“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.
The Haunting
Mike knew something was wrong. Ever since he and his friends had come to spend the night at that large “haunted mansion” in the middle of the woods, he had been getting these unnatural chills down his spine, like someone was breathing down his neck. Mike didn’t even know why they had come to the mansion, Blake had said something about a dare, something about whoever could “survive” the night at the haunted mansion, then they would get a thousand bucks and front-row seats to the next Super Bowl game, but Mike wasn’t sure. “Anyway” he thought, “the place doesn’t look scary.”
So far things were going well. Mike and his friends had set up camp at the back of the mansion, but quickly decided to spend the night in the mansion itself, because there was something unnatural about the grounds that none of them could explain, almost as if someone, or something, was watching them. They had to climb through a broken window, because for some odd reason, the handles on the door had been ripped off, making it impossible to open. Inside the mansion they found that the old house was still in good condition, but with some strange features; in the several of the rooms they found all the drawers and cupboards had been either ripped out of the walls or smashed, as if someone had been trying to hit a piñata with a crowbar while under the effects of alcohol. In the living room they found that the mantle above the fireplace had several long markings on them. “Almost like claws.” Mike thought, but he quickly pushed the idea out of his brain. “There’s nothing in this house that could do that, and besides, if there was, it probably died a long time ago.” He thought. The moment he thought that the air suddenly got much, much colder, as if someone had turned the air-conditioning down to sub-zero. A small gust of wind blew past Mikes arm, but there were no open windows in the room and all the doors were closed. Mike suddenly felt like he and his friends were not the only ones in the room. “Guys, do you feel that?” he said. “Yeah,” said Stacy, one of the girls who came with them, “Why is it so cold in here?”
“Why indeed?”
Mike nearly jumped out of his skin. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He couldn’t tell if it was a male’s voice or females. “Did you hear that?” he asked his friends. “Hear what?” asked Savanna, the other girl that came with them. “That voice, kind of like a whisper.” Mike replied, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Blake scoffed. “Dude, what are you talking about, there’s no voice, except for our own. You’re just trying to freak us out so you can win the bet. Now come on, let’s see if we can find the controls for the air conditioning, I’m about to freeze to death.”
As they continued to explore the mansion, Mike trundled along at the back of the group, thinking about the voice that he heard. “Why could I hear it and the others couldn’t?” he thought to himself. “Probably just my mind playing trick on me.” He concluded. But, somehow, his instincts told him that he was wrong.
After searching the mansion both high and low, they still hadn’t found the air-conditioning controls. Also, Mike kept noticing strange things he could not explain; curtains fluttering about when there were no windows open, small gusts of wind brushing up against him, almost seeming to go through him, and an oppressive feeling of dread that he couldn’t explain. ‘The AC controls must be in the basement, it’s the only place we haven’t checked.” Savanna eventually said, after searching the living room for the third time. “Well, if the AC controls are in the basement, then Mike can go down there and find them.” “WHAT!” Mike shouted a little too loudly. “Why do I have to do it, why can’t you guys come with me?” he said in a quieter tone. “Because,” Blake said, a small smile spreading across his face, “you were the one who decided to try and freak us out back in the living room, talking about some voice that you heard, so it’s only fair.” His face suddenly lit up with a sly grin. “Besides, if you don’t go down there, you will be nothing but a big chicken that was too afraid to go down in a little basement.” Mike sighed. He knew he was beaten. “All right, fine, I’ll go.” He finally said, slowly making his way down to the basement.
Mike had thought that the mansion had been pretty scary, the basement was even scarier. First of all, it was completely dark. The only light sources came from the open doorway Mike had come through and some small patches of moonlight coming from some small basement windows. The whole place had a kind of stale, musty odor, and, worst of all; the thermostat were nowhere in sight, meaning that Mike would have to explore deeper into the basement. Keeping the door open to give him some light, Mike began to explore the walls and support beams for anything that give him a source of light. Suddenly the door slammed shut, cutting Mike off from the one thing he needed most: light. Mike ran over to it and tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t budge. Mike suddenly realized that the air was once again very cold, even colder than the last time if that was possible. He quickly put his back to the wall and began to edge along it, hoping to come across some other way out of the basement. Then, he felt something on the table next to him: a flashlight! Quickly Mike picked it up and turned it on. The beam shown faintly, revealing a long, sloping corridor on the opposite side of the room. “Finally, now I can get out of here!” Mike thought to himself excitedly, running towards it. At the entrance he stopped, puzzled. All of his instincts were telling him to not go down there, but he figured that it was the only other way out of the basement. “I’m just a little edgy, that’s all.” He told himself as he ventured into the corridor.
Mike found himself in a large circular chamber. A single window bathed a single corner of the room in pale moonlight. Other than that, the room was too dark to see. Mike shown his flashlight around the room, trying to find another exit, instead he found a large block of stone in the center of the room. The stone had no designs on it, but around the top were several groove marks, some short and shallow, while others were long and deep. There were also several rocks and sticks scattered around the room in random places.
“Welcome, little one, to my sanctuary.”
Mike felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was that same voice as before! Mike started to run back to the corridor entrance, but it wasn’t there. All he could see was a wall where the door should have been. Franticly he ran to the spot where the door should be, feeling the walls for some sort of concealed entrance or hidden door that would get him out of this place and back to his friends.
“Oh you can’t leave.” The voice said mockingly, “we haven’t even had a chance to get to know each other.”
Mike couldn’t stop shaking. “What do you want form me!” he shouted, shining his flashlight every which-way, trying to locate the source of the voice. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Oh but you have.” the voice hissed, “You and your friends did as soon as you set foot in this house! Don’t worry; they will be taken care of soon enough, but now that you’re here, my son has someone to play with.
Suddenly Mike’s ears began to detect the sound of shuffling footsteps at the far side of the room. Then another sound, the sound of labored breathing, as if someone had gargled with sulfuric acid for a week.
“You will make my son very happy, He has been lonely for quite some time.” the voice said, seeming to come from every corner of the chamber. Mike took a step back, and something crunched under his foot. Slowly, he looked down at what he had stepped on. It was a human ribcage! Mike whimpered in terror: the things that he thought were sticks and rocks were in fact bones and skulls. Glistening in the light of his flashlight, the bones littered the floor of the chamber. Some seemed to still have remnants of meat and sinew on them.
“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you.” the voice hissed gleefully, “my son gets hungry form time to time. His favorite meal is…human flesh!” The sound of labored breathing grew louder and more ferocious now accompanied by the sounds of frenzied growling. The sound of shuffling footsteps came closer, and for one moment, Mike glimpsed a clawed, disfigured hand in the silhouette of the window. “Please, just let me go, PLEASE!” he begged. “Oh, not without my blessing.” the voice replied, seemingly bursting with excitement. “I bless you with the gift of a quick death!” Mike tried to scream, but no sound came out. Something hurtled through the darkness and struck Mike in the chest, directly where his heart was. As his vision began to blur, the last thing Mike heard was the sound of some kind of inhuman laughter echoing throughout the chamber, accompanied by the savage cry of some unnatural creature.
“Why indeed?”
Mike nearly jumped out of his skin. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He couldn’t tell if it was a male’s voice or females. “Did you hear that?” he asked his friends. “Hear what?” asked Savanna, the other girl that came with them. “That voice, kind of like a whisper.” Mike replied, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Blake scoffed. “Dude, what are you talking about, there’s no voice, except for our own. You’re just trying to freak us out so you can win the bet. Now come on, let’s see if we can find the controls for the air conditioning, I’m about to freeze to death.”
As they continued to explore the mansion, Mike trundled along at the back of the group, thinking about the voice that he heard. “Why could I hear it and the others couldn’t?” he thought to himself. “Probably just my mind playing trick on me.” He concluded. But, somehow, his instincts told him that he was wrong.
After searching the mansion both high and low, they still hadn’t found the air-conditioning controls. Also, Mike kept noticing strange things he could not explain; curtains fluttering about when there were no windows open, small gusts of wind brushing up against him, almost seeming to go through him, and an oppressive feeling of dread that he couldn’t explain. ‘The AC controls must be in the basement, it’s the only place we haven’t checked.” Savanna eventually said, after searching the living room for the third time. “Well, if the AC controls are in the basement, then Mike can go down there and find them.” “WHAT!” Mike shouted a little too loudly. “Why do I have to do it, why can’t you guys come with me?” he said in a quieter tone. “Because,” Blake said, a small smile spreading across his face, “you were the one who decided to try and freak us out back in the living room, talking about some voice that you heard, so it’s only fair.” His face suddenly lit up with a sly grin. “Besides, if you don’t go down there, you will be nothing but a big chicken that was too afraid to go down in a little basement.” Mike sighed. He knew he was beaten. “All right, fine, I’ll go.” He finally said, slowly making his way down to the basement.
Mike had thought that the mansion had been pretty scary, the basement was even scarier. First of all, it was completely dark. The only light sources came from the open doorway Mike had come through and some small patches of moonlight coming from some small basement windows. The whole place had a kind of stale, musty odor, and, worst of all; the thermostat were nowhere in sight, meaning that Mike would have to explore deeper into the basement. Keeping the door open to give him some light, Mike began to explore the walls and support beams for anything that give him a source of light. Suddenly the door slammed shut, cutting Mike off from the one thing he needed most: light. Mike ran over to it and tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t budge. Mike suddenly realized that the air was once again very cold, even colder than the last time if that was possible. He quickly put his back to the wall and began to edge along it, hoping to come across some other way out of the basement. Then, he felt something on the table next to him: a flashlight! Quickly Mike picked it up and turned it on. The beam shown faintly, revealing a long, sloping corridor on the opposite side of the room. “Finally, now I can get out of here!” Mike thought to himself excitedly, running towards it. At the entrance he stopped, puzzled. All of his instincts were telling him to not go down there, but he figured that it was the only other way out of the basement. “I’m just a little edgy, that’s all.” He told himself as he ventured into the corridor.
