CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 3+ Hours of SCARY r/Nosleep Horror Stories to end this year with a twisted grin

Episode Date: December 29, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "I was a soldier following orders, hunting those who hid underground" Creepypasta►13:44 "The Green Star of Blåkulla" Creepypasta►29:24 "Creatures Disguised as Snowmen are Taking Over My Neighbourhood" Creepypasta►47:10 "My son's imaginary friend is dead" Creepypasta►1:16:49 "How to hunt an animatronic" Creepypasta►2:00:32 "Messages From The Dead For $400" Creepypasta►2:20:53 "Something Crept Into My Husband's Side Of The Bed" Creepypasta►2:31:49 "I’m a janitor at an art museum. Something's wrong with the statues" Creepypasta►2:49:24 "My neighbour worked in Ғылыми қондырғы. I have heard his confession" Creepypasta►3:13:31 “There's No Place Like Hell For The Holidays” CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Tom Carruthers: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/k4...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

This weekend, I'm Van Wacht I'm all moose I'm new as I'm on think. Oh, that dossier that morning off must be all

I'm too much as I'm too on time I'm too much I'm a moose I'm a moose if I'm too on too

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Bocure Macshot liquid Vooding supplement forcrige-mach by the apotheker I ran wild when I was a teenager. Looking back, I believe that joining the army saved me from jail.

That's not why I signed up. I walked into the recruiter's office because I had seen how the most beautiful girls all flocked around the soldier boys in my local bar one Saturday night. Not long before the fight broke out, that left me with a split lip. The sergeant behind the desk eyed me up with a dire expression that looked like it had been carved onto his face. then slid over a form for me to read and sign. You know which way up to hold a pen, he asked.

I wanted the talent to go to hell, but I wanted myself a uniform and a gal draped over my shoulder more. So I buttoned it. And the five years since then, knowing when to keep my mouth shut had been a saving grace for me in the infantry. I'm not the strongest or the fastest, but I've never questioned an order out loud,

and I've always got to it as quickly as I could. As the truck carried us towards the city, I sat in silence, ready for whatever was about to be thrown at me next. A storm was hot on her heels, a bad one. It was due to reach the city in a few hours' time, and the authorities had ordered a total evacuation and requested military support. The army did not regard crunts like us as important enough to have a view from our transport,

But as the miles passed, the constant sound of horns sounding, of sirens wailing, and the chatter of helicopter blades passing overhead made my skin tingle with anticipation. We disembarked at 7,700 hours. The NCO screamed at us to move it. Out on the street, dusk was beginning to shout the office blocks, which rose around us in darkness. We lined up and stood to attention as an officer addressed us. This is a covert mission It will not be included in the official records And you will not talk about it

Drunk or sober are in the throes of passion With the toothless cross-eyed loves of your lives Do you understand Yes sir We cried out as one No clearer what our task was But more wired by the minute I fell into step behind the man in front of me

When the order came Single file We moved forwards And I realised we were heading underground A manhole cover was propped open and the soldiers in front of me were scrambling down it. When my turn came, I descended a narrow ladder affixed to the side of the wall. When my boots reached the bottom, I could just about make out that I was in a narrow tunnel. My breath frosted in the air and an intense stench of decay made me feel suddenly sick.

Further along the tunnel, out of my sight, some wick called out. we help and the rats relocate, Sergeant. The reply shut back, amplified in the claustrophobic space. Zip it, there are low-life scum using these tunnels to hide in. We're going to flush them out, and when we reach the surface,

there'll be a nice surprise waiting for them. A thousand rounds a minute worth of instant justice, all out of sight of the bleeding hard civilians. My mouth felt very dry. Using the storm as cover to take out bad guys like this appalled me. But I had my all. orders, and I would obey. I tried to breathe nice and slow.

We set off, soon branching off into groups of six, as the tunnel split and split again. I was the tale of our drab snake. As we progressed, I wondered what kind of people were using this network of tunnels to evade the law, wondered what crimes they had committed to bring in highly trained troops to deal with them. Whoever they were, whatever they had done, they did not. stand a chance. The soldier ahead of me broke wind. A quiet, yeha, followed from further down the line.

The best of the best, I thought, with a wry grin, as I passed a new tunnel branching off to one side. We had not deviated down it. We were clearly keeping on straight ahead. I glanced down the new tunnel, wondering where it led, and saw... Movement, I said, clearly, into my radio. I'd been able to make out no details, just a blur of something traveling at speeds across the far end of the new tunnel, which must, I figure, have led to yet another tunnel which went parallel to the one we were in.

A moment of static followed, then, acknowledged, double-check all weapons live. I have no idea how we were meant to open fire in here, if it came to that, without serious risk of hitting each other. But mine was not to wonder why. was to do and, Sergeant, possible hostiles, three o'clock, the voice on the radio crackled in my headset. Eyes do you right, boys, came the reply. I tensed. It looked like it was time to flush some criminal dirt out into the vengeful light of day. The scream filled the tunnel. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then everyone tried speaking on their radios at once. It came out of the tunnel, grabbed him, hold your fire, Tchauski. Can you hear me? Copy.

I could see nothing, just the forms of the soldiers in front of me in the gloom. I knew Tukowski. He had drank me under the table on more than one occasion, had a goofy grin and a child on the way. I said a silent prayer that he was okay and steadied myself. The call came over the radio again. Tukowski, respond. He did not reply. I swore quietly.

We needed to get moving again. If Tukowski had been picked off by hostiles in one of the parallel tunnels, we were an easy target. Finally, the order came. Backtrack, we're going to the surface, regroup. But it was too late. Gunfire exploded. The sound in the confined space set of explosions of pain in my ears. Men were shouting. The man in front of me stumbled, fell to his knees. I grabbed him, tried to haul them back up. All the while, the sergeant was trying to hold back the chaos by yelling orders into the radio. He was so much white noise. I managed to get the soldier to his feet, then something torn away from me, pulling back to the ground.

And there was a shape on him. Some body, some thing that held his neck in his jaws and was biting. The soldier's body thrashed and his hands beat at the thing that was attacking him. Moments later, he fell still and the thing was attacking him. fell still and the thing on top of him looked up at me. Blood dripped from his teeth. It reared up, leapt towards me. I felt the impact.

Then, nothing more. I don't know how much time passed before I came around. My eyes were drawn first of the flickering light, the naked flame of a candle. I realized as my sight cleared, the white-waxed stem was mounted in an ornate holder, which twisted within an S-shaped down to the ground. where bones lay scattered.

There were human skulls and ribcages, legs and arms, some broken, some hole, and what looked like skeletons of foxes and rats. All were intermingled and rose the form of platform on which sat a nightmare made real. She.

I say she, because the curse of her chest, visible beneath the torn, filthy rag she wore, rested on a throne of death. I began to wretch. Around a feet lay bodies still wearing military uniforms. The pale skin was tight over the bone beneath, as if the blood that ran in their veins and nestled in their flesh had been taken.

My comrades, murdered, defiled. I spat, tried to raise my head in defiance, tried to hide the terror I was feeling in every fibre of my being. What the hell are you? I asked. Her skin was wrinkled and scarred and danced with fleas. And when she smiled, as she did at my question, jagged teeth were revealed. She lifted one hand, waved long fingers, each nail of which looked as if it had been decorated

with fresh blood. At this, a dozen creatures emerged from behind the throne and advanced on me. Like her, they wore rags over filthy. damaged skin. Puss hung from open wounds on some as they half crawled, half walked towards me. I saw that one held something clasped in its hand. It opened its fingers and threw a toy soldier at my feet. This was a couple of inches tall, made of green plastic. I'd played with toys like this when I was a boy, but what were these revolting things doing with it? The creature looked at me. Its eyes were narrow and clouded over

Those of a being which favoured the dark overlight It pointed at the toy Pointed at me Then a second of the creatures came forward From its hand through a small wooden block Another child's plaything There was a question mark painted on the block The paint was cracked and faded with age

The rest of the things then compounded my confusion by throwing forward dozens more toy soldiers. I don't know what you want with me, I managed to say, but all you'll get is name, rank in serial number, and a promise to see you burn in hell. The creatures turned to look at the she-thing, who sat watching over us. She stood slowly, and, with a twisted grace, descended.

This sent the other things into a frenzy of activity that ended with more wooden blocks being laid that of, beat. She studied them for a moment, and then one by one started to push individual blocks forward with her hands. Each block had a letter of the alphabet painted on it. Seeming satisfied, she stepped back. I read down the line of blocks, how many like you? I answered by aiming what a spit at her. It fell short, but I figured she had got the message. There was intelligence here, and she was clearly the smartest, the queen of the pack.

I figured they had spared me to get Intel on the scale of the attack that was being mounted on them. If I was to survive, I needed to act, and fast. But there was no way I was going to betray my fellow soldiers. To buy time, I pointed at the mould of toy soldiers, and a nod from a hideousness. the other creatures pushed them closer to me. I began to slowly count out plastic figurines. They watched me, seemingly transfixed, grotesquely childlike.

I took my chance. Threw myself at the knife I'd seen, still in the belt of one of my butcher comrades, freed it, span round and press the blade against the queen's throat. Unless you want a new leader, I suggest you all back off, I told them. They cowered, waiting. It seemed for a signal. But she kept her hands by her side and did not struggle as it began to walk us away, through the tunnels until we reached a ladder reaching upwards. I held the blade closer, allowed it to dig into her skin, whispered, don't.

We emerged into the street. There was no one else in sight, no sirens. The storm was here and the city appeared deserted. Wind and rain battered against us. I felt exhilarated. I held her tighter still Her skin was hot And she smelled of fear

Of danger Of the darkness And everything that was forbidden My pulse racing I led us away Into the night I had escaped With my life

I am off grid now scavenging what I need And living in a derelict building On the edge of the city After what happened I can no longer follow orders and I cannot live as an ordinary man again. I will live and die as I choose,

free of all the constraints I once knew. I checked there was no one in sight out on the street and slipped through the broken door back inside the old abandoned warehouse. It was dark, cold. The mosque of death and decay greeted me. I took the meat I had stolen from the butcher's vantua. I held the small carcasses over a mouth

and let the blood drip. She sighed, then pushed one of the wooden blocks she cradled in her lap towards me. Her fingers lingered and the faded rose-red heart painted on it. I put my hand on a ravaged skin and lent in

for a kiss. I spent most of my childhood winters with my grandmother in northern Sweden. She and her two sisters lived on the outskirts of a small town in an area, called Bluikler, or the Blue Hills. They're this small grey house.

They did have electricity, but only at night, and the heat was powered by a furnace. In the daytime, the Blue Hills was this calm and serene place where you could almost hear the snow melt. But at night, it was just this endless field of white fading into darkness. It was the most beautiful and terrifying place I've ever been. I remember one night in particular when I was about seven years old. My grandmother took me ice fishing, and as I sat there, staring up with the stars with a hot dog in my hand, I noticed one star brighter than all others. It twinkled like a burning candle.

It was green. That's the green star, my grandmother said. It can only be seen in special places far up north and only by special people. don't look at it too long or it'll turn the snow green. Thrice blinks the green star, misfortune becomes you. It was nothing but superstition. But I did as she told me. She gave me an old cast iron key to hold and play with.

It was some sort of good luck charm. Still, all I wanted to do was stare at the bright green star, twinkling away up there. There was something magical to it. As the years passed, I stopped going to my grandmother in the winter. Instead, there was school, tests, girlfriends and sports, taking up all my time. But when she fell ill, we had one last chance to visit her. I'm so glad I did.

She was in good spirits to the very end. She passed away right there in that grey house in the middle of nowhere, the same month as her two sisters. Her ashes were spread on the lake The Green Star was still there I graduated Went to college, got my first job I got engaged to my girlfriend Samantha

Or Sam at 24 For our five year anniversary We were planning a trip to Barcelona Then came the pandemic Throwing out our plans We had to find something else to do Our first idea was to get diving certificates but the restrictions in our area was too tough.

