“Danny, why is it so cold in your room? And what is that smell?” asked his mother with her face looking disgusted. “I don't know” replied Danny with a soft voice “But can you make it warmer mom?”. Danny's mother said “It smells like something died in here.” Danny's mother looked around Danny's room. She found mac and cheese, old pizza, and some smelly socks that had holes in it underneath his bed. It was a light bad smell, a type of smell that was sour sharp like rotting meat.
“Ahhhh!!” Screamed his mother. Danny's mother had found Eddy the dead rabbit behind his dresser with its head decapitated.
“Where's his head?” Pointing at the dead rabbit.
“Eddy!” replied Danny. “Dad told me it ran away, I wondered where he went to” Danny looking quite sad of loosing Eddy had always wanted another animal. He asked his mother if he could get another pet, a bigger pet than a rabbit. He asked for a dog. Danny's love for animals was something special. He'd always loved animals and often loved talking to them because they were the only friends he had since he was homeschooled. Feeling bad for Danny, his mother decided to get Danny a dog.
Hoping it was the source of the bad smell, Danny's mother took a trash bag and dumped the mac and cheese, old pizza and the socks in it and walked upstairs to the rest of the house. Danny buried his rabbit in the backyard next to his dead hamster that passed away two years ago after getting sick.
Danny's room was right above the garage looking over into the woods. His room was the only spot in the house you could see a clear view of the backyard. Right outside in the backyard was where Danny could see his father's little shed where he works. Danny's father was a butcher and he prepared meat in his shed which he always kept clean, cold, and often had no or little meat in the shed because Danny's mother hated the fact there was dead flesh near the house. She despised his job but he never quit. She never liked going anywhere within a 20 foot radius of the shed and demanded Danny's father to put it on the far side of the backyard away from everything especially her garden bed. That meant it was right next to Danny's room. Danny's mother was a mom, she stayed at home talking care of Danny and always planting flowers in her garden bed. His mother loved gardening but most of all she loved her son Danny who was 8 in the 3rd grade.
When Danny was younger he often got bullied because of his disability in socializing with other people so his mother pulled him out of school and right into homeschooling which meant she had to quit her job. Danny's mother was a wealthy lady, she could have put Danny in a private school but decided against it.
The next day they went to the animal shelter “So what type of dog do you want?” asked his mother. “A black lab” replied Danny. “They're suppose to be loyal and very smart” with a great smile upon his face. “What are you going to name it?” asked his mother. “Hum. How about Scarlet” replied Danny. “What a wonderful name for a dog” said the mother.
That day they adopted Scarlet, a middle age black lab with much ambition to do stuff. Danny thought older dogs should always get another chance and he knew puppies would always get adopted easier and faster. When they arrived at home, Scarlet was acting different than at the pound. She seemed to be more alert and kept whining. “What's wrong with Scarlet? She was happy in the car and at the pound” said Danny's mother. “I don't know mom, maybe she doesn't like our house or is just shy” replied Danny with a puzzled face. “Well it's the first day, I'm going to introduce her to Dad.” Danny put Scarlet on a leash and walked over to where is father was; sitting in the backyard. As Danny saw his father, Scarlet growled at Danny's father. “What's wrong girl, it's just my dad” She stopped growling and whistled through her nose a little bit and accepted the pet from Danny's father but seemed distrustful to his dad. “Well I'm going on a walk with Scarlet” said Danny. “That's a great idea” replied Danny's father.
As years passed Danny was so bonded with Scarlet they were inseparable. His mother was happy that Danny had found a friend. Each day he talked to Scarlet but she didn't understand. He loved pretending she did though. Scarlet was now an old dog. She had became more accepting of Danny's father but still didn't trust him fully.
One evening Scarlet wasn't at home. Danny asked his mother who was busy outside gardening listing to music “Where's Scar mom?” “What? I don't know, why don't you ask your father”. He ran to his father who was in his shed cutting meat, “Dad! Where's Scar?” with a sad worried tone in his voice. His father seemed out of place was dicing the meat super fast as if he was pumped up for something. Before his father could say anything Danny ran into the woods worried. He later tripped on a large log or what he thought was a log. Scared for life Danny saw his best friend's decapitated head underneath a pile a leaves. Danny began to cry. Had heard a voice, a soft gentle voice that said “Run to her”.
He looked around and saw nothing but heard the voice say “Run to her, hurry and run to her fast. Save her Danny!” Danny asked “Who said that” the voice replied “It's me Scarlet, Danny run and save your mom!” Danny panicked and ran as fast as he could around his house and snuck into the backyard leaving the door open where he saw his butcher father holding his butcher knife and his mother listening to music gardening not noticing his father was about to chop off her head. Danny saw a garden hose in his father's path so he seized the chance; pulled the hose and tripped both of them, and his dad hit his head on a rock, making him unconscious.
“Danny what's going on?” Danny, not replying pulled his mother up and out of the backyard and kept running with his mother in his hand into their nice neighbors house. Danny told her what he'd seen but but didn't mention Scarlet speaking to him. Danny's mother called the police on Danny's crazy father. While in police custody, Danny's father admitted he had killed all of Danny's pets as “practice” for when he'd kill his family. He wanted his wife's money and to start over as a single childless man. Scarlet had protected the people she loved even in death.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Girl
The night when the girl came to him was like any other. He had gotten home from work late, cooked a frozen dinner, watched a few cooking shows, and eventually went off to bed. His brother Mark hadn’t returned his call, or the ones before that. He went into his bathroom to get ready for bed, and as he walked down the hallway stopped when he saw the picture. He had seen it so many times before, but it always had the same effect. She was standing on the couch, dressed in her Halloween costume. Maybe if he hadn’t been passed out drunk, he would have been able to help. He looked away from the picture and went into the bathroom. He wet his toothbrush in the sink and brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas, and looked at the bottle of anti-depressant and sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed him the month before. He popped two pills out of the container and swallowed them. He looked at the jar of pills, and after a few seconds popped two more, and two more after that.
With that, he got into bed. He turned out the light. As he lay, he dreamt about normal things, like his job, his mortgage, a nice person he had met at the coffee shop that morning. He dreamt normal things until in the back of his mind he heard a small voice whisper,
“Daddy, can you hear me”
He sat up straight in my bed. A girl sat at the edge of his bed. He only saw her through flashes of lightning illuminating her pale face. Her hair was black and parted in the middle, down straight. She wore a tattered dress. She was soaking wet.
“Daddy, why aren’t you listening to me”
The words echoed in his brain, and repeated themselves as if there were many voices overlapping. He blinked to make sure what he was seeing had been real. The girl had vanished, with the only trace of her visit being the wind excitedly blowing the curtains about through the open window, with a wet trail of water leading to the sill. In a panic, he fumbled around for his lamp switch. He sat alone in his bedroom, so very awake now after having been asleep only a few seconds earlier. His heart beat against his chest, hitting with such a force like it was trying to break out. He did not have a daughter. Did he? Which lead to the question of who that girl was and, if she was real, what had she been doing here? Why would she have been real, he asked himself. No, it wasn’t real. He had taken the sleep medicine to help him drift off, that must have had hallucinogenic side effects he hadn’t known about. He felt his sweaty forehead, and he realized he was burning up.
He decided to take a shower to clear his mind and try to think about something else. He went into his bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower. As he turned on the water, he was hit with the cold, sharp water as it slammed his spine and travelled down his body. He brushed his wet hair back from his face and looked into the little mirror on the side of the wall, watching his face. Water dripped down his nose. Was this the face of an insane person? Was he crazy? Had it been real? It couldn’t have been. As the water became hotter, the mirror fogged up until he couldn’t see himself. For the better, he thought. He was about to reach for the razor on the shelf so he could shave, when suddenly he saw something on the corner of the foggy mirror. The corner was wet, much wetter than the rest of the mirror, and condensation was appearing where the fog had been. They formed into a circle of little droplets of water, until that spot was completely clear. Then, the circle of condensation started moving down and to the right in a straight line. The line was completely clear, and he could see his reflection in the opaque line that was moving down the mirror. It was as if someone was dragging their finger across the mirror, making a drawing. But no one was there. At least as far as he knew. The line suddenly stopped and moved upward, and he realized that letters were being formed. What was trying to do this? As he watched in scared awe, the line continued across the mirror, making swirls and lines and crosses. As the lines were made, little drops of condensation dripped from them, creating little stains of clarity from the lines. The swirls and lines continued, until he began to make out two words. Suddenly the line drawing stopped. He stopped, and stared in shock at the two words written in the mirror.