Mike found himself in a large circular chamber. A single window bathed a single corner of the room in pale moonlight. Other than that, the room was too dark to see. Mike shown his flashlight around the room, trying to find another exit, instead he found a large block of stone in the center of the room. The stone had no designs on it, but around the top were several groove marks, some short and shallow, while others were long and deep. There were also several rocks and sticks scattered around the room in random places.
“Welcome, little one, to my sanctuary.”
Mike felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was that same voice as before! Mike started to run back to the corridor entrance, but it wasn’t there. All he could see was a wall where the door should have been. Franticly he ran to the spot where the door should be, feeling the walls for some sort of concealed entrance or hidden door that would get him out of this place and back to his friends.
“Oh you can’t leave.” The voice said mockingly, “we haven’t even had a chance to get to know each other.”
Mike couldn’t stop shaking. “What do you want form me!” he shouted, shining his flashlight every which-way, trying to locate the source of the voice. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Oh but you have.” the voice hissed, “You and your friends did as soon as you set foot in this house! Don’t worry; they will be taken care of soon enough, but now that you’re here, my son has someone to play with.
Suddenly Mike’s ears began to detect the sound of shuffling footsteps at the far side of the room. Then another sound, the sound of labored breathing, as if someone had gargled with sulfuric acid for a week.
“You will make my son very happy, He has been lonely for quite some time.” the voice said, seeming to come from every corner of the chamber. Mike took a step back, and something crunched under his foot. Slowly, he looked down at what he had stepped on. It was a human ribcage! Mike whimpered in terror: the things that he thought were sticks and rocks were in fact bones and skulls. Glistening in the light of his flashlight, the bones littered the floor of the chamber. Some seemed to still have remnants of meat and sinew on them.
“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you.” the voice hissed gleefully, “my son gets hungry form time to time. His favorite meal is…human flesh!” The sound of labored breathing grew louder and more ferocious now accompanied by the sounds of frenzied growling. The sound of shuffling footsteps came closer, and for one moment, Mike glimpsed a clawed, disfigured hand in the silhouette of the window. “Please, just let me go, PLEASE!” he begged. “Oh, not without my blessing.” the voice replied, seemingly bursting with excitement. “I bless you with the gift of a quick death!” Mike tried to scream, but no sound came out. Something hurtled through the darkness and struck Mike in the chest, directly where his heart was. As his vision began to blur, the last thing Mike heard was the sound of some kind of inhuman laughter echoing throughout the chamber, accompanied by the savage cry of some unnatural creature.
Listen Now By Doctor Hidleheim
I made you to listen, Craug, so listen now. You are in a cage, so try not to move too much.
There is a small town in the woods, wrapped in a lazy fog. There has always been a fog in the woods but in the town it was thicker than in any part of the woods. There were 111 buildings in the town. First, were the 78 warehouses full of old bits of machinery in large piles and the warehouses lined up all together in rows of six by 13. There were three big buildings: the town hall, the zoo, and the school. Then, last but not least, was the circle of houses around a large park.
There were 30 houses and each house was different in some way. Some were short, some were tall, some wide, some were long, and some made no sense at all. In every house there was a family and each family had at least two adults, one child and a stuffed animal for every child.
Each family was very different in many ways. Every person was also different in name and skin. One person’s skin was white, one’s was blue, and one had storm clouds. And one had skin like a crocodile. There was a different color and pattern and texture for every person. So there was always excitement when a newborn appeared on someone’s doorstep because everyone wants to see what the baby looked like.
In this small town, everything was different except for house 15 which was the same as house 11, or so the inhabitants thought. For while house 15 had a basement like house 11, under the basement of house 15 was a lab and that in that lab is me, Doctor Hidleheim.
I am also very different compared to my children who live in the town for I have a body of patches like you would see on an old shirt and in some places my stitching is ripped and my stuffing sticks out. My body is large and has three segments. In the first segment are my 13 legs which drag the rest of me around my lab. On the second segment are some of my arms. I have six on each side and 12 in the middle and back. The third segment has just as many arms as the middle. But in the middle of this segment is my head, surrounded by a ring of 12 arms.
I work almost all the time, except for when sleep, for I get tired in this dark place. The only light down here is the occasional light bulb, torch, and burst of sparks. I do not know how long I sleep for I grew tired of my clock long ago or it was just yesterday, I can’t tell. Oh well, the clock was boring. So I gave it legs and let it walk around and then I gave hands to swing form wire to wire. It must look lovely in my zoo with my other living projects. I have finished all but my longest projects and have taken to writing. I write books for my children, describing their home and the creatures in the zoo. Maybe, I need more things to work on. Maybe, I should send some of my creations out of the woods to bring me more wonderful things from the rest of the world. They can bring me new bits of flesh and bone and metal to work on for it takes so long for me to grow and make them. I apologize. I am rabbling away all your time here. Let me show you my latest project. It will be finished to night. It is big and strong and that is all I will tell you about it until you see it.
Come along now Quzog and Mafga. We need to take your new friend to section 115 to see Fwad. Do you know why I originally made you Craug? I made you to live in Mafga but then I realized, what is the point of having something in a cage if it’s not interesting? So, I made you pretty to look at and then I gave you something to make you different from the others, which is necessary in everything I make, you know. So, because I liked to speak to you, I made smart, so you will know what I am saying to you and remember.
Here is Fwad’s room. Now, I will awaken him for you to hear him. He seems hungry and it took so long to make him, I just can’t leave him hungry. I might forget him and I hate to lose something so soon. I guess I could give him Quzog but he is so small and thin. Yes, I know what I will do. I will give you to Fwad. I made extra of you just in case you were unstable. Here you go Fwad, your first meal.
There is a small town in the woods, wrapped in a lazy fog. There has always been a fog in the woods but in the town it was thicker than in any part of the woods. There were 111 buildings in the town. First, were the 78 warehouses full of old bits of machinery in large piles and the warehouses lined up all together in rows of six by 13. There were three big buildings: the town hall, the zoo, and the school. Then, last but not least, was the circle of houses around a large park.
There were 30 houses and each house was different in some way. Some were short, some were tall, some wide, some were long, and some made no sense at all. In every house there was a family and each family had at least two adults, one child and a stuffed animal for every child.
Each family was very different in many ways. Every person was also different in name and skin. One person’s skin was white, one’s was blue, and one had storm clouds. And one had skin like a crocodile. There was a different color and pattern and texture for every person. So there was always excitement when a newborn appeared on someone’s doorstep because everyone wants to see what the baby looked like.
In this small town, everything was different except for house 15 which was the same as house 11, or so the inhabitants thought. For while house 15 had a basement like house 11, under the basement of house 15 was a lab and that in that lab is me, Doctor Hidleheim.
I am also very different compared to my children who live in the town for I have a body of patches like you would see on an old shirt and in some places my stitching is ripped and my stuffing sticks out. My body is large and has three segments. In the first segment are my 13 legs which drag the rest of me around my lab. On the second segment are some of my arms. I have six on each side and 12 in the middle and back. The third segment has just as many arms as the middle. But in the middle of this segment is my head, surrounded by a ring of 12 arms.
I work almost all the time, except for when sleep, for I get tired in this dark place. The only light down here is the occasional light bulb, torch, and burst of sparks. I do not know how long I sleep for I grew tired of my clock long ago or it was just yesterday, I can’t tell. Oh well, the clock was boring. So I gave it legs and let it walk around and then I gave hands to swing form wire to wire. It must look lovely in my zoo with my other living projects. I have finished all but my longest projects and have taken to writing. I write books for my children, describing their home and the creatures in the zoo. Maybe, I need more things to work on. Maybe, I should send some of my creations out of the woods to bring me more wonderful things from the rest of the world. They can bring me new bits of flesh and bone and metal to work on for it takes so long for me to grow and make them. I apologize. I am rabbling away all your time here. Let me show you my latest project. It will be finished to night. It is big and strong and that is all I will tell you about it until you see it.
Come along now Quzog and Mafga. We need to take your new friend to section 115 to see Fwad. Do you know why I originally made you Craug? I made you to live in Mafga but then I realized, what is the point of having something in a cage if it’s not interesting? So, I made you pretty to look at and then I gave you something to make you different from the others, which is necessary in everything I make, you know. So, because I liked to speak to you, I made smart, so you will know what I am saying to you and remember.
Here is Fwad’s room. Now, I will awaken him for you to hear him. He seems hungry and it took so long to make him, I just can’t leave him hungry. I might forget him and I hate to lose something so soon. I guess I could give him Quzog but he is so small and thin. Yes, I know what I will do. I will give you to Fwad. I made extra of you just in case you were unstable. Here you go Fwad, your first meal.
Escape from the Inevitable is (Im)Possible
What actually is a scary story?
The girl who made the wrong decisions would tell you that growing up is the scariest story of all.
She would start out with a deep shaky breath.
“Well...” She’d breathe. If she were standing in a room, on a stage, under a spotlight, in front of a vast audience that to her appeared to be nothing but one huge silhouette, the crowd would be crossing their fingers in hopes of the poor girl not breaking down on stage right then and there. Not in front of them. Save that for backstage, behind the scenes. Not in front of them.
However, the girl would shake off her nerves, and would start out with explaining how she thought it was because she was gay.
Though, she’d pause, and the crowd would hold their breath. They’d lean in and tilt their good ears to the stage as she continued explaining how she now sees that sure, it did start there, but not at her sexuality. The real reason was sitting in the background of the photo, smiling for sure, but not as noticeable as the ones in the front, with the flash on their faces.
So what of it? Who was that forgotten one?
The girl would explain that she was keen on forgetting who it was- could never put a name on him at parties, on the phone...And God forbid any level of distraction get in the way, be it something she disliked or something she wanted. Every so often however, this nameless face or a friend of theirs would run up to her, and scream-
“IT’S DECISIONS! YOUR DECISIONS! THE GOOD ONES YOU MAKE IN THE SITUATIONS YOU’RE IN!”
Mostly all of the crowd would jump and gasp, but the ones who saw it coming didn’t move a muscle.
“Oh!” She’d slap her palm to her face. Of course, she would explain, it was the Good Decisions she was constantly forgetting about.
And the people in the crowd would turn to their right and turn to their left at this point, with puzzled looks on their faces. How could someone forget about Good Decisions?