Instead, we decided to go winter camping all on our own. Sam found a lodge we could rent, and we both had a few days off of work to cash in. We managed to get a five-day weekend, and we would spend three of those up north. It wasn't the Blue Hills, but in a way, it felt like planning a trip back home. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got.

A few days before we went, Sam had to go out of town for a business meeting. As was routine, she had to take COVID tests before and after she went. On a way back, she tested positive. She called me alarmingly early in the morning. I don't want you to catch it, she said. You go on your own. I know how much you've been looking forward to it. I'm sorry.

We talked about it, and she convinced me. She would be coming home And by then I'd be up north It was the best compromise we could come up with On my way home I'd stay a few days in a motel While she isolated But that was a problem for future me

As the day came I packed the car, called Sam And set off down the highway It felt right It was weird being without Sam But I didn't feel alone She wanted me to experience this And in a way

It felt like Grandma was with me I was singing old songs she taught me And caught myself glancing up at the sky The further I got from the cities The more I could admire them They were there all along Waiting for me to come home Wonderful

What was less wonderful Was a 35 minute hike From where I parked my car Up to the Lodge Without sound to help me I felt myself getting more unsure of myself. Was this even the right way? What if I was lost?

Not a lot of people have spent their winters walking through snow that reaches up to their knees and it takes ages to get anywhere. When you're also using a flashlight to navigate up a narrow path and trying not to trip, you get this enormous sense of being exposed. There's something primal in that emotion, but also something inexplicably real about it.

When you've spent months or years worrying about quarterly reports and budget revisions, being out in the wild gives you perspective. It took me longer than I'd like to admit finding that lodge. Two rooms, four beds, a small kitchen, no power but a diesel generator outside the furnace to stay warm. The lodge was on this small hill on a clearing in the woods. The view was out of this world, reaching for miles. There could have been a hundred other lodges out there.

I would never know. I spent a few hours just settling in, warm to pot of coffee, cut up a salami and brought a chair outside. You never get used to how bright the stars really are once you get out of the cities. It felt like coming home after a long day, looking up at them like I used to.

And right there, if you looked close enough, was the green star. If you don't know where to look, you won't see it. it, but I've seen it. I've always seen it over and over, and I know just where to look. Just like back in the day, it was still there. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It brought a tear to my eyes seeing it again. It took me right back to that night on the ice, fishing with Grandma.

Only seen in special places up north, I said to myself, There it is, Grandma. As I blinked away the cold from my eyes, eyes. The star was suddenly gone. I looked around and it took me a few seconds to find it again. It gave me an uneasy feeling. Was it really there? It was no brighter than a nightshade lamp. Maybe I was imagining it. Still, there it was. How could I not admire it? I must have sat there for at least two hours. My coffee grew cold and my salami was getting frozen. All the while, I just looked at the stars, breathing in the fresh air.

It was going to be a good night. It was hard to sleep that night. You don't realize how much you miss hearing certain sounds until they're gone. Someone sleeping next to you, cars honking outside, the buzz of electronics. Take all that away, and you get hyper aware of every little thing. I stayed at for hours, listening to creaking pine trees and branches dants dancing. in the wind. I had slept like this a hundred nights, but this time felt different. Something out there was off. The next day I went for a walk. There was a lake nearby and I wanted to take a walk

across the ice. I placed the bag, brought all my safety equipment and called Sam. I couldn't get through, unsurprisingly, but I promised myself I'd try again on the ice. In general, it's a bad idea to venture out on the ice alone, but I'd done it a thousand times. This wouldn't be a problem. I brought my ice auger and fishing gear out on the ice. It took me several hours to get a proper hole in the ice. I set up two small, baited rods and leaned back with a thermos,

listening to an audiobook. I tried giving Sam a call, but it still didn't work. Figures. I sat there in a world of my own. for hours. I didn't catch it anything, but that was fine. I was at peace, but I still couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. Maybe it was Sam or my grandma. Maybe it was something else. As the sun started to set, I caught my dinner, butchered it, put in an ice and started packing up. As the stars started to twinkle, I heard a chilling noise, a large snap just beneath me. I furrowed,

I crouched down to better balance myself. Another crack. The ice was thick, but the sound of ice breaking underneath is impossible to miss here. I did what I was thought. I lay down flat to distribute my weight evenly and started crawling back to shore. I made it back to the shoreline, leaving some of my equipment behind. I still had my headphones, but I left the fishing equipment and the fish behind. I just stood there for a few minutes.

listening for the ice to crack. It was sudden. In a matter of seconds, the ice broke, all my fishing gear fell through the ice. I recoiled, backing away to the forest. From there, I could see it. The hole in the ice around my fishing spot was perfectly round,

unnaturally so. That wasn't the end of it. On my way back to the lodge, I had a loud snap from a nearby pine tree. It fell over just a few feet ahead of me If I hadn't stopped to check my cell coverage That thing would have broken my neck I heard other suspicious noises

All throughout the evening And the relaxing wind in the pine trees Started sounding more sinister I made myself another pot of coffee And brought out the last piece of my salami But this time it felt like I was just doing it To watch my back I debated whether or not to spend another day there

and I was leaning towards not. Sam would agree. That night, the stars were brighter than ever, and right there, brighter than all, was the green star. I couldn't look away. It was like trying to avoid the sun. It just burned into my eyes, through my eyelids. It seemed to grow brighter by the second,

and I had a hold up a hand to block it. I closed my eyes, held up my hand, and waited. I was obviously having some sort of moment. That settled it. I was going back in the morning. As I took down my hand, I lost my breath.

The green star was closer. It was as big as my fist, and close enough for me to see the surface. A squirming, moving surface, like breathing clouds in the distance. It was a glowing, ball in the sky, bright as the moon, colouring the entire hillside in a wash of green. It was a thick light, so potent that it felt like I could taste it.

It had a strobe effect, making my moving hand look like they lagged behind my thoughts. I could fear myself pushing through it, like a physical force. It was blinding, unreal, like a fire in the sky, making me hot enough to sweat. I got up from my seat, staring myself near blind. I snapped out of it. I looked away. The edge of the forest was lined with creatures. Deer, hairs, foxes,

even a few domesticated animals like chickens, cows and dogs. And in the back, behind all the other creatures were people. Broken people. Some pale as ice, others goreed beyond recognition. One person in particular stuck out to me. A young woman with a broken neck and a ratied. and body. No stomach, no fingers, no toes. A wide, open mouth at an impossible angle. No tongue. Dead, winter green eyes. They all stood there in the distance, looking at me from the edge of the

tree line, all bathed in the green light of the star above. I picked up my car keys and ran them between my fingers. I needed to feel something. I needed to feel that this was happening. Once I realized it was, my breath got caught in my throat. I was locked between fight or flight, and I didn't know what was what. But the warmth from the green star was real. Whatever I did next would be real. I turned to run. There she was.

I almost ran straight into her. It was as if the tree line had moved closer. The light was more intense than ever. All around me, silhouettes were closing in. I backed up against the wall of the lodge, the broken bodies closer and closer. In the light of the green star, they all looked. Hello. In a pained groan, they reached out towards me.

Man, animal, and everything in between. I fell to my knees, scrambling for balance. I screamed myself hoarse, scratching at the wall of the lodge like a cornered animal. My fingers were buried in blood and dirt My nails nearly bending backwards from the effort There had to be something Anything In my head

My screams were a desperate prayer to anyone To anything I felt a cold hand in my leg I was crying My tears tried to show me from seeing what was really happening And there Something A something

A something A small cast iron key the same my grandmother once had given me to play with. I held it tight and felt the cold return. Curled up in a fetal position, I laid in the snow and cried under my eyes were raw. I would never look at the stars the same again. The next day, I went home, numb. I know for a fact that not everyone can see the green star.

Sam has never seen it, and even other people I know from up north. have never seen it. But, as my grandma used to say, it takes a special place and special people. Don't look too closely. Question what you see and force yourself to look away every now and then. I got back home to Sam, but I didn't know how to tell her. I still don't. I don't know what I really saw. But I don't want to see it ever again. The first time I saw the creature was two days ago, on my way into work. It was early morning, around 6 a.m., and I was driving down the street when I saw the strangest-looking snowman I'd ever laid eyes on. It was taller than an ordinary snowman, made of four large round boulders of ice instead of the usual three.

It had extra arms as well. Six sticks came off from his thorax like giant insect legs. Three sticks on each side, crooked and knobby. Two more branches were protruding from his face, like warped misshapen mandibles. It had a wicked grin with sharp teeth made of jagged, broken stones. Wow, what can a creepy asslachy kids build a snowman like that? I asked myself aloud, picturing Calvin from Calvin and the Hobbs

and his demented snowman escapades. Only this was not funny. It was highly disturbing for some reason I couldn't put my finger on. The effect was terrifying, like a giant insectile snow alien, a totem of ice made for a malevolent frozen god. And worse yet, its gaze seemed to follow me as I drove past in the low light of the morning. Surely just my imagination, I told myself, tired eyes and not enough sleep.

But still, I glanced in the mirror. and saw its head was turned in my direction. When I had been certain it had been facing the other way before. I shuddered involuntarily and continued driving, feeling like a dark cloud was following me for the rest of the day. On the way home later, I was pleasantly surprised to see the snowman had been taken down. I realized I'd been holding my breath

as I turned into the street I lived on, oddly afraid as I approached the house with a snowman. creature had been constructed. Maybe the kids' parents found the thing as creepy as I did, I thought to myself. Either way, I was glad to see it gone. Continuing down the street to my house,

I backed into my driveway. Then looked up, and froze when I saw the exact same snowman was now on my neighbour's front lawn across the street. His head turned, so it was looking straight at me. It's extra legs and arm. appeared to be waving in the strong winds, making it look animated and alive.

I got out of the car, eyeing the snowman across the road suspiciously. Hey, Jordan, said a weasley voice to my left as I set my feet down in the slick driveway. Cards off guard, I slipped on the black ice. After pinwheeling and sliding for a few scary moments, I recovered my balance by grabbing onto the hood of the car with both hands. Turning, I looked to see my neighbour, Bill, was standing there on a ladder, putting up Christmas lights and eyeing me strangely. I realised I had made a high-bit shout-y-up of fear when he had spoken, right before my awkward little dance on the ice. You're right?

Fine, I said. Just surprised me, that's all. He laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. Got a show last night, he said. his words punctuated by the punch of a stable gun into the wood beneath the eaves. Once in a lifetime, if you ask me. Huh? I said, confused. What show?

He laughed again. The northern lights? Didn't you see them? Better than a movie man, I'll tell you. They say that sort of thing doesn't come along very often. Not this far south. I had to get to bed early for work. I must have missed it. He whistled softly.

Oh, that's a tragedy. You won't get a chance like that again. Once in a lifetime. They said so on the local news this morning. I had always found Bill's voice to be slightly annoying, like a weasel or a field rodent of some kind, although it did match his facial features and mannerisms. He moved quickly and constantly,

jumping from project to project as if he didn't have any real job, just housework. His Christmas decorations were already the nicest on the street, and yet he was still putting more lights up. Meanwhile, we'd been too busy to even put up a wreath or a Christmas tree. He had a giant snowblower parked just inside his open garage, which I loved with the passion. He was out every morning at 6 a.m. using it, even on weekends.

His driveway and sidewalk were always immaculate and free of snow. Ours was usually the opposite of that. Hey, Bill. Do you see that snowman across the street? I asked. He turned on the ladder just slightly to look over his shoulder, then went back to stapling. Thwhack, thwack, thwack.