“WAKE UP”
He shook with fear. What did this fucking mean? He was awake. He was awake and staring right at this mirror. As he stared at the phrase in the mirror, the lights went out, and the water suddenly turned ice cold. He stood there in the dark, cold and alone, as the water hit his bare body and carved sharp wounds into his back. A faint sound could be heard. It was a woman, but she was crying. He slipped on the tub and fell to the floor, his head hitting the wall and his bottom landing on the floor with a thud. He sat there, body in pain, shuddering as the ice cold water hit his body, listening to this ghostly woman crying, and started to cry himself. The woman’s crying got louder and louder, until it was as if she was right next to him. He didn’t know what to do, but suddenly the lights came back on and he was alone in the bathroom again. He wiped the tears from his eyes and slowly stood back up, but stopped when he noticed the razor on the floor, down from the shelf, with a trail of blood leading from the razor to the drain. He looked around his body for a cut, and suddenly felt a welt on his hip next to his glutes. As he touched it, he winced in pain, and when he brought his fingers back they were stained with blood. He put the pieces together in his mind, and realized when he slipped he must have knocked the razor from the shelf and it had cut his hip on the way down. Great. He stood up, shaking, and turned around to face the wall with the mirror. The mirror was now completely clear, and he saw his own scared reflection. His face was paler than he had ever seen it, and there was a look of true fear in his eyes he hadn’t seen in some time. But the fear only grew even more intense as he glanced below the mirror and looked at the smearing of blood across the wall, seemingly done by a hand. It was sloppy and unfinished, but he could clearly see the words “JOHN, WAKE UP” smeared across the tiled wall. Who was John? Was that him? No, his name was… Was… With a sudden feeling of confusion, he realized he didn’t remember his name. Whenever he tried to recall it, the clearly defined box in his mind where his name usually lied was a murky cloud of which he did not know the contents. But who had written the words on the bathroom wall? As weirder and weirder things began to happen, he had less and less of a reaction. His mind was numbing, losing sensation.
He decided it would be good to go back to bed. He stumbled up out of the bath, although the curtain was no longer there. As he got up, he looked at his bathroom sink, which the more he looked, the clearer it was becoming, until he could no longer see it at all. He stumbled out the bathroom door and down the hall, toward his bedroom. As he walked, the pictures on the wall slowly disappeared one by one, replaced by white. Pictures of him with other people, some older, and some younger. He didn’t know who these people were anyway, so he didn’t have much of a reaction. Had they been family? He was pretty sure he’d remember them if they were. The carpet he was walking on was slowly decomposing, too. As he finally stepped off the hallway carpet and turned the doorknob to enter his room, the last of the carpet disappeared and drifted away. He looked behind him at what used to be his hallway. Nothing was there. He was surrounded by a wall of white, with his bedroom door being the only apparent thing. He pushed the door open, and looked in his bedroom. The same thing was happening in here too. Things were disappearing more rapidly, but somehow it all felt calmer than it had. The lamp on his night table next to his bed slowly faded into nonexistence. Next his closet. The wallpaper began to curl up from the foundation, breaking into little pieces as they broke off and drifted upwards into the white sky. Soon all that was left was his bed, and white. Nothing. As his vision became groggier, he decided sleeping was the best option. He crawled onto his bed and collapsed, not fearing the darkness anymore, but welcoming it. As his eyes closed down for the last time, he could make out one figure; the girl in the tattered dress. She was sitting on the white floor. As his vision became fuzzier and fuzzier, the girl whispered one phrase:
“I forgive you.”
The paramedics didn’t find John’s body for four hours. They traced the cause of the fire to a knocked over lamp next to his bed. It had taken about thirty minutes for the bulb to heat up the carpet enough to set the first flame, but by that time he was already dead. They sprayed his body with a hose for five minutes trying to get the flames out, but even if they had done it in time it wouldn’t have mattered. Overdose was the official cause of death. The funeral was quick. Some family members came, some didn’t. Those who did came and cried. He was buried next to his daughter at the local cemetery.
With that, he got into bed. He turned out the light. As he lay, he dreamt about normal things, like his job, his mortgage, a nice person he had met at the coffee shop that morning. He dreamt normal things until in the back of his mind he heard a small voice whisper,
“Daddy, can you hear me”
He sat up straight in my bed. A girl sat at the edge of his bed. He only saw her through flashes of lightning illuminating her pale face. Her hair was black and parted in the middle, down straight. She wore a tattered dress. She was soaking wet.
“Daddy, why aren’t you listening to me”
The words echoed in his brain, and repeated themselves as if there were many voices overlapping. He blinked to make sure what he was seeing had been real. The girl had vanished, with the only trace of her visit being the wind excitedly blowing the curtains about through the open window, with a wet trail of water leading to the sill. In a panic, he fumbled around for his lamp switch. He sat alone in his bedroom, so very awake now after having been asleep only a few seconds earlier. His heart beat against his chest, hitting with such a force like it was trying to break out. He did not have a daughter. Did he? Which lead to the question of who that girl was and, if she was real, what had she been doing here? Why would she have been real, he asked himself. No, it wasn’t real. He had taken the sleep medicine to help him drift off, that must have had hallucinogenic side effects he hadn’t known about. He felt his sweaty forehead, and he realized he was burning up.
He decided to take a shower to clear his mind and try to think about something else. He went into his bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower. As he turned on the water, he was hit with the cold, sharp water as it slammed his spine and travelled down his body. He brushed his wet hair back from his face and looked into the little mirror on the side of the wall, watching his face. Water dripped down his nose. Was this the face of an insane person? Was he crazy? Had it been real? It couldn’t have been. As the water became hotter, the mirror fogged up until he couldn’t see himself. For the better, he thought. He was about to reach for the razor on the shelf so he could shave, when suddenly he saw something on the corner of the foggy mirror. The corner was wet, much wetter than the rest of the mirror, and condensation was appearing where the fog had been. They formed into a circle of little droplets of water, until that spot was completely clear. Then, the circle of condensation started moving down and to the right in a straight line. The line was completely clear, and he could see his reflection in the opaque line that was moving down the mirror. It was as if someone was dragging their finger across the mirror, making a drawing. But no one was there. At least as far as he knew. The line suddenly stopped and moved upward, and he realized that letters were being formed. What was trying to do this? As he watched in scared awe, the line continued across the mirror, making swirls and lines and crosses. As the lines were made, little drops of condensation dripped from them, creating little stains of clarity from the lines. The swirls and lines continued, until he began to make out two words. Suddenly the line drawing stopped. He stopped, and stared in shock at the two words written in the mirror.