“It’s easy,” the girl would answer the question that none of the people were brave enough to ask her. She’d say that she forgot about herself. And when she remembered, it didn’t seem to matter enough to care. And in doing that, she disregarded the people who regarded her.
This kept on happening, she would say out into the audience. “And every time Good Decisions reminded me of who he was, I went and forgot all over again.”
So one day, the world gave up on her. It wasn’t like she didn’t see it coming- she would have to reassure the rustling crowd- but she couldn’t conceptualize its actuality until it was the life she was living. Until she coulldn’t have what the world had to offer anymore. And she would say that it was scary.
To wake up and have to function like the adults we’re all told we will one day be, and to do so when your peers are still going to those parties and talking on their phones and being distracted by those things they dislike and those things they want. To follow paths that are not paved for you, but that you have to pave yourself as you take each step.
She realized, she would whisper into the huge silhouette, that as much as she may have wanted this life, she would do anything to take her old one back. She was living within the confinements of a bubble, took a pin, and popped it in thin air.
“And that’s it,” the girl would say to the crowd. The lights would cut on and shine the faces of each and every person in the room, and show that they were quite unsatisfied. And it would not disappoint the girl, because she would know that dissatisfaction was inevitable. She can’t make anyone happy if she can’t make herself happy.
The girl would scan for her parents in the masses of people, and instead find Good Decisions. He would shake his head and mouth, “Look at them.”
She would, look out into the sea of people, and they would look back at her in disgust. It would make her feel sick.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” The girl would sink to the floor and put her head in her hands, sobbing.
“Because you did nothing but drown in your despair.” Good Decisions would respond.
“But I got through the hard times and lived to tell my story!” Her response would sound muffled and tear-filled.
“No you didn’t.”
The girl would open her eyes, and look down to find herself laying on a path that had ceased to go further. She would feel herself sinking into the ground beneath her, and close her eyes, knowing that she would not open them again.
What a ridiculous dream, she would think to herself. I haven’t had one about growing up since I got here.
And then she would disappear.
The girl who made the wrong decisions would tell you that growing up is the scariest story of all.
She would start out with a deep shaky breath.
“Well...” She’d breathe. If she were standing in a room, on a stage, under a spotlight, in front of a vast audience that to her appeared to be nothing but one huge silhouette, the crowd would be crossing their fingers in hopes of the poor girl not breaking down on stage right then and there. Not in front of them. Save that for backstage, behind the scenes. Not in front of them.
However, the girl would shake off her nerves, and would start out with explaining how she thought it was because she was gay.
Though, she’d pause, and the crowd would hold their breath. They’d lean in and tilt their good ears to the stage as she continued explaining how she now sees that sure, it did start there, but not at her sexuality. The real reason was sitting in the background of the photo, smiling for sure, but not as noticeable as the ones in the front, with the flash on their faces.
So what of it? Who was that forgotten one?
The girl would explain that she was keen on forgetting who it was- could never put a name on him at parties, on the phone...And God forbid any level of distraction get in the way, be it something she disliked or something she wanted. Every so often however, this nameless face or a friend of theirs would run up to her, and scream-
“IT’S DECISIONS! YOUR DECISIONS! THE GOOD ONES YOU MAKE IN THE SITUATIONS YOU’RE IN!”
Mostly all of the crowd would jump and gasp, but the ones who saw it coming didn’t move a muscle.
“Oh!” She’d slap her palm to her face. Of course, she would explain, it was the Good Decisions she was constantly forgetting about.
And the people in the crowd would turn to their right and turn to their left at this point, with puzzled looks on their faces. How could someone forget about Good Decisions?
“It’s easy,” the girl would answer the question that none of the people were brave enough to ask her. She’d say that she forgot about herself. And when she remembered, it didn’t seem to matter enough to care. And in doing that, she disregarded the people who regarded her.
This kept on happening, she would say out into the audience. “And every time Good Decisions reminded me of who he was, I went and forgot all over again.”
So one day, the world gave up on her. It wasn’t like she didn’t see it coming- she would have to reassure the rustling crowd- but she couldn’t conceptualize its actuality until it was the life she was living. Until she coulldn’t have what the world had to offer anymore. And she would say that it was scary.
To wake up and have to function like the adults we’re all told we will one day be, and to do so when your peers are still going to those parties and talking on their phones and being distracted by those things they dislike and those things they want. To follow paths that are not paved for you, but that you have to pave yourself as you take each step.
She realized, she would whisper into the huge silhouette, that as much as she may have wanted this life, she would do anything to take her old one back. She was living within the confinements of a bubble, took a pin, and popped it in thin air.
“And that’s it,” the girl would say to the crowd. The lights would cut on and shine the faces of each and every person in the room, and show that they were quite unsatisfied. And it would not disappoint the girl, because she would know that dissatisfaction was inevitable. She can’t make anyone happy if she can’t make herself happy.
The girl would scan for her parents in the masses of people, and instead find Good Decisions. He would shake his head and mouth, “Look at them.”
She would, look out into the sea of people, and they would look back at her in disgust. It would make her feel sick.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” The girl would sink to the floor and put her head in her hands, sobbing.
“Because you did nothing but drown in your despair.” Good Decisions would respond.
“But I got through the hard times and lived to tell my story!” Her response would sound muffled and tear-filled.
“No you didn’t.”
The girl would open her eyes, and look down to find herself laying on a path that had ceased to go further. She would feel herself sinking into the ground beneath her, and close her eyes, knowing that she would not open them again.
What a ridiculous dream, she would think to herself. I haven’t had one about growing up since I got here.
And then she would disappear.
Made of Money
Power is earned by wealth. I first learned this at a young age. Those of us who went to the good schools based on merit did exceptionally better than the kids whose parents pay for their tutors and better materials. I grew to think poorly of people who were able to get an easy path in life based on their wealth. In the end, however, those with wealthier backgrounds had the advantage.
Today is another day of working for those same people I looked down upon in my youth. This traffic is atrocious and if I don’t hurry I won’t be able to make my catch. I take a shortcut down an alley way which is longer than I remember. I have been driving these streets for twenty years, after all. I pass by some loitering strangely dressed bums. These freaks dress in big pants and have piercings in places where it goes through bone.
These grotesque rejects are all show. One has the gumption to get inside my car and the rest move out of my field of vision. Ploys like these are common in this town with its abundance of street thugs. This punk in front of me has a tattoo of a hornet on his cheek and hair that has all the properties of poorly bound hay. This kid barely eats and it shows. His facial hair is sparse, and scars show on his chin it’s as if he shaved with a piece of glass. I roll down my window, pull from my wallet a 20, and proceed to drop it out my window. All of the depraved animals jump after it, tearing at and trampling over each other.
“What are you doing in this part of town?” he says. He is pulling the usual tough guy bravado.
I say that I am on business and give him a reason to get out of my car with a gun that I show inside my coat. The kid gets out and gives me the bird. This delay by the sub-human species was annoying though it was to be expected and I should make it on time. I know that being late is not option. One miscalculation and I could end up dead or on the run for life. I end up on the street and wait.
The subject exits her home. She is young woman in her early 30s who pissed off the wrong people. A graduate from law school who thinks it’s her job to save the world. The righteous never last in a filthy world. She gets into the car and I shift gears. Right as she pulls out of her driveway she looks in my direction as she hears my tires pulling against the ground.
We crash and she goes limp. The oil and gasoline are starting to leak from our cars. I light a match and drop it as I leave. As I am about to walk around the corner, I look back to the finished piece. The sirens coming from the distance are raising in volume and they are reaching a climactic crescendo as they get closer to their destination.
I arrive at the diner around 9pm and the decrepit waitress asks for my order. I ask for orange juice. The glass hits the counter a minute later. My employer enters soon after. She sits down. She’s a young woman, akin to the one I just killed, who has never seen a day of peace.
“You failed us,” she says looking straight across the counter. This is not what I expect and I ask how. It’s too late. I look at my arm and skin starts to become thin and my blood seems to be showing through my veins. She leaves as I collapse onto the floor and I can feel my mind faltering. The unmopped floor of the diner becomes the only sensation of my body as I struggle to get up. A few people start to stand over me. A child cries. The old waitress whose flirtatious looks deter me from tipping generously starts to gather my body piece by piece. Others grab for me. They shove me into their pocket as they fight one another and I feel my face against the suspicious warmth of glass.
Today is another day of working for those same people I looked down upon in my youth. This traffic is atrocious and if I don’t hurry I won’t be able to make my catch. I take a shortcut down an alley way which is longer than I remember. I have been driving these streets for twenty years, after all. I pass by some loitering strangely dressed bums. These freaks dress in big pants and have piercings in places where it goes through bone.
These grotesque rejects are all show. One has the gumption to get inside my car and the rest move out of my field of vision. Ploys like these are common in this town with its abundance of street thugs. This punk in front of me has a tattoo of a hornet on his cheek and hair that has all the properties of poorly bound hay. This kid barely eats and it shows. His facial hair is sparse, and scars show on his chin it’s as if he shaved with a piece of glass. I roll down my window, pull from my wallet a 20, and proceed to drop it out my window. All of the depraved animals jump after it, tearing at and trampling over each other.
“What are you doing in this part of town?” he says. He is pulling the usual tough guy bravado.
I say that I am on business and give him a reason to get out of my car with a gun that I show inside my coat. The kid gets out and gives me the bird. This delay by the sub-human species was annoying though it was to be expected and I should make it on time. I know that being late is not option. One miscalculation and I could end up dead or on the run for life. I end up on the street and wait.
The subject exits her home. She is young woman in her early 30s who pissed off the wrong people. A graduate from law school who thinks it’s her job to save the world. The righteous never last in a filthy world. She gets into the car and I shift gears. Right as she pulls out of her driveway she looks in my direction as she hears my tires pulling against the ground.
We crash and she goes limp. The oil and gasoline are starting to leak from our cars. I light a match and drop it as I leave. As I am about to walk around the corner, I look back to the finished piece. The sirens coming from the distance are raising in volume and they are reaching a climactic crescendo as they get closer to their destination.