Yeah, it's a snowman, so? I could have sworn. I stopped myself, realizing how crazy it all would sound. What? Nothing. Just had a long day. I must be imagining things. I'll talk to you,

later, Bill. I began walking inside and he called after me. Oh, by the way, don't we get to shovel the walkway on your side. I saw a bylaw officer out earlier. Wouldn't want you to get another ticket like last week. Sure, thanks Bill, I said,

trying to maintain my composure. He'd probably called him himself. After a 12-hour shift, the last thing I wanted to do was go back outside in the cold and shovel the icy walkway under a screwed eyes and gaze. Bill always acted friendly, but it was well known he resented most of the neighbours

for various reasons and relentlessly gossiped about everyone. I went inside and found my wife was laying down in bed with a headache. She had left a note out saying she wasn't feeling well and I'd have to make my own dinner. After popping a frozen pizza in the oven, I went out to shovel the sidewalk, spreading salt in the driveway, so it would hopefully melt by morning. As I looked up from my work, I couldn't help but notice the snowman again. And it was closer this time. Yes, it almost certainly was. Almost at the street now, as if approaching me very softly.

I shook my head and finished with shoveling, they returned to the warmth of the indoors. My pizza had been forgotten, and the house was beginning to fill with greyish smoke and the charcoal smell of cheap burnt pizza dough. After airing out the house, I made a can of beans and toast and went to bed, feeling slightly hungry, my mind running through a strange idea over and over again. The thought seemed ludicrous, far-fetched and bizarre, and yet I couldn't stop circling it. My dreams that night were terrible, but I forgot almost everything the second I woke up. Being left only with the unease of knowing I'd been chased in my sleep by something cold.

cold and evil, with too many legs and beady black eyes. For eight hours, I relentlessly slumbered and fought a demon in my dreams, and so when I rolled out of bed, I was still exhausted, and my eyes refused to stay open without a concerted effort. Coffee helped, as it always did, and I ventured out into cold darkness and scraped off the car for my morning drive to work. Suddenly, I was shocked wide awake when I looked up to see the reflection of the snowman creature from across the street, standing right behind me. My heartbeat was suddenly hammering hard in my chest and I actually dropped the ice scraper from my hand.

I turned around and saw the thing had been standing just inches away. Certain that it had not been there a few moments before, I began to feel shaky and sick with fear. Getting into my car without turning around, I gunned the engine, not wanting to break eye contact with a snowman. The black charcoal eyes stared back at me, as the engine began to rev and I drove away, unsure what else to do. Would anyone believe me if I told them? Driving down the street, my rational mind began to make up excuses instantly. You were so tired, you just didn't see it in the dark, my brain told me. Snowman don't move themselves.

It's just the local college kids moving it around, playing pranks on the neighbours. Living snowmen, that's ridiculous. These things don't happen in real life. The day passed quickly while I was at work. We were so busy that I didn't even think about the snowman for most of the day until I was leaving and getting in my car to drive home. I had fully convinced myself at that point. It was all just the kids playing pranks,

that I'd just been tired and hadn't noticed they moved the snowman into the divide between my house and bills. We live in the semi-houses that are connected together in the middle, so we share this small, narrow lawn between our driveways. I pulled up to our house,

the evening light, now completely gone, and replaced by the darkness of night. My stomach was rumbling with hunger after a long day at work, and I began to park. Then I stopped in my tree, tracks. The snowman had moved again. Now it was right in the driveway, blocking it so I couldn't park.

It's just college kids, I told myself, and parked on the street instead. I walked back to the house, feeling uneasy as a snowman glared at me, appraising me as I came closer. The creature's head was lowered like a bull about to charge, and I could barely make out his eyes looking right at me from beneath his brow, hateful and staring. The effect was terrifying, making him look demonic and malicious somehow. Something else caught my eye. For the first time I had ever seen, Bill's driveway was not perfectly cleared of snow. His sidewalk likewise had a few inches piled up on it. This was very strange, considering how meticulous he was with his household upkeep, There was also something else too.

His garage door was slightly ajar and the lights was on inside. There was a sound coming from the interior that I didn't like one bit. It was like the sound my cat made when eating wet food. Sloppy, snarthing and dribbling. I couldn't help it. Despite my fear, I was overwhelmed to the curiosity and needed to see what was making that horrible noise. It sounded large and inhuman and I needed to. to know for certain if my suspicions were correct.

Walking past the hideous snowman, I pulled open the garage store, and gasped, horrified at what had been revealed behind it. The usually well-kept garage was in disarray. Shovels, axes and saws have been knocked from their organised places and were strewn everywhere. Bags of salt and soil had been spilled, and the light bulb hanging from the ceiling was off his axes, crooked and flickering,

and at the centre of all of this was Bill, or at least what remained of him. He had been eviscerated and disemboweled, the top half of his body now completely separated from the legs, his torso were cavity of mangled flesh

and ruined organs. Surrounding Bill were several of the snow creatures, now horizontal and standing on all six legs like giant insects. They were feasting on his viscer and vital organs, They acted like a pack of wolves, tearing him apart and rending flesh from bone, snapping at one another greedily as they fought over the choicest morsels. I saw Bill's eyes were still open, and he was blinking.

Somehow alive, despite all of this, his mouth making soft bubbling, gurgling sounds, as blood poured out from between his lips. Then there was a soft, crunching noise behind me, and I spun around to see the other snowman creature from outside. He was crawling up behind me like a giant spider, creeping so quietly across the snow, I had barely heard it. It saw me and hissed the warning to the others, who likewise turned and hissed like cats. They began to skitter across the cement floor towards me, as the other one did the same,

even closer to striking. Terrified, I searched the nearby space for a weapon. A snow shovel caught my eye, and I grabbed it and spun with it in my hand. It made contact with the face of the creature, just as it was leaping at my midsection with his branch-like arms outstretched. The feeling was like taking a swing at a brick wall, and the handle rattled and vibrated in my hand painfully after the impact. But it seemed to do the trick. The creature's teeth were crooked and his head deformed from the blow, and it made a noise like an injured dog as retreated and ran from the house. The other three creatures were momentarily stunned by my attack on their lookout, but,

they regained their composure quickly, seeing I was outnumbered. They raced toward me and panicked, throwing the shovel at the one in front like a javelin. The blade of the shovel cut through the creature's face like a knife through butter, exposing its eleanoid brain matter. A fountain of green blood began to splurt like a geyser from his exposed brainstem, and it crumpled dead to the floor. Two of them were left, but I was without a weapon now, and they sensed their opportunity. They moved towards me, and only had a few moments to think of a way to respond.

They were far too quick to outrun. I never make it to my house or my car. Then the snowblower caught my eye. I remembered when Bill had bought the damn noisy thing. He bragged about it for months, showing off its features to anyone who would listen. He was particularly fond of the push-button start mechanism. No more pulling a starter caught over and over in the freezing weather Jordan. this baby is top of the line

he told me one day excitedly demonstrating it for me with no other options I grabbed it quickly and pulled out the choke then tipped it over and hit the green start button just as the creatures dove at me the jaws wide open and dripping with blood I wetched my feet between the base

and lifted the snowblower up a few feet into the air with all my effort the creatures had never encountered anything like a snowblower I guess since it caught them completely off guard. One of them jumped right into it, sending green blood jetting from the top of the machine and spraying it all over me and the ceiling above.

I was left with just one of the creatures who no longer seemed to like the odds after having seen me murder three of his friends. It escaped out the carriage door, and I was left alone in the cold, breathing heavily and feeling utterly exhausted. Bill took one last shuddering breath himself, I was completely still after that.

I stumbled out of the carriage, feeling like I'd fallen into another world. I looked around and saw I was alone. Trembling from fear and shaking from the cold, I was about to pull out my phone to call the police. But then I heard the soft crunching sound again, this time, not just from one place, but from all around. Following the sounds, I looked around to see not one. but dozens of the snowman creatures coming from all around,

from every direction, drawn in by the calls of their injured comrades, they flooded the street. My house was blocked by one of them, and more moved in from the other side, but the way to my car was still clear. I ran to it as fast as I could, opening the door and climbing inside quickly.

I started it and peeled out of the parking spot, just as they surrounded my car and began to hammer on the windows, their branch arms squealing and scraping across the glass. Fleeing the neighbourhood, I got to a safe spot and called my wife. There was no answer. The local police weren't picking up either. I'm trying to sort at my thoughts now, trying to figure out what to do next,

but it seems like no matter what I do, the outcome will be the same. These things multiply too fast. They're too strong and too quick. I hope my wife is okay. I'm building up the courage to go back and try find her. I wish more than anything I'd stay to fight, just so I would know she's all right,

and so that I could give her this message. Christine, if you're hearing this. Bill said, we can borrow his snow blower. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee was strung in the air as I descended the stairs. I stretched languidly when I reached the bottom. my body still trying to wake up after a long good night's sleep. Good morning all, I announced as I made my way into the kitchen.

I gave my wife a quick peck as I passed by the stove. Dad, my son squealed, hopping out of his chair and rushing over. That never got old. Luke was four and a firecracker. I lifted the boy off his feet and swung him around, much to the chagrin of his mother, who was trying to get him to settle down long enough to eat his churios. Notice in Claire's harrod expression,

I quickly dropped Luke back into his little chair to finish his breakfast. How did you sleep, little man? Fine. Reggie came to see me last night. Ah, yes, and how is fine Reginald doing these days? I asked with mock seriousness. His name is Reggie Dad, not Reginald. Luke said, drawing out the last syllable, as if the name Reginald was an absolute.

absolutely absurd monica. Apologies. How is Reggie doing? I responded, enunciating the name. My wife shot me a dark look. I knew I shouldn't encourage this new imaginary friend my son had concocted. Claire certainly did not approve,

but I honestly couldn't see the harm in it. He was four after all. What four-year-old hasn't had an imaginary friend? And, as we had just moved into a new home in a new village, I think it was his way of coping with being in a strange place and settling in. The move to Castlewood was somewhat unexpected. My job had offered the chance of a transfer along with a sizable promotion. It was too good of a deal to pass up.

The drawback was, of course, that the abrupt change had left very little time for my child and wife to acclimate to our new surroundings. He's okay, said Luke. I glanced up at Luke. Just okay? That's too bad. What did good old Reggie have to say? Nothing much, Luke said, slurping milk from his swoon.

Just stuff. Just stuff, I parroted. Yeah, he said he doesn't like you. I feigned distress. No, Reggie, you wound me. I tickled Luke lightly, which resulted in a round of giggles. Well, perhaps I can meet Reggie officially at your birthday party next to you. weekend and he'll realize I'm not such a bad guy.

My son laughed brightly and responded nonchalantly. That's silly, Dad. Reggie can't come. He's dead. I heard the spatula my wife was holding clatter onto the stove. We both locked eyes. I paused for a beat before responding. You say, Reggie's dead? I finally asked, looking back to my son. Sure, he's been talking to my son. dead for a long time. My son responded, before spooning

another mouthful of Cheerios into his mouth. Mom, can I go out and play in the garden now? I've finished almost the whole bowl. Claire looked slightly distracted before she nodded slightly to Luke. Yes, but make sure to bring your bowl to the sink first. Yes, Mom, Luke shouted, already running his half full ball of cereal to the sink.

He dashed out into the backyard without a second look back. I stared at his retreating figure. What do you think that was all about? I asked my wife. I don't know. Quite creepy, don't you think? She responded. Quite. I don't know how he could have concocted such a story, to be honest. I think there's something to it. Claire shot a look of disdain my way.

Are you asking me if there's a ghost haunting her house and he visits our son at night? Really, John? What? You don't believe in ghosts? "'Of course not. It's a lot of nonsense. "'Please don't tell me you actually believe that.' "'I don't know,' I said, with a look of contemplation. "'I think there's a lot in the universe we don't understand. "'Who's to say there's not something after death?'

"'She turned back to my eggs that she was still cooking. "'That's ridiculous, John. "'Anyway, as you've said before many times, "'it's just a harmless imaginary friend, right?' "'She looked back over her shoulder at me. "'Right,' I muttered. only half listening at this point. My mind was on other matters now.

I stared at the window, watching Luke play in his sandbox. Maybe I should stay in Luke's room tonight. You know, check it out. Make sure there's not some weirdo sneaking into our son's room at night. Really? Don't you think that's a little overkill? What could it hurt? It's a Friday night.

