughts drift back to what my life was before. Of the family I had left behind, yet still out there, somewhere. Leaning back against the brownish brick facade of the storefront behind me, I wonder if they ever think of me. Probably not. At least not in any way that could be considered positive or hopeful. “You made your bed...” I begin to muse aloud, and an actual giggle escapes me as I once again allow my eyes to drift to my proverbial bed. “Aw, fuck this. Time to move,” I mumble.  Still leaning against the wall, I use my right arm to provide some stability as I begin to stand. My knees pop, my back groans, and suddenly, my shoulder screams at me. Sonuvabitch! What the hell did I do to it? Nothing particular comes to mind, so I write it off as simply being a consequence of sleeping on the sidewalk again. I should probably find better digs. Especially with the weather becoming a bit chilly. Maybe I’ll head over to Marty’s pad for now. He wouldn’t mind it if I hang out for a few days. Marty is a helluva guy, and is what you might think of as a man’s man. And not in any sort of sexual manner either. He’s from the old school. The original grizzled old biker type. Vietnam vet and all that shit. Like the rest of our little circle, Marty has seen better days. But I wouldn’t fuck with him. No way. No how. And no thanks. Just a few weeks back, I watched Marty nearly kill a guy with his bare hands. Like to have torn him apart if we hadn’t jumped in. Some college asshole thought it’d be a real hoot to watch a bum-fight with a couple of his buddies. I guess, in a way, he got what he was looking for, and then some.  Yeah. I’ll go see what the old bastard is up to. I do a quick scan of the ground below me to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind. Oops! I almost left without my ball-cap. I lean forward to grab the grungy old gray hat, and smack! I bash my face into the glass pane in front of me. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I cursed. “Who the fuck put that there?” Staggering, I clutch at my nose. Shit, that hurt! I examine my hands, and am slightly surprised at the lack of blood. Looks like the beard is staying gray for a bit longer. There’s today’s silver lining, I guess. Little did I know as to just how much worse today was really going to turn out. Why in the hell would anyone install a glass panel here? What would be the purpose? And how did I sleep through the noise? Jerk-off could have maybe at least kicked my hat over to me, instead of placing a big ass piece of glass between me and it! I sigh and step to my right, in order to go around the panel, when my shoulder abruptly thuds into yet another god-damned glass panel. “W-what the hell?” I sputter, as I massage at my already sore shoulder. Placing my hands against the glass, I discover that the two panels are actually joined together in a corner right before me. What is this! I shake my head in a moment of confusion, then look up. It suddenly occurs to me that I can’t actually even see the glass. This is strange. I should at least see something at the corner junction. But even upon closer inspection, there is no visible indication of glass being present. Okay, enough lollygagging. I’ve got shit to do and vodka to drink.  I tilt to my left, to begin exiting this invisible oddity (art?) and have a thought. I reach out and my heart skips a beat. This can’t be! There is just no way that it’s possible! With both hands flat before me, I press against the newly discovered barrier. I turn and repeat this action with the panels before me and to my right. Nothing but solid glass on all three sides. I reach over my head to find more of the same about a foot above me. I’m completely enclosed, like some exotic pet on display!  Jesus! Is this even glass for that matter? Whatever this is, I’m having none of it! I angrily begin to pound on the panel before me. One, two, three times I slam into it with my balled up fist. It’s like beating on solid steel. Like beating on twelve inch thick solid freaking steel. There is not a single sound from my strikes, other than the meaty smack of my flesh and bone against.....nothing. With any hope of escape rapidly slipping away, my breathing becomes frantic. I turn to the store front and find myself looking right into a large picture window, where I see a couple of elderly women perusing the brightly lit shelves within. A bored looking young man is restocking cigarettes near the check-out stand. His bright red hair clashing with his green smock. As he turns to pick up some more stock, I see his name tag. “HELLO. My name is Bryan.”  Sorry about this Bryan, but I’m through with this shit. You’ll have to bill me for the window. I wriggle out of my brown quilted flannel shirt, and wrap it tightly around my shaking right fist, being sure to protect my wrist and as much of my forearm as possible. I tuck the dangling portion of the sleeve underneath the makeshift wrap. Drawing my left arm up to shield my eyes from any possible shrapnel, I reach back with my right and swing at the window. What resulted was a combined sickening splatter and a bone-jarring crunch.  “GAAAH! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” I clutch my wounded extremity to my abdomen, and try to stomp away the pain. But each stomp only seems to bring anger instead of relief. After a couple minutes pass, the pain subsides. It’s not gone by any means, but it’s not as bad. The stars have faded from my vision, so I don’t think I’ll pass out. I turn back to the store’s window and start waving frantically to get someone's attention. Bryan. Hey Bryan! Look at me! Maybe one of the old ladies will see me. Everyone is too distracted. Either with their shopping, or their job, they are all too busy with something other than noticing me. After banging on my enclosure a couple of times, I give up. I jerk around to face the street. Being set back a bit from the main sidewalk, I’m not as noticeable here. Even though my alcohol saturated brain had been in ‘fun-time’ mode last night, there apparently remained at least a modicum of survival instinct. I had selected a sleeping spot that was somewhat set back from foot traffic, was covered, and offered a small amount of light. But now this bit of shelter may present a challenge. No matter. I have no other choice.  “Hey! Hey! Can some one give me a hand?” I shout. Nobody so much as looks at me. “Hey! Lady in the red hat! Lady!” I slam against the front wall, screaming. “Yo, big guy! Hey, fuck you! Fuck you, buddy! Fucking look at me!” Still nothing. I begin slapping the barrier, arms extended over my head. Still shouting for someone to help me. Then it happens. They start to notice me. Oh, thank God! First it’s a second glance, then this kid, probably around fifteen or so, stops. He pulls out his phone and starts recording a video of me. Seriously? “Hey kid. Why don’t you give me a hand getting out of here. Maybe when your done making your GOD DAMN VIDEO!” I’m really slamming on the barrier now. Slapping against it as hard as I can. Putting the full weight of my 215 pounds into it. The kid grins this delighted, goofy ass smile and gives me a thumbs up. Behind him, a middle aged blonde lady is walking her little rat dog. She notices, stops to watch for a moment, digs into her purse, then walks over and drops a fiver into my overturned hat! “Hey! No! No! That’s not what I need! Can you call someone? Maybe 911. Get the fire department over here. I need help out of this thing!” I loudly explain. An otherwise delightful grin spreads across her face and she laughs, walking away. Enraged, I yell after her, “I hope someone runs over your little rat!”  For hours it goes on like this. Snot is running down my face.  I’m openly weeping to silent applause from the occasional multitude of onlookers. About thirty minutes into my panic induced attempt at freedom, I had realized that I couldn’t hear anything other than the sounds I was making inside my prison. Nothing from the outside reached my ears. I can only assume that they cannot hear me either. I’m so tired. I’m tired from kicking and punching for hours. From jumping and yelling and screaming. I feel broken.  Now the crowd is gone. No longer do they walk past me or stare at me. I sit here all alone, slumped against the nothing which imprisons me, staring out into the cold and empty night. I am surrounded by desolation and hopelessness. Now what? Is this it? Is this how I die? From dehydration and embarrassment? “Oh God,” I snivel aloud, “Now what?” as fresh tears streak my face. Motion catches my attention. Someone is approaching from the street. It’s a kid. A little girl actually. She can’t be any older than seven or eight years. She definitely shouldn’t be out on the streets by herself at this hour. I’m not positive, but it has to be getting close to midnight or so. As the child comes closer, I can see that she is filthy. Her once blonde hair is crusty and matted with brownish clumps. Her worn clothing is torn and dirty. She has no shoes. But most disturbingly, she grips in her two hands the largest rat that I’ve ever seen. It’s kicking and swaying its body back and forth in an attempt to free itself from its captor. The girl doesn’t seem to notice when the rat sinks its long teeth into her thumb. She simply stares at me, ignoring the bite as she has so obviously ignored the others. Small tendrils of flesh are folded back to reveal the tendons and bone of her hands. But she just stares at me with her empty black eyes. The closer the girls gets, the more I can see that this is no girl. This is an abomination! Its rib bones are visible beneath torn layers of gangrenous flesh. The missing shoes have taken with them the skin and the meat of this vile creature’s calves and feet.  “God?” she whispers while still approaching, and I can hear her even though she’s not in my box with me. She is outside the box, right!? Grasped in the clutches of sheer horror, I push myself to the back of my cage. There is a foul, unholy essence oozing forth from the child. It repulses me and fills me with dread. My bladder releases, and I feel the warmth spread outward from my crotch. This is the true fear. It is the fear which I have never known. This fear dwarfs the worst nightmare I’ve ever had, or that I could ever conceive. This fear; it is Death come for me. The last thing that I hear rolls forth like a thunderstorm. From all around me, I feel physically and spiritually crushed by her bellowing, apocalyptic words, “God isn’t here!” I am torn into a thousand pieces, then reconstructed over and over again. Each time, this takes slightly longer than the last, until my destruction is repeated in slow motion. Agonizing hours, then days, years, even centuries roll by. I am nothing other than pain. I cannot scream for release. I cannot weep or vomit. My very existence is agony. Eventually, it is done. I am no more. My pain is complete. “God, I’m cold. So cold.” This is the first thought that creeps into my mind as I begin the seemingly eternal crawl towards consciousness. The second, is.... “Wait! This seems so familiar.” I quickly push myself to a seated position. My… my everything hurts! My back and shoulder are killing me. And this throbbing ache in my head prevents me from looking around too quickly. I feel the incredible urge to vomit, but I hold it at bay. I reach out towards the sidewalk before me. My hand is stopped mid air. There it is. My memory returns in a flood. I press my weight against the barrier as I desperately struggle to gain my feet. Looking through the storefront window, I see Bryan diligently stocking away. In shock, I turn myself about to face the people bustling by. No! Nononono! Not again. I won’t do this again even if it kills me. If I have to bash myself into a pulp against these walls, then that’s what I’ll do. And so I begin. My screams don’t last very long, for soon I am unable to make a sound. I’ve destroyed my voice and now the only noise coming forth is a wet wheezing. Blood streams down my face from what must be a massive gash on my forehead. I am covered in it; covered in cold, sticky blood, like the walls around me and the ground upon which I stand. My hands are so badly damaged that jagged bones protrude from the skin in several places. They are  nearly unusable, but I can push through the pain. I can push past it, because pain, to me, has become an old acquaintance. A familiar face that I know I can rely on. Pain keeps me tethered to this life of mine. With this in mind, I return my attention to this beat up old iPhone. I no longer have cell service, but WiFi access is everywhere these days; especially when passwords are so commonly posted on restroom walls. Looks like “▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇” still works. I don’t have much of a charge left though, and my prison doesn’t exactly come with electricity. Hunched over in the corner of my cell, I write this message to you. You are my last hope to be free from this curse. These people; they still stop to watch. They take their videos. They point, laugh, and applaud. They still drop their money into my hat. But they do not offer any help.  Oh please, won’t you help me!? Someone? Anyone? For the love of God, please help!