I arrive at the diner around 9pm and the decrepit waitress asks for my order. I ask for orange juice. The glass hits the counter a minute later. My employer enters soon after. She sits down. She’s a young woman, akin to the one I just killed, who has never seen a day of peace.
“You failed us,” she says looking straight across the counter. This is not what I expect and I ask how. It’s too late. I look at my arm and skin starts to become thin and my blood seems to be showing through my veins. She leaves as I collapse onto the floor and I can feel my mind faltering. The unmopped floor of the diner becomes the only sensation of my body as I struggle to get up. A few people start to stand over me. A child cries. The old waitress whose flirtatious looks deter me from tipping generously starts to gather my body piece by piece. Others grab for me. They shove me into their pocket as they fight one another and I feel my face against the suspicious warmth of glass.
Hawks Hospital
A marine blue SUV pulls up in front of a half rusted iron gate. A guard sitting in a
Booth off to the side of the road put down the magazine he was reading. The man stood up and walked over to the window of the driver. Sitting in the drivers seat was a young woman of about 26. She had long, well kept brunette hair and hazel eyes.
“ID and reason for visiting,” asked the guard.
The young woman reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out an old tattered tri fold leather wallet. She opened the wallet and what looked to be an old photo fell on the floor and opened revealing an old black and white photo of a family, A man and woman where standing tall over the three children in the photo who were dressed in formal clothes. The woman stared at the photo and entered a catatonic trance.
“Ma’am are you ok?” said the worried guard.
“Oh sorry,” she replied, slipping out of the trance.
She picked the photo up and folded it back into the wallet. She pulled out her license and said, “I’m here to visit a patient.”
He looked at the license studying it closely, and handed it back to the woman in the car. “thank you Amy for cooperating move on ahead.”
The guard walked back to the booth and pressed a button to open the gate. The gate opened with rusted screeching. Amy put the car into drive and headed down the well-paved concrete road through a well-kept garden. She noticed a young boy sitting under a tree, clawing at his ears. Amy kept driving along the road until she reached a left turn into a parking lot. She took the first spot in the lot there were only a few other cars in the public lot. She sat quietly in the car for a few seconds before turning off the ignition and getting out of the car. Amy walked around the back of the right side of the car and opened the trunk. Amy picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, she reached into the back for another thing, an old book. It looked like an old children’s book. Amy slipped it into her bag and closed the trunk while locking the car.
She headed down the paved walkway to the front building. She looked at the sign mounted above the building. The sign read “Hawks Creek Mental Hospital.” Amy looked back at the tree she had seen the young boy sitting under tree, but there was no sign of the young boy. Amy turned back and kept walking up the stairs. Another security guard greeted her outside the building.
“Do you know where the young boy sitting under the tree has gone, he’s no longer there?” Amy asked.
The guard looks at her with a confused face and replied, “Ma’am, we don’t allow patients outside during the afternoon. No patient has left the building in a couple hours.”
Amy said, “Well it must have been my imagination,” as she walked passed the guard.
Amy walked through the electronic door and was greeted by another guard standing buy a metal detector. “Ma’am please take off your shoes and put your purse in the box,” the guard explained.
Amy did as the guard requested, she took off her shoes and placed her purse in the box.
The guard continued “Please walk through the detector and pick up your items when you come to the other side.”
Amy picked up her purse and put her shoes back on and walked through another door. As Amy passed through the door, she was greeted buy the warmth of the A.C. In the room she had just entered, there was a large desk with a nurse to greet her.
Amy approached the nurse sitting at the desk. Amy cleared her throat to get the attention of the woman.
Amy said, “I’m here to see a patient.”
The nurse looked up at Amy “What’s the name of the patient you are visiting?”
“I’m hear to see Henry Williams, my brother,” Amy replied.
The nurse looked down at her computer and began typing. “I’m sorry Amy you can’t see him right now, he’s currently under lock down,” the nurse explained Amy replied, “I know, that’s why I’m here to see him I need to talk to him.”
The nurse explained, “Ok but if you must talk to him, you need to go with the escort of another nurse.”
The nurse asked Amy to sit over in the waiting area, to wait for the nurse to come, the nurse pulled up a microphone and spoke into it. “Nurse David, please come to the front desk for an escort.”
Amy walked over and sat in the chair opposite of the doors. She stared out the window and noticed the little boy that she had seen before sitting under the tree, was now running around chasing birds. “Nurse there’s a little child running around out side, who is he?” Amy asked in a worried tone. The nurse looked out the front door “Amy theirs no one out there, no patients aren’t allowed out side now”? She said, as she looked at Amy confused. Amy stood up and headed over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She turned the tap on and let the sink fill up with water. She splashed her face to clear her head. She looked into the mirror and noticed a ghostly reflection of a young boy playing with a ball. Amy froze with ghostly chills standing staring at this child playing in the mirror. The child seemed to notice that Amy was watching him and the boy dissipated into thin air, leaving the ball to bounce alone. The bouncing of the ball echoed in Amy’s head slowly getting louder, Amy felt a soft bump on her leg. She turned around and looked down it was the ball the young child was playing with, laying on the floor in the bathroom. Amy scrambled to unlock the door and she ran out the bathroom breathing heavily.
“Ma’am are you ok?” asked the concerned nurse.
Amy responded, “ No, just take me to see my brother I need to ask him why,”
Right as Amy replied, nurse David’s arrived and said, “Miss please follow me.”
Amy stood up straight and calmed down. She followed the nurse down the hall where they passed a room with a broken in door and a floor soaked in blood. This was the room Henry was staying in. Amy and the nurse continued down the hall. They took a left at the end of the hall continued on for about 50 ft. until they came up to a door, the nurse swiped his card across a sensor and the door unlocked. On the 2nd right Amy came to a big steel door with a small window, sitting in the corner inside the room with golden blond hair and wrapping on this wrists. The nurse opened the door and Amy walked in. “Hello Henry, it’s your sister, “Amy,” spoken in a soft voice.
Hennery looked back at Amy and responded, “Why are you here, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here to ask you why you hurt yourself like this?” Amy asked as she pulled the old tattered leather wallet.
“I also want to know why… why did you kill him?” as she pointed to the youngest child in the old photo.
Hennery looked Amy in the eye “He wouldn’t leave me alone, he kept playing with my toys. He deserved to die when he took my ball from my room, so I killed him. I waited until you, mom and dad left me in his care and I tortured him and then killed him as you, mom and, dad walked in the room to scar you” Henry laughed as he spoke.
Amy looked back at her brother with horror. She was left in a catatonic state of anger and memory; she came back to consciousness lying on the floor with the little boy from the garden standing over her. Amy let out a scream of insanity and ran out of her brother’s room, being followed by the laughter of her brother. The nurse ran after her yelling, “Amy are you ok?”
Amy turned around to face of the nurse melting into the shape of the young boy from the garden.
Amy let out a scream but nothing followed but the soft hiss of her breath. Darkness came over her eyes as she ran through the halls of the hospital and fell like a rag doll to the ground, blacking out.
Amy woke to the sound of slow rhythmic beats coming from an ECG, and the blank celling of the room. She was lying in he head was pounding and sharp pains came from her wrists. Amy sat up to get a better look at this mysterious room, She was still in the hospital. Amy looked down at the wrist and she had tightly coiled bandages restricting the blood flow to he hands. As she slowly unwrapped the bandages, the flow of blood came back to her hands. The bandages loosened but blood slowly soaked the bandages, Amy screamed in pain, a nurse rushed into the room to see that she had remove the bandages, and the stiches had opened up allowing the blood from her wrist to flow free. “Doctor,” The nurse screamed as he applied pressure to Amy’s wrist, Amy looked at the nurse as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
“Amy… Amy are you awake.” These words echoed through her ears as she came to. “What,” Amy replied to the voice?
“How are you felling?” asked the voice.
Amy groaned with a mixture of pain and tiredness as a response.
The voice of the person asked, “Do you know where you are.”
“I’m at the Hawks Creek Mental Hospital to visit my brother,.” Amy answered.
“Yes that’s correct, but after you visited your brother you had an accident,” the voice responded.
Amy came to full consciousness when the voice told her she had an accident. The face of the woman came clear to Amy, she was the doctor that took care of her brother. “What happened to me?” Amy softly asked while rubbing her face.
“You freaked out and run down the hall way after you talked to you brother, Amy you tripped over yourself while running and broke a glass, causing that deep cut in your wrist and fore arm.” the doctor explained.
“So why am I hear, not a hospital?” Amy asserted
“We have decided to take you into our care for a 72 hour psych evaluation.” the nurse replied.
“ Why?” I’m not sick,” Amy said.
The nurse told Amy “you freaked out in an unnatural form and screamed at the guard like he was demonic.”
Amy responded, “Get out.”
The doctor left the room and closed and locked the door.
Amy curled up into a ball and started sobbing, her cry’s echoed through the empty halls of the hospital.
Amy got up and wiped the tears from her face as she walked to the bathroom. She looked at her self in the mirror thinking, “How did my day turn into this nightmare.”
Amy walked over to the shower and turned it on she placed her hand under the water checking for warmth, Amy undressed and got into the warm steaming shower, to attempting to clear her mind of the bad memory’s of the past 24 hours.
Amy stepped out of the shower and dried her self off, after putting on the provided bath robe she walked pass the mirror, Her reflection froze in place. Amy kept walking as the eyes of her mirror followed her out the door. Amy reached to the wall and turned off the light, the reflection of Amy disappeared with the light. Amy slumped down on to her bed, And fell asleep.
“ID and reason for visiting,” asked the guard.
The young woman reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out an old tattered tri fold leather wallet. She opened the wallet and what looked to be an old photo fell on the floor and opened revealing an old black and white photo of a family, A man and woman where standing tall over the three children in the photo who were dressed in formal clothes. The woman stared at the photo and entered a catatonic trance.
“Ma’am are you ok?” said the worried guard.
“Oh sorry,” she replied, slipping out of the trance.
She picked the photo up and folded it back into the wallet. She pulled out her license and said, “I’m here to visit a patient.”
He looked at the license studying it closely, and handed it back to the woman in the car. “thank you Amy for cooperating move on ahead.”