Mom would be happy to keep him for a sleep over. They can binge watch poor patrol while she gorges on popcorn and sugar cookies. and you can get a night to relax in the tub with a glass of wine and a good book. She tried to look annoyed, but I could tell she was intrigued by the idea. This is ridiculous, you know, she says half-heartedly. Come on, you know a good soak in a night to yourself

sounds pretty damn good. She rolled her eyes. I knew I'd won. Whatever, but if your mom is busy, it's off. Just as I predicted, Mom was pleased as punch to take Luke for the night. She picked him up early that evening, and Claire and I enjoyed a lovely carry-out pizza and cheap wine.

I sent her off to have a ball bath while I watched some goofy alien show on the History Channel. By 11 o'clock, I found myself getting sleepy and ready to turn in. After changing into my PJs and brushing my teeth, I announced to my wife that I was off to, commune with a dead, in my hokey's spooky voice. She was already in bed and engrossed in a paperback. Have fun, she muttered distractedly, blowing me a kiss.

I left the warmth of her bedroom and shoveled down the hall into Luke's room. I flipped on the overhead light and looked around. The pale blue walls sported a large clown mural, which stared back at me with a large toothy grin. I shuddered. Why, oh why, did my wife decide on a carnival theme for his new room? There was nothing creepier than a clown, hands down. I walked over to Luke's tiny bed with his striped blue comforter.

My feet would hang off the end, but I would survive. I crawled into bed and shut off the lamp that was shaped like an elephant. Darkness enveloped the room, say for a small nightlight in the corner, shaped like a big top. The soft red light gave the clown a hellish glow. How had I not noticed how creep with this room could be? be at night. Turning away from the creepiest clown, I lay down and try my best to slow my breathing and relax.

I awoke abruptly from a deep sleep to the sound of creaking. I had a moment of confusion as I tried to recognize my unfamiliar surroundings. Right, Loops Room. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around trying to locate the source of the noise. A closet door in the far right corner was ajar. Hadn't it been closed when I went to sleep? Luke's tiny backpack swung slightly from where it hung on the doorknob. Hello? I tentatively whispered.

Is anyone there? Silence. I turned to my right and my gaze landed on the damn clown. I really needed to talk to Claire about that. The nightlight still gave off that creepy red glow, making the room appear almost disorienting. I looked around the roof, noting the pipe. of stuffed animals in the corner and the bookcase by the door. You're not Luke. My gaze whipped back over to the closet.

The voice was so quiet, I couldn't even be sure I had heard it. Who's there? I whispered to the closet. Again, silence met my query. I rubbed my eyes. This was ridiculous. What was I even doing in here? I was working myself up over nothing. I was a grown-ass man sleeping in a tiny bed

next to the arguably creepiest damn clown in the universe. I threw the covers back and was about to swing my legs over the side of the bed. When I heard it again, You're not Luke, I froze in place. There was no denying it this time. I had heard a voice coming from the closet. Slowly, as if I didn't really want to see,

I drug my gaze towards a dark closet, in the corner. From the red glow of the nightlight, I saw a tiny, pale face. Only the top half of the face was visible. Large, dark orbs for eyes, a greyish-white forehead, and a matting of dark hair.

The face stared at me from high up in the closet, like it was some obsceny tall child standing just behind the wall. What the hell? Who... Who are you? I stammered. The face remained still. I realised the eyes had not yet blinked.

Are you... Reggie? I asked. At the sound of the name, the face abruptly disappeared and I heard a scrambling noise come from the closet. Where is Luke? The voice was louder and coarser this time, with Luke's name coming out gravely and angry from the child. He's... not here, I said.

Glad to hear my voice. steady this time. What do you want? There was silence for several seconds. Finally, the voice spoke, softer this time. Want, Luke? I was shocked into silence for a few beats. You can't have Luke. The room suddenly grew cold and the air crackled. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Before I could say anything in response, I spotted movement at the floor of the closet. The face was back, and I could see it more clearly from this vantage. It was the face of a child, but corrupted. This was not a child.

The skin was sickly and thin. The eyes were sunken, almost desiccated. Dark circles surrounded the black eyes. The lips were pale and bloodless and were curled into a sickening grin. It was the teeth that shook me the most. They were extremely small, thin and jagged. as if each tooth had been broken intentionally to create this horrific and serrated more. The chin rested directly on the floor and the face looked directly at me with an anger I had never seen on the face of a child.

It was a face of pure and utter rage. The face stared for a few seconds before the charred creature began to move. No, not move. It slithered, with his limbs tightly by its body. It slithered on its belly from the closet. all the while whispering an increasingly sibilant voice. Want, Luke, want, Luke! I backed up as far as I could

until I was pressed against the headboard of Luke's tiny bed while the child snaked itself forward. Soon the head and shoulders were no longer visible. I soon lost sight of its pointed white feet as it continued to glide lithely forward. The child was under the bed. I gripped the small mattress with both hands, not knowing what to do. My heart rate was through the roof and beads of sweat had welled up on my forehead.

The mattress jostled as the creature underneath grabbed onto the springs from below, as if it was some deranged bat. The springs of the tiny mattress groaned from the extra weight. Slowly I could feel the movement of the creature as it moved one hand and then the other, until I could finally see tiny, jagged fingernails appear on the side of the bed. I've never undusted the term, paralysed with fright. I always imagined the face with a raging monster or axe murderer.

I could easily find the willpower to get my ass in gear and move. But in this moment, the ability to move had absolutely abandoned me, and I was forced to watch in silent horror as the tiny dead hand was joined by another. I shook my eyes tight together, unwilling to have that horrible impersonation of a child burned into my retinas. And it was then that I heard it. John?

John, come back to bed. This is ridiculous. The lights clicked on, and as I finally regained the use of my muscles to turn my head and open my eyes, the visage of my wife came into view. John, are you okay? I stared at her for a beat Before I whipped back around to the side of the bed Where the hands had grasped the mattress only moments before

Nothing I released the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding I'm fine I croaked all fine She looked towards me where I'd been staring Not seeing anything She continued Come back to bed

I can't sleep without you It gives me the creeps sleeping alone She turned and left, her robe trailing behind her. I waited for a full minute, listening intently for any sound. All was quiet. Hesidently, I lowered one foot and then the other to the floor. As I stood up, I fully expected to see a tiny, ragged hand reaching from below the darkness of the bed to grasp my ankle.

But none came. I couldn't bring myself to look under the bed. The possibility of course. Coming face to face with that hideous mockery of a child made me feel sick. Instead, I turned around, walked out the room, and shut the door behind me. Back in my own bedroom, with my wife sleeping peacefully beside me, I laid awake for hours, unable to get the face of the child from my mind. Unable to sleep with a fear that I would awake with a small, cold hands wrapping around my throat

and that snake-like voice whispering in the darkness. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, it was morning. Sunlight shone through the partially open blinds and birds chirped annoyingly outside the second floor window. I rubbed asleep from my eyes as I contemplated the prior evening. I could not let Luke stay in that room again. Not with that thing there. No, I had to do something. I had to protect my son.

I grabbed my laptop from where it lay, gathering dust under my nightstand. The damn thing took what felt like hours to load. When I was finally able to get the dinosaur up and running, I loaded up my web browser and began my research. How to get rid of ghosts. The cursor blinked rapidly as if mocking me. I quickly backspaced and typed DIY exorcism. Okay, that was worse.

Cleansing spirits from your house. That was better. I hit enter. The results were mixed, as was to be expected. But I finally found a few websites that gave me the information I needed. A few hours later, I had a plan, and I had a name. Reginald Ward. The little creature was named Reginald after all.

It appears that unbeknownst to me and my wife, our home had been the scene of a tragic death of an eight-year-old boy in 1919. Reginald Ward, according to what I had found online, had passed away from consumption, or tuberculosis as it's more commonly referred to these days. As distressed as I was to learn that our new home was the scene of a horrific death of a child, I was even more distressed that said child was still in residence. I shudder to think about what had befallen that child over the past decades to turn it into this thing. My wife poked her head in the doorway, startling me out of my thoughts.

What are you doing? You've been in here all morning. Nothing, I hedged, slowly closing the laptop screen, so as they're not mega-suspicious. Just looking at stuff online. Okay? She drew out the word or gave me an odd look. Yep, she was definitely suspicious. I had the thing quickly. Hey, you've seen really stressed lately.

What if I had my mom keep Luke for another few hours, and you had a spa day? I brow was purged up. Seriously, I do you say that spa days were the most useless way to spend your money. My smile was tight. It was true. I thought it was an entire waste of money. You literally got nothing out of it. But I had to get her out of the house somehow.

She couldn't be here if I was performing the cleansing. Nonsense, you deserve it. Go ahead, give them a call and set it up. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. You'd have to twist my arm, she yelled as she turned and scurried downstairs to make the call. I stopped myself from mentally telling how much this little outing would cost me and focus my attention back on the task at hand. I felt like I had a pretty good idea on how to get rid of Reggie.

From what I read online, it was better to do the cleansing at night. but I didn't have that sort of time. I had to deal with this now. I made a quick call to my mom to see if she could keep Luke until that evening. After coordinating the time that she could drop him off, I quickly dressed and hurried downstairs. Babe, I've got to run a few errands. I'll be back in a bit.

Okay, I'm headed to the spa in a half hour. They had a cancellation for the deluxe package of the last minute. Isn't that great? I mentally groaned, but pasted a smile on my tongue. tense face. That's great, honey. Have fun. I grabbed my keys and hurried out to my car. 45 minutes later, I walked back into the house carrying my assorted purchases. Claire's car was gone, so I didn't bother calling out for her. I was all alone. Well, not alone exactly. I carried my purchases upstairs and opened the door to Luke's room.

The red curtains were drawn and the room seemed just as creepy. as the night before. The day had turned rainy and dreary, so what a little light came through the curtains gave the room that same, dim glow as the previous night. I shuddered. Shutting the door, I emptied the bag of items on the floor.

I paused to take stock of my hall. A small, wrapped bundle of sticks I was told us call a sage smudging wand, an abalone shell, a large feather, a container of coarse salt, and a Bible. I pulled up my phone, and found the article I'd been referencing earlier. I quickly reread the instructions through,

just to be sure I had everything correct. I first grabbed the salt and sprinkled the line across the bedroom door. This was supposed to prevent the spirit from going into another part of the house during the cleansing. I didn't know if this would do anything, but I wasn't taking any chances. Next, I placed the abalone shell on top of the Bible. The Bible wasn't specifically in the instructions, but I figured it certainly couldn't help. Again, I was taking no chances.

I walked over to the window and pulled back the red curtain. The rain was really coming down now. I opened the window slightly. The purpose of this I had learned during my heard research was to give the spirit a pathway to leave the house. I didn't want to get rainwater all over my son's bedroom floor, so I only opened it a smidge. That should hopefully be enough.

I pulled out a small lighter from my pocket and flicked it on. A small flame wavered in the semi-darkness of the small room. I picked up the smudge wand and lit the end. Red embers glowed as the stick caught fire. I quickly blew the open flame out, but the end of the smudge wand continued to slowly smolder. The red embers causing a fragrant, earthy smoke to emit from the end. I quickly dropped the smouldering stick onto the abalone shell,

and picked it up along with the Bible. With my other hand, I grabbed a large feather. I was ready. I began to circle the room. With each step, I would use the feather to waft the smoke, blank into the room in that thick, earthly smell. I continued to circle the room twice more, keeping silent as I wafted the smoke permeating the room.

After three rounds, I spoke. Reggie Ward, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. You are not welcome here and you must leave. I paused momentarily in my path. Nothing happened. I continued again. Reggie Ward, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. You are not welcome here and you must leave.

Still, nothing. I started walking again. Reggie Ward, in the name of God, I command you to leave. At first, I thought there had still been no change. Slowly, I began to realize that there had, in fact, been a shift. I could no longer hear the rain. It was as if a thick layer of cotton had encased the room.

The air was heavy and dense. I almost had the feeling of being underwater. I could hear my heartbeat increase. Reggie, in the name of God, I command you to leave. On the word leave, I had a thump from the closet. I paused in my pacing and stared over at the closet. The door was slightly ajar. Thick darkness enveloped the inside of the small closet.