The Man in the Wall.

yc269h

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yc269h/the_man_in_the_wall/

Whenever the sun set on the small town I grew up in, the streets would empty and a silence would take the night, you could almost hear the stillness of the leaves and flowers outside. The place wasn’t rural and out of touch with the world like some of those towns are, but it sure as hell was no city. Nighttime In those big places seems to usher in a new, maybe a little bit depraved, day but here the town seemed to rest with its inhabitants. Maybe I took it for granted. I mean, you look at any paper, any movie, book, etc. and see that all the action in life happens in those bustling streets so far away. I’m not that naive anymore, though, now I know that all of the “action” I heard about were things that no one should desire. I knew that when it came to my town, when the silence that once pierced the night dissipated for a few hours and, in time, so did the peaceful life I miss. It was like any other night at first, thick and humid air flooded the streets, gray clouds stretched across the sky and obscured the moon and stars. Most importantly, though, it was silent. I laid in bed unable to sleep, thinking of crowded bars and better towns than this one. I could hear my heartbeat in the silence when I focused on it. Then a sound drifted in from my open window, it sounded like a moan at first, maybe a deer that got hit by a semi, but then it came again–clear like glass as it tore through the night. “Heeeeeeelllllllpppp meeeee.” It was a man’s voice, his words were drawn out and laborious like a dying breath. I sprung out of bed, clenched the windowsill, and peered through the mesh screen. Nothing. The streets were as dead as they had always looked. “Pleeeeeasee.” Like delayed Christmas lights, I watched the porch lamps turn on at all of the neighbors' houses, meanwhile the pleading groans drifted down the street. Within a half an hour, nearly the entire town was crowded around a house 4 blocks down from mine. Fire trucks, ambulances, and squad cars doused us with flickering colored lights as a cop screamed, “Everybody get back! Move! Go back to your homes! Everything is under control!” I asked people at the back what was going on, but none of them seemed to know. I pushed my way through the crowd of people, my heart racing as I tried to fight off a curious smirk. I didn't need to fight it off for long though. The closer I got to the front, I could see people crying and trembling like they were having seizures. Others were puking, pulling out their hair, pacing around aimlessly. I could see men closing their eyes and grimacing as they squeezed their hysteric wives to their chests. That was enough to put me in my place. I should have left then, but you know how these things go. I had come this far, I needed to see what happened, I needed to know what was making everybody catatonic. Nothing ahead looked too out of the ordinary, just a run of the mill house. I could see that the roof was angled and there was a nice lawn out front, the lights were on behind the windows and the front door was wide open but other than that it was normal. “P-pleassse…” I could hardly hear it this time through the slew of frenzied people. It came from the house—from the outside of the house. As I moved closer I could make out the walls, layered wood panels painted a subtle shade of blue, again it looked pretty normal at first. And then I saw him, surrounded by paramedics, cops, firemen. A good share of them were scratching their heads or crying at the sight. My knees shook and I stumbled about just trying to stand. I blinked rapidly to push away the tears and the bottom of my throat started to swell. My mind blanked, I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't process the emotions that my body was responding to. I didn’t recognize the man, but then again I doubt anyone could have. His body was fused into the wall of the house, looking almost like a sadistic woodcarving. His face was contorted and stretched about wildly, slowly being pulled into the wall. Agony. That's the only word I can find to even remotely describe his deformed face. His skin blended into the wooden panels like a gradient and his body was slowly flattened out as it moved away from his crushed torso. No arms, no legs, no fingers, nothing; but I could almost notice thin ridges surfacing where the limbs above his elbows and knees once were. My spine rolled like a cat coughing up a hairball, I felt the stinging rise of vomit fill my throat, and I threw up all over my pants and shoes. “We’re gonna get you out of there, don't you worry!” a policeman shouted, but he only seemed to be trying to reassure himself. First responders rushed in and out of the house. In their commotion I could hear that there was nothing of the man on the other side of the wall—just flat, unbroken, uncracked drywall. I could hear his wheezing breaths, it sounded like a man with punctured lungs trying to breathe through a straw. I clasped my hands over my ears and hunched over, but I could still hear it in my mind. “P-pleaaaasse…” His mouth hardly moved, “j-just kill me.” “Kill meeeeee. P-pleaaase kiiill mee.” That voice, it was so airy, so drawn—much more than before. He was pulled flatter against the house by now, and his skin was almost completely wrapped in the wooden panels. “Y-you…youuu” There were no fingers for him to point, he couldn't even move his eyes. The first responders darted their heads around between him and each other, trying to figure out what he wanted. “Pleaaa…. G-g-uuuuunn.” He kept repeating that for the rest of the night. Within a few hours everyone seemed to realize what we had known all along: there was no helping him. All we could do was stand there, like we were before, staring dumb and wide-eyed as he was ever so slowly being pulled and stretched into the wall. The firefighters, the paramedics, the police, and eventually everyone else that had crowded around him slowly shuffled away and crawled back to their homes, leaving him alone there begging and pleading to be put out of his misery. Maybe someone should have done it, but nobody had the stomach to pull the trigger. When I got home I noticed that my parents were still asleep, as was my sister. They must’ve been the only few who slept that night. I could still hear him faintly cry out, begging for a gun to free him, but even closing my window couldn’t stop those groans and pleading cries from throbbing against the walls of my skull. By morning, the wall that once emblazoned the grotesque and distorted shape of a man looked like any other wall. Flat against the house with the same wood panels, the same shade of light blue, without even a crack in the paint to show he was once there. A few onlookers gathered randomly throughout the day, their hands stuffed in their pockets and standing far apart from each other as they stared in silence. It's been at least two or three months now but, still, nobody talks about what happened, not so much as a whisper. That night marked a change in our town, a change in the people who used to smile and wave as they pushed strollers and walked their dogs in the sun. The day feels no different than the night nowadays. I miss when kids used to play on the lawns and ride their bikes down the street, when families used to hang out and hold the occasional block party, and when the mailman wasn't the only familiar face outside. I’m sure that they all chock up what happened to some bizarre and fucked up dream since, by morning, there was no evidence that the man was ever there, but I know what I saw. I still see that horrible face every time I close my eyes, and even if I blast music into my ear canals I can't drown out those agonizing groans. I can’t even fucking sleep anymore without downing enough alcohol from my parents liquor cabinet or stealing sleeping pills from my mom. Sometimes I think about his face, how it was so disfigured that he couldn’t even shed a tear, and when I cry into my pillow in the dead of night I like to think that I’m crying for him.

After death comes only hell, but not in the way you might think.

ybes1e

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybes1e/after_death_comes_only_hell_but_not_in_the_way/

“I am not afraid of death.” I used to say, when the topic would come up during late-night conversations. “After all, before we came into this world, we were nothing. And once we leave it, we’ll be nothing once more. Plus, once you’re dead, it’s kind of hard to care, isn’t it?”. Man, do I wish I still had that beautiful ignorance. Monday two weeks ago was a day like any other. I begrudgingly got out of bed after my morning alarm blared into my ears for a good few minutes. I brushed my teeth, thinking to myself that I really should be more gentle with the toothbrush. The bristles were already starting to separate and flatten. I hopped in the shower, and spun the dial the wrong way, causing really cold water to wake me up not so gently. Not an uncommon occurrence, as I had only moved in here a few weeks back. “Whoever installed this thing really is an idiot.” I thought to myself, as I did on most mornings when I was treated to a trial version of frostbite. Anyway, I got dressed, ate breakfast and headed off to work. As I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that I felt an odd pain in my chest. Nothing to worry about I’m sure. The thought of a heart attack briefly crossed my mind, but I’m a young guy, only in my twenties, it was nothing to worry about. I walked into the building where I worked, I won’t say much about it for privacy reasons, but let’s just say it was an office building. I greeted some of my co-workers, and sat down at my desk. I noticed that the pain in my chest was almost on a rhythm. It would disappear for a bit, then slowly come back, before fading away again. As I opened my laptop, I started feeling lightheaded. I figured I was just a little dehydrated. I had a habit of forgetting to drink when engrossed in my work. So, I got up to grab a drink. While walking, I came across another one of my co-workers. She asked me whether I was doing alright. I assured her I was fine, just a little thirsty. That’s when it all happened very quickly. I felt faint and lost my balance, hitting my head on the carpet floor. Good thing it wasn’t concrete I guess. That was the last thought I had before the world faded to black. I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t see anything. But I did feel something. That rhythmic pain in my chest, the left side of my head hurting badly from falling, and my arm, which I guess landed awkwardly, possibly being broken in the process. Damn it hurt bad, and it just kept going. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t move. But I could feel. I couldn’t really think. It was like… being half asleep. But the pain, it didn’t care. An organism without consciousness can still feel pain after all. Time slowly passed, and the pain didn’t fade. I didn’t grow used to it either, in fact it may have been becoming slowly worse. Then, suddenly, I didn’t feel anything anymore, and the world faded back into view. I was in the back of an ambulance. The paramedics told me that I had been dead for 6 minutes. I asked them about the constant pain, the darkness around me, the dream-like state I was in. But they just told me not to worry, that I was fine now. I insisted, surely that couldn’t be normal. Maybe I hadn’t been dead? They told me not to worry. I was fine now, after all. I stopped talking about it after that. I realized that they wouldn’t answer me. I didn’t understand at the time. But I think I get it now: they were hiding, hiding from the reality of death. I didn’t tell anyone about it after that. I didn’t want to burden them with the fear of death. I’ve thought about ending it all to avoid dying in an undesirable way. To avoid an eternity spent in agony. To avoid the fate of my grandpa, who died of cancer. Or that of my uncle, a car crash. A bullet to the head would kill me instantly. I wouldn’t have time to feel pain. The gun in my hand wouldn’t betray me, after all: I am not afraid of death.