The guard walked back to the booth and pressed a button to open the gate. The gate opened with rusted screeching. Amy put the car into drive and headed down the well-paved concrete road through a well-kept garden. She noticed a young boy sitting under a tree, clawing at his ears. Amy kept driving along the road until she reached a left turn into a parking lot. She took the first spot in the lot there were only a few other cars in the public lot. She sat quietly in the car for a few seconds before turning off the ignition and getting out of the car. Amy walked around the back of the right side of the car and opened the trunk. Amy picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, she reached into the back for another thing, an old book. It looked like an old children’s book. Amy slipped it into her bag and closed the trunk while locking the car.
She headed down the paved walkway to the front building. She looked at the sign mounted above the building. The sign read “Hawks Creek Mental Hospital.” Amy looked back at the tree she had seen the young boy sitting under tree, but there was no sign of the young boy. Amy turned back and kept walking up the stairs. Another security guard greeted her outside the building.
“Do you know where the young boy sitting under the tree has gone, he’s no longer there?” Amy asked.
The guard looks at her with a confused face and replied, “Ma’am, we don’t allow patients outside during the afternoon. No patient has left the building in a couple hours.”
Amy said, “Well it must have been my imagination,” as she walked passed the guard.
Amy walked through the electronic door and was greeted by another guard standing buy a metal detector. “Ma’am please take off your shoes and put your purse in the box,” the guard explained.
Amy did as the guard requested, she took off her shoes and placed her purse in the box.
The guard continued “Please walk through the detector and pick up your items when you come to the other side.”
Amy picked up her purse and put her shoes back on and walked through another door. As Amy passed through the door, she was greeted buy the warmth of the A.C. In the room she had just entered, there was a large desk with a nurse to greet her.
Amy approached the nurse sitting at the desk. Amy cleared her throat to get the attention of the woman.
Amy said, “I’m here to see a patient.”
The nurse looked up at Amy “What’s the name of the patient you are visiting?”
“I’m hear to see Henry Williams, my brother,” Amy replied.
The nurse looked down at her computer and began typing. “I’m sorry Amy you can’t see him right now, he’s currently under lock down,” the nurse explained Amy replied, “I know, that’s why I’m here to see him I need to talk to him.”
The nurse explained, “Ok but if you must talk to him, you need to go with the escort of another nurse.”
The nurse asked Amy to sit over in the waiting area, to wait for the nurse to come, the nurse pulled up a microphone and spoke into it. “Nurse David, please come to the front desk for an escort.”
Amy walked over and sat in the chair opposite of the doors. She stared out the window and noticed the little boy that she had seen before sitting under the tree, was now running around chasing birds. “Nurse there’s a little child running around out side, who is he?” Amy asked in a worried tone. The nurse looked out the front door “Amy theirs no one out there, no patients aren’t allowed out side now”? She said, as she looked at Amy confused. Amy stood up and headed over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She turned the tap on and let the sink fill up with water. She splashed her face to clear her head. She looked into the mirror and noticed a ghostly reflection of a young boy playing with a ball. Amy froze with ghostly chills standing staring at this child playing in the mirror. The child seemed to notice that Amy was watching him and the boy dissipated into thin air, leaving the ball to bounce alone. The bouncing of the ball echoed in Amy’s head slowly getting louder, Amy felt a soft bump on her leg. She turned around and looked down it was the ball the young child was playing with, laying on the floor in the bathroom. Amy scrambled to unlock the door and she ran out the bathroom breathing heavily.
“Ma’am are you ok?” asked the concerned nurse.
Amy responded, “ No, just take me to see my brother I need to ask him why,”
Right as Amy replied, nurse David’s arrived and said, “Miss please follow me.”
Amy stood up straight and calmed down. She followed the nurse down the hall where they passed a room with a broken in door and a floor soaked in blood. This was the room Henry was staying in. Amy and the nurse continued down the hall. They took a left at the end of the hall continued on for about 50 ft. until they came up to a door, the nurse swiped his card across a sensor and the door unlocked. On the 2nd right Amy came to a big steel door with a small window, sitting in the corner inside the room with golden blond hair and wrapping on this wrists. The nurse opened the door and Amy walked in. “Hello Henry, it’s your sister, “Amy,” spoken in a soft voice.
Hennery looked back at Amy and responded, “Why are you here, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here to ask you why you hurt yourself like this?” Amy asked as she pulled the old tattered leather wallet.
“I also want to know why… why did you kill him?” as she pointed to the youngest child in the old photo.
Hennery looked Amy in the eye “He wouldn’t leave me alone, he kept playing with my toys. He deserved to die when he took my ball from my room, so I killed him. I waited until you, mom and dad left me in his care and I tortured him and then killed him as you, mom and, dad walked in the room to scar you” Henry laughed as he spoke.
Amy looked back at her brother with horror. She was left in a catatonic state of anger and memory; she came back to consciousness lying on the floor with the little boy from the garden standing over her. Amy let out a scream of insanity and ran out of her brother’s room, being followed by the laughter of her brother. The nurse ran after her yelling, “Amy are you ok?”
Amy turned around to face of the nurse melting into the shape of the young boy from the garden.
Amy let out a scream but nothing followed but the soft hiss of her breath. Darkness came over her eyes as she ran through the halls of the hospital and fell like a rag doll to the ground, blacking out.
Amy woke to the sound of slow rhythmic beats coming from an ECG, and the blank celling of the room. She was lying in he head was pounding and sharp pains came from her wrists. Amy sat up to get a better look at this mysterious room, She was still in the hospital. Amy looked down at the wrist and she had tightly coiled bandages restricting the blood flow to he hands. As she slowly unwrapped the bandages, the flow of blood came back to her hands. The bandages loosened but blood slowly soaked the bandages, Amy screamed in pain, a nurse rushed into the room to see that she had remove the bandages, and the stiches had opened up allowing the blood from her wrist to flow free. “Doctor,” The nurse screamed as he applied pressure to Amy’s wrist, Amy looked at the nurse as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
“Amy… Amy are you awake.” These words echoed through her ears as she came to. “What,” Amy replied to the voice?
“How are you felling?” asked the voice.
Amy groaned with a mixture of pain and tiredness as a response.
The voice of the person asked, “Do you know where you are.”
“I’m at the Hawks Creek Mental Hospital to visit my brother,.” Amy answered.
“Yes that’s correct, but after you visited your brother you had an accident,” the voice responded.
Amy came to full consciousness when the voice told her she had an accident. The face of the woman came clear to Amy, she was the doctor that took care of her brother. “What happened to me?” Amy softly asked while rubbing her face.
“You freaked out and run down the hall way after you talked to you brother, Amy you tripped over yourself while running and broke a glass, causing that deep cut in your wrist and fore arm.” the doctor explained.
“So why am I hear, not a hospital?” Amy asserted
“We have decided to take you into our care for a 72 hour psych evaluation.” the nurse replied.
“ Why?” I’m not sick,” Amy said.
The nurse told Amy “you freaked out in an unnatural form and screamed at the guard like he was demonic.”
Amy responded, “Get out.”
The doctor left the room and closed and locked the door.
Amy curled up into a ball and started sobbing, her cry’s echoed through the empty halls of the hospital.
Amy got up and wiped the tears from her face as she walked to the bathroom. She looked at her self in the mirror thinking, “How did my day turn into this nightmare.”
Amy walked over to the shower and turned it on she placed her hand under the water checking for warmth, Amy undressed and got into the warm steaming shower, to attempting to clear her mind of the bad memory’s of the past 24 hours.
Amy stepped out of the shower and dried her self off, after putting on the provided bath robe she walked pass the mirror, Her reflection froze in place. Amy kept walking as the eyes of her mirror followed her out the door. Amy reached to the wall and turned off the light, the reflection of Amy disappeared with the light. Amy slumped down on to her bed, And fell asleep.
A Mother's Love
When I got up today Mommy was crying. She didn’t see me at first because she had her back to me and she was making so much noise. But then she saw me standing there and she stopped. Mommy smiled and made me breakfast and drove me to pre-school. I don’t know why she was crying. I hate it when she cries like that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My head was hurting today. I had to sit out of game time because it hurt so much. But then I didn't know where I was and I got really scared and I wanted my Mommy to get me and something was pounding against my head and it hurt and started crying. Then Mommy was there and talking to me, but I couldn't understand her and I didn't know what was going on and then I was being carried. My head started to hurt even more and I must of fallen asleep because I don't remember anything else.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When I woke up I was in the place that was really really white and smelled funny. I've gone there before because I fell out of a tree and hurt my arm. My head was hurting and I was super tired. But then I looked over and the people in the white coats were talking to Mommy. I didn't understand them but they all looked sad. Then my tummy felt weird and I threw up like when I got sick with the flu. A bunch of people in blue ran in and were making a lot of noise but I was tired and fell back asleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I had to stay at the weird smelling place for awhile because they said I was sick. Mommy didn’t leave me and held my hand. I’m not sure how long I was there for because I was tired all the time. But then I got to go home! Mommy said that the doctors would be coming to our house so I could have my toys and my special night light and my pony blanket. I like being home but my tummy still hurts.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I’m scared. when Mommy was brushing my hair today, a bunch of it came out. And then later when I got up to go to the potty I fell to the ground and I hit my head but I don’t know why I fell down. Later I heard the doctor say that I had something called a sea-shure. Now my head and tummy hurts and I feel sick all the time and I just want this to stop.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I can’t get out of bed anymore because I’m so tired all the time. I don’t want this to be happening to me. Mommy said that I wouldn’t hurt anymore soon but I feel a million times worse than the time I had the flu and I want Mommy to make it stop. Make it stop please. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Murdering Mother
Ellen Young was arrested last month for the murder of her 5 year old daughter. The police had found evidence that the mother had been poisoning the child with arsenic for the past six months. When this evidence was shown in the courtroom, the jury found her guilty and she was sentenced to a life sentence in jail. Ms. Young has not yet provided a reason for her daughters death. April Young’s funeral will be held on the 21st of November at the Bakersfeild National Park.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My head was hurting today. I had to sit out of game time because it hurt so much. But then I didn't know where I was and I got really scared and I wanted my Mommy to get me and something was pounding against my head and it hurt and started crying. Then Mommy was there and talking to me, but I couldn't understand her and I didn't know what was going on and then I was being carried. My head started to hurt even more and I must of fallen asleep because I don't remember anything else.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When I woke up I was in the place that was really really white and smelled funny. I've gone there before because I fell out of a tree and hurt my arm. My head was hurting and I was super tired. But then I looked over and the people in the white coats were talking to Mommy. I didn't understand them but they all looked sad. Then my tummy felt weird and I threw up like when I got sick with the flu. A bunch of people in blue ran in and were making a lot of noise but I was tired and fell back asleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I had to stay at the weird smelling place for awhile because they said I was sick. Mommy didn’t leave me and held my hand. I’m not sure how long I was there for because I was tired all the time. But then I got to go home! Mommy said that the doctors would be coming to our house so I could have my toys and my special night light and my pony blanket. I like being home but my tummy still hurts.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I’m scared. when Mommy was brushing my hair today, a bunch of it came out. And then later when I got up to go to the potty I fell to the ground and I hit my head but I don’t know why I fell down. Later I heard the doctor say that I had something called a sea-shure. Now my head and tummy hurts and I feel sick all the time and I just want this to stop.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I can’t get out of bed anymore because I’m so tired all the time. I don’t want this to be happening to me. Mommy said that I wouldn’t hurt anymore soon but I feel a million times worse than the time I had the flu and I want Mommy to make it stop. Make it stop please. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Murdering Mother
Ellen Young was arrested last month for the murder of her 5 year old daughter. The police had found evidence that the mother had been poisoning the child with arsenic for the past six months. When this evidence was shown in the courtroom, the jury found her guilty and she was sentenced to a life sentence in jail. Ms. Young has not yet provided a reason for her daughters death. April Young’s funeral will be held on the 21st of November at the Bakersfeild National Park.