Without removing my eyes from the door, I started again. Reggie, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. Another thump. And then, so low I could barely hear it, a hissing sound, not unlike breath whistling from between. clenched teeth. Her deep, long-scratching shortly joined a hissing. Reggie, I command you in the name of God to leave. You are not welcome here. The hissing became louder, and from the depths of the dark closet, a small moaning voice.

Don't! The word was dragged out in a hissing rasp. Reggie, you must leave now! I yelled towards the closet. Don't! The hissing. raspy breath was louder this time. From the darkness of the closet, those two horrible, small grey hands emerged

and clasping under the doorframe. John! The sound of my name in that sibilant tongue literally made my skin crawl. John! I... I did not comply. Reggie Ward,

in the name of God, I command you to flee this house. The top of the small, gray face join the hands. The dark eyes had a wary look. I could have almost felt sorry for the creature, but I did not. Quiet at this time, I again spoke.

Reggie, you must leave. Whips of smoke began to emerge from the small hands, as if there was some great internal flame churning just beneath the skin. The entity did not appear to be able to speak any longer, only that ragged shrill hiss filled the air. I watched with trepidation as the hands fell abruptly to the ground. I could see sharp nails gouging crescents into the wood floors as it laboriously began to drag its body forward out of the darkness of the closet.

In the light of the storm and in its weakened state, the creature was pitiful. Gray mothled skin rippled as the smoke drifted almost casually from its sun. surface. The thing lifted its large black eyes to me in supplication. With great effort, it spoke. I did not have a chance to respond. The smoke enveloped the creature. It swept silently through the open window. I stood still for several seconds before my knees finally gave out. I had not even realized at all the process had taken on me until this very moment. I wiped a thin layer of perspiration from my brow

as I looked towards the empty closet. It was over. Later that evening, my wife and I sat on the couch, each nursing a glass of white wine. I had not said much after she got home, and she, relaxed and zend out after a day of pampering, had not pressed. I had not fully processed all that had happened

within the last 24 hours. Honestly, I wasn't sure I ever would process it, but to know my son was now safe was solace enough for me. I took a large swig of the sweet wine and leaned back into the soft sofa. The doorbell rang, and, before I could even sit down my glass, the horrid footfalls of my son rushing through the front hallway reached my ears. Dad, Mom! Luke rushed into the living room and launched himself at us.

Chuckling, we hugged the rambunctious boy as he told us about his adventures with grandma. He was talking so fast. I could only make out every third word. From what I could tell, they had had a boatload of fun making cookies, playing games, and eating lots and lots of junk food. My mom entered the room at a more sedate pace. Sheesh, Luke, let them breathe, bud, she intoned. I'm going to go see Reggie. I can't wait to tell him about the new puzzle grandma got me. before I could say anything he was already bounding up the stairs and giggling with excitement

my mom shook ahead he could not stop talking about his friend Reggie all weekend she sat down at the edge of a chair next to the couch where Claire and I still lounged well I have a feeling we won't need to worry about Reggie anymore I said

my wife gave me a sideways curious glance but I ignored it It was the strangest thing, though, my mother continued without acknowledging my statement. When I asked him about Reggie, he said he was dead. I know, said Claire, rather creepy, isn't it? Yes, my mother agreed. I thought so as well. But he said that he was his friend and that Reggie protected him from the others.

My gaze shot to my mom. What did you say? Yeah, it kind of creepy. me out too, she said. He said that the others that lived in the attic were mean and tried to come down and hurt Luke. He said that Reggie wouldn't let them, that he protected him and

kept him safe. When I tried to press him on it, he climbed up. A cold chill swept over my body. The others? Suddenly, the rasping voice of Reggie came back to me. Want Luke. Want Luke.

It was as if the floodgates opened in that moment. and I fully understood. Reggie didn't want Luke. He was trying to tell me they wanted Luke. The others wanted Luke. Reggie had been trying to warn me. He had tried to scare me into leaving.

He tried to help me to protect my son. I quickly set down my wine glass and snatched the blanket off my legs. Before I could stand up folly, the sound and my son screams. Met my ears. Are you going to pass that thing over? D sat down next to me with deflated shoulders and a look of exhaustion We were both outside in the dark

Perched and an old AC unit round the back of the mall Where deliveries were dropped off Looking down I saw her aimlessly kick her legs back And when I realised that she still wore a curled toe elf shoes I lost all control and began to cackle as I passed it over It took her a few seconds to realise why And when she did she pulled a parker tight to hide a row red and green striped elf uniform.

Screw you, she said as she reached up and pulled off her fake, pointy ears, before taking a drag. You wouldn't find this funny if you had to greet people dressed like this. Oh, come on, I'm sure the Moorwalkers love it. Ugh, the old men keep trying to grab my ass, she groaned. What the hell is wrong with guys? This isn't the first time he's mentioned dressing with elf ears. I swallowed my laughter and took the joint back when she passed it. you do look kind of cute, innocent like.

Oh, that's just gross. Not as gross as what Dave's going to ask you to do with that candy cane. I pointed to the fake bit of candy that was pinned to her waist. Ah, she cried out before playfully hitting me. What is wrong with you? Nothing's wrong with me. You're the one that's going to do it. She kept hitting me as we broke down into a fit of giggles.

It drained you, working in a place like that. and sometimes, after a long day, left me feeling a few breadroll shorts of a picnic basket. It didn't help that staffing was practically non-existent and internet shopping had all but killed after the Christmas surge. The owner, a sweaty little man who looked increasingly overworked with each new year, tried to drum up more business by having us dress up like idiots. I was dressed as Santa for most of the day,

but it wasn't that bad, aside from the fake beard that got itchy. It was Dee who got the worst of it, forced the dressers and elf and stand by a dingy-looking grotto, while greeting what few visitors we had each morning. It didn't help sales. Nothing the owner did ever helped. The mall was too far from any towns, and it was quickly dying. If you ever needed to visit a massive building filled with keycutters and mobile phone repair shops, we had you covered. Other than that, there was nothing worth seeing.

It's getting cold, Dee said when we finally stopped laughing. I don't understand why you don't get that dick boyfriend of yours to come pick you up. I want to be able to choose if I see him, she shrugged, and I made him drop me off at mine. Besides, you don't mind me riding along, do you? Your mother thinks I'm hilarious. She is just being polite, I said. Truth is, she thinks her a bad influence. Is that right?

I'm the bad influence. Doesn't she grow all your weed? "'Yeah, but she heard what Dave wants you to do with those candy canes. "'Oh, get lost,' Dee cried with laughter. "'Seriously, I'm freezing. Any sign of her?' "'I checked my phone and let out an audible groan. "'She's late,' I said as I read the text. "'She's stuck at the hospital.

"'She says if it goes past eleven, I can get a taxi and she'll pay.' "'Isn't there a storm due? What time is it now?' Dee asked. "'Quarter past eight.' Damn Come on I said I'll open them all back up We'll have to wait inside

Where do you get this creepy-ass stuff I asked E The first thing that greeted us Was the little Christmas themed display The owner had brought up by the entrance And it was enough to make me wonder If we should just sit outside in the cold Plastic elves with round heads grinned at us

The chipped pie-shaped eyes Squinting with a creepy kind of voyeurism Nicotine-colored fake snow gathered around their feet where they stood stock still, staring right at me and anyone else who dared to enter. In the daytime, they looked cheap and laughable. But with no real light other than the moon behind me, I found them deeply unsettling. Nowhere near as creepy as the Santa though. God knows, Dee shrugged as she made a bee-line towards the cafeteria.

I think the elves came from some bankruptcy auction. the animatronic Santa, however. Santa stood seven feet tall and was made of spray-painted plastic and metal. Behind his eyes and lips, and in between every joint of his arms, legs and torso, lay tiny steel mechanisms that looked all too ready to snip off any curious fingers.

This was a homemade decoration if I had ever seen one, and I dreaded to think of who we'd put it together from scrap, and why? Al has been going nuts trying to figure out how to turn it on Dee cried as she pulled two chairs off the table and set them down for us No way to plug it in no sign of a battery But it's obviously meant to move anyone can see that Every time he tries pulling one of the panels off to get a better look

He ends up slicing his hand open on something I looked at its enormous steel boots and noticed the chips and scratches all along the tone sides Must the hurt I muttered mindlessly, before tearing my eyes away and walking over to my friend. Creeps me the hell out, decrumbled as she put her feet up on the table. Every single kid who comes in starts bawling their eyes out when they see it. The only business that thing will drum up is from serial killers. I keep begging him to just put it away, but he says he paid for it and he ain't moving it.

Cheap asshole. Besides, she laughed as she reached over and poked my belly. We got another Santa right here. Right? Oh, if you think I'm going to be stood up there next to you, letting old mall workers molest me, then you've got another thing coming. Dee burst out laughing,

and with a nudge of the elbow, she asked. Got another joint? Yeah, but... But what? It's a long night, I replied, and we only just smoked. And, you know, it's one thing if we're doing something fun, but I don't fancy sitting here,

trying to swallow my palpitations with murder claws standing right behind me. D. Cackled loudly and stood up. Come on, why don't we go sit in old Owl's office? He never locks it and he's always stashing cheap whiskey somewhere. I looked over my shoulder towards the mechanical centre and had to suppress a shiver. The empty eyes always seemed to fixate me, no matter where I stood.

Yeah, all right, I shrugged. Let's go. Have you seen Al recently? I asked as Dee tried the handle to his office. After a little bit of fiddling with an old credit card, she popped the lock and it pushed open. I thought he said he leaves it open, I added. Dee shrugged my question off and strode into the office like it belonged to her.

I haven't seen him today, she said as she sat down on the small sofa. How can a man that rich let something that ugly sit in his office? I groaned while eyeing the furniture. Knowing Al, he bought it from a strip. club, she said, quick wipe down and he'd happily use it. That man has no shame. It's like working for Mr. Crabbs. I went to sit next to her, but stopped at the last minute. Distinct memories of my employer fairing old-looking divorcese into his office for private meetings sprung to mind, and I shrunked away from his touch. I'll take the desk, I said as I walked over

and switched on the lamp. Behind me, Dee began to giggle at my reaction to. the sofa. She might have said something about it, cracked a joke maybe. I can't remember. The light came on and the old fabric desk chair was revealed. The flat seat soaked and greasy looking blood that dripped onto the floor in a thick puddle. I cried out and Dee hurried over. What the hell? she whispered. Did he hurt himself? Slowly I began to take in the surrounding area, noticing the broken photo frames and overturned papers. He looked like a fight had taken place and there was more than just a one splash of blood. Streaks of it appeared on the edges of the desk and all along the floor.

They looked like finger marks and they slowly tracked away from the desk and towards the door, thinning out bit by bit until there was only a solitary handprint left on the jam at about knee height. Oh boy, Dee whispered as both her eyes lingered on that spot. I couldn't help but picture our boss lying there with one bloodied hand, clutching at the doorframe. About a year back, I saw him get into a fight with some guys in a lot. She said, they looked like a bunch of nasty guys, and they kept asking about some cash.

And what do you know, next day, our goes for a three-week holiday, and when he returns, first thing he does is call those same guys up to his office. You know money laundering is what keeps this place on, open? Something has to, I said. Do you think we should call the police? Maybe, she shrugged. Last time they came, he went off together money to pay him back. Maybe he's doing the same thing this time. Still, do you want to wait outside? She asked. I took one last look at the blood-soaked chair and nodded. Yeah, she took my hand and led me out. But both of us were given pause at the sound of squealing metal and rustling.

had hinges. A solitary cry. The sound had rung out somewhere deep inside the mall, hidden away in the labyrinth of shadows and glass shop fronts. Was that a door? Dee asked, and both of us stood on the metal gantry, looking down with our breath held. We waited and waited, but nothing moved. We should really head out the front and call the cops, I said, but neither of us took up the charge. I thought about taking the first step down towards the ground floor but couldn't quite manage it There was no sign of anything or anyone down there But

And second thought D said Al's a sleazy guy who can take care of himself Let's just wait this out in the lunchroom, yeah At least we can keep an eye on the parking lot We'll see our ride coming from a mile away If he isn't in work tomorrow Then we'll call someone for help

D and I were in the lunchroom or as you pace somewhere behind me, muttering rationalizations about what we'd seen. Feeling incredibly tired, I had my chin propped up in my hand, and was lissing my eyes wonder the lot outside. More and more, I found them returning to the same, beat-up-looking car in the distant corner.