“WAKE UP”
He shook with fear. What did this fucking mean? He was awake. He was awake and staring right at this mirror. As he stared at the phrase in the mirror, the lights went out, and the water suddenly turned ice cold. He stood there in the dark, cold and alone, as the water hit his bare body and carved sharp wounds into his back. A faint sound could be heard. It was a woman, but she was crying. He slipped on the tub and fell to the floor, his head hitting the wall and his bottom landing on the floor with a thud. He sat there, body in pain, shuddering as the ice cold water hit his body, listening to this ghostly woman crying, and started to cry himself. The woman’s crying got louder and louder, until it was as if she was right next to him. He didn’t know what to do, but suddenly the lights came back on and he was alone in the bathroom again. He wiped the tears from his eyes and slowly stood back up, but stopped when he noticed the razor on the floor, down from the shelf, with a trail of blood leading from the razor to the drain. He looked around his body for a cut, and suddenly felt a welt on his hip next to his glutes. As he touched it, he winced in pain, and when he brought his fingers back they were stained with blood. He put the pieces together in his mind, and realized when he slipped he must have knocked the razor from the shelf and it had cut his hip on the way down. Great. He stood up, shaking, and turned around to face the wall with the mirror. The mirror was now completely clear, and he saw his own scared reflection. His face was paler than he had ever seen it, and there was a look of true fear in his eyes he hadn’t seen in some time. But the fear only grew even more intense as he glanced below the mirror and looked at the smearing of blood across the wall, seemingly done by a hand. It was sloppy and unfinished, but he could clearly see the words “JOHN, WAKE UP” smeared across the tiled wall. Who was John? Was that him? No, his name was… Was… With a sudden feeling of confusion, he realized he didn’t remember his name. Whenever he tried to recall it, the clearly defined box in his mind where his name usually lied was a murky cloud of which he did not know the contents. But who had written the words on the bathroom wall? As weirder and weirder things began to happen, he had less and less of a reaction. His mind was numbing, losing sensation.
He decided it would be good to go back to bed. He stumbled up out of the bath, although the curtain was no longer there. As he got up, he looked at his bathroom sink, which the more he looked, the clearer it was becoming, until he could no longer see it at all. He stumbled out the bathroom door and down the hall, toward his bedroom. As he walked, the pictures on the wall slowly disappeared one by one, replaced by white. Pictures of him with other people, some older, and some younger. He didn’t know who these people were anyway, so he didn’t have much of a reaction. Had they been family? He was pretty sure he’d remember them if they were. The carpet he was walking on was slowly decomposing, too. As he finally stepped off the hallway carpet and turned the doorknob to enter his room, the last of the carpet disappeared and drifted away. He looked behind him at what used to be his hallway. Nothing was there. He was surrounded by a wall of white, with his bedroom door being the only apparent thing. He pushed the door open, and looked in his bedroom. The same thing was happening in here too. Things were disappearing more rapidly, but somehow it all felt calmer than it had. The lamp on his night table next to his bed slowly faded into nonexistence. Next his closet. The wallpaper began to curl up from the foundation, breaking into little pieces as they broke off and drifted upwards into the white sky. Soon all that was left was his bed, and white. Nothing. As his vision became groggier, he decided sleeping was the best option. He crawled onto his bed and collapsed, not fearing the darkness anymore, but welcoming it. As his eyes closed down for the last time, he could make out one figure; the girl in the tattered dress. She was sitting on the white floor. As his vision became fuzzier and fuzzier, the girl whispered one phrase:
“I forgive you.”
The paramedics didn’t find John’s body for four hours. They traced the cause of the fire to a knocked over lamp next to his bed. It had taken about thirty minutes for the bulb to heat up the carpet enough to set the first flame, but by that time he was already dead. They sprayed his body with a hose for five minutes trying to get the flames out, but even if they had done it in time it wouldn’t have mattered. Overdose was the official cause of death. The funeral was quick. Some family members came, some didn’t. Those who did came and cried. He was buried next to his daughter at the local cemetery.
The Screamer
“AAAAAAAHHHHH” I screamed as I was holding the bar intensely. “Make it stop......please”.
I dug my nails in to my dad, it was going so fast, too fast. My dad was gripping on to me so I didn’t fall out, he thought he was going to fly out of the 2 seater carts. A purple fuzz is all I sore, dizziness spinning through my head. I was scared, petrified, TERRIFIED .
Before I went on the ride I had a lot of candyfloss, I felt really sick, but thankfully I wasn’t. If I was sick my dad would get a face full of it that might make him sick (which would be even worse). Faster and faster it went, round and round and round, then, suddenly it lurched straight up, it felt like I was being launched, like you might see on Total Wipeout. I felt my dad grip me tighter, then it suddenly dropped. It felt like my stomach hit the top of my scull.
Eventually it slowed down, it eyes rolling around in their sockets. The ride stopped, I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move; when I got out of my trance, I got up but fell over. I could barely stand, my legs were still on the ride. I was still gripping on to my dad and whispered to him “I’m never doing that again”.
I turned my back to the Screamer and walked with my dad away from it. I thought back to myself “Now I know why they call it the Screamer!!!”
I dug my nails in to my dad, it was going so fast, too fast. My dad was gripping on to me so I didn’t fall out, he thought he was going to fly out of the 2 seater carts. A purple fuzz is all I sore, dizziness spinning through my head. I was scared, petrified, TERRIFIED .
Before I went on the ride I had a lot of candyfloss, I felt really sick, but thankfully I wasn’t. If I was sick my dad would get a face full of it that might make him sick (which would be even worse). Faster and faster it went, round and round and round, then, suddenly it lurched straight up, it felt like I was being launched, like you might see on Total Wipeout. I felt my dad grip me tighter, then it suddenly dropped. It felt like my stomach hit the top of my scull.
Eventually it slowed down, it eyes rolling around in their sockets. The ride stopped, I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move; when I got out of my trance, I got up but fell over. I could barely stand, my legs were still on the ride. I was still gripping on to my dad and whispered to him “I’m never doing that again”.
I turned my back to the Screamer and walked with my dad away from it. I thought back to myself “Now I know why they call it the Screamer!!!”
Abduction
I’ve been here for over a thousand years, with hundreds of people just like me. We are all under the age of twenty-three and haven’t aged a day over the past thousand years. We were all born as regular humans, but we are no longer human. We feel no pain at all, and are completely indestructible. We have no blood or organs, so we can’t die form blood loss or internal injuries. I remember the day I was abducted perfectly, as if it were just last week.
There I was laying in a white room, there were no ends to the walls, and they went forever. I tried to sit up but every part of me was strapped down. I couldn’t move at all, not even my head. I trued to yell out for help but nothing came out, just breath. In the corner of my eye I saw two large black bodies walk towards the table I was on. I closed my eyes and hoped I was just dreaming. When I opened them the two beings were right about me.
I could not tell if they were looking at me or not. Their faces were completely black; there was no mouth, eyes, or nose. They were tall and thin, I could see every bone in their bodies. One of them reached out with their long boney finger and felt my neck, as if testing my blood flow. The creature let out a mumble through the flesh-covered face, as if suggesting something to the other. The other creature handed him a needle with a tube attached to it, at the end of the tube there was a massive tank filled with blood. Before I could look back I felt the cold needle slide into my neck. I tried to scream, but again nothing came out. I could feel my head getting heavy as they drained all blood. I saw the tank filling up; there must have been at least fifteen other people’s blood in there. Right as I began to pass out they took the needle out and replaced it with a syringe containing white glossy liquid. As soon as it entered my vein my entire body began to burn and sting. Not even 5 minutes into them injecting me I passed out from pain.
When I woke up I was in a white boxed in room. The back wall was glass, I stood up and slowly walked over, at that time I felt zero pain which was odd considering I had passed out less than twenty minutes before. When I looked through the glass I saw thousands if not millions of kids and teenagers all in the white cubes. There were about 50 cubes in each story; there were cubes above and below me for as far as I could see. Each story was patrolled by three of the black creatures. I quickly went back to the other side of the room and sat down, trying to figure out what was going on.
As I was sitting down I noticed my skin was extremely white and had an iridescent glow to it. I decided to bite my finger to see if I bled. After I broke the skin out came that white liquid they injected me with. I had no blood they completely drained me. I started freaking out and banging on the door to get out. After no longer than thirty seconds three of the creatures came in and tranquilized me.
After they tranquilized me I woke up back on Earth, everyone here has the exact same story as me. We don’t know why we are here or how long we will be here. Some of us believe they are creating us for war, but others believe they want to create a perfect society where there is no death.