Check Mate
Once there was a very close knit family who would do anything for one another. The small family of five lived in a small rugged village. A horrific accident had left their youngest son, Kent, paralyzed from the waist down. The boy’s parents had heard about a “magical” healer in the next town over. They heard that he was the one to go to for fixing what was broken. Even though the healer was many miles away and the poor family could barley pay for the visit, they decided as a family that it was worth the journey. On a cold dark night the whole family except Kent set on the long, treacherous journey to the healer. They walked many miles, taking barely anything. They were frightened as they heard the whistling of the trees and the bushes rumbling to the scurrying of midnight creatures.
Though, the shimmering, bright light of the full moon persuaded them to carry on. The family had then stumbled upon a winding, old, dirt path that lead them to a creaky, old cabin. The father could see there was a fire brewing inside. They all walked in with hesitation. The father went first, and the young kids sandwiched in-between, the mother acting as the caboose. They all stopped in their footsteps as they saw a pitch-black shadow on the wall. The shadow began to move towards the family. As a deep voice muttered “Welcome Devinson family. I’ve been expecting you”. The family sat down on a bench near the warm fire. They waited for the shadow to soon show his face. The man’s head turned slowly towards the family and his face was finally seen . He was a man in his 40’s, tall and lean, though his faced was overcome by wrinkles. He had an elongated face with his eyes indented in his skull, so all you could see were dark pupils. The family examined him and saw a meek little neck that could barely hold his head. He had broad shoulders and a thin body, so thin you could see his ribs protruding through his long, warn trench coat. Two twig-like legs extended from the bottom of his trench coat.
He spoke, “ What can I do for you today”? As he showed his stained yellow teeth, with an unfaithful grin. The family replied, “ Help us with our son”. The distorted man replied,
“ I can help you. No payment is needed, but you must allow me to make replicating carvings of each of you ”. The family agreed with the man’s proposal though they thought it to be a little odd. They begin to talk to the magical man. As the man listened, he sat across from the family, gazing at each of them and carving away at his figurines. The family left the cabin with their hope dampened but not destroyed. They had a long journey ahead, taking the long, winding, old path back to their home. Inside the creaky old cabin the man watch the family through the window until the glass was fogged by his wicked breath.
The family of five was finally home and greeted Kent, whom they had not seen for days. The next morning Kent noticed something altered about his family. His sister, Meredith, was no longer helping him with chores. She would always help Kent with the dishes. Kent would always rinse and Meredith would always dry and put them away, because she could reach the cabinets. Today there was just a pile of dirty dishes waiting in the sink. His brother was no longer assisting him either. Kent thought that they might just be tired from the long travel back last night. He did not think much of it. Today was a bright and glorious morning. The sun was beaming down and the flowers were blooming, with bees frantically flying from one flower to another. It was the day to go to the market. The market trip was the one time Kent got to spend alone time with his parents. It had always been the highlight of the week. The trip this time went from worse to disaster.
The boy had started to notice his parents acting strange. They begin to steal. They took anything and everything from jewelry to food, money, and alcohol. His parents were out of control but there was not much he could do. His parents returned by the boy’s side and said in a stern and emotionless voices, “ It’s time to leave now”. Kent left with his parents as they carried bags of goodies away in hand. His one family-fun outing with his parents had turned into a nightmare he never wished to dream. That night Kent heard rustling outside. He woke up just in time to see both his parents walking into the shadowy woods. He had noticed that they were carrying some of the goodies that they had stolen earlier. Kent, with his young brain of curiosity, followed his parents into the forest. He plowed through the forest, but lost track of his parents. He kept trudging on until he came upon a winding, old, dirt road. He came upon a creaky old cabin. He thought he saw a fire brewing inside. Kent was cold and hungry from his long journey.
He disobeyed his parent’s rule and went inside the obscure cabin. It was warm and cozy and it felt enjoyable. Then, something caught his eye. A chessboard sat upon a wooden table. He examined the board, as he had been fond of the game. He observed that one of the pieces resembled his sister. At first he thought that was just a coincidence. Then, he beheld the next piece and it looked exactly like his brother. Kent went to gaze at the third piece but, out of nowhere, a boney, cold old hand with sharp, razor, talon nails whisked the chess piece away from the small boy’s hand. The boy looked up in utter shock. The man snarled in his face, “What are you doing in my cabin”? Kent replied hesitantly, “Loo.. look.. looking for my parents”.
The man replied, “ Here come your parents”. As the bitter man said that, he advanced a chess piece forward on the chessboard. Kent’s dad burst through the front door. He went to hug his father, but his father was standing as still as statue and his face was overcome by a stunned, emotionless look. Kent shouted “What are you doing to my parents?!” The man replied in gruff tone, “I am the puppet master of your family now. Checkmate (ha ha ha ha ha) !”
Though, the shimmering, bright light of the full moon persuaded them to carry on. The family had then stumbled upon a winding, old, dirt path that lead them to a creaky, old cabin. The father could see there was a fire brewing inside. They all walked in with hesitation. The father went first, and the young kids sandwiched in-between, the mother acting as the caboose. They all stopped in their footsteps as they saw a pitch-black shadow on the wall. The shadow began to move towards the family. As a deep voice muttered “Welcome Devinson family. I’ve been expecting you”. The family sat down on a bench near the warm fire. They waited for the shadow to soon show his face. The man’s head turned slowly towards the family and his face was finally seen . He was a man in his 40’s, tall and lean, though his faced was overcome by wrinkles. He had an elongated face with his eyes indented in his skull, so all you could see were dark pupils. The family examined him and saw a meek little neck that could barely hold his head. He had broad shoulders and a thin body, so thin you could see his ribs protruding through his long, warn trench coat. Two twig-like legs extended from the bottom of his trench coat.
He spoke, “ What can I do for you today”? As he showed his stained yellow teeth, with an unfaithful grin. The family replied, “ Help us with our son”. The distorted man replied,
“ I can help you. No payment is needed, but you must allow me to make replicating carvings of each of you ”. The family agreed with the man’s proposal though they thought it to be a little odd. They begin to talk to the magical man. As the man listened, he sat across from the family, gazing at each of them and carving away at his figurines. The family left the cabin with their hope dampened but not destroyed. They had a long journey ahead, taking the long, winding, old path back to their home. Inside the creaky old cabin the man watch the family through the window until the glass was fogged by his wicked breath.
The family of five was finally home and greeted Kent, whom they had not seen for days. The next morning Kent noticed something altered about his family. His sister, Meredith, was no longer helping him with chores. She would always help Kent with the dishes. Kent would always rinse and Meredith would always dry and put them away, because she could reach the cabinets. Today there was just a pile of dirty dishes waiting in the sink. His brother was no longer assisting him either. Kent thought that they might just be tired from the long travel back last night. He did not think much of it. Today was a bright and glorious morning. The sun was beaming down and the flowers were blooming, with bees frantically flying from one flower to another. It was the day to go to the market. The market trip was the one time Kent got to spend alone time with his parents. It had always been the highlight of the week. The trip this time went from worse to disaster.
The boy had started to notice his parents acting strange. They begin to steal. They took anything and everything from jewelry to food, money, and alcohol. His parents were out of control but there was not much he could do. His parents returned by the boy’s side and said in a stern and emotionless voices, “ It’s time to leave now”. Kent left with his parents as they carried bags of goodies away in hand. His one family-fun outing with his parents had turned into a nightmare he never wished to dream. That night Kent heard rustling outside. He woke up just in time to see both his parents walking into the shadowy woods. He had noticed that they were carrying some of the goodies that they had stolen earlier. Kent, with his young brain of curiosity, followed his parents into the forest. He plowed through the forest, but lost track of his parents. He kept trudging on until he came upon a winding, old, dirt road. He came upon a creaky old cabin. He thought he saw a fire brewing inside. Kent was cold and hungry from his long journey.
He disobeyed his parent’s rule and went inside the obscure cabin. It was warm and cozy and it felt enjoyable. Then, something caught his eye. A chessboard sat upon a wooden table. He examined the board, as he had been fond of the game. He observed that one of the pieces resembled his sister. At first he thought that was just a coincidence. Then, he beheld the next piece and it looked exactly like his brother. Kent went to gaze at the third piece but, out of nowhere, a boney, cold old hand with sharp, razor, talon nails whisked the chess piece away from the small boy’s hand. The boy looked up in utter shock. The man snarled in his face, “What are you doing in my cabin”? Kent replied hesitantly, “Loo.. look.. looking for my parents”.