I can't get a signal here, but maybe we're overacting. I mean, it might not even be his blood. Al suffice the guy, and I bet my family's house he's got a gun squirled away somewhere in that office. Not to mention, he isn't exactly a small. guy and, D, I said, feeling the need to stop a rambling. Over the last few minutes, a heavyweight had started to settle in my gut, as my eyes fought

their hardest to see past the gentle fury of falling snow and make sense of that lonely car. D? Is that Dave's car? I asked. When she ran over, I think she was actually feeling a little happy. Oh, damn, did he actually turn up? He does this sometimes. tries to surprise me.

It drives me nuts most of the time, but today might be the first time I'd be thankful. It's been there for ages, I said. It's been there since we first went outside. I noticed it, but didn't think anything of it. But I swear that's... Oh, damn. Well, then it's not him, Dee cried, fairly annoyed.

He wouldn't sit outside for an hour and a half without getting me. Would he? I swear there's someone in the front seat, I said. Oh, well, maybe they can't. give us a ride? And Dee, I swear to God that's his license plate. No way you can read that from here. I don't need to read it at all, just the part with a six-nine in it, I cried. Who else drives a car with the same make and model that also has the same number on the plate? Dee leaned down beside me and squinted hard through the snow. Her noines with me was fading, slowly replaced with anxious acceptance.

No way, she scoffed. I mean, yeah, It's the same make and model. And colour. But why would he park up and just wait? Why would anyone do that? Should we find out? The snowfall had rapidly built up and fears of being trapped in the hills

who started to nip away and my sense of calm. We'd had to camp out in the moor before during the Christmas season, and it always sucked. But this time, the thought filled me with genuine dread. I kept telling myself it was an unlikely thing to happen. But as Dee and I fought away to the car,

I realized it might soon be inevitable. The snowfall was already thick on the ground, pulling out our shoes and soaking our feet all the way to her ankles. We were practically blind out there, marching through the near whiteout conditions to what I hoped was the right part of the lot. Once or twice, Dee tried shouting something at me,

but both of us quickly gave up trying to talk to each other over the sounds of the girl force. winds. When we got close enough to the car to read the plate in full, Dee cried out and gripped my shoulder to help us off go quicker on the icy tarmac. She looked happy, but I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. I took a look at the blurry shape in the driver's seat, registered the frost growing over the windows, and started to wonder why the hell anyone would sit out there with no heating, not to mention they were stuck still. refusing to look at us, even as Dee jogged over and banged the window with a fist.

Something drew my attention, some movement I couldn't see, and I turned to look at them all behind us. Something in my gut told me it wasn't quite empty, as though another pair of eyes watched us from behind all that dirty glass and rusted metal shutters. It was just about the only thing visible in the mounting storm, and as the snow piled up around its doors, I couldn't escape the feeling there was danger hiding in its shadows. I couldn't have looked over for more than a few seconds, but it felt like an age. And when Dee started screaming, I was whipped back to the present so quickly I was disorientated. I barely even registered what it was she was saying or crying as she turned and grabbed my jacket. Her fingers digging into the fabric so tight I heard stitches start to give.

It was so much, so quickly. A screaming, the wind, the cold, the feeling of her nails as they caught my skin and started to dig in. By the time I looked up, I know that only a few seconds could have passed, but it all felt like it played out over long minutes, like a kind of dream. Dee had managed to open the car door, and there sat Dave, looking right at me. But my brain nagged. Something was wrong. I just couldn't figure out what. He had his jacket, his jeans, the little waving toy cat on the dash.

It was all there. I just kept staring at him in disbelief. My face probably mirroring his own expression that gulped at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. When my brain finally caught up with reality, it felt like a punch to the stomach. Dave's head had been twisted, damn near clean off. His hands gripped the wheel But his chin was pointing right at us Over his left shoulder

The angle completely impossible It wasn't that his neck was turned a bit too far for comfort His head had been wrenched around two Maybe three times He was so grotesque I almost wanted to touch it To see if it felt like vinyl or rubber Movies had conditioned me

To expect a bit of unrealism From that kind of gore But jeez I could see every individual hair of his eyebrows I could see the blue and purple veins that had burst in his eyes. It was all so wrong, I simply didn't know what to make of it. And for some god-awful stupid reason, I reached out and took his shoulder, just the check that he was dead. What the hell are you doing? Dee cried.

I just... I couldn't get the words out, and I soon recognized the signs of shock. I decided to light and load in my head and pushed all the thoughts. thoughts aside until only a single notion remained. I'm cold. We need to get inside, I said, my teeth chattering. Dee said nothing as I pulled her up by her arm and guided her back to the mall. The grotto was different.

Two large empty prints stood in the fake snow, each as large as my head. The centre was gone. I looked at the footprints and tried to ignore what felt like a clenched fist planted square in my gut. So far, my mind was racing to pull at some strange threads, ones I recognised from a thousand horror films and hackneyed stories. I wanted to shake them free, but they wouldn't go away. I should have been beside Dee, trying like hell to call the police, but deep down I knew it wouldn't work. Lately, I had the feeling of being watched. finding Dave's body had left me convinced

he was more than just a feeling I can't get through Dee said stepping up to me and surveying the empty prince I keep trying but it's just dead Al uses a repeater to get signal out here doesn't he? I asked to which she nodded

Sometimes Someone's taking it down I guess I mean they must have killed Dave earlier than eight Right that was when we went out and sat out there As for Al Could have been any time. We don't know Al's dead. Either way, we're stuck here, and I don't like it.

My mother might turn up, but some day she's in work until midnight. Damn, I said, briefly looking at the windows where snow was falling thick and fast. I'm not sure she'd reach us if she left right now, and we've been stuck before, right? It's reasonable we'd be here until morning. She might be a bit anxious, but she probably won't call the police for a while yet. So, we just wait. D, I said, trying to catch a eye. I don't think we're alone here.

I think we should lock ourselves in Al's office, she replied. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I want to be somewhere with the door we can lock. Wait! She cried the last word so suddenly, I jumped and whipped around lightning fast, half expecting to find some dreadful plastic face gazing back at me. Instead, there were two blinding headlights staring right at us from the parking lot. For a few seconds, I was confused. Not sure if this strange car was going to ram us or reverse or what.

Only for the car to turn and meander out of sight towards the back of the mall. When I looked back at Dee, she was grinning with delight. Graham, she cried. The name clicked, and I smiled too. The security guard had just arrived. I completely forgot he even shows up, I cried as I chased after D towards the rear of the mall.

Me too, she replied as she reached the back door and pushed it open. It could have only been 30 seconds since we lost sight of the car, but when we ran out, we saw it idle in the middle of the small lot. The engine wasn't running, but the lights were still on and pointing right at us, blinding me to who might be in the driver's seat. I quickly stepped out of the beam and walked over,

my heart plunging into my stomach as I saw what waited for me. The car was empty And one of the windows had been broken And the roof was dented The door was thrown wide open But the only sign of the security guard Was this heavy-duty flashlight

That had been left behind on the ground Just outside the car I quickly grabbed it and turned it on Dee screamed and I moved the light towards her She was looking up Pointing towards the roof of the mall With one hand clasped over a man mouth. I quietly tracked the beam across and caught sight of the pale face looking back at me.

Graham was upside down, his back flat against the wall with limp arms dangling freely. Even from 30 or 40 feet away, I could tell his eyes were vacant and lifeless. But that didn't mean he was still. Something had already heaved him up to the very top of the wall in mere minute. I was now busy pulling the rest of him over the stony ledge. with brutal efficiency. A living person might have screamed at such rough treatment, but I could only make out the sound of breaking bones and tearing cloth as his back arched to a complete 90 degrees

before he was yanked over the rest of the way. Dee had stopped crying. Her lips were pressed tight and her face was white when she looked back at me, but I could tell she'd seen what had taken him. The wall itself had handholds punched directly through the, concrete and into the brick behind it. What the hell did that? I asked. We need to get inside.

It was the only thing, she said. What are you looking for? she asked. I have a hunch, I replied as I pulled open the bottom drawer of Al's desk. Ha! I cried before reaching in and pulling out a snub-nosed revolver. It's so unbelievably damn illegal for him to have this, but thank God he does. It won't matter, Dee said. I'm all for finding a weapon, but...

But what? I asked as I checked the drawer for any ammunition. All I managed to find were three rounds, and that included one already in the gun. I loaded up the rest and tucked the pistol into my belt. I'm not sure that gun's going to do much, Dee said as she watched me. I thought of the empty grotto

and the strength it would take to climb that wall by punching into brick. Better than nothing, I replied. I don't suppose. you saw any keys in Dave's car. Dee shuddered at the reminder of her boyfriend's death, but she answered anyway.

Nothing in the ignition. Should we go check the footwell? It might be her any choice, I said. But I don't feel optimistic. Maybe in the morning, but for now, I think the best bet is to stay still. Dee went to reply,

but she didn't get the chance. With a loud thunk, the light and electricity, cut out all at once. The mall itself didn't change, but the office were in cut to black and I managed to scramble to get the torch and turn it on.

I found Dee pressed up against the wall, a look of panic on her face. What the hell? she whispered. I silently agreed and turned the light towards the only door in and out of that room. For long seconds, nothing happened. I could hear only the muffled sounds

of wind buffeting the building. as D&I both held our breath and stayed as still as we could. Then came the sound of something landing on the gantry outside. Metal creaked and groaned, but nothing followed for long seconds, until at last there came another loud but softer crash of metal on metal. With steady rhythm, the sound of something large, slowly walking towards the door grew louder, until I finally shook myself free of the paralyzing terror

and threw the door open to look outside. Whatever was out there was practically on the other side of the mall, but it was so heavy, the entire middle walkway shook violently with each step. We have to move now, I said while grabbing Dee. She was afraid, but as soon as she saw the distance between us and the dark shape making its way toward the elevated office, it was clear she understood my meaning. The gap was closing, but there was time. We ran towards the nearby stairs and quickly made it down to the ground floor.

Using the light, I checked the can tree and saw a brief flash of something red and large. But whatever it was, it suddenly moved too quickly and I lost sight of it. It's messing with us, I hissed, speaking only to myself. We need power, Dee said, her voice surprisingly calm. One of the shops has a secure room, but it needs power for the door to lock. How thick is the door? I asked. I think it used to be a Bucky, so it's pretty strong. I didn't like it much as a plan, but it was all we had, and I was desperate to start moving.

This is bull crap! D, here's the words as we pushed open the door to the basement, my light catching a few other steps before they descended into blackness. There were only a few rooms down there, but I was mostly interested in the fuse box right at the back, farthest away from where we were standing. Unfortunately, when we reached the floor, we were stuck navigating a claustrophobic collection of large pumps, pipes, and large aircon units that towered over us. This is bull crap, I growled as we carefully stalked away past row after row of machinery. I can't see a damn thing, just keep an eye out for the door to the back room.

When Dee's hand found mine, she crushed it so hard it hurt. But it got my attention silently and I turned the flashlight back to where she pointed. sure enough there was the room we'd been searching for only now it looked like something straight out of a nightmare the door had been blown outwards like metal under pressure and by right it shouldn't have been standing it certainly didn't fit the hole behind it but something had grown around the frame and held it in place the substance whatever it was resembled roadkill crossed with an industrial accident pipes and needles and semi-recognized tools jotted out of roiling fur and liquid flesh, reminding me of a ferromagnetic fluid. He never stayed still, but he never really moved either. I think we both would have left right there and then, were it not for the sound of someone crying out from within.