I could not tell if they were looking at me or not. Their faces were completely black; there was no mouth, eyes, or nose. They were tall and thin, I could see every bone in their bodies. One of them reached out with their long boney finger and felt my neck, as if testing my blood flow. The creature let out a mumble through the flesh-covered face, as if suggesting something to the other. The other creature handed him a needle with a tube attached to it, at the end of the tube there was a massive tank filled with blood. Before I could look back I felt the cold needle slide into my neck. I tried to scream, but again nothing came out. I could feel my head getting heavy as they drained all blood. I saw the tank filling up; there must have been at least fifteen other people’s blood in there. Right as I began to pass out they took the needle out and replaced it with a syringe containing white glossy liquid. As soon as it entered my vein my entire body began to burn and sting. Not even 5 minutes into them injecting me I passed out from pain.
When I woke up I was in a white boxed in room. The back wall was glass, I stood up and slowly walked over, at that time I felt zero pain which was odd considering I had passed out less than twenty minutes before. When I looked through the glass I saw thousands if not millions of kids and teenagers all in the white cubes. There were about 50 cubes in each story; there were cubes above and below me for as far as I could see. Each story was patrolled by three of the black creatures. I quickly went back to the other side of the room and sat down, trying to figure out what was going on.
As I was sitting down I noticed my skin was extremely white and had an iridescent glow to it. I decided to bite my finger to see if I bled. After I broke the skin out came that white liquid they injected me with. I had no blood they completely drained me. I started freaking out and banging on the door to get out. After no longer than thirty seconds three of the creatures came in and tranquilized me.
After they tranquilized me I woke up back on Earth, everyone here has the exact same story as me. We don’t know why we are here or how long we will be here. Some of us believe they are creating us for war, but others believe they want to create a perfect society where there is no death.
Two Glasses
Two glasses sitting on a silver tray, spinning, both catching the light that glimpsed over the edge of the window rim, constantly circling each other endlessly in the blackness; a ringing resounding through the emptiness, echoing off of the non-existent borders of the empty and haunting realm that his mind.
His eyes darted back and forth as his shoes clicked along the pavement leaving dusty footprints, the lamps along the sides of the walls flickered as if they still ran off of oil and flames. His hands sunk deeper into his pockets, hair slowly falling down from it’s slicked back position atop his head. The tie that swung around his neck loosened with every step. Mouth dry, and stare blank with horror, his pace quickened and his pulse rose to an unhealthily fast rate. The hall in front of him seemed to stretch into eternity. He stopped, his breath like a metronome in the flickering light. His fingers tapping against his legs as if trying to communicate via telegraph, that he was alone, completely alone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with a sense of an unjustness flowing through the air surrounding the fearful man. A tap behind him made the horrified man spin around to see his stalker. He heard the sound of a gun loading. The veins in his forehead bulged some how hoping that the more blood being pumped to the brain, the less time it would take for him to understand the position he was being put into. He was soon enveloped by the crushing strength of his captor pushing him to the ground with a cold pair of calloused hands. He let out cries of extreme anguish and terror, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, as his body wriggled horrifically trying escape their grasp. Each long clawed finger ripped at his custom made silk suit, that showed his status of income, the sound of ripping fabric and screams echoed throughout the never ending hallway, bouncing off of the walls like a puddle rippling. Flashes of half forgotten memories played over and over in his mind like a satanic record that had been breaking every time a thought crept into his head, pulling him farther into his own madness.
For what seemed like years, he waited in the dark. The smell of stagnant sweet dripping from his skin, filled the dark room so that fresh air was something that could only be imagined. He shook, his body curled up in a fetal pose, lips purged with fear and anxiety on what other things lay in the darkness unseen by his waking mind, but still, in horrific detail, imagined. A beam of golden light flooded the room, flashing across the floor like honey, enveloping the shadows that so resentfully faded. A tall lean figure, stood black against the light, like one of the many shadows that had occupied the room prior. It held in one elongated hand, a silver tray, and placed atop it were two wine glasses, each holding a black liquid. The man shrunk back in horror, his suit tattered and torn to shreds. The figure stood, still holding the tray. The things long arm reached forward, making the dark liquid swish around in the glasses like smoke, and placed it in front of the man. He looked down at the tray, his jaw clenched with uncertainty. Then the door closed and the shadows reentered the room, and again he was alone.
He knew it wouldn't be long now, death that is; actually he hoped it wouldn’t be; he welcomed it. And he knew that one of these glasses held the answer to his demise. He reached forward towards the glass on the left, hoping that soon this hell would be over. He put the rim to his lip and felt the cool liquid pour into his depths. He had found what he had been looking for, happiness; and now that he was dying he knew that it would all be over. He wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again! But, he wasn’t dead. No he felt just as horrifically tortured as before. His eyes widened in horror as the room began to turn vibrant shades of red and purple, each color twisting and contorting in a gross array of shapes and visions. He couldn't understand. He dropped the glass, breaking it on the cold cement floor, shards of it flying everywhere. The remaining cup began to quiver violently on the tray, smoky liquid licking upwards out of the bowl. He felt the center of his spine splitting upwards, stretching, like a road off into the distance. He screamed, as his elongation continued. His fingers extended violently, popping and cracking with malicious intent, jutting outwards into the morphing colors of the room. He rose upwards, relishing his newfound power. He slinked out of the room, making only one sound, the rhythmic sound of his own heartbeat. He walked for miles it seemed, and once he felt he couldn’t walk another step he saw a table, and resting upon it was a silver tray with two glasses containing a black liquid. He stopped feeling that this was some how familiar. He came to the tray and some how understood perfectly what to do with such an object as this. He picked the tray up in one elongated hand and turned around to see a door. He opened it and saw a man in a fetal pose shaking on the floor. He placed the tray on the ground in front of the man. He did not know why he did this but it just felt right, like it was meant to happen. The man reached forward grabbing the wine glass. The man looked up at him in hatred. The man held the glass to his lips but then slammed it against the ground, creating a ringing sound that reverberated throughout the room. The man ran at him, broken glass in hand the man stabbed the shattered stem of the glass into the creature’s ominous silhouette. The creature shrunk back in pain, a long, piercing, hiss of a scream, echoing throughout the dimension. It fell to the ground, the same black liquid pouring out of the wound. The man glared down in satisfaction at his kill. He conjured a devilish grin that slowly crept its way on to his face. But then he stopped. He placed one hand to his neck. It was cold and dying. His hand dropped the same black liquid flowing throughout his veins. He smiled finally at peace, and fell.
Two glasses sitting on a silver tray, quivering, both overflowing, constantly adding to each other endlessly in the blackness; a ringing resounding through the emptiness, echoing off of the non-existent borders of the empty and haunting realm that his mind.
His eyes darted back and forth as his shoes clicked along the pavement leaving dusty footprints, the lamps along the sides of the walls flickered as if they still ran off of oil and flames. His hands sunk deeper into his pockets, hair slowly falling down from it’s slicked back position atop his head. The tie that swung around his neck loosened with every step. Mouth dry, and stare blank with horror, his pace quickened and his pulse rose to an unhealthily fast rate. The hall in front of him seemed to stretch into eternity. He stopped, his breath like a metronome in the flickering light. His fingers tapping against his legs as if trying to communicate via telegraph, that he was alone, completely alone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with a sense of an unjustness flowing through the air surrounding the fearful man. A tap behind him made the horrified man spin around to see his stalker. He heard the sound of a gun loading. The veins in his forehead bulged some how hoping that the more blood being pumped to the brain, the less time it would take for him to understand the position he was being put into. He was soon enveloped by the crushing strength of his captor pushing him to the ground with a cold pair of calloused hands. He let out cries of extreme anguish and terror, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, as his body wriggled horrifically trying escape their grasp. Each long clawed finger ripped at his custom made silk suit, that showed his status of income, the sound of ripping fabric and screams echoed throughout the never ending hallway, bouncing off of the walls like a puddle rippling. Flashes of half forgotten memories played over and over in his mind like a satanic record that had been breaking every time a thought crept into his head, pulling him farther into his own madness.