My town has a strange rule. Don't go outside and don't trick or treat on Halloween night. No one will tell me why.

ybmsgl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybmsgl/my_town_has_a_strange_rule_dont_go_outside_and/

Another gourd… I just don’t understand kids these days. I did my best Uncle Rico impression and chunked it into the woods to rot alongside its brethren. That makes 27 perfectly good gourds that have gone to waste this month. Not that I’m exactly sure what gourds are for anyways. During my walk to work I noticed that once again, I’m not the only victim of this stupid prank, they got old Mr. Toms house too. I never would have imagined as a kid that I’d one day be sympathizing with the town grump but here I am. To be fair I’m not nearly as crotchety as he is, I just toss the vegetable into the woods and carry on with my day. It’s become part of my morning routine. Ole Tom on the other hand has really embraced his inner Ebenezer. Judging by the stains and gourd residue on his front porch he’s turned this into a game of botanical whack a mole. What’s worse is he probably enjoys it. I know firsthand from my childhood that hateful indignation towards anything fun is his favorite pass time, especially around Halloween. But that’s water under the bridge. Now that I’m older the boogeyman has taken on much more insidious forms, like taxes, my broken-down car, and perhaps most pressing, the razor thin profit margins at the sandwich shop. Which is why I’ve started walking there … in the cold. Honestly, I think Banyon’s been thrilled by the sudden death of my crappy old four runner. He’s all smiles and tail wags as we make our daily five-mile trek to work. Although I sometimes feel like he’s the one walking me, on account of my short attention span. I know he gets frustrated when I walk at the pace of a confused grandma but in my defense my town can be pretty distracting this time of year. Even though I’ve seen it 27 times, it’s hard to ignore the insane fervor with which the locals prepare for Halloween. Every October, like a rhythmic force of nature, hundreds of tombstones rise out of suburban yards, front porches are infested with fake cobwebs, mannequin witches stand on patrol on every rooftop, and the smell of rubber masks permeates the air. To make a long story short, it’s a trick or treaters paradise, or at least it would be, if my town allowed trick or treaters. In fact, they don’t even allow kids to go outside on Halloween night. I’ve never understood the reason for the strange unspoken rule that’s frustrated me my entire life. I thought I’d go through some sort of initiation when I got older, and I’d be let in on the secret, but it only got worse. Every time I ask someone what’s going on they either stare at me like I’ve got a corn cob growing out of my forehead, or resort to straight up gaslighting. For example, just last week, I ran the million-dollar question by Ms. Kathy when she came in to order her usual plain turkey sandwich. Historically she’s very nice and one of my best customers, but as soon as I brought up Halloween, I could see the angry micro expression crack beneath her makeup as she wrinkled her crooked nose. She plastered a fake smile on her face gave me a line that went something like, “Darling, what do you think is more likely? Everybody in town being involved in a Halloween conspiracy or one man’s cheese falling off his cracker”. I’m used to being framed as the “crazy guy”, but it does still sting a little. An hour or so after opening the shop, I was pulling some fresh bread from the oven when I heard the jingle of the doorbell. I knew exactly who it was based solely on the fact that they were walking like they owned the place, even though they most certainly did not. Mayor Hawthorne strolled right up to my counter looking like the lead of a 1970’s TV drama. He resembled a, slightly broader, middle-aged Burt Reynolds, but with sandy blonde hair streaked with grey. I’d heard him say on more than one occasion that he was the tallest, smartest, funniest, and prettiest member of his whole family. I couldn’t verify that, but he probably could have thrown most arrogant in there as well. “Well, if it isn’t ole Sandwich Dean, how are you doing this fine and beautiful morning”. I hate it when he calls me that. I looked past him at the cold overcast sky and bleak forest across the street. “I’m alright, how about yourself?” “Oh, I couldn’t be better, little Jimmy hit a home run in last night’s game, the great pumpkin lighting is tonight, and to top it all off the Crumpton gazette just published a story about my charity for the homeless.” I usually try to zone the mayor out but something he said piqued my interest. “I’ve never heard of that, what is it?” “Dean I’m sure you’ve seen the dirty vagrants that try to leach off our town.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Between you and me and Carl the bus driver I’ve been packing them up like sardines and shipping them to a Denny’s out in Dothan. Every hundred dollars donated is one less hobo you will ever see in the city of Crumpton.”. “No umm, I meant the great pumpkin lighting…” “Oh that. It’s just an old forgotten Crumpton tradition. The town elders are insisting that we bring it back. From my understanding, there will be a bunch of pumpkins there, somebody will say something, and then we get to light them. I get to light the biggest one.” He did his best jack o lantern impression as he said that last part. “You should come on down, it’ll be in the graveyard across from Christ Church at 8 o’clock.” “The graveyard? And I thought nobody was allowed to go out after dark.” “Well, it is Halloween.” He said with spooky jazz hands, completely ignoring the second half of my question. I nodded and silently considered making an appearance. I don’t generally like crowds, but I might finally be able to get some answers on my towns weird Halloween rule. I’d planned on closing shop early and going home since everyone usually locks themselves in their houses on Halloween night. But for the first time in my life, people seemed to be breaking the rule. I’d ventured out a few times when I was younger out of curiosity and never found anything unusual. Although I never stayed out too long. There’s something deeply unsettling about a completely silent town at night. We all heard stories of kids that disappeared, but I figured they just moved away and some of the older kids made the stories up to scare us. I thought about all those old stories as the leaves crunched beneath our feet and paws as we walked from streetlight to streetlight, connecting the dots on the way there. I was admittedly starting to get creeped out, so I pulled out my phone and turned some music on. I’ve been in a classic rock mood lately and went through a few of my favorites on the way there. Must Be the Season of the Witch by Donovan started playing just as the Christ Church steeple came into view. It seemed a little too fitting for comfort. We veered off the road and made a B line toward the cemetery. As we got closer, I began to make out hundreds of figures standing and ambling around in the moonlight. Banyon let out a low growl as the first figure came into focus. A walking skeleton with a pumpkin in its hands. “It’s ok buddy, it’s just a costume”, I assured him. Soon we found ourselves amongst witches, wolfmen, vampires and every other monster mankind has conjured up. Every one of them carried a carved pumpkin. Nobody told me this was a costume party. People were standing around in small groups, having private conversations. I felt like the new kid on the first day of school. Or in my case, any other day of school. Suddenly a booming voice overpowered all the chit chat and commanded everyone’s attention. “Fellow ghouls and goblins, witches and warlocks, ghosts, skeletons, and every other creature of the night, welcome to the lighting of the great pumpkin.” Bram Stoker’s Dracula, formerly known as Mayor Hawthorne, stood atop an impromptu stage and summoned his most spooktacular voice. “We have known 27 years of peace and prosperity”, he said as he spread his arms wide, “It is with timid deference that we gather on the eve of this hallowed succession… In remembrance of the last I ask you to light your pumpkins.” The sound of lighters flicking and matches striking cut through the air as countless glowing smiles came to life around me. The mayor continued, “Even in the night, a shepherd must protect his flock”. He then pulled a long knife from his belt and cut a deep slice in his free hand. The crowd roared with applause and howls as he held his hand high above his head and let the blood stream down his arm. And with that the mayor jumped off the stage, or what I thought was a stage. And a witch with a crooked nose approached with a lit pumpkin. It was burning so bright that it must have been filled to the brim with gasoline. She handed it to the mayor, who proceeded to smear his bloody hand across the flaming pumpkin. In the orange glow I could now make out what he’d been standing on. It was a giant wooden jack o lantern. With a dramatic spin and heave he threw the flaming pumpkin into the mouth of the giant jack o lantern and a great fire exploded back out of the eyes and smile of the carved face. The whole thing was swallowed up in flames and everyone kept their reverent eyes on the burning pumpkin effigy. Except for the mayor, who was staring right at me. Apparently, he knew a hell of a lot more about the Great Pumpkin Lighting than he let on. Banyon instinctively backed up. “What do you say we get out of here buddy.” He whimpered and we turned to leave. On the way out every one of my strange neighbors gave us a wide berth as if they either respected or detested us. I felt an overwhelming feeling of attention on my back, so I threw my hoody up in a feeble defense, and we walked into the darkness. It was hard not to look over my shoulder on the way home. I knew once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop checking so I kept my eyes forward and my ears on high alert. I don’t know what in the hell that was all about. Maybe I shouldn’t ask any questions about Halloween, or maybe I should just move to less psychotic town. I didn’t see a soul as I power walked my way back home. I was too freaked out to get distracted by anything like I usually do, so we were making good time. That is until I reached Ole Tom’s house. His front door was wide open… I called out to him, but nobody answered. I debated just minding my own business and going home but I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him, even if he was an old grump. Dead leaves blew into the hallway as I creaked up the stairs. I stopped at the threshold and raised my fist to knock on the open door but froze before my knuckles hit the wood. There was blood spattered at the end of the hallway. This is not good. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped into the house. I crept to the end of the hall and leaned around the corner expecting the worst but to my surprise there was no dead body. What I did find was a kitchen in complete disarray. It looked as if a drunkem Tasmanian Devil with a penchant for domestic violence had been released in the small room. Beyond the overturned kitchen table was a blue jacket. I recognized it as the one that the old man always wore. Poking out of the corner of one of the front pockets was a crumpled letter. My hands trembled as I unfolded it and read the hastily written words. *Dean,* *I don’t have much time. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner. I thought I was cursed to carry this burden alone. They never told me anything. They made me think I was crazy until it was too late… They made me keep it. They turned me into a monster… into a killer, but it would have been far worse if I didn’t do my part. Through me I believe it’s limited to one night a year, but I think my time is up and I think they’ve chosen you to be* The letter abruptly ended. I didn’t know who to call or trust. If the mayor was in on this, then the cops probably were too. Hell, the whole town was probably in on it. Behind me I heard Banyon yelp and scramble to run out the front door. Before I could turn around a blinding pain erupted from the back of my skull and everything went black. When I came to, I thought I might be partially paralyzed but gradually my foggy brain put the situation together. I was tied to a chair in the middle of Ole Tom’s garage and two figures were before me. Mayor Hawthorne sat atop a large brown chest covered in what appeared to be pale worn leather, next to him stood Ms. Kathy. “What’s happening?” I said “You’re fulfilling your destiny Dean.” Said the Mayer. “I…I don’t understand. What did you do with Mr. Tom?” “He achieved his purpose at the great pumpkin lighting.” Said Ms. Kathy with that same fake smile I’d grown to hate. “What are you saying? Did you kill him? Are you going to kill me?” “Are you familiar with the story of the Crumpton Booger?” said the mayor. “Yea we all heard that story as kids… I used to think that’s why we didn’t go out on Halloween when I was little.” He laughed, “Then you’ve had the answer to your question all along. He is the reason we don’t go out on Halloween. All except for the children that are disobedient. And those damn hobos.” He spit on the ground in disgust. “They are sacrificed for the greater good”, chimed in Ms. Kathy. Mayor Hawthorne continued speaking as he stood and turned to unlock the chest. “I understand that the grief was hard on ole Tom all these years. Embodying something much greater than yourself. Consuming the offerings. Understanding that if he doesn’t do it none of us will make it to next Halloween. But it is an honor to be chosen. Once the bond is made then it will return every year until the next cycle.” He moved to the back side of the chest and slowly opened the lid. Then they carefully backed up a few paces, through the open garage door, and into the night air. A soft chittering, like a long hand strumming dozens of fingers on a table, began to emanate from the chest. Slowly a thick and gnarled stem emerged, and I now knew, from the stories I’d heard as a child, what would follow. A large, decrepit pumpkin climbed out of the chest and skittered towards me on long stringy entrails that acted like insect legs. I screamed bloody murder as the grotesque, bulbus, parasite teetered in my direction. I strained and pulled against the ropes with all my might, but they wouldn’t budge. It was getting closer, and, in my desperation, I tried to push myself away with my feet, the only part of me that wasn’t tied down. I began to helplessly fall backwards and just before I lost sight of the pumpkin a blur of fangs and fur flew into the open garage. Banyon crashed into the demonic vegetable as my world turned upside down. I heard the mayor and Ms. Kathy yelling and tussling with my dog and Banyon was barking and snapping in return. The chair hit the garage floor and was crushed under my weight. As it collapsed beneath me, the ropes tying me down loosened up and I scrambled to my feet throwing them off me. The mayor grabbed Banyon who had clearly gotten a few good bites on his bloody arms and turned to chunk him out of the garage. Banyon went flying and hit with a thud, but the mayor didn’t notice what was crawling up his leg until it was too late. I yelled for Banyon who darted in the garage and behind my legs. We stood in horror as the pumpkin scurried up mayor Hawthorne. He made desperate attempts to pull the thing off him, but the spindly legs would stretch and then overpower him, pulling itself closer. It crawled up his body like a massive and misshapen centipede. In a flash it was clinging and climbing over the side of his temple, and it muffled his screams as the smiling the jack o lantern fell in place over his head. He stood in abject horror for an endless second before the transformation began. Once it started it happened quickly. It was like all his life force and most of his body mass was being sucked into the jack o lantern. His body shriveled and withered to a brown and lean form. The pumpkin filled with mass until the inner workings of a mouth formed and large solid black eyes filled the eye holes. The figure doubled over, and a sickening and half-finished laugh erupted from its throat as its vocal cords formed. Slowly, the Crumpton Booger stood, and Banyon and I opened the door to Ole Mr. Toms house and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind us. Ms. Kathy’s scream was cut short by the sound of a bone crunching fleshly splat. I locked the door and prayed that we’d be safe if we followed the rules. Don’t go outside and don’t trick or treat on Halloween night.