Hello, they shouted. I can hear you out there. Please, please help me. Ah damn, that's Al, Dee said. A hand gripping mine so hard, I felt blood. pulling in my fingertips. All right, I said, mostly to calm myself. All right, we got to do this.

If anyone knows what's going on, it's Al. The door opened nice and easily, despite every bit of the jam being gummed up with fur and pallid skin that never stayed still. Stepping inside, I saw a dungeon right out of someone's worst nightmare. The whole room was a rancid bubbling mess of meat and metal with fleshy growths descending from the ceiling. In each one, their hung a victim, trapped in the substance, their upside-down faces resting at about chest height.

Hoping to free them, I ran to the closet and saw Graham staring back at me with lifeless eyes. I only needed one glance at the missing portion of his skull to realize he was dead. The same was true for Dave, who'd somehow been transported out of the car and to hear, and for a few of the other unfamiliar characters who lay suspended in this horror. All of them showed signs of coming apart in grotesque ways. The liquid flesh and metal that encased Graham was steadily pouring into his skull against the flow of gravity and into his open mouth. Dave's broken neck had split open and clinking metallic probes scuttled between exposed vertebrae like termites in a house. The others who appear to have been dead much longer,

were all barely recognisable as human. All that remained were faces and tufts of hair. Somehow, Al was alive, writhing and fighting the mast that encased him. Get the hell over here, he cried. I began to tear the awful substance away from him. It was like handling greasy, raw chicken, and unseen shards of metal consistently cut in my hands, so that progress was slow,

and wouldn't speed up until D appeared a few seconds later, with a crowbar. I was about to ask where she found it, but I stopped when I saw what looked like a bunch of nerves growing out of the end. I realized she must have torn it from one of the horrifying stalactites

that surrounded us. Their writhing forms constantly producing an endless array of familiar shapes and tools. How long have you been here? I whispered to Al, just as Dee freed his shoulder and his arm came loose.

I don't know, he said, but we have. have to leave now. This a murderous Santa Claus machine running around? I cried hysterically. Where the hell did you find it? I didn't. Dee got his second arm free

and, refusing to wait any longer Al began to tear away every last bit of metal and flesh that held him in place. By the time it reached his legs, Dee and I were forced to watch and grimace as he meant Al pulling out tiny metallic filaments that pierced his skin.

He snapped them with an audible twang, and each time he swallowed an agonized scream behind clenched teeth that made me wonder just how deep they went. What the hell do you mean you didn't find it? D asked once he was free and on the floor. It took a few seconds for the blood in his body to write itself, so he knelt there, panting and answered our questions. It appeared by the dumpster, he said.

Sometimes people chucked stuff in the bins for pick-up. It's a pain in the air. but this time. Well, I turned up, and there he was, standing right by the back entrance, next to the dumpster like someone couldn't be bothered to throw him in. I thought, you know, why the hell not? He looked homemade, but so what? I figured a small business must have made it,

and then, for whatever reason, they threw it away on our doorstep. You know, I would honestly like to blame you right now, I said, but I'm not sure anyone could have predicted this. To be fair, the costumes are just fine. Dee and I took a moment to look at him as his word settled in. What? he cried. A tragedy shop dumped something like 30 bags in our dumpster. You think I ain't going to check it out to see if it's worth keeping.

Look at this, he said, or reaching out to touch a lapel and Dee's waistcoat. That sturdy material right there, and the kids love an elf come Christmas. Did you wash them? I asked. Owl shrugged. I gave him a sniff. I pinched the bridge of my nose and swallowed my words. When I spoke, it was the D. Can you check Dave for his keys?

Don't bother, Al said, cutting us off. I've got mine in my pocket and my car's parked out front where it always is. Let's go. Before we left, I had D and I grab another two sets of keys just in case. One off Dave and one off Graham. Hopefully we wouldn't need them. But I didn't feel like putting any more faith in When I turned the corner and saw the grotto, the elves were all of their backs to me.

I skidded to a halt so quickly that decolided with my back. She didn't swear or curse. All of us had been running towards the front of the mall, perfectly aware of what might be waiting for us. It was a risk I'd hoped would pay off. It didn't. The animatronic Santa was facing us, empty eyes and a hollow grin fixing us even in the dark. Surprisingly though, even as D and I were frozen in terror, Al settled past us and looked at it quizzically. I think we can do this, he whispered.

It's right there, I hissed. No, he said, stepping out toward it, closing the distance to just 10 or 15 feet. No, it's not. Before I could stop him, he walked up to the centre and tapped it. A hollow sound like a bell rang out, and he turned back to us with a grin. It's not here, he cried. I didn't understand what exactly he meant. But just in case, he thumped it a few more times,

and even grabbed it with both hands and rocked it back and forth. His laughter verging unhysterical. Cautiously, I allowed myself to approach the Santa, painfully aware that Al had refused the hand over the keys. "'For goodness sake, Al,' Dee cried as we passed him and moved toward the door. "'We need to leave.' "'All right,' he said with a nod. "'Just wanted to prove to you that we were set—'

His voice was cut off by sound like a toolbox falling into custard. I snapped around a sea, but with no light in the mall, and only a thin bit of moonlight and the fading torch in my hand, it was hard to gauge what happened clearly, at least at first. something had landed on Al the growing puddle of blood and the arterial sprays that had soaked us both even as we stood over ten feet away

made it clear there would be no revival for Al neither Dee nor I cried out but we both grew stiff with terror as we realised what we were looking at it moved like a spider but looked more like a jellyfish sculpture made out of refurbished tools only it wasn't just that either

fingers and hair and flaps of torn skin were jammed into every little crevice so that you couldn't tell if you were looking at something alive, dead or a bit of both. If I had to guess, it was the last option. Like the strange substance in the basement, this thing didn't stay still either. Every inch of it coiled and rolled over itself, but it lacked the shapelessness of that lifeless scoop downstairs. It skittered and moved, even as it still. Stood tearing over Al's crushed and lifeless body.

Suddenly, a piece of it struck out at the metal santa and gummed itself to the mouth. For a few seconds, I thought it might yank the machine towards it, but slowly I realized that the main mass of the body was shrinking. It was pouring itself into the animatronic. And just like that, I understood how this thing had liked to move and hunt, and maybe even get close to people without being spotted a million miles away.

The thought that it might have stood there, immobile in its hiding place, for weeks as hundreds of people poured past it to go shopping, made my skin crawl. With a final slurp, the last of that thing tumbled into the centre, and with a noise like a breaking train, the head turned to face us. Nope, Dee cried as I choked forward to grab the bloody keys that lay in the floor. We've got two others, remember? In a single motion she swung me around and had us both facing the doors out of there.

Normally the shutter would be down, but something had already done the job of tearing it to pieces at some point in the night. With hardly any distance to go, we were out in the wind and snow, before that monster had even taken its first step. We were a further 50 metres away when something blew the whole front door out in a flurry of snow and sparking metal. Where before, it had felt as though,

Something lurked in the darkness, watching and hunting us with gleeful patience, I now got the sense we had ticked it off. Something was tearing towards us, with a speed that bellied its sheer hulk in mass, and I'm sure if we hadn't turned the corner when we did, it would have crushed us into the snow, like it was a freight train running over a penny. Still, the less than the second that elapsed between us turning and the sound of screeching metal coming to a stop was enough to send white-up pangs of terror coursing through my veins. It had been so near.

A head lay Graham's car with a light still. God, we were so close, but I knew deep down we'd never make it. I might have been crying, maybe even babbling. I'm not sure it even matters. In an instant, all my racing thoughts crystallized into a single, terrifying idea. D, I cried, and I threw the keys towards her. Get the hell out of here! I screamed, before taking a sharp left and,

barreling towards the fire exit by the back. It was a 50-50 chance, but to my relief, I heard the monster turned to chase me. The last thing I saw before I pulled the door shut was Dee clambering into the driver's seat and the emotionless glare of the badly sculpted Santa Face thundering towards me at breakneck speeds. I muttered curses under my breath as I went to run right back to the mall to the very same entrance we just left. I made it ten metres at most, if I was at first. before the door behind me burst open like a SWAT team had kicked it down.

The thing that chased me didn't even slow, and when I saw a glimpse of it, I saw arachnid limbs emerging from its knees and elbows that gripped the floor and fought to keep the monster upright. The sight of it struggling to keep up at such high speed gave me an idea. All I can say for Al is that, thank God he won't let a bad idea get in his way. Those old gunball machines no one actually uses, I'm always littered with them.

I left over from the 90s. They stood at most corners in the hope that some kid might drop a few coins in it to chew gum that wouldn't even last five seconds. Whatever the reason, I was familiar with them, if only because I'd scratched my head after they still darted the place long after they'd been fashionable. I was still lucky to find myself near to one when the idea came to me, and I quickly threw it to the floor in a desperate crash.

The sound that followed was like thunder. meeting a high-speed car crash. The animatronic lost all traction and collapsed in a forward-moving fall, skidding to a halt after only a few meters as its ridiculously heavy frames scratched grooves into the cheap floor. Tendors and Limbs shot out

to try and arrest its inertia, which now carried it in the wrong direction to my flight, but the monster's attempts to slow were useless in the face of its own mass. By the time it scurried out of its metal house, I'd reached the shutters. I risked only a quick glance at ours brutalized corpse, and was on the verge of crying for joy as I saw Dee pull up in a car.

Lights were blinding, but they illuminated enough of the space behind me to see that thing tearing through the building to reach me. I didn't even open the car door. I jumped in through the window head first, and Dee drove off with a tire squeal of acceleration. The last thing we heard as we left the lot was the sound of that thing ripping the front entrance apart, piece by piece, in a terrifying rage. By the time the storm cleared and people made it to the mall, there was nothing to be found except rubble and broken glass.

The mall itself was written off as a shoddy construction job compounded by years of poor maintenance. Al was notoriously cheap, and his business empire, if it could be called that, it caused a frightening number of injuries and close calls. It soon came out that went to. he bought them all for cheap, it was only on the condition that he got a ton of repairs done. He never did, of course. So, in everyone's eyes, there was a pretty good explanation for the missing people.

And by the time their bodies were finally dug up from under all that broken concrete, no one thought twice about why they're in such bad shape. A few journalists ran stories asking why some of those dead people had gone missing days before the collapse, but nothing really came of it. D and I spoke a little about what happened, but it was all written off as shock by some or a sick prank by others. After a while, we had to stop sharing our version of events.

People either thought we were crazy or cruel. D and I did our best to imagine that it all ended with thousands of tons of rock crushing that monster to death. But I've never been satisfied. I don't know why it pulled that building down, but it worked out pretty well for it. didn't it?

People walked away thinking nothing had happened. Everything from the timing of the storm to its choice of disguise tells me it wasn't stupid. I imagine it had lain in that old standard decoration for weeks, picking stragglers and late workers off one by one until the coming storm left us cut off and the opportunity was too good to pass up. So I guess I wasn't too surprised

when I saw a photo in the paper just a few weeks later that caught my eye. Since seeing it and verifying with my own eyes, I've spoken to Dee, and she's agreed to what we need to do. There's a town not too far from us that's hosting a little winter festival, ice skating, Santa's Grotto, a ferris wheel.

It's nothing big, but I'm sure a few thousand people will still pass through it by the time Christmas Day rolls around. Only, there's already been a few missing children in the area, sparking fears from the police. But no one has yet to connect their disappearances to the eerie-looking animatronic Santa

that stands looming over visitors right by the entrance. Dee and I know better, though. And tonight, we'll be paying that thing. A visit. You'd be surprised at what people would leave behind nowadays, and you'd be even more surprised at how much you can make off people's negligence. I make some extra money by purchasing abandoned storage units and flipping the contents inside.

Most of the time you'll find trash like old clothes and busted furniture. But every now and then there'll be some treasures. Just the other month I found a box full of old Pokemon cards and you won't believe how much some of those can go for. As for this whole COVID stuff going on, a lot of storage units have been left abandoned. I went over to another city about an hour away to check out a few units. I'm good friends with the owner of this really old lot, a short plump fellow named Mark, who took over the family business, and he sometimes gives me a head-up when somewhere available.