For what seemed like years, he waited in the dark. The smell of stagnant sweet dripping from his skin, filled the dark room so that fresh air was something that could only be imagined. He shook, his body curled up in a fetal pose, lips purged with fear and anxiety on what other things lay in the darkness unseen by his waking mind, but still, in horrific detail, imagined. A beam of golden light flooded the room, flashing across the floor like honey, enveloping the shadows that so resentfully faded. A tall lean figure, stood black against the light, like one of the many shadows that had occupied the room prior. It held in one elongated hand, a silver tray, and placed atop it were two wine glasses, each holding a black liquid. The man shrunk back in horror, his suit tattered and torn to shreds. The figure stood, still holding the tray. The things long arm reached forward, making the dark liquid swish around in the glasses like smoke, and placed it in front of the man. He looked down at the tray, his jaw clenched with uncertainty. Then the door closed and the shadows reentered the room, and again he was alone.
He knew it wouldn't be long now, death that is; actually he hoped it wouldn’t be; he welcomed it. And he knew that one of these glasses held the answer to his demise. He reached forward towards the glass on the left, hoping that soon this hell would be over. He put the rim to his lip and felt the cool liquid pour into his depths. He had found what he had been looking for, happiness; and now that he was dying he knew that it would all be over. He wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again! But, he wasn’t dead. No he felt just as horrifically tortured as before. His eyes widened in horror as the room began to turn vibrant shades of red and purple, each color twisting and contorting in a gross array of shapes and visions. He couldn't understand. He dropped the glass, breaking it on the cold cement floor, shards of it flying everywhere. The remaining cup began to quiver violently on the tray, smoky liquid licking upwards out of the bowl. He felt the center of his spine splitting upwards, stretching, like a road off into the distance. He screamed, as his elongation continued. His fingers extended violently, popping and cracking with malicious intent, jutting outwards into the morphing colors of the room. He rose upwards, relishing his newfound power. He slinked out of the room, making only one sound, the rhythmic sound of his own heartbeat. He walked for miles it seemed, and once he felt he couldn’t walk another step he saw a table, and resting upon it was a silver tray with two glasses containing a black liquid. He stopped feeling that this was some how familiar. He came to the tray and some how understood perfectly what to do with such an object as this. He picked the tray up in one elongated hand and turned around to see a door. He opened it and saw a man in a fetal pose shaking on the floor. He placed the tray on the ground in front of the man. He did not know why he did this but it just felt right, like it was meant to happen. The man reached forward grabbing the wine glass. The man looked up at him in hatred. The man held the glass to his lips but then slammed it against the ground, creating a ringing sound that reverberated throughout the room. The man ran at him, broken glass in hand the man stabbed the shattered stem of the glass into the creature’s ominous silhouette. The creature shrunk back in pain, a long, piercing, hiss of a scream, echoing throughout the dimension. It fell to the ground, the same black liquid pouring out of the wound. The man glared down in satisfaction at his kill. He conjured a devilish grin that slowly crept its way on to his face. But then he stopped. He placed one hand to his neck. It was cold and dying. His hand dropped the same black liquid flowing throughout his veins. He smiled finally at peace, and fell.
Two glasses sitting on a silver tray, quivering, both overflowing, constantly adding to each other endlessly in the blackness; a ringing resounding through the emptiness, echoing off of the non-existent borders of the empty and haunting realm that his mind.
Host
Hello? I don’t know where I am. If you’re watching this, I need help. I don’t remember where I am. The last I recall was Saturday, but it seems so long ago. You have to help me. Please. I suppose I should start at the beginning.
My name is Sloane Matheson. I’m 17 years old. Everyone I know is dead.
It started like any normal Saturday. I had woken up around noon, barely finding the energy to leave my bed. I suppose this was the pivotal moment in the series of events that was about to unfold. If I hadn’t answered that phone call, none of this would have happened.
It wasn’t even the phone call that was special, not really. It was just my best friend, calling to invite me to a party around Nine O’clock. I was reluctant at first, but she always did manage to convince me.
I showed up at the party at about 9:30, hoping to see someone that I knew. My flaky best friend hadn’t arrived yet. I remember that, at least. Although, now that I think about it, I can’t recall her name. I can’t recall whose party it was either. But I suppose the details aren’t important. What happened at that party is all that matters. It was like a normal party at first, loud, slutty, and downright obnoxious. It was the host, whose name I still can’t recall, had the idea to explore the thick woods behind his house. I objected of course, worried that we might run into a bear, or slender man, or something worse. I remember being ignored, scoffed at. They obviously didn’t believe me. I suppose you wont believe me either. But everything that happened was real. It was all real. There were only about twenty kids at the party, so we all easily followed the unnamed host into the woods. At first, it was a bit boring, the quiet, muggy night lulling us into a sense of safety. When we heard it, we just assumed it was s0ome sort of animal, or possibly a small tremor in the tectonic plates. It was a low, vibrating noise, buzzing in our minds, tickling our skin as we walked.
The vibrating became more prominent as we kept going, shaking what felt like our very souls. The nameless host went onwards, a curious expression on his handsome features. As I am telling you this, I sense a faint echo of what I used to feel for the nameless host. Admiration, and something close to unrequited love. Now I cannot even remember what that feels like. The nameless host pressed his palm against the ground, feeling the very Earth shake with this ominous vibration. “Wait here.” He instructed, looking at me especially. I recall that I had a bit of an adventurous side, always breaking the rules. Right now, I can’t see the point. The Nameless Host parted the branches of the trees in front of us, and delved into the shrouded part of the forest. The vibrating had picked up in speed and strength by now; we were barely able to balance. As this was going on, we began to hear a small, barely noticeable noise, high pitched and oddly calming. I’m not sure how long the Host was gone. To me it felt like years, although I assume it was only a few minutes. When he came back, something seemed…off.
He was smiling, which I didn’t remember him doing before, and he was rubbing his right thumb in circles on his left palm, like a nervous tick. He didn’t have nervous ticks. “What’s up with the vibrating?” I remember asking. He cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t understand what I had said. “What do you mean?” he asked. That’s when we realized that the vibrating had stopped. Now, most of the people there were drunk, and therefor easily fooled. They shrugged their shoulders, forgetting what we’d been talking about in the first place. It was only me who seemed to remember. I replayed the events in my head, wondering is I had made it all up, but no. I know what I saw. That was the only thing I can remember clearly now, as I review the horrific events of that night.
I glared at him suspiciously. “We should go back to the house.” I suggested nervously. He smirked, and nodded. The smallish group of teenagers trailed after us, all the way back to the house. Thankfully, we didn’t lose anyone. Sometime during the walk, the Nameless Host ended up at the very back of our little mob, pushing us forward. When we got to the house, he slammed the doors, locking it tight like a prison cell. When he shut the door, it sounded like someone dropping a heavy object onto a carpet. I whorled around horrified by what I saw. The Host had become, well… a host. At least that’s what I assumed, because the creature standing in the doorway definitely wasn’t him. We all sobered up immediately. The thing had sickly yellow eyes, and the maniac grin of a serial killer. He walked towards us very, painfully slowly. He pulled something from his belt, which I registered too late was a gun. “Duck!” I yelled. Everyone hit the ground, and his first bullet missed us all. We all slowly picked ourselves off the floor. I glared at him, putting my shaky fists up attempting to fight back, but I was too late. One of the guys behind me, who of course, I cannot remember in the slightest, attacked him instead, kicking gun out of his hand, and beating the Nameless Host across the head with it, eventually knocking him out cold. I watched in horror as two of the guy’s grabbed rope from the garage, tying down the Nameless Host, or whatever he had become anyway.