The man replied, “ Here come your parents”. As the bitter man said that, he advanced a chess piece forward on the chessboard. Kent’s dad burst through the front door. He went to hug his father, but his father was standing as still as statue and his face was overcome by a stunned, emotionless look. Kent shouted “What are you doing to my parents?!” The man replied in gruff tone, “I am the puppet master of your family now. Checkmate (ha ha ha ha ha) !”
Felidae
As I sit here, at my cold and lonely desk, I find that I must tell my story to someone-- anyone. It's not right that I keep the horrible screeching and cawing of wild animals to myself, the scratching at my window in my study. It seems now that every branch tapping against that cold glass surface in the wind and rain makes me jump. The shadows stretching across the large fur rug strewn across my floor, making the stuffed animals seem to come alive, their glass eyes glinting in the light of the fire. I must write for what little sanity I have left. I have kept a small journal which I hope will help track what horrible things I have done.
* * * * *
12th of January, 1887
I found myself in another alcoholic stupor. I can hardly keep myself from kicking my leg under the table for what a stupid mistake I have made. The mix of absinthe and opium seems to dull the senses. Dr. Lindenbrok, the man I have been interning for and a good friend of mine, has taken advantage of my gullibility and stupidity to sign me on for his own thesis report on test animals. So far he has been rather vague about what we are going to perform on said animals but I doubt it could be anything good.
In other news, I have acquired a kitten from one of my friends. I think I shall name him Felix; it suits his friendly nature and speckled orange pelt. After my meeting with the Doctor, I found myself in a slight hangover, and the effects of having a feline companion to keep you company throughout the haze I seemed to be stumbling through was quite comforting.
17th of January, 1887
Dr Lindenbrock showed me to his laboratory today, which Oxford has lent him along with grant money. I listened with only slight interest as he chattered excitedly on how the test subjects will be given a dose of Rabies, and then watched to see the effects- we will attempt to find a cure. In theory, at least, I don't believe that this will work, but he shows me a few slides and I think to avoid confrontation I will agree to what he says. Felix has gotten bigger now, today he seemed intent on trying to gnaw on my fingers as I tried to sleep until I pushed him off the bed. He was less than pleased with this and so far has taken up to mewling until I get him a bowl of cream. With this, I depart.
4th of February 1887 We started testing today. The horrible crying of the caged animals still sends shivers down my spine as I write. Before today all I and another intern have been doing was studying the virus under a microscope and jotting down notes. It doesn’t seem right having to hold down a living animal by the scruff of their neck and forcefully inject a killer virus into them. So far none of the animals have shown any symptoms, but rabies is slow. I’m beginning to regret this contract with Dr Lindenbrock already. I feel like I’m already getting attached to some of the test subjects. I think Felix knows I am disturbed; I'm watching him pace lithely around my study like a caged tiger, his fluid amaranth tail flicking in anticipation. I have found that scratching behind his left ear triggers an interesting reaction; he winds up purring louder than any cat I have ever heard. His sound matches that of a steam engine even! It is a very comforting in the absence of other human life in my apartment. I find that shots of absinthe and the scratching of a cat's head mix quite well. 13th of February, 1887
The virus finally has set in in Test Subject 17. The previous have either died from shock or the virus set in too quickly. We even tried to test our vaccine before proper development on Test Subject 4. I had to look away as the horrible screeching form stilled my breath and chilled me to the bone as the subject's abdomen imploded, leaving a bubbling froth to drip from the subject's open mouth. My stomach still churns when I think of the wide-eyed terror of Subject 4's last few breaths before his brain was finally deteriorated. I am not entirely sure of the Doctor though, he seemed to watch intently as the horror was occurring, jotting down notes excitedly as the intern had to empty the contents of his lunch into the wastebasket. Felix has grown more, spending an unusual amount of time pacing or sitting at the windowsill looking out towards the Ashmolean museum, where most of our research has taken place. Perhaps he is watching the magpies which flutter around and caw hollowly to the chill English wind. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever see the sun again with this miserable weather; it’s been absolutely dreadful.
12th of December, 1888
It has been almost a year, since the university funded the professor's research, and little progress if any has been made. I fear that the research grant we have been given is slowly being drained for less than intelligent reasons, mostly liquor, to quell the Doctor's disdain for failure. It seems we are also low on test subjects, the few we have left being less healthy or the elder ones, which are not as likely to provide an adequate result. I'm not sure how to comfort the doctor in his mood swings, although I did offer him a meal and informed him of my liquor cabinet, which he accepted eagerly. I'm not entirely sure if I feel as grateful a host as I think I should be though. Felix on the other hand, has doubled in size, and other than the odd tail twitch, pacing, and looking out at the Ashmolean, he seems perfectly healthy. I’m afraid that I may have been overfeeding him as, well, he’s beginning to get rather tubular. Perhaps in my exhaustion I forget when last I fed him and continue to do so until he seems satisfied- the devil doesn’t know it’s not healthy. But, he still mewls like a small kitten and I find it hard to resist handing him something; I’m afraid I’ve gone too soft for this cat. 15th of December, 1888 I'm writing the night after Doctor Lindenbrok left my house from the supper I fixed for him. Admittedly I pride myself on my cooking, even if I had a very large orange tabby twining itself around my legs while I worked. The reason I am writing is not for the cooking, though. It was for how the professor acted around Felix. He seemed intensely interested around the orange tabby, never talking directly to me and always looking around for where Felix went, throughout the night he continually asked me questions as to where and how I had gotten a cat. I merely said Felix had turned up on his own, not wanting to tell him more than that because of his odd behavior- was that the truly right thing to do? I suppose it’s too late to regret my decision now.
The more alcohol the professor imbibed in, the more talkative he grew talked as to how the tests were going to fuel the grants and science as a whole. He spoke of things so darwinian and ancient- almost chilling if it weren’t so intriguing. He spoke of “if we could cure beasts of their burden, then we may cure man of all ills- this is merely a children’s project compared to what might be done when we succeed”. He spoke of many evils, most of which I deemed to be the rantings of madness and perhaps absinthe. The professor told me how he could make man immortal- to which I responded that he was a madman. I would not have him ranting about such insane subjects in my apartments, but he went on. His voice grew louder and more excited as he continued; saying that when man had nothing to fear, there would be no need of religion. Nothing to hold us back from what can come next. Men would become gods. After he reached the culmination of his tirade, we sat in a long moment of silence, I watched ill-at-ease as the professor paled. I think he realised how much information he had given me. Standing, we said goodnight and though I offered to take him back to his house, he politely declined my offer and left in a drunken stupor.
18th of December, 1888
Felix is missing. I don't feel like writing much due to my alcohol content and my current state of mind.
20th of December, 1888
I fear the worst for my dear Felix. I have looked everywhere for him and yet he is unable to be found. I am also beginning to hear rumors of the neighborhood strays beginning to disappear. The professor has been relatively silent, telling the other intern and me to take a break- though the last time I saw him he had a bandage around his hand and looked nervous. A thin sheen of sweat across his brow as we talked about his research paper. He replied rather sharply that perhaps I should take a break, that the subjects were probably just getting to me- and to save my nervousness I should take a rest. I don't know if I should trust Dr. Lindenbrok anymore though; he seemed rather odd throughout our conversation, the muscles in his face twitching ever so often, pulling up a sneer or an eyebrow.
21st of December, 1888
I still haven't found Felix, but the other Intern, Edgar, and I have devised a plan to see if the Doctor is all right and what he has been so secretive about. There is a window on the second story which leads directly to the testing room. With a ladder, Edgar will be able to get in and see how the Doctor is doing. Neither of us knows if this idea is even sane itself, but we both worry about Doctor Lindenbrok and we must know he is safe. Felix is still missing, and it seems every time I see a shadow under my door or through my window I always look up in a falsity of hope.
23rd of December, 1888
It's a miracle I can keep my pen straight while writing because my hand is shaking so terribly. I am not entirely sure who or what we saw in the laboratory. It seemed to be the professor, but salivating and screaming at us when Edgar first came through the window. At first he seemed perfectly normal, turned away from us and looked like he was checking over the test tubes. But when Edgar pried open the old window he turned quickly. Professor Lindenbrok was neither man nor beast now, the muscles in his neck twitched, making his head shake and convulse as he opened his mouth and emitted the most horrifying laugh I had ever heard; it was wet, half-drowned by the saliva from the virus but still carried throughout the auditorium. I felt Edgar try and back away but wind up slipping and with a scream he fell into the room as the rabid man began to shamble towards us, his feet turned inwards and the maniacal laughter still booming throughout the large room. The violently twitching figure charged at Edgar as I watched helplessly through the window. Lunging forward, the Doctor’s mouth distended into a wide hatch to which he latched onto my colleague with. Pulling back his head with a jerk, he torn out Edgar’s throat and left the bleeding hunk of flesh dribbling between his jaws as crimson mixed with the foam which dripped from his mouth. After he was finished and my colleague lay lifeless on the tile floor, what I believe to be Doctor Lindenbrok turned and stared at me viciously with bloodshot eyes and a foaming mouth. The vermillion pool at his feet growing swiftly, as the doctor chuckled darkly again through the bile in his mouth. My blue eyes meeting his bloodshot hazel ones for an instant.
I let instinct take over and I ran. I heard the professor scream and run after me... but fear kept me swift and I made it back to my apartment. Every noise of unknown origin, every shadow cast by the fire- I always think of the convulsing body of Edgar as he bled out on the floor; or the Doctor and his mad laughter which echoed through the night. I don’t think it’s right to write about such things, but I do not trust myself outside of my own home to contact authorities about such an incident. I should sleep, I can just now see the sun begin its slow arc across the sky, but I don't know if it's even safe to sleep anymore. Should I find myself awake with the rabid man standing above me, ready to sink his teeth into me, I don't know what would become of me.