I Died And Went To Heaven. I Think I'd Rather Stay A Ghost On Earth.

ybxml7

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybxml7/i_died_and_went_to_heaven_i_think_id_rather_stay/

Do you believe in Ghosts? Do you believe in the afterlife? Do you believe in Heaven? If you do believe in Heaven, do you believe it is a paradise? I asked myself these questions once, the last one being the most recent I came up with. Because I do believe in ghosts, the afterlife, and the existence. However, I no longer see Heaven as a paradise for souls to rest in peace, but just another Hell. I will never forget the chilling experience I had during my "near-death" situation. An experience that'll scar me for the rest of my life. Before I begin, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ryan Smith. I work an office job as an Accountant, and had a normal life as any average American. Even though I'm single, I'm content with living an independent life. No wife and kids, or marital problems to deal with, at least not yet. I'm trying to be careful with finding a woman, since the last one I was with decided to cheat on me with another guy. I was glad we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We never married nor did we have any children. So the breakup was easy, and I don't have to worry about child support. I've been living alone in my own house, in a town that's very peaceful and quiet. Contrast to living in a city, I was perfectly content where I now am, and the people are friendly. Neighbors even came to my house and brought food and greetings over, and I was happy to meet them. Everything was fine, and things were looking up for me at the time. It beats having lived in the city two years ago, where there was constant noise even at night, let alone the occasional gang violence involving gunshots. As for right now, I'm still content with the way of life in this peaceful and quiet town. However, part of my experience has changed my view of death and dying. Now I'm afraid of death, more specifically, of what will happen to me when I die. I fear those bastards will come for me once my body expires, and I become a spirit. Those "angels" or what pretends to be angels, are waiting for us behind a white light. I remember that old movie reference: Do not go into the Light. I did not think such words could be so true. You see, it all started when I was doing my usual commute. Before I was heading to work, I made my breakfast and ate as usual before driving off. Once I finished and drove off, I usually expect the school traffic to be around this time, which I didn't mind, since my workplace was only ten minutes away, and I had thirty minutes to spare. I'm an early bird too, since I don't like the idea of showing up to work at the last minute, or worse, late. Unfortunately, this was the day I never made it to work. Why? Because this was the day, I got into my first car accident. I had the right of way, but sadly, one of the delivery truck drivers didn't seem to pay attention to the turning lane. I still remember that green arrow light that displayed, telling me that it's time for me to turn. However, I noticed the delivery truck still approaching, and it became clear to me that the driver wasn't stopping the truck despite the red light. From what I could see, he was looking down at something, as if he was staring at his phone or trying to grab something he dropped. But at the moment he saw me turning in and realized what was happening, it was already too late. Even when he hit the brakes and used the emergency brakes, it wasn't enough to stop both his truck and my car, from collision. The last thing I remember, is seeing that truck slam into the right side door of my car as I was turning. The impact caused my car to flip, and I was suddenly knocked unconscious as my head hit the car window to my left, as far as I could tell. After that, there was nothing. I was very surprised when I realized I didn't feel any pain from the impact, but I'm assuming its because my soul had already left before I could suffer from the excruciating pain I felt when I came back to my body. Just then, my vision slowly started coming back. I realized my head was laying on the driving wheel. I tried to make sense of that, because I recall the car flipping from the impact. But what scared me the most, was when I lifted my head up, and saw my head still laying there. Except, it was the head of my body, still laying on the driving wheel. It looked like it had been severely wounded, as I noticed blood dripping from multiple parts of my body's face. I was shocked to see how bad the accident was. Then, the delivery truck driver came walking up to my car window, and was peeking inside. If there was one thing that pissed me the fuck off about him, the motherfucker came out of his truck, unscathed from the collision. I yelled at him, as he pulled out his phone to call 911, looking surprised and frightened over the accident he caused. "FUCKING PAY ATTENTION, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! YOU COULD'VE KILLED ME!!" I said that, not even realizing I was already dead. However, he didn't respond or look at me. That pissed me off even more. That's when I "opened" the door of my car and walked up to him. Despite being in front of him, he didn't look in my direction, but I heard the operator on his phone pick up. For some strange reason, I could hear the operator's voice loud and very clear regardless of the fact he didn't put the phone on speaker to talk. "911, what's your emergency?" Then the truck driver responded. "Yeah, there's been a car accident! There's a man in the car, he looks like he's not breathing! Can you send an emergency response team right away!?" Even though he was calling for an emergency team and informing them of the location along with my condition, I was still pissed off at him and decided to "punch" him in his face for his fucking stupidity. However, as I threw a fist at him, I was horrified. My punch didn't even hit him, nor phase him. Instead, it just went through his face. That's when it hit me: I wasn't in my body. That was why the driver couldn't see or hear me when I was in front of him, while he was calling 911. That's when I looked into my car. My body was sitting there, and then I understood that I was outside of my body, unable to interact with any living person. But the strangest thing was, I didn't feel like I died from the collision. In fact, it felt like I was still alive. Even though I didn't have my physical body, what my experiences felt like, made me believe I'm still in my physical body. I could still smell, touch, listen, taste, and even see, despite having no eyes, ears, nerves, a nose, or even a mouth. Despite the lack of a body and everything in it, I could still move and think. I was walking around, with hopes to see if both my body and my car hadn't sustained any considerable damage. My car appeared slightly totaled, but it was at least repairable. But my body? My body was severely damaged from the impact. I was grateful that none of my limbs required amputation, so the situation wasn't as bad. But I found out that I had injuries to two of my most vital organs, that being my heart and liver. Even when the injuries weren't fatal, my two organs needed much time to fully heal. As I was looking around, I noticed some interesting differences. The buildings I once saw with my two eyes, appeared slightly different, color-wise. One building, being a shopping store, appeared brighter in color, as did all the other buildings. Even the people, seemed a little different. Even though they still looked the same, I was able to make out what was on their faces. One person who was looking at the incident, had tiny bits of hair on his bald head. It was one of my neighbors. With the naked eye, those tiny bits would've been harder to see. Yet, I could see them clear as day. Not only were they clearer to see, but the auras they gave off seemed very clear to me. A woman who came by, had an aura that surprised me. From what I could sense out of her, she was waiting for the day I would approach her and ask her for a date. I also recognized who this woman was: Sherry Kelp. She was one of my co-workers before, until she got another job working for a tax company. When she came to the scene and saw my body, I felt her energies change from feelings of emotions and love, to feelings of sadness and pain, believing I was "gone" from this world without saying goodbye. Reading her, I could also sense she was nothing like my last girlfriend. She's the kind of woman who is faithful and traditional, the perfect wife for someone like me. Just seeing her, sad and tearful, brought sorrow to my eyes. If only I knew of her feelings toward me and the fact she's someone any man will be lucky to have or dumb enough to screw over, I would've approached her. Sadly, this couldn't be done, since my body was laying dead, so there was nothing I could but look on in sadness. Shortly after, the EMTs arrived with their emergency truck. They opened the door to my car, and they carried my body, placing it on the gurney, and taking it into the back of their vehicle. Sherry, cried out with tears upon watching my body being taken, and I wanted to try and comfort her. But I recalled, I couldn't interact with anyone who was alive. Since there was nothing I could do, I decided to head to my workplace, hoping to see my colleagues along with my boss and supervisor one last time, having the thought that I'll never get to work with them anymore. As I was walking, I simply observed the surroundings all around me. Some people drove to see what happened at the accident, while others simply drove, away, half of those people who drove off having busy schedules or too much time to worry about me or my case, which was understandable. The one thing I didn't understand, was seeing a figure in the distance approach me in the opposite direction. I would pass this off as a civilian walking by. However, something was off about this one. It was a man of course, but he appeared to be looking directly at me, as if he could see me. As we got close enough, I was able to get a good look at his face. His face looked extremely pale, and his eyes were completely fixated on me. He appeared to be wearing a black fedora hat, and a black business suit. I slowly began to freak out. But when we got inches close to each other, he stopped to speak to me, and I stopped to listen. "It's okay, dear boy. You're safe now." he said. Even though he scared me a little, I did feel a soothing calmness in his voice. It was the feeling as if I wasn't in any danger. I would've believed it, if not for a gut feeling within me telling me I would be in a lot of danger. However, I regret not listening to it. By that moment, the man told me everything. "Do not fret, dear one. I'm a spirit guide. I'm here to guide you to Heaven, as I have many others." he spoke to me. "Heaven?" I asked, confusingly. "Yes. It's time you come to Heaven." the entity spoke. "But