When he woke up, we were all standing over him, glaring suspiciously. The guy who had beaten him up was pointing a gun at him. The Host simply stared at us, malicious sneer on his pretty face. I remember feeling nauseous, like I needed to throw up and never stop. For the life of me, I can’t remember why, now. “Who are you?” the man demanded, shoving the gun closer to the Host’s face. It laughed. “Who are you?” it mocked. The man gave the Host a filthy glare, containing a small amount of fear. The Host grinned back. “What are you?” the man asked. The Host looked as if it was seriously pondering the question. “I’m you. I’m you, at your best. I’m in you, I feel you, and I know everything inside your head. I am in all of you. I am the human race in its most primitive days; I am the urge inside of you. I am you.” It said, eyes over each of us individually. We all exchanged apprehensive looks, what did it mean by it was in all of us? The man shoved the gun up against the temple of the Host. It grinned and stood up, ropes falling away limply. We all got back, staring wide-eyed and fearful at the thing that used to be our friend. It grinned at us, tilting its head to the side like a confused puppy. I felt a pang of loss and sympathy, for I remembered the original Host doing that when he was confused in class. It made my heart ache, to think about my friend, possibly more, trapped in a body controlled by this monster that was playing on our sympathies. The Host grinned at us. Something seemed different. His jaw shifted, and we realized he was growing long fangs, roughly the size of my pinky finger. “Get back!” yelled the man with the gun. I’m not sure why, but they sounded faded and distant. I recall stepping closer to the Host, like he was drawing me in with an invisible rope. I heard yells and warnings to stay away from him, that he was dangerous and a possibly genocidal unknown creature. I knew all this, I was aware of the danger. In that moment, it seemed worth it. I’m not sure what was going through my head; I just needed to be close to him. I walked over slowly at first, but my pace quickened, and soon I was wrapped in his embrace. Everyone simply stood there, stunned. The Host seemed so calm, we wondered if maybe the original owner of the body had come back to us. But no, the yellow eyes and fangs were still present, and yet somehow, I only saw the Host as benevolent in that moment. I didn’t even register that he was licking my neck, grazing his teeth against my veins. I did, however, register the man with the gun shooting the Host in the head.
The spell was broken. I looked around, dazed, and wiping the Host’s lifeblood off of my shirt. Right now, I can’t even remember what we did with the body, although I might have been too out of it to notice if they disposed of it in anyway. We examined the body, checking his eyes and mouth for signs of the creature, but no, he was completely clean. The being was gone from his body. So where was it?
We spent the next hour or so searching the room, looking for signs of this creature. Eventually, we gave up, and sat on the couch, defeated. We figured if The Creature was gone now we could leave, but the doors and windows were still bound shut. We were trapped there.
Sometime around Midnight, one of the men began acting…oddly. He wouldn’t stop smiling, and his eyes were shifting around the room rapidly. I nervously rubbed my right thumb in circles on my left palm, which I have never done before, but it was a time of stress and crisis. The oddly acting man began to twitch, as if having a seizure. We all looked at each other, the Host’s words about being in all of us playing in our minds. The man with the gun grabbed the oddly acting man by the shirt, inspecting his eyes for a hint of that disgusting yellow color. When he saw none, he let the man down. “He’s clean.” Reported the gunman. “Wait, don’t be so sure. The Host didn’t have yellow eyes until we got back to the house, but he was acting weird before that.” I told him. “This man could still be infected, and just in the first stage or something.” I explained. Simultaneously, all the eyes in the room turned to the weird acting man.
Before I could register what had happened, the weird acting man was dead, on the floor. Someone screamed. I think it might have been me. We all turned towards the man with the gun, incredulous looks on our faces. “Why did you do that?” I demanded, trying my hardest not to look at the dead body. “We can’t take any chances.” The man said.
After that, I don’t remember much. I think we were at the house for more than three days, but I’m not sure. I don’t know how many of us survived, but I have a feeling the number wasn’t high. The whole time, all I could register was pain and the slow draining of my memory. I think I blacked out at some point. I must have, because I woke up here. I need clues. I need to know where I am. I need help.
I am now inspecting my surroundings, and they seem familiar. I am positive that I am in a house, just outside of-oh god. What city do I live in? I suppose that you readers would have no way of knowing. But I do know that I haven’t left my home city. That is something. It seems there was a family living here. Emphasis on was. The walls are covered in blood, and I have already found one body, a mother by the looks of it. There is a photo on the mantel, depicting what looks like a Christmas card. It reads “Merry Christmas from the Matheson’s.” on the bottom in red lettering. I don’t know who these people are, but on some subconscious level I do. I still can’t find it in me to grieve them. As I inspect, I nervously rub my right thumb in circles on my left palm. This movement triggers something in me, something close to dread, but I cannot imagine why. It’s just a nervous tick. I am now going upstairs, to see if I can find an address somewhere, so you can find me easily.
There are two bedrooms upstairs, one master, and a smaller room. I am inexplicably drawn towards the smaller room. It looks as though it belongs to a teen girl, posters covering the walls, and pictures all over the dresser. I barely recognize The Nameless Host in one of the pictures. He is with a girl; the one who I assume owns the room. Her happiness causes unexplainable remorse within me, though I believe that I have no true emotions at the moment. Maybe I never did. Maybe this is why I do not react when I find a man’s body in the hallway.
He also looks familiar. I drag the body into the bathroom, inspecting his wounds. The bloody handprint on the man’s chest matches mine exactly. At this moment, I register that I am covered in blood. Perhaps I did this. Oh well. I hope you will still find it in yourself to rescue me. I catch a small glimpse of myself in the mirror when I go to wash the blood off my hands. I cannot help being shocked by what I see. I look very much like the girl in the picture, although that is not the shocking part. My eyes are the sickly yellow of sulfur, wide, pupils dilated. My mouth is covered in blood. My mind finally recognizes the nervous tick I have developed. It is from the Nameless Host, just before he made the final shift into that being, the one that tried to kill us. That rabid, animalistic killer.
The oddly acting man never had the Host inside of him. Neither did those who were accused and murdered after him. I did. I killed those people. I am unaware of who I am because I am not a person anymore, there is only The Host.
Do not come for me. If you see me, shoot me. I am dangerous, and if I black out again, anything could happen.
I am The Host.
My name is Sloane Matheson. I’m 17 years old. Everyone I know is dead.
It started like any normal Saturday. I had woken up around noon, barely finding the energy to leave my bed. I suppose this was the pivotal moment in the series of events that was about to unfold. If I hadn’t answered that phone call, none of this would have happened.
It wasn’t even the phone call that was special, not really. It was just my best friend, calling to invite me to a party around Nine O’clock. I was reluctant at first, but she always did manage to convince me.
I showed up at the party at about 9:30, hoping to see someone that I knew. My flaky best friend hadn’t arrived yet. I remember that, at least. Although, now that I think about it, I can’t recall her name. I can’t recall whose party it was either. But I suppose the details aren’t important. What happened at that party is all that matters. It was like a normal party at first, loud, slutty, and downright obnoxious. It was the host, whose name I still can’t recall, had the idea to explore the thick woods behind his house. I objected of course, worried that we might run into a bear, or slender man, or something worse. I remember being ignored, scoffed at. They obviously didn’t believe me. I suppose you wont believe me either. But everything that happened was real. It was all real. There were only about twenty kids at the party, so we all easily followed the unnamed host into the woods. At first, it was a bit boring, the quiet, muggy night lulling us into a sense of safety. When we heard it, we just assumed it was s0ome sort of animal, or possibly a small tremor in the tectonic plates. It was a low, vibrating noise, buzzing in our minds, tickling our skin as we walked.
The vibrating became more prominent as we kept going, shaking what felt like our very souls. The nameless host went onwards, a curious expression on his handsome features. As I am telling you this, I sense a faint echo of what I used to feel for the nameless host. Admiration, and something close to unrequited love. Now I cannot even remember what that feels like. The nameless host pressed his palm against the ground, feeling the very Earth shake with this ominous vibration. “Wait here.” He instructed, looking at me especially. I recall that I had a bit of an adventurous side, always breaking the rules. Right now, I can’t see the point. The Nameless Host parted the branches of the trees in front of us, and delved into the shrouded part of the forest. The vibrating had picked up in speed and strength by now; we were barely able to balance. As this was going on, we began to hear a small, barely noticeable noise, high pitched and oddly calming. I’m not sure how long the Host was gone. To me it felt like years, although I assume it was only a few minutes. When he came back, something seemed…off.