* * * * *
I can just now hear the maniacal laughter outside my door. Should I put down my pen and reach for my revolver? Should I end it now? I don't even know if it actually is my imagination playing tricks on me. Perhaps it's not the professor that is the mad one, but I. The half empty bottle of absinthe sitting on my desk beside me almost stares at me mockingly, the green fluid taunting me. I can still hear the screams and yowls of cats echoing painfully in my head.. I don't know what to do anymore; is there balm in Gilead? What safety do I have left but in my words, on this very paper is my sanity. Sanity which I feel could leave me at any moment in a rush of madness. Nothing is right anymore.
Goodbye,
Charles Valois, 30th October, 1889
* * * * *
12th of January, 1887
I found myself in another alcoholic stupor. I can hardly keep myself from kicking my leg under the table for what a stupid mistake I have made. The mix of absinthe and opium seems to dull the senses. Dr. Lindenbrok, the man I have been interning for and a good friend of mine, has taken advantage of my gullibility and stupidity to sign me on for his own thesis report on test animals. So far he has been rather vague about what we are going to perform on said animals but I doubt it could be anything good.
In other news, I have acquired a kitten from one of my friends. I think I shall name him Felix; it suits his friendly nature and speckled orange pelt. After my meeting with the Doctor, I found myself in a slight hangover, and the effects of having a feline companion to keep you company throughout the haze I seemed to be stumbling through was quite comforting.
17th of January, 1887
Dr Lindenbrock showed me to his laboratory today, which Oxford has lent him along with grant money. I listened with only slight interest as he chattered excitedly on how the test subjects will be given a dose of Rabies, and then watched to see the effects- we will attempt to find a cure. In theory, at least, I don't believe that this will work, but he shows me a few slides and I think to avoid confrontation I will agree to what he says. Felix has gotten bigger now, today he seemed intent on trying to gnaw on my fingers as I tried to sleep until I pushed him off the bed. He was less than pleased with this and so far has taken up to mewling until I get him a bowl of cream. With this, I depart.
4th of February 1887 We started testing today. The horrible crying of the caged animals still sends shivers down my spine as I write. Before today all I and another intern have been doing was studying the virus under a microscope and jotting down notes. It doesn’t seem right having to hold down a living animal by the scruff of their neck and forcefully inject a killer virus into them. So far none of the animals have shown any symptoms, but rabies is slow. I’m beginning to regret this contract with Dr Lindenbrock already. I feel like I’m already getting attached to some of the test subjects. I think Felix knows I am disturbed; I'm watching him pace lithely around my study like a caged tiger, his fluid amaranth tail flicking in anticipation. I have found that scratching behind his left ear triggers an interesting reaction; he winds up purring louder than any cat I have ever heard. His sound matches that of a steam engine even! It is a very comforting in the absence of other human life in my apartment. I find that shots of absinthe and the scratching of a cat's head mix quite well. 13th of February, 1887
The virus finally has set in in Test Subject 17. The previous have either died from shock or the virus set in too quickly. We even tried to test our vaccine before proper development on Test Subject 4. I had to look away as the horrible screeching form stilled my breath and chilled me to the bone as the subject's abdomen imploded, leaving a bubbling froth to drip from the subject's open mouth. My stomach still churns when I think of the wide-eyed terror of Subject 4's last few breaths before his brain was finally deteriorated. I am not entirely sure of the Doctor though, he seemed to watch intently as the horror was occurring, jotting down notes excitedly as the intern had to empty the contents of his lunch into the wastebasket. Felix has grown more, spending an unusual amount of time pacing or sitting at the windowsill looking out towards the Ashmolean museum, where most of our research has taken place. Perhaps he is watching the magpies which flutter around and caw hollowly to the chill English wind. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever see the sun again with this miserable weather; it’s been absolutely dreadful.
12th of December, 1888
It has been almost a year, since the university funded the professor's research, and little progress if any has been made. I fear that the research grant we have been given is slowly being drained for less than intelligent reasons, mostly liquor, to quell the Doctor's disdain for failure. It seems we are also low on test subjects, the few we have left being less healthy or the elder ones, which are not as likely to provide an adequate result. I'm not sure how to comfort the doctor in his mood swings, although I did offer him a meal and informed him of my liquor cabinet, which he accepted eagerly. I'm not entirely sure if I feel as grateful a host as I think I should be though. Felix on the other hand, has doubled in size, and other than the odd tail twitch, pacing, and looking out at the Ashmolean, he seems perfectly healthy. I’m afraid that I may have been overfeeding him as, well, he’s beginning to get rather tubular. Perhaps in my exhaustion I forget when last I fed him and continue to do so until he seems satisfied- the devil doesn’t know it’s not healthy. But, he still mewls like a small kitten and I find it hard to resist handing him something; I’m afraid I’ve gone too soft for this cat. 15th of December, 1888 I'm writing the night after Doctor Lindenbrok left my house from the supper I fixed for him. Admittedly I pride myself on my cooking, even if I had a very large orange tabby twining itself around my legs while I worked. The reason I am writing is not for the cooking, though. It was for how the professor acted around Felix. He seemed intensely interested around the orange tabby, never talking directly to me and always looking around for where Felix went, throughout the night he continually asked me questions as to where and how I had gotten a cat. I merely said Felix had turned up on his own, not wanting to tell him more than that because of his odd behavior- was that the truly right thing to do? I suppose it’s too late to regret my decision now.
The more alcohol the professor imbibed in, the more talkative he grew talked as to how the tests were going to fuel the grants and science as a whole. He spoke of things so darwinian and ancient- almost chilling if it weren’t so intriguing. He spoke of “if we could cure beasts of their burden, then we may cure man of all ills- this is merely a children’s project compared to what might be done when we succeed”. He spoke of many evils, most of which I deemed to be the rantings of madness and perhaps absinthe. The professor told me how he could make man immortal- to which I responded that he was a madman. I would not have him ranting about such insane subjects in my apartments, but he went on. His voice grew louder and more excited as he continued; saying that when man had nothing to fear, there would be no need of religion. Nothing to hold us back from what can come next. Men would become gods. After he reached the culmination of his tirade, we sat in a long moment of silence, I watched ill-at-ease as the professor paled. I think he realised how much information he had given me. Standing, we said goodnight and though I offered to take him back to his house, he politely declined my offer and left in a drunken stupor.
18th of December, 1888
Felix is missing. I don't feel like writing much due to my alcohol content and my current state of mind.
20th of December, 1888
I fear the worst for my dear Felix. I have looked everywhere for him and yet he is unable to be found. I am also beginning to hear rumors of the neighborhood strays beginning to disappear. The professor has been relatively silent, telling the other intern and me to take a break- though the last time I saw him he had a bandage around his hand and looked nervous. A thin sheen of sweat across his brow as we talked about his research paper. He replied rather sharply that perhaps I should take a break, that the subjects were probably just getting to me- and to save my nervousness I should take a rest. I don't know if I should trust Dr. Lindenbrok anymore though; he seemed rather odd throughout our conversation, the muscles in his face twitching ever so often, pulling up a sneer or an eyebrow.
21st of December, 1888
I still haven't found Felix, but the other Intern, Edgar, and I have devised a plan to see if the Doctor is all right and what he has been so secretive about. There is a window on the second story which leads directly to the testing room. With a ladder, Edgar will be able to get in and see how the Doctor is doing. Neither of us knows if this idea is even sane itself, but we both worry about Doctor Lindenbrok and we must know he is safe. Felix is still missing, and it seems every time I see a shadow under my door or through my window I always look up in a falsity of hope.
23rd of December, 1888
It's a miracle I can keep my pen straight while writing because my hand is shaking so terribly. I am not entirely sure who or what we saw in the laboratory. It seemed to be the professor, but salivating and screaming at us when Edgar first came through the window. At first he seemed perfectly normal, turned away from us and looked like he was checking over the test tubes. But when Edgar pried open the old window he turned quickly. Professor Lindenbrok was neither man nor beast now, the muscles in his neck twitched, making his head shake and convulse as he opened his mouth and emitted the most horrifying laugh I had ever heard; it was wet, half-drowned by the saliva from the virus but still carried throughout the auditorium. I felt Edgar try and back away but wind up slipping and with a scream he fell into the room as the rabid man began to shamble towards us, his feet turned inwards and the maniacal laughter still booming throughout the large room. The violently twitching figure charged at Edgar as I watched helplessly through the window. Lunging forward, the Doctor’s mouth distended into a wide hatch to which he latched onto my colleague with. Pulling back his head with a jerk, he torn out Edgar’s throat and left the bleeding hunk of flesh dribbling between his jaws as crimson mixed with the foam which dripped from his mouth. After he was finished and my colleague lay lifeless on the tile floor, what I believe to be Doctor Lindenbrok turned and stared at me viciously with bloodshot eyes and a foaming mouth. The vermillion pool at his feet growing swiftly, as the doctor chuckled darkly again through the bile in his mouth. My blue eyes meeting his bloodshot hazel ones for an instant.
I let instinct take over and I ran. I heard the professor scream and run after me... but fear kept me swift and I made it back to my apartment. Every noise of unknown origin, every shadow cast by the fire- I always think of the convulsing body of Edgar as he bled out on the floor; or the Doctor and his mad laughter which echoed through the night. I don’t think it’s right to write about such things, but I do not trust myself outside of my own home to contact authorities about such an incident. I should sleep, I can just now see the sun begin its slow arc across the sky, but I don't know if it's even safe to sleep anymore. Should I find myself awake with the rabid man standing above me, ready to sink his teeth into me, I don't know what would become of me.
* * * * *
I can just now hear the maniacal laughter outside my door. Should I put down my pen and reach for my revolver? Should I end it now? I don't even know if it actually is my imagination playing tricks on me. Perhaps it's not the professor that is the mad one, but I. The half empty bottle of absinthe sitting on my desk beside me almost stares at me mockingly, the green fluid taunting me. I can still hear the screams and yowls of cats echoing painfully in my head.. I don't know what to do anymore; is there balm in Gilead? What safety do I have left but in my words, on this very paper is my sanity. Sanity which I feel could leave me at any moment in a rush of madness. Nothing is right anymore.
Goodbye,
Charles Valois, 30th October, 1889
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