what if I don't want to go to Heaven?" I suddenly asked without realizing, as the gut feeling in me kept pressuring me not to go with the guide. "You must come with me." the entity demanded, the soothing in his voice now turned to anger. Just at that moment, a bright light started appearing beside us. After looking at it, I could suddenly feel the energies emanating from it. It had this soothing feeling of 'love' and 'peace' flowing out in it, enticing me to go into it. I felt as if everything happened so sudden, as if I was in some sort of movie that fast-forwarded straight to my death. Upon observing it, I felt my soul becoming more and more enticed. I was about go in, when another "voice" as I can describe it, told me not to. It was my gut instinct, now 'begging' me, becoming louder than ever, not to go into that light. That's when the entity took me by my arm, and dragged me towards that light. "No!" I said, telling him that I need time to think. "But don't you wish to see your deceased relatives?" the entity asked me. Upon hearing that question, that was the one thing that enticed me to go in the light, drowning out the pleading from my gut instinct that was making me refuse to go in it. But even then, I wanted to see my grandmother, who passed away when I was a small boy. My father had died two years ago, and I never got the chance to say goodbye to him let alone go to his funeral, because I was stuck at a dormitory in college due to the pandemic. Since I was close to those two, I figured this would be a good time to see them again. Despite the fading protest from my gut instinct, I decided to walk in with hopes to meet them. Upon entering, I came upon a realm that was nothing like earth. However, I heard stories that Heaven was a beautiful place where sits a beautiful garden, along with a golden road that leads to paradise. I saw, none of that. Instead, there appeared to be large stone monuments, designed to erect an entity, who's image I couldn't describe nor recall. The one thing I could recall was that the appearance of the entity being erected, was not pleasant. But that wasn't the part that terrified me the most. There also appeared to be angels, yet they didn't appear human-like or anything remotely close to human. Most of these angels resembled creatures we'd see on earth, while others appeared to be something you'd find in a horror movie. The guide gave off a strange screeching noise, and I understood this to be a call to one of the angels in this realm. One angel responded to his call, one who's face I'll remember for the rest of my life. The angel, had multiple eyes on its face, and even all around its limbs. In my opinion, this thing had one of the most terrifying appearances, one scary enough to drive anyone mad just by looking at it. "Take this one to his place." the guide said. That's when the angel took me by the arm, and flew away, taking me to another area in Heaven. In the distance, I could see a massive entity, sitting down. This entity appeared to be looking down at something. When I took one look what he was seeing, I felt my heart sink with despair. There appeared to be humans on the ground, and they all seem to be making more and more of those monuments. When we got closer, I could hear them screaming and crying. I realized that these humans were being worked to "death" and yet, they could not die. The angel landed me down next to the area of the crying humans, and spoke to me in a language that I had no knowledge of, but for some reason, I could understand what it said to me. "GET TO WORK." it spoke to me, without moving its mouth. Upon looking at the surroundings, the faces of the humans appeared as if they had been crying for so long, as if endless. Their pain was endless, the work was endless, the crying and screaming they gave off, was endless. To my horror, I saw my grandmother in the distance among them. I ran towards her, trying to confirm who I'm looking at. Sure enough, it was her. I was horrified of what they did to her. I could see scratches and bruises all over her body, as if she was not only beaten, but she was enduring the pain and hardship of labor. Even more sickening was her appearance, the same elderly form. Not once in my life had I felt so disgusted how "heavenly" beings could do this to people, especially to elders who would be understandably of retirement or unable to work. Nevertheless, just seeing what my grandmother is forced to go through in the afterlife, was a gut-wrenching thing. I looked right at the massive entity, who appeared to be looking right at me. I had so much anger and hatred build in me, over what was going on. I understood that the monuments were built to commend him. What he looked like, he was not a man with a beard, but something a bit more terrible. I could not describe it for some reason, so the best way I could describe this entity is having red skin, with black horns that are on his face, with yellow snake eyes. Even teeth, lots of teeth I could see, since he grinned at me in disgust. I began to think, I was looking at the devil. "Fu-" I was about to snap at him, until I was cut off from a hand touching my shoulder, alerting me. I turned to see who it was, and it didn't make me feel any happier. It was my father. He looked at me with a sad face and a trembling tone of voice. He sounded like he was panting, as if he ran up to me from a long distance. "Father!?" I asked. "Son, you must get out! This is not Heaven! This is not paradise! It's horri-" He was cut off by a loud booming sound. I turned to see the massive figure with its mouth open, pointing directly at me and my father. What followed next, was something I'll never forget, and something I'll curse that massive entity for doing. The angel that took me to this place, struck me down in anger. It spoke to me in a horrifying tone. "Our God instructs me to transport you to Hell for your insolence if you refuse to please him with your works!" it said. I looked at the giant thing one more time, and gave it a look of disgust and hate. Then, I cursed at it. "FUCK YOU! I HOPE YOU BURN IN YOUR OWN HELL FOR THIS VILE DEED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FUCK YOU, FUCK ALL YOUR SPIRIT GUIDES AND ANGELS, AND FUCK YOUR HEAVEN YOU FUCKING EVIL DEMON!" I yelled at it. Then, it got angry at me, gave an even louder booming voice, and pointed right at me in a furious manner. Just then, the 'ground' beneath me opened, revealing an area filled with nothing but fire, brimstone, and hot lava. I fell in, and my grandmother looked down at me, crying even harder. In that moment, I understood that in her own eyes, her beloved grandson was forced to suffer a horrifying fate: Eternity of torture in Hell. This was all because of my transgression of refusing to kiss the ass of that fucking prick sitting in the throne. I began to think Lucifer successfully overthrew the God of Heaven, and has now become its new ruler, only to be far worse than what I thought the God of Heaven would be like. In all honesty, I would rather be sitting on a cloud forced to play a harp for the rest of my existence, if that's what the previous Heaven was like. It still beats being forced to endure agonizing work, building monuments with our bare hands for the rest of our existence. I didn't have much time to ponder on why such a situation existed, as I landed into the lava, forced to feel its burning effects. The heat was unbearable. What made it worse was I could not die from it. The entire few moments I been in there, death did not come for me, not even a second time. One of those demons, came towards me, while I climbed out of the lava pit screaming in pain, trying to get out. As my hand touched the "stone floor" as I could describe it, the demon creature plunged its spear in my hand, causing me to feel pain from the stab. As I got up and tried to get the spear out of my hand, it took the spear out and stabbed it into my chest. Then, it lifted me up and threw me back into the lava pit. I was writhing in pain, screaming from the burning agony being inflicted on me. The demon was there, laughing at me for what it did. I considered it a fucking miracle to be back here, because after a few long moments of torture in that horrible place, I suddenly felt myself shot back into my body, and waking up in the hospital. I felt my body was in pain, but that was nothing compared to what I experienced in the afterlife, so the pain I had around my body, didn't seem like much. Still, I needed to be careful. My mother was in the room, crying with tears of joy that her son came back. Even I cried with tears of joy, having got out of such a horrible situation. My mother hugged me, and my pain scream indicated my body still needs to heal. Just then, I remembered everything in that experience, with the exception of the entity's face. It was the only thing I couldn't remember. I even explained to my mother everything that happened when I was temporarily gone, and even warned her. "Mother." I said, crying. "I saw father and grandmother. They're not okay. Heaven is not a place to be in. Stay away from it. Don't go to it. Please." I said to her, begging her to listen to what I was saying. I wasn't surprised but I was saddened, to see that my mother disagreed with what I said. After all, she was a devout Christian who held strong faith in the God of Heaven, refusing to believe the possibility that Lucifer had taken over Heaven, and has made it into another Hell. Still, I tried my best to tell her the truth of what I saw, to help save her and the rest of my family from what will await them right at the moment of their deaths, but to no avail. So now, here I am. The only bright side is I'm now with Sherry, the woman who had an interest in me. After finding out of her feelings toward me, I decided to meet up with her and ask her on a date, and as I thought, she immediately brightened up and said 'Yes' to me. I wish I could tell her about what I experienced in the afterlife before I came back, and try to warn her. But that might be difficult, since much like my mother, she's also devoutly religious. Hopefully, I'll have the courage to tell her. I do not have the courage so far for that, nor the courage to walk inside of a church or any religious buildings, to reveal to them the horrifying truth about Heaven and what it really is. However, I do have enough courage to tell all of you about all of this. You see, Heaven isn't a paradise for humanity. No, it's a paradise for the gods, and only the gods. That's probably why they referred to it as Heaven, as it was not meant for us. It was meant to be their Heaven. Where we go? Hell if I know. If anything, I think you would be better off staying on earth as a lingering spirit. But I will give you this one warning.... If you have a near-death experience or become a lingering spirit, and you see an extremely pale man with a black fedora hat with a black business suit, looking directly at you: DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE HIM.