He was smiling, which I didn’t remember him doing before, and he was rubbing his right thumb in circles on his left palm, like a nervous tick. He didn’t have nervous ticks. “What’s up with the vibrating?” I remember asking. He cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t understand what I had said. “What do you mean?” he asked. That’s when we realized that the vibrating had stopped. Now, most of the people there were drunk, and therefor easily fooled. They shrugged their shoulders, forgetting what we’d been talking about in the first place. It was only me who seemed to remember. I replayed the events in my head, wondering is I had made it all up, but no. I know what I saw. That was the only thing I can remember clearly now, as I review the horrific events of that night.
I glared at him suspiciously. “We should go back to the house.” I suggested nervously. He smirked, and nodded. The smallish group of teenagers trailed after us, all the way back to the house. Thankfully, we didn’t lose anyone. Sometime during the walk, the Nameless Host ended up at the very back of our little mob, pushing us forward. When we got to the house, he slammed the doors, locking it tight like a prison cell. When he shut the door, it sounded like someone dropping a heavy object onto a carpet. I whorled around horrified by what I saw. The Host had become, well… a host. At least that’s what I assumed, because the creature standing in the doorway definitely wasn’t him. We all sobered up immediately. The thing had sickly yellow eyes, and the maniac grin of a serial killer. He walked towards us very, painfully slowly. He pulled something from his belt, which I registered too late was a gun. “Duck!” I yelled. Everyone hit the ground, and his first bullet missed us all. We all slowly picked ourselves off the floor. I glared at him, putting my shaky fists up attempting to fight back, but I was too late. One of the guys behind me, who of course, I cannot remember in the slightest, attacked him instead, kicking gun out of his hand, and beating the Nameless Host across the head with it, eventually knocking him out cold. I watched in horror as two of the guy’s grabbed rope from the garage, tying down the Nameless Host, or whatever he had become anyway.
When he woke up, we were all standing over him, glaring suspiciously. The guy who had beaten him up was pointing a gun at him. The Host simply stared at us, malicious sneer on his pretty face. I remember feeling nauseous, like I needed to throw up and never stop. For the life of me, I can’t remember why, now. “Who are you?” the man demanded, shoving the gun closer to the Host’s face. It laughed. “Who are you?” it mocked. The man gave the Host a filthy glare, containing a small amount of fear. The Host grinned back. “What are you?” the man asked. The Host looked as if it was seriously pondering the question. “I’m you. I’m you, at your best. I’m in you, I feel you, and I know everything inside your head. I am in all of you. I am the human race in its most primitive days; I am the urge inside of you. I am you.” It said, eyes over each of us individually. We all exchanged apprehensive looks, what did it mean by it was in all of us? The man shoved the gun up against the temple of the Host. It grinned and stood up, ropes falling away limply. We all got back, staring wide-eyed and fearful at the thing that used to be our friend. It grinned at us, tilting its head to the side like a confused puppy. I felt a pang of loss and sympathy, for I remembered the original Host doing that when he was confused in class. It made my heart ache, to think about my friend, possibly more, trapped in a body controlled by this monster that was playing on our sympathies. The Host grinned at us. Something seemed different. His jaw shifted, and we realized he was growing long fangs, roughly the size of my pinky finger. “Get back!” yelled the man with the gun. I’m not sure why, but they sounded faded and distant. I recall stepping closer to the Host, like he was drawing me in with an invisible rope. I heard yells and warnings to stay away from him, that he was dangerous and a possibly genocidal unknown creature. I knew all this, I was aware of the danger. In that moment, it seemed worth it. I’m not sure what was going through my head; I just needed to be close to him. I walked over slowly at first, but my pace quickened, and soon I was wrapped in his embrace. Everyone simply stood there, stunned. The Host seemed so calm, we wondered if maybe the original owner of the body had come back to us. But no, the yellow eyes and fangs were still present, and yet somehow, I only saw the Host as benevolent in that moment. I didn’t even register that he was licking my neck, grazing his teeth against my veins. I did, however, register the man with the gun shooting the Host in the head.
The spell was broken. I looked around, dazed, and wiping the Host’s lifeblood off of my shirt. Right now, I can’t even remember what we did with the body, although I might have been too out of it to notice if they disposed of it in anyway. We examined the body, checking his eyes and mouth for signs of the creature, but no, he was completely clean. The being was gone from his body. So where was it?
We spent the next hour or so searching the room, looking for signs of this creature. Eventually, we gave up, and sat on the couch, defeated. We figured if The Creature was gone now we could leave, but the doors and windows were still bound shut. We were trapped there.
Sometime around Midnight, one of the men began acting…oddly. He wouldn’t stop smiling, and his eyes were shifting around the room rapidly. I nervously rubbed my right thumb in circles on my left palm, which I have never done before, but it was a time of stress and crisis. The oddly acting man began to twitch, as if having a seizure. We all looked at each other, the Host’s words about being in all of us playing in our minds. The man with the gun grabbed the oddly acting man by the shirt, inspecting his eyes for a hint of that disgusting yellow color. When he saw none, he let the man down. “He’s clean.” Reported the gunman. “Wait, don’t be so sure. The Host didn’t have yellow eyes until we got back to the house, but he was acting weird before that.” I told him. “This man could still be infected, and just in the first stage or something.” I explained. Simultaneously, all the eyes in the room turned to the weird acting man.
Before I could register what had happened, the weird acting man was dead, on the floor. Someone screamed. I think it might have been me. We all turned towards the man with the gun, incredulous looks on our faces. “Why did you do that?” I demanded, trying my hardest not to look at the dead body. “We can’t take any chances.” The man said.
After that, I don’t remember much. I think we were at the house for more than three days, but I’m not sure. I don’t know how many of us survived, but I have a feeling the number wasn’t high. The whole time, all I could register was pain and the slow draining of my memory. I think I blacked out at some point. I must have, because I woke up here. I need clues. I need to know where I am. I need help.
I am now inspecting my surroundings, and they seem familiar. I am positive that I am in a house, just outside of-oh god. What city do I live in? I suppose that you readers would have no way of knowing. But I do know that I haven’t left my home city. That is something. It seems there was a family living here. Emphasis on was. The walls are covered in blood, and I have already found one body, a mother by the looks of it. There is a photo on the mantel, depicting what looks like a Christmas card. It reads “Merry Christmas from the Matheson’s.” on the bottom in red lettering. I don’t know who these people are, but on some subconscious level I do. I still can’t find it in me to grieve them. As I inspect, I nervously rub my right thumb in circles on my left palm. This movement triggers something in me, something close to dread, but I cannot imagine why. It’s just a nervous tick. I am now going upstairs, to see if I can find an address somewhere, so you can find me easily.
There are two bedrooms upstairs, one master, and a smaller room. I am inexplicably drawn towards the smaller room. It looks as though it belongs to a teen girl, posters covering the walls, and pictures all over the dresser. I barely recognize The Nameless Host in one of the pictures. He is with a girl; the one who I assume owns the room. Her happiness causes unexplainable remorse within me, though I believe that I have no true emotions at the moment. Maybe I never did. Maybe this is why I do not react when I find a man’s body in the hallway.
He also looks familiar. I drag the body into the bathroom, inspecting his wounds. The bloody handprint on the man’s chest matches mine exactly. At this moment, I register that I am covered in blood. Perhaps I did this. Oh well. I hope you will still find it in yourself to rescue me. I catch a small glimpse of myself in the mirror when I go to wash the blood off my hands. I cannot help being shocked by what I see. I look very much like the girl in the picture, although that is not the shocking part. My eyes are the sickly yellow of sulfur, wide, pupils dilated. My mouth is covered in blood. My mind finally recognizes the nervous tick I have developed. It is from the Nameless Host, just before he made the final shift into that being, the one that tried to kill us. That rabid, animalistic killer.