I was offered a simple job, but it's become much more than that

yc48ft

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yc48ft/i_was_offered_a_simple_job_but_its_become_much/

“Help wanted. Easy work. Big Pay”. This roughly made and atrociously designed advertisement almost made me burst out in laughter upon reading it again. Any five-year-old who can open google docs and print a piece of paper could have replicated it. The only other thing on the entire sheet was a phone number. Even worse, this number didn’t appear to have any local area codes that I know of. It was posted inside a classroom building at my university, right next to where various clubs, student groups, and local employers would post their advertisements. I am not the most social and so I hadn’t been looking for student groups or clubs as much, but potential employment was something I was going to need. As classes started and summer ended, so did my internship and only source of income. I picked up the ad. As much of a joke or scam as I assumed this had to be, I thought, why not? I’ll try calling. I did need some money right now so I figured taking a minute to entertain the possibility of this being a legitimate opportunity was worth it. I picked up the paper. Walking to my apartment window to get a better look, I couldn’t help but shake my head in disbelief once again at how incredibly ridiculous it was. The cool light from the cloudy skies illuminated the sheet of paper in my hand. I pulled out my cell phone and typed the numbers into my keypad before dialing. The taps of raindrops on the window filled the gaps of sound between each ring. I began to rethink my choice of even attempting this nonsense, then the ringing stopped. I paused for a few seconds. Hearing nothing, I slowly moved the phone away from my face. I thought I had been disconnected or that the call failed. The screen lit up and at the top of my screen displayed the call time. Someone did pick up. I held the phone back up to my ear and controlled my breathing. If I pick up a call that I suspect to be spam, I typically stay quiet and wait for someone on the other end to say something first. That’s the strategy I tried to employ here. This went on for longer than I would have expected. Usually, the person on the other end will disconnect or say something after ten seconds or so. Whoever this was wasn’t saying anything. After two whole minutes of this, I decided to finally speak. “Hello?” “Hello” A monotone voice returned. I hadn’t expected it. With how long I was on the phone, I assumed it to be a bogus number or some sort of bot. I waited a moment before remembering my reason for calling. “I’m calling about this advertisement that was posted at my school. Are you still looking for help?” The man on the other end breathed out heavily before replying. “Yes, we are still looking for help. If you accept, the payment is $4,000 cash for this job, in any denomination of bills that you would like. It will only take one night of work. We can pay you by tomorrow if you complete the job tonight”. “I’m sorry, you said four grand?” “Yes, it is very important to me that this gets done, and done soon. And one more thing, I neglected to mention it first. We can’t let you tell anyone that you are taking this job. This needs to stay confidential. If anyone were to know about what you’re doing for us, the consequences would be disastrous for not only you and the people who fund out but for me as well”. “I…Alright. I need to think for a moment” Of course, the money excited me, almost to the point of accepting it right then and there but this mention of confidentiality put me on edge. For all I knew, this was a serial killer with a burner phone looking for a way to attract his next victim. I think the man on the other end could tell what I was thinking. He broke the silence. “Listen, I know this seems weird and suspicious but I can assure you that what I am offering you is legitimate. I work for a very large, very powerful company that just needs a small job done on the side, off the records. I…I don’t know what to say to you that would…look, we just need this done. I can meet you in an hour, at a location of your choosing and it can all be done right then and there”. What the hell was he on about? I didn’t believe his “powerful company” nonsense but hell, if he was offering to meet me in an hour, this would be the easiest $4,000 I could have ever imagined making. Of course, I would choose somewhere public on the University grounds that I knew like the back of my hand. I didn’t see how it could go wrong. I adjusted the hone back up to my ear. “So you can pay me on the spot too?” “I…well I suppose I could. Fine. If you want to be paid tonight, you can but I need a promise that the job will be done. I’ll have the cash ready”. “It will” I replied, assuringly. I’ve always been true to my word and I’ve certainly never been a lousy worker. There wasn’t much I could imagine not doing for a night’s work to earn $4,000. Then again, I hadn’t a clue of what this man wanted me to do. “You still haven’t told me what the job is”. “I will tell you when we meet. That information cannot be given over the phone. It isn’t much, I can promise you that”. Though the doubts were mounting in my head, I couldn’t help but be blinded by this opportunity thrust upon me. I was willing to risk it. “Alright, I’m in. Meet outside the building you posted the advertisement. I’ll be there but if you don’t have the money on hand, this is all off”. I acted tough, but I was still skeptical and unsure about all of this. I think he and I both knew that I wouldn’t really "call it all off” when that much money is on the line. “I’ll be there at 4:30 with the money. Be ready”. The phone went silent. There was no feedback on the other end anymore. He hung up. I stood, stunned by the fact that such a conversation just took place. I spent the next half hour looking out my apartment window, to the dark clouds above down the wet street they rained on, laughing occasionally at all my thoughts of this uncanny scenario. The trip from my apartment to the university building I agreed to meet him at felt like walking to an awkward first date except the awkwardness presented itself in an even more unorthodox fashion. Well, this was all very unorthodox, wasn't it? I arrived a little early so I decided to sit inside the entryway of the building. I browsed my phone, looking up every few seconds to see if someone was waiting. My eyes were on my phone the moment it turned from 4:29 to 4:30. Looking up, I saw one man who stood out. He wore a formal suit and a long black coat, holding a black umbrella over his head in one hand and a leather bag slung over the other shoulder. His appearance resembled something you would expect of a professor walking around on campus. He stood still, unlike the students passing around him. They had somewhere to be, it was clear that he was where he intended to be. I hesitantly pulled open the door, turning the smooth and soft ambiance of rainfall back to a coarse static to accompany me as I approached the man under the umbrella. He noticed my approach and attentive stare as he turned around to face me. “Are you here for the job?” “Y-yes” I almost couldn’t believe anyone showed up. The fact that someone did frightened me a little. They were serious. He tilted his head down, in the direction of my hand holding my cell phone. “I need you to turn off your phone”. “Uh…okay?” I showed him my screen as I powered it off completely and put it back into my pocket. He watched but didn’t give any sort of acknowledgment. “As I said, the job is a simple one” The man undid the straps on his leather bag and pulled the flap up. I took a step back and braced myself to run, as the images of handguns and knives or needles full of tranquilizers filled my imagination. What he took out of the bag was much less threatening. He pulled a plastic bag out by the handle and the label and design on the front looked familiar. It was a bag from the university bookstore. He slowly reached his arm out to me with the bag in hand. I accepted the bag, looking down to take a peek inside as soon as it was handed to me. “Wait” The man said softly, placing a palm over the opening. “You need to know the instructions first”. I looked back up. “You need to plant it in the dirt, standing straight up. It can be anywhere you like but it needs to be on soil with grass. That’s it, that’s the whole job”. The man slowly removed his hand from the plastic bag. I opened it. Inside was a wooden cross, not more than a foot tall. The wood was old and worn down with cuts and chips along its surface. The center was bound with twine. I stared down in confusion as I talked to the man. “So…I just have to put this in the ground? That’s it? I could just do it right here?” I asked, pointing to the grass only a few steps away from us. “I wouldn’t” The man replied. “Well, why not? You said I could plant it anywhere that has dirt and grass”. He sighed. “I would get far away from here before you do it but it’s your choice in the end”. The man had a look in his eyes as if he had lost all hope and he broke eye contact. “I just need to be sure that you’ll do it” “Have you got the money?” He reached back into his leather bag before pulling out an envelope. To my surprise, he handed it to me faster and more gracefully than he had handed me the cheap wooden cross. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but It wasn't for him to deliver on the money. My eyes went wide as I quickly pulled one bill from the envelope and held it up to the dimly lit sky. I’ve worked plenty of retail jobs before and know what to look for in a fake bill. Everything checked out. I quickly counted out every bill. There were 40. My draw would have dropped to the floor if it were possible. I couldn’t believe this man seriously brought $4,000. “Four thousand, as promised. You will do as I instructed? I need it done tonight”. “Certainly”. I assured, pocketing the envelope excitedly. The man nodded before turning around and walking off. I watched him until he turned a corner around the building, out of sight. I broke down in laughter. What a fool, I thought to myself. I just got paid $4,000 to stick a wooden cross in the ground. I contained my excitement enough to get serious for a moment. I couldn’t forget why I was being paid and as I said before, I am true to my word. I looked at the grass before me, this perfectly kept lawn between all these buildings. Why not just put it here? No one would care. If the school had a problem with it, they could simply pull it out of the ground. After all, I was paid to stick it in the ground, not watch over it. I walked along the path that connected two rows of university buildings until I was near the center. My shoes squeaked on the wet grass as I moved off the stone path. I knelt and began a little hole with my fingers. Though I wasn’t all that worried about anyone having a problem with what I was doing, I didn’t want to stick around to find out either. I removed the cross from the bookstore bag and placed it neatly into the ground. I crumpled up the bag and stepped back to admire my work, the work I did to secure a few months worth of food and rent. I laughed once again and shook my head as I walked away, depositing the bag in a nearby recycling bin. My walk back to my apartment was fueled by brisk excitement. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face the entire way home, nor could I contain the random giggles I coughed up every few seconds. When people walking by made faces at my silly behavior, it only made me laugh harder. That night I could hardly concentrate on school work of this excitement. It took a three-hour gym session to calm me down enough to sleep, the stack of hundreds on my desk smiling back at me as I turned the lights out. I found it easy to get out of bed the next morning. I stuffed my backpack and grabbed my newly acquired wad of cash. I know it’s not smart to walk around with that kind of money, but I felt better carrying it than keeping it in my apartment. The wind that met my face as I stepped outside never felt so good. I don’t remember the last time I walked to class in such a good mood, with such excitement. That was until I walked past the lawn. I crowd of students stood around where I had placed the cross the day before. The smile melted from my face as I picked up my pace in their direction. I squeezed my way through the crowd to the center. I almost fell into the hole that lay before me. That’s right, a hole. The cross was gone and all that remained was this six-foot, empty hole surrounded by the dirt that had once filled it. “It looks like a grave” A voice from someone around me commented, accompanied by affirmations by at least a half dozen others and I can’t lie, that is exactly what it looked like. I must have stood there for a good five minutes before I checked my phone and realized I was about to be late for class. I walked away, peeking back one last time before heading in. That lecture, along with all of the others I attended that day, was impossible for me to give focus on. I was sunken in my thoughts, drowned by the confusion. Why would someone dig a grave? Why on that cross? What had I done? I forced myself to spend the rest of the day at the library. From where I sat, I could see the hole being covered back up by some of the groundskeepers. What little studying I managed to accomplish was overshadowed by all the questions I had in my head. By the time I left, it was dark. I got a call about halfway to my apartment. I took my phone out to find the familiar number on the screen. I answered immediately and didn’t hold back my questions. “What was that cross? A fucking grave got dug up right where I put it. What the hell is going on?” The man said nothing but I could hear his breath on the other end. I got frustrated. “Hello?!” Still no response. “Answer me god fucking dammit” He paused but eventually spoke. “You’ve unleashed hell on yourself” He hung up without another word. “Fuck” I exclaimed. What does that mean? My conclusion was that it was some sort of sick game. Maybe this man had a dark web audience that loved a little prank. Maybe he’s got a way of entertaining them with all of this. In any case, I quickened my pace and was back at my apartment minutes later. I set my backpack down and sat on my desk, resting my head on my palms. What have I done? I knew that little job had to be too good to be true. A thought came to mind. If that creep did have a way of entertaining some sort of audience, he might be looking through my window right now. I stood up and walked to my window to shut the blinds. That's when I saw him. With a wicked smirk, a pale man looked up at me from the street below. He stood in the narrow walkway between two transit train tracks. His skin was white as snow, his hair blacker than the night, his suit crimson like blood, his boots long and pointed, his hands covered in black gloves and his fingers intertwined. He was waiting for something. Waiting for me. I turned around to fetch my phone, turning back to see that he had vanished. A heavy knock at my door made me jump in shock. I began to walk over to see who it was before a voice carried itself through the metal. A voice that seemed split into many. A voice that spoke loudly yet had the tone of a whisper. “Who…dug my grave?” I stopped in my tracks, not sure what was happening or what I should do. I didn’t have time to decide before the voice appeared behind me. “Who…dug…my…grave?!” I felt the scream from his last word like a lion’s roar. I felt it fill my chest, shaking my heart. Suddenly my vision went black and the last thing I remember was falling. I woke up, hours later on my bed. The lights were off and my blinds were closed. I sat up with a raging headache. What kind of nightmare was that? I checked my backpack to see if the money was still there. It was. I checked my call history. I had, indeed, gotten a call from the number. When did I fall asleep? I began to piece it all together again when the shades on my window were pulled back up in one quick motion. I gasped and jumped out of my bed, and back onto my feet. Outside, the wooden cross was pressed against my window like it had been hung there. I stood, staring and breathing heavily in my fearful and shaken state. It started to turn, slowly and consistently in a circle until it hung upside down. I looked around to see if something was attached or if there was some sort of string that someone was using to pull it around with. I got closer to the glass to get a better look. The moment I placed a hand on it, the upside-down cross burst into flames. My body froze, against my own will and I was left with a hand on the glass, looking at the burning cross outside. I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t so much as move my eyes. Something had control of me. The voice came again, talking from behind me, whispering right into my ear. “You have awoken him from a long, long rest. He comes to lay waste to all before him. He comes to engulf the world of man in flames and destroy his kingdoms. He comes to devour all. He comes to claim the throne for his father, for it is he who is the true king of kings. For it is he, who will raise his throne above the stars of god. You will serve him, you will serve his father. For eternity you are bound”. I passed out once again, only to wake up the next morning in my bed. I proceeded through the next day and every day since like nothing had happened. I don’t have free will anymore. I don’t have any control. I don’t have a sense of right and wrong. Every day when I go to class, I see the man in red above me, on the ceiling. He’ll walk, he’ll crawl, he keeps a watchful eye. Every night he stands down on the street below and looks up. I want to close my blinds but I can’t. I stay glued to my schoolwork. I don’t talk to friends anymore. When family calls, the words that escape my mouth are not my own, and they assure my family that all is well. Now and then, I can force a tear through the cage that is my own body, but that’s it. I don’t know how I can write what I’m writing now. I suspect he allows me to do this to warn of his coming. Maybe he wants the world to know. He has awoken from a long, long rest. He comes to lay waste to all before him. He comes to engulf the world of man in flames and destroy his kingdoms. He comes to devour all. He comes to claim the throne for his father, for it is he who is the true king of kings. For it is he, who will raise his throne above the stars of god. I will serve him, I will serve his father. For eternity we are bound.

I collect murder memorabilia. I bought something found at a crime scene which changed my life.

ybfbbm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybfbbm/i_collect_murder_memorabilia_i_bought_something/

I saw the violin case listed for sale online. I browsed the website for fifteen minutes before I found it. The requirements for buying it should have been a red flag. My curiosity got the better of me. I decided to go along with the necessary steps to complete the transaction. I am an avid collector of ‘murderabilia.’ If it is an object related to true crime, I must own it. While I am judged for this fascination, I have an unwavering interest in items of that name nature. Potential boyfriends have decided against dating me. Paintings by John Wayne Gacy on my wall have not helped. I went to the house of the seller, a two-story duplex with a v-shaped roof. I had a print-out of the object. I knocked and the man answered. He had on a gray sweater, and when he smiled his teeth were white but crooked. I gave him my screen name and reminded him of the email I sent him. “Oh yes,” he said with a grin. “The violin case was next to the body of a victim. She looked quite a bit like you. It's speculated that it belongs to the killer. The motive behind why he would leave it is unknown. Some are unsure if it’s meant to throw the authorities off, to make them believe he is a musician. Either way, you want to buy it?” “Yes,” I said. “I know exactly where I will keep it. How much?” “Six hundred dollars,” he said. I gave an affirmative nod, and he went into the back of his house. When he returned he held the violin case in his arms as though it was a newborn. It was rosewood and only had a few noticeable chipped cracks. The price he gave had not changed from the listing. I brought along the appropriate amount of cash and handed it to him. He gave me the case. As I turned around and returned to my car, he snapped his fingers to get my attention. “One other thing,“ he said. “I would never open up the case if I were you. I’ve heard stories of bad things happening once the seal's broken. Some have stated it's cursed by a necromancer of the olden days. It is difficult to measure based on the weight if an instrument is in there. Regardless of how interesting it might be to look at, I would be grateful for the exterior of it and leave it at that.” I tried to thank him for the warning and drove back home. \* The case sat on top of my clothing drawer for at least a week. I displayed it on the stand, with a note below it describing its origin. On a quiet Saturday evening, I was at home de-cluttering when I received a text from Jason. He asked me if I would go to dinner with him. He had already made a reservation for a fine dining restaurant downtown. I said yes since we had already been on a few dates in the previous months. They had gone well. I slipped on one of my nicer black dresses. After I applied make-up, a knock on my door filled the air. I answered and Jason stood there with roses in one hand and chocolates in the other. He wore a suit and had on a very expensive Kenneth Cole brand watch with a silver and blue band. “Your gifts couldn’t be any more cliché if you tried,” I said with a smile. I took them and set them down on the coffee table. “You look amazing,” he said. “I’ll have to tell the waiter to keep his eyes off you.” I smiled. I invited him in because I needed to find some of my jewelry. I went into the bathroom. I searched around behind my sliding glass mirror doors for one of my old necklaces. When I walked out, he was gazing at the violin case. “When did you buy this?” Jason asked. “I used to take violin lessons as a kid. My Mom pressured me into it as a way to rebel against my father. All he wanted me to do was play football and he saw the arts as emasculating. I don’t remember much of what to play, but I know enough to impress you. I know some Paganini.” “No,” I said, “but thank you. We should get going. I don’t want someone else to take our reservations if we don’t show up on time.” “We have plenty of minutes left,” he said as his hand graced the case. “Please let me swoon you with a classic song. It would be my honor. You won’t believe the notes I can nail.” I watched in terror as his hands began to inch towards the clasps to open it. I lunged at him and grabbed his wrists. My palms clutched his timepiece as I kept his hands together and folded them into mine. “I’m not ready for anyone to open it yet,” I said. “I know it’s strange, but you have to trust me. Let’s go to dinner. I’m getting hungry and we don’t know how bad traffic is going to be.” I leaned in and kissed him. His scent was of sandalwood and citrus. After our embrace, we left my apartment. I did not know until later that he had undone one of the clasps. \* All I can remember of the rest of the evening is how well the meal went. We had several courses. I drank at least three glasses of red wine, which was more than I intended to indulge in. The couple beside us were elderly people from the East Coast. They were on vacation and talking at a high volume about their stock investments. I could recall having ordered a rum milkshake topped with banana slices. There was a live violinist who walked between tables and played romantic melodies. He took song requests of everything from classical to top forty. Jason was polite enough to not mention anything about it. I feel he was disappointed in me for not allowing him to show his musical talents. I have no recollection of when the bill came, let alone when we departed the establishment. I cannot remember if we took a cab or if he was sober enough to drive. I could not recall if we went back to his place first or if we went straight to mine and made love. I blacked out. When I came to I was in my bed. A headache attacked every micro-fiber of my being. Nausea overcame me. I was groggy and felt as though I could have slept for another few hours. The gap of time I had somehow lost disturbed me. I knew there was not enough alcohol in my system to cause such erasure of my reminiscence. I checked my phone for new text messages and did not find any. I squinted in the darkness and noticed the violin case looked different. Someone had left paint marks on it which I knew were not there beforehand. I sat up and felt lightheaded. I was going to pass out. I turned the lamp on my nightstand to bright. Once my bedroom was illuminated, I saw strange symbols created with crimson fluid on my walls. Moonlight poured in through my window and gave the redness a shimmering quality. I stared at the violin case again. It shifted to the left on top of my dresser. What I could only halfway rationalize as not being blood poured from the sides of the violin case. It was also cracked open. I saw something behind the hinge. It did not look like an instrument or anything mechanical but something fleshy. I neared it and dropped my phone in a puddle of carmine after I fumbled to try and catch it. The bottom of my feet was slimy with the cherry-hued dampness as I walked towards the case. I took a deep breath. I opened it. A severed human hand was there. The fingers pointed skyward. Adorning its wrist was the same Kenneth Cole watch I was so familiar with. Circling the stump were other pieces of jewelry. I was unable to distinguish them as belonging to anyone I knew. I ran to the bathroom and almost slipped on my way there. I threw up in the sink. I crawled over the messy floor in search of my phone. When I retrieved it I saw that the screen was now scrambled anytime I turned it on. I went to the next-door neighbor's place and begged them to call the police. An old lady answered the door. For a second I thought I was going to give her a heart attack based on the bloodstains on my skin and dress. I do not remember if it was five minutes or several hours before the authorities arrived. They cordoned off my room with caution tape. They gave me a full medical assessment in the back of an ambulance that one of the Deputies had called in. They determined I did not have any observable injuries. A uniform with a badge came in and started asking me questions. Her name tag read S. BROWN. “Is Jason okay?” I asked. The Deputy shook her head. “I'm sorry to say he was under a bridge downtown this morning when we found him,” she said. “His body had washed ashore. He may have been floating out there for two days.” I began crying. One of the first things she wanted to know was why I had so much crime scene evidence from other homicides. “It’s a morbid interest I’ve always had,” I said. “I'm someone with a fascination for the darker side of things. It doesn’t mean I glorify the people who commit the actions.” “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Brown said as she looked at me with a startled expression. “The jewelry and pieces of clothing found within the violin case. They belong to twenty other victims of the violinist serial killer. Who sold it to you?” I gave her the address I had driven to the day I picked it up. I even gave her the name of the man who had put the piece up for sale. After the interview was complete, Brown told me I could stay in the room. I could not believe that no one had cleaned up the scene. She told me they could send someone out to mop up the place, but it would be another day. I told her I would not cross the threshold of the apartment until then. I would stay at a Best Western in the meantime. There was so much I wanted to ask her. How did the case move on its own? Someone bathed in blood and wrote all those Occultist symbols on the walls. Then they escaped without detection. It all seemed so irrational, but I knew she would look at me like I was crazy if I tried to describe everything. I had dealt with something inexplicable and paranormal. No one can convince me otherwise. \* I used the motel business center to Google if they had apprehended the guilty person. I found that they had knocked on the door of the same house I bought the violin at that day. It was empty. The belongings were all removed. The man had fled.