The oddly acting man never had the Host inside of him. Neither did those who were accused and murdered after him. I did. I killed those people. I am unaware of who I am because I am not a person anymore, there is only The Host.
Do not come for me. If you see me, shoot me. I am dangerous, and if I black out again, anything could happen.
I am The Host.
Horror Story
jimmy had never stayed home alone before but tonight was going to be the first night that he did. his parents were going to a highschool renunion in the next town over. his parents knew that jimmy was a brave smart kid and knew he could stay home alone. jimmy was a little nervous but he was a brave kid for a 13 years old.the renunion started at 7 but they left early since they had to drive into town to go to it. it was 6 oclock and his parents called him down stairs to say goodbye. he said goodbye and gave them both a hug. they told him they would be home around 11 and to stay home and not go anywhere. they gave him one last hug and walked out the door. jimmy ran upstairs and looked out the window and saw his parents drive away. He decided to to go down stairs and watch tv. 30 minutes later the phone rang. He went into the kitchen where the home phone was set up. “ hello?.... heelloo? is anyone one there?”. no one was there just a loud screeching noise that hurt his ears. he figured it was the wrong number. he hung up and went back to the living room to watch tv. a couple minutes later the phone rang again. he went over to the kitchen to pick it up.” hello?... hello who is this?. no one said anything when he was about to hang up again when he heard somone say his name.
it sounded like his mom. but she didnt sound right. hello? mom? is that you?. he heard is name again. he started to get fustrated and a little scared. mom is that you!?. the phone died. he thought maybe someone was playing a joke on him. but it sounded like his mom on the phone. he knew she wouldnt try to scare him so he started to get nervous. he went back to the living room to watch tv again. he tried to convince himself that people were trying to prank call him. but a little part of him got nervous. he was afraid he didnt know what to do. he heard the phone ring again. but when he got to the kitchen he saw the phone was gone. he didnt remember moving it and started to get a little bit more nervous. again he convinced himself he missplaced the phone. he had never stayed home before and did not know what to do. he decided to go and lock all the doors. he walked over to the back door. the door was locked. that was good. then walked over to the door that leads to his garage on the side of his house. it was locked. he then walked to the front of the house. the door was wide open. he ran to go close it. he looked around but saw nothing. he started to panick. he wonderd if somone had opend it?. he then looked out the side window. he couldnt believe his eyes. what he feard most came true. he saw a strange figure across the street who he did not reconize.it looked like a man standing in the middle of the road. he ran upstairs to get his cell phone. . jimmy did not know what to do. he ran into his room got his cell phone and got back down stairs. by this time jimmy was freaking out. when walking back down stairs he heard somone banging on the side of his house. he slowly went back to the front door and looked out the window. the strange man had gotten closer than before staring right back at him. it was as if they were looking straight at eachother. the strange figure was standing in the middle of the dirt road about 200 feet away from his front door. jimmy started to cry. he started dialing 911 on his phone but his tears were bluring his vision. he finally managed to get the police on the phone. “911 whats your emergency . “hello! help! i need help” “ please state your problem sir” whats going on?”. “i dont know whats happening!” i think somebody is coming for me!”. “ ok were sending some..”. the phone went out.
a second later the lights went out along with it. jimmy was in the dark. he was now afraid scared and didnt know what to do. he could hear the banging getting louder and louder. he ran around to the pantry and got a flash light out. he still had good vision for it was not yet completley pitch black out. he looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. he saw it was 8:30. his parents would be home in 2 and a half hours. he felt some what relieved. but then the door bell rang. he froze he knew it was the figure across the street he had seen earlier. he then quietly went to the front of the house and looked outside. the strange man was standing there but it was getting darker and he couldnt see him that well. but it looked as if he had gotten even closer. he looked about 100 feet from the door. so could not have been the one to ring the doorbell. he heard it ring again. he walked over to the front door but not dared opend it. the person rang the door again. he was frozen with fear. jimmy then heard the person at the front door say something. it was a girl. she didnt sound to old. she sounded his age. “ jimmy were here for you” he didnt know what to say. he couldnt breathe. he was panicking. he then said “what do you want from me” in a very shaky voice. he heard no reply. he then ran in to the next room and looked out the front window of the house. he couldnt believe what he saw. he screamed. he yelled. he cried. out in his front lawn he saw both of his parents outside hanging from the tree with a noose around there neck. he ran outside but he triped suddenly at his front door. he turned around and saw two police officers on the ground decapitated. he had wonderd where the police had gone. he kept going he walked a couple more steps outside. he saw the srange figure. he could not see him to well. but he could see that the strange man was smiling. he ran back inside and hid in the closet as they set fire to his house. jimmy burnt in the fire. he and his family were never seen again and no bodies were ever found.
it sounded like his mom. but she didnt sound right. hello? mom? is that you?. he heard is name again. he started to get fustrated and a little scared. mom is that you!?. the phone died. he thought maybe someone was playing a joke on him. but it sounded like his mom on the phone. he knew she wouldnt try to scare him so he started to get nervous. he went back to the living room to watch tv again. he tried to convince himself that people were trying to prank call him. but a little part of him got nervous. he was afraid he didnt know what to do. he heard the phone ring again. but when he got to the kitchen he saw the phone was gone. he didnt remember moving it and started to get a little bit more nervous. again he convinced himself he missplaced the phone. he had never stayed home before and did not know what to do. he decided to go and lock all the doors. he walked over to the back door. the door was locked. that was good. then walked over to the door that leads to his garage on the side of his house. it was locked. he then walked to the front of the house. the door was wide open. he ran to go close it. he looked around but saw nothing. he started to panick. he wonderd if somone had opend it?. he then looked out the side window. he couldnt believe his eyes. what he feard most came true. he saw a strange figure across the street who he did not reconize.it looked like a man standing in the middle of the road. he ran upstairs to get his cell phone. . jimmy did not know what to do. he ran into his room got his cell phone and got back down stairs. by this time jimmy was freaking out. when walking back down stairs he heard somone banging on the side of his house. he slowly went back to the front door and looked out the window. the strange man had gotten closer than before staring right back at him. it was as if they were looking straight at eachother. the strange figure was standing in the middle of the dirt road about 200 feet away from his front door. jimmy started to cry. he started dialing 911 on his phone but his tears were bluring his vision. he finally managed to get the police on the phone. “911 whats your emergency . “hello! help! i need help” “ please state your problem sir” whats going on?”. “i dont know whats happening!” i think somebody is coming for me!”. “ ok were sending some..”. the phone went out.
a second later the lights went out along with it. jimmy was in the dark. he was now afraid scared and didnt know what to do. he could hear the banging getting louder and louder. he ran around to the pantry and got a flash light out. he still had good vision for it was not yet completley pitch black out. he looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. he saw it was 8:30. his parents would be home in 2 and a half hours. he felt some what relieved. but then the door bell rang. he froze he knew it was the figure across the street he had seen earlier. he then quietly went to the front of the house and looked outside. the strange man was standing there but it was getting darker and he couldnt see him that well. but it looked as if he had gotten even closer. he looked about 100 feet from the door. so could not have been the one to ring the doorbell. he heard it ring again. he walked over to the front door but not dared opend it. the person rang the door again. he was frozen with fear. jimmy then heard the person at the front door say something. it was a girl. she didnt sound to old. she sounded his age. “ jimmy were here for you” he didnt know what to say. he couldnt breathe. he was panicking. he then said “what do you want from me” in a very shaky voice. he heard no reply. he then ran in to the next room and looked out the front window of the house. he couldnt believe what he saw. he screamed. he yelled. he cried. out in his front lawn he saw both of his parents outside hanging from the tree with a noose around there neck. he ran outside but he triped suddenly at his front door. he turned around and saw two police officers on the ground decapitated. he had wonderd where the police had gone. he kept going he walked a couple more steps outside. he saw the srange figure. he could not see him to well. but he could see that the strange man was smiling. he ran back inside and hid in the closet as they set fire to his house. jimmy burnt in the fire. he and his family were never seen again and no bodies were ever found.
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