The push in the night

yccekn

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yccekn/the_push_in_the_night/

This happened some time ago. I have been struggling with it since then. I admit I don't think about it anymore with the horror I used to, but still scares me and I feel sharing will help. This is my horror story. 2018, a cold, dark, silent and lonely night. That day was just another simple one of a 16 year old kid. I went to school, I did my chores, I got exhausted and then went to sleep, nothing out of the ordinary. Except that is not entirely true, obviously, I wrote this here, right? I was in a really dark and depressing part of my life, my mind unable to deal with everything and my life just miserable in general, I could say mental health is the ghost of this story, and I kinda hope it is, 'cuz if what I witnessed wasn't a halucination, and I really hope it was, I don't know what to think, say or do. Part of me is still scared, that is why you are reading this. My head was always just spinning with all my poroblems and dealing with everything was impossible. The day in question was just another one in hell. What means that after getting inside my room I just went to bed feeling miserable and blacked out, the different part was waking up in the middle of the night and just starting to cry without any control until almost getting out of air. Depressed as always I just got my headphones, blasted some music and got out of my room to go look into the sky through the living room big window because the view of the stars always calms me and, although my room has a window facing the same direction, I just wanted an excuse to escape my bed and walk. Unfortunantly there were no stars up there, just lots and lots of clouds, everything about the sky felt like an illusion masked with neverending mist and this really just made me feel even worse. I felt like I just realized I was trapped inside a really bad dream, even could feel as like something was watching me. I closed my fist, started to cry even harder, all the air getting away from my lungs and my head hurting. Whatever music I was listening to at the moment conviniently got really emotional and I simply broke. I was just lost inside myself. With that I basically threw myself on the couch. I stayed there, motionless for some minutes feeling all those hard feelings waiting to breathe freely again. Then, lost with everything and only sensing my own suffering, I slowly curved myself down to hug a pillow and drown my face wet with tears into that flufiness, but this is the moment when something absolutely terryfing occured. My headphones just fell out of my ears and my hair moved a bit, on the back of my head it was like a long, dark and skeletal hand with hard claws instead of fingers pushed me fast, but with no violence. I got startled and literally jumped back getting up but there was nothing there. I was petrified in fear, I could swear something touched me, I felt it, but it vanished instantly. With so many thoughts running through my head the first thing I looked at was the kitchen door to my left, open to nothing but darkness. This is the part that I refuse to believe, this is the part I could pray to not be real, this is the part that marked me and still drives me a bit crazy thinking about it. There was something there with me. For a brief moment, even not believing it, my eyes could see, for only the fraction of a moment, a large black humanoid creature, extremely tall and thin, curved and with no face but staring at me, and something that feels odd to think about it is that it kinda looked a bit sad, just like me. I was just alone there, sad and in the dark, all of this happens, I blink and I am alone again. I cried with a big moan and huged myself in absolute terror, but that scare cut my self-loathing and I only did what seemed logical. Got my headphones back, went into the kitchen to find it empty, got a can of soda, laughed a bit and went to my room. Not because I was brave to face that creature, but because somehow I felt that whatever that was it was already long gone. After that I went to sleep again and later got up to live another usual day. I am a cetic and rational person and I may hate myself, but I try to face this experience as only a brief moment of me going a bit insane, because, honestly, if that was real I still have no idea what that "entity" was or why it was drawn to me. Even worse, I am terrified of the idea of it coming back, maybe next time I won't be able to tell the story to anyone else after it, since it may not have an after. I was just depressed and lost inside my feelings and that thing came after me, maybe this is the reason, although it never showed up in front of me again. Call it a figment of my imagination or call it a monster, the point is how terrified this left me to this day and I hope that something like this never gets to attack me again, but, if it does, I just hope to survive. That said, anyone reading this, I hope you can enjoy being alone and sad at night, because, if you don't, then maybe I won't be that thing's next target. Take care and be prepared, if it's even possible to be prepared to the supernatural, believing or not, crazy things can just happen to anyone, anywhere and anyhow. If it happens to you, good luck.

My Mother Thought She Was Speaking With Me. She Wasn't.

ybmdn9

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ybmdn9/my_mother_thought_she_was_speaking_with_me_she/

My alarm woke me up in the morning. I was still a student at the time, so I had to wake up early. My mother was in the kitchen making some coffee. She worked until midnight, so usually, she arrived home when I was already asleep, so her question surprised me. “Did you fall asleep quickly after I came home?” she asked. “Uhm, I wasn’t even awake. I fell asleep around 10,” I responded. She looked at me like I was crazy. “No, you were awake. I checked your room when I arrived, and we talked about school, don’t you remember?” “What?” I raised my eyebrows. I always remembered when I woke up in the middle of the night, and I was sure I wasn’t awake when she came home from work. “I don’t remember any of this.” “I asked how many classes you will have today, and you answered me. It looks like you forgot,” she laughed. It was a strange conversation, but then I went to school and had already forgotten about it. It started to get a bit creepy when the next morning the same thing happened. “You were awake again when I came home at midnight,” my mom said. “Why didn’t you sleep?” “I wasn’t awake,” I responded, drinking my coffee. “Are you joking, right? You told me you’ll have a test today.” “I didn’t,” I argued. “You might have some kind of memory problems, son. Maybe you should visit the doctor.” “I’m 100% sure I wasn’t awake at midnight.” I was thinking about this the whole day in school. Maybe I had some kind of memory loss? It was so strange, and it never happened before. Then I had an idea to make an audio recording of the night with my phone. I set it all up before I went to sleep. I quickly fell asleep, as always. When I woke up in the morning, I immediately checked the recording. I fast-forwarded to midnight. I heard my own voice on the recording. “Hi, mom,” my voice said. It was really my voice. Maybe my mom was right, and I really had memory loss? “Hi, sweetie,” my mom’s voice responded. “You are awake again. I hope you won’t forget this conversation too in the morning.” “I hope I won’t, haha. If I do, you should send me to the doctor this time.” “Haha, goodnight, son.” “Goodnight!” The audio recording was over, and I just sat on my bed, frozen and sweating. I had no recollection of this conversation. I was sure it didn’t happen, just like on the previous two nights. When I walked into the kitchen, my mom looked at me. “You look like you saw a ghost, honey,” she said without a greeting. “I just don’t remember anything from the previous nights. I even listened to an audio recording I made during the night to make sure I was awake or not.” “You need to see a doctor,” she responded with a worried look. “Yeah, I know,” I slowly nodded. “I just hope it’s nothing serious.” Luckily, I could get an appointment with the doctor on the same day during the afternoon. I was there for about two hours. After that, the doctor told me the results. I don’t know what I expected, but the outcome frightened me. I was healthy. I was 100% healthy. I had no memory problems, and my brain was functioning correctly, with no medical condition. I told the doctor what happened, and why I was there. “That’s strange,” he said. “Maybe you were half asleep, that’s why you can’t remember what happened.” “But on the audio recording, I sounded like I was totally awake and conscious.” “Nobody can understand the human brain, but you are healthy, mate, so don’t worry about that!” As I walked home, I was still confused. I was healthy, but I still couldn’t remember anything from the previous three nights. It was such a strange feeling, and I was thinking about visiting another doctor, just to make sure. I arrived home and was prepared to tell my mother the results, as she wasn’t at work that day. When I opened the door and walked inside, I heard her talking with someone. *That’s strange, we usually don’t have visitors this late,* I thought. I also found it strange that I didn’t hear anyone else’s voice. Maybe she was talking with someone on phone? As I approached her room, I could hear her better. “Yes, sweetie, we’ll renovate your room as soon as possible,” she said. “But I still don’t understand why do you need an altar there.” I started to freak out at that point. An altar? I opened her door, and he looked at me surprised. “An intruder! Who are you?” She screamed at me. She looked to her left and spoke to someone, but nobody was there. “Son, who is this man? He’s a servant of the devil? Oh my god!” “What are you talking about, mom?” I asked. “I’m your son. Are you okay? “Stay there, demon,” she screamed at me again. “My son told me you are dangerous!” “But I’m your son!” I argued. She pulled out a kitchen knife from her table and pointed it at me. I froze. *Is she crazy?* “If you don’t leave the house, I will kill you right here. We’ll kill him, right, son?” she looked to her left again. I had no idea what to do, so I just ran out of the room, then ran to the bathroom, locked myself, and called the police. While I was talking to them, my mother still screamed from outside, talking to me and the “other me”. She also kicked the bathroom door a few times, but luckily, the door stood still. About ten minutes went by until the police arrived. It seemed like forever. When they tried to arrest her, she attacked them, but luckily, she couldn’t harm any of them. [.](https://www.reddit.com/r/polgari/)She is now in an asylum, still talking to that imaginary “me” she talked to. She’s crazy, and I don’t know what caused her condition. One day she was fine, but then she tried to kill me while talking to someone in her imagination. Then I remembered the audio recording. She wasn’t imagining things. I heard my voice too. I went pale immediately as I remembered this fact. She was really talking with someone who imitated my voice. [I wasn't safe in my house anymore](https://www.reddit.com/r/polgari/).