So I hopped into my truck early one Saturday and made my way over. I met Mark near the entrance, and I followed him towards a small group of people standing in front of one of the units. Now, I'm sure you've seen some shows on TV about stuff like this, and to be honest, it's pretty accurate. About five other people are outside of this steel garage store. It's early, we're freezing her asses off, and we're trying to make a quick buck. Mark pops the lock and rolls the door open to reveal what's inside. We're all able to examine the unit from the outside.

We can't touch anything unless we buy it. This unit has some cardboard boxes, some decent. looking wooden chairs and a few plastic bags that were completely stuffed. We all quickly glance inside and think if we want to actually bid on this thing or not. My gut was telling me that this was probably going to be a dud, so I passed on it. The next unit had a few good-looking golf clubs that could fetch for a good price, but that wasn't what I was looking for. A couple more units, and I was thinking I probably wasted my morning driving up there.

until we got to the very last unit. When Mark opened up the unit, a blast of dust and stale air bursted out. We all glanced inside. There were a few things that caught my eye like some old dolls, an old wooden table with chairs, and a huge armoured cabinet.

Bingo. That was what got me. A massive thing like that probably held all sorts of stuff. I'll spay the details of how the bid win. with a back and forth of offers. I can assure you that I got the unit and all for $400. I was sure I could make my money back and then some. It was around noon when I left the group to check out the unit I'd bought.

I opened the doors and started the sift of the small stuff before hitting the bigger things. There were a few things like some plates and silverware that could sell pretty well, a bag full of really old business suits and some broken appliances. So far, it wasn't a huge loss. But my eyes were on the armour. It was a beautiful piece that stood over six and a half feet tall.

It was dark brown, like looking into a forest as the sun went down. It was made of what looked like different types of wood. This was a good sign. It means that this was definitely an antique. There were no signs of any manufacturer label. This was probably handmade. Definitely handmade. with very minor asymmetrical points.

I placed my hands on the handles of the door and pulled. My heart was racing with anticipation. The wood groaned lightly as I opened the armoire doors like someone awakening from a deep slumber. I looked inside to find a rack with a long sheer white dress inside. I carefully unhooked it,

examining the condition that it was in. It was a lovely dress that would have accentuated a stunning woman. I placed it back where it came from and began to rummage to the drawers. The top drawer was empty. My chest tightened

as I thought of the money I probably lost on this unit. Opening the drawer felt like opening the lid to a crit. I had to use a little more strength to remove it from its holding. Jackpot. Inside of the drawer was an ornate

wooden jewelry box. Oh, it was a beautiful, beautiful thing to behold. It was a little bit bigger than a shoebox, with an intricate carving of a field of flowers on top of it. On the side of the jewelry box, there were more carvings of small rabbits playing on a field of flowers. I know it sounds a little bit silly, but the craftsmanship was truly astounding. Such detail in the animals made them look so lifelike. I lifted the box out ever so carefully from the drawer and placed it on a tarp that I had placed earlier. It was unlocked, so I slowly opened its lid to find a diamond ring affixed to a gleaming golden band.

You know how in cartoons when a character opens that treasure and they are covered in an angelic light? That's exactly how it seemed to me. I jumped up and let out of yes! This ring could easily sell for thousands. After a few minutes of patting myself on the back, I realized that that was just the thing. tip of the iceberg. There was more to the jewelry box. I calm myself and began to open the rest of its stores and panels. I admit, I was a little bit disappointed when I couldn't find anything.

I was being a bit greedy. I lifted the box again to examine it closer. That's when I noticed the top part where the jewelry was held, was raised a bit. I set my fingernails along the edges of the inside of the box, and I was able to lift the part where the jewelry was held. Inside was a secret compartment with a single cassette inside. I laughed a bit as I grabbed the cassette out from the box. I see antiques all the time, but whenever I see audio cassettes, I'm surprised every single time. It's just so obsolete. At least the old jewelry box and cabinet can still be used.

A glint of metal shone in a corner from my eye. Underneath the cassette was a pale silver wedding band. My lucky day. I put it to the side and continued to go through the rest of the unit. It wasn't a bad hall at all with the rings. Some vintage-looking business suits, the white dress and the furniture. I was definitely going to be in the positive after selling all of this stuff. I was able to get Mark to come down and help me haul the important stuff into boxes

and packed under the bed of my truck with a promise of a few. beers later. Unfortunately, the amois was way too big for my truck, so I'd have to come back for it. I had spent a few hours that day dealing with the unit, and it was already late in the afternoon. Before I headed out, I thought I'd take a moment to listen to that cassette on my way home. I asked Mark if he would happen to have a cassette player lying around somewhere. He grinned, and sure enough, he had a few stowed away. quote, just in case.

I wish I could have been more appreciative, but he charged me 15 bucks for one. Convenience fee, he said with a cheeky smile. Asshole. I hopped into my truck and made my way back home, thinking about my contacts that could assist in flipping this stuff. While I was at a stoplight, I popped the cassette into the player,

making sure it was rewound and pressed play. The tape began to whirr, and clicked to play. I couldn't hear a thing. Maybe it was just an empty tape. Eventually, my brain switched to water pilot and my body began to go through the motion of driving itself home,

my mind completely blanking out. That was when I started to hear something. It was a faint whisper right behind my skull. The voice was so light that it was almost drowned out by the sound of my truck's engine. Drive off. I get my eyes on the road

and felt my hands ever so slightly veered to the right. My truck took a dip as it began to go off the road and onto the grass and dirt. I let out a surprise gasp as I quickly straighten the wheel back towards the road. My shoulders stiffened

and a beat of sweat rolled down my forehead. What the hell was that? I slowed down and pulled safely onto the side of the road. I opened the car door and when did it get so dark? I looked at my phone to see that the hour drive home had turned to three. Where the hell am I?

I took a moment to gather myself and to make sure everything was okay in the bed of my truck. I sat back down onto the driver's seat and pulled up the GPS on my phone. Not only did I not head home, I turned around in the opposite direction. I squeezed the bridge of my nose and rub my temples. I thought that I was just tired of my home. or something. Yeah, just tired from a long day. I turned the keys in the ignition and my truck cranked to life. I set the directions onto my phone and continued my attempt to return home. I felt my stomach twist inside of me. I hadn't eaten anything all day. I wanted to hurry and

get home already. The roads were completely empty, so I stepped on the gas a bit, accelerating in a desperate attempt to shorten the trip. I stared forward, and that was when I heard that something again. I held my breath, so I could focus on the noise. Faster, faster, faster. It was as if an icy dagger had run down my spine as I heard those words. It sounded like a young woman's voice, but in so much pain, so much sadness in a tone. I tried to lift my feet off the gas pedal.

I wanted to slow down and be more careful after hearing that. Maybe it was just some intrusive thoughts popping into my skull. My brain tried to tell me to ease up on the gas, but I couldn't. My feet began to sink lower onto the pedal. 65, 72, 78. The number of my spinometer was climbing higher and higher. I couldn't move my foot off the gas. 83, 88, 94.

My truck's engine was revving up. The sound of it was blowing in my ears. The boxes in the bed of my truck began to shift and move around. I glanced into my rearview mirror to see one of the boxes. The top flaps of it were beginning to move up. All the boxes were securely taped down, but something inside of it was pushing its way out. That was when the top of the box flew open,

and all I could do was stare with my jaw dropped to the floor, as something grabbed a hold of the edge of the box to lift itself out. 98 102 107 The shape was illuminated by dim beams of moonlight

I saw thin fingers white and long on the edge of the box The head came next Black tussled hair That hung down forever The neck was shown next Deep and purple grooves

Indented into pale grey skin As if a snake had wrapped itself around them Then the torso came to reveal A beautiful sheer white dress that fit tightly on a figure to show every line and curve that she had. The same dress I had found and packed up inside of that box. The woman stood up. My truck was going faster and faster,

but she stood impossibly still, aside from her hair that was now flowing behind her. When I saw her face, that was when I lost it. I wanted to cry, scream and vomit all at the same time. Her face was a deep purple, and swollen and the skin was cracked, tearing. Her eyes were completely red,

with one of her eyes hanging by a fleshy thread out of its socket, or the other one throbbed. Dark brown bile was running down the corners of her mouth and onto the white dress. Die, die, die, die! Those words came out clear as day. I looked back onto the road, and I could feel myself slowly lose control of the steering wheel.

I continued to try and lift my foot from the pedal But it was as if it sprouted claws I was digging itself into my foot I couldn't do anything All I could do was keep my damn wheel steady on the road I turned back to look to my rearview mirror And the woman Was gone

I was fully convinced I was going crazy Then those thoughts shifted to the idea of me dying As I heard something thump above me I looked forward again to see those fingers on the edge of my glass. She was clambering above me. Her face upside down was now peering at me. Her mouth open and those words crowed out of a crust throat.

Die, die, die, die! The dark brown fluid was pouring out of her mouth and onto my glass, obscuring any other vision I had. Spider-webbed cracks began to form in front of me. This thing was smashing its head to get to me. Her noise finally came out to me. my mouth and makes of fear and awe. Moments later, her head came crashing in as a mouth clenched under the steering wheel. I felt the car jerked towards the right, and I felt an impact.

I braced myself for death. Then the airbag deployed and smashed into my face. It all happened so damn fast. I grugly opened my eyes and my body was aching. I coughed and it made my head feel like it was going to burst. That was when I noticed my truck was completely flipped over and I was upside down. The blood that rushed to my head made me feel nauseous. I snapped back to reality as my eyes began to frantically dart around.

Where did that woman go? The night was dead silent. I tried to free myself, but I was too weak. I clicked noise echoed throughout the air beside me and I looked over towards the cassette player. I don't know why, but as I was too weak. I looked at the cassette rolling inside the clear plastic panel. I felt sadness and fear like it was the end of the world. A man's voice emerged from the player.

It was smooth and deep and almost comforting. Hey Bunny, sorry it's been so long. Work's been really laying into me lately. But I promise I'll make it up to you. Just let me know and I'll get you whatever you want, okay? I'm sorry about the way I acted the other night. I hope you can forgive me. It's just you are questioning me every damn day with

Where am I going and who was I with? Look, let's just let this fall under the bridge, all right? I'll be home tomorrow night. I love you, Bunny. As soon as the machine clicked off. Well, he was lighted out for me too, apparently. The rest of the events are broken in my head. Fragments of memories like someone on the phone, an ambulance coming.

My body on a stiff bed. to me lying in the hospital all wrapped up like a mummy. The first things that came out of my mouth were food and where's my stuff. The things that came from the unit were still intact and were in safekeeping. Some time had passed and I can still see that woman wherever I go, creeping around corners behind me in the reflection and at the foot of my bed. I hadn't told her soul about what happened that night, until it was brought up by my therapist. Yeah, I was still fully convinced that I had some kind of breakdown, until he finally got me to talk about it.

It was just so vivid, the woman, her face, her scarred throat. I finally pulled out the cassette player and played the audio again to hear that man's voice. So, I did some digging. It took a while, but I finally had a lead. surprisingly Bunny is not an uncommon name like you would think so that was a bust Then I remembered Mark A few drinks in and he um

Let me into his files to look up records And who owned the unit last So one thing led to another And I found her name Martha Bailey That name eventually led to an address As soon as I got my info I gathered the rings

The dress, the cassette and the jewelry box and headed over as quickly as possible. I followed the GPS towards my destination, and I wanted to cry as fear washed over my body. Even though it was daylight now, I realized I was passing the area where I had crashed. Was I being led back to this address that night? An hour or so had passed,

and I parked in front of an old house that was probably built in the 70s. I grabbed this stuff and hurriedly ran to the front door. I didn't know what I was expecting. I just felt like I had to be here or something. I knocked on the door with my arms full of stuff, looking like a lunatic. The door slowly creaked open

and through a crack I could see inside the home was an elderly woman. She looked at me with white eyes. I couldn't blame her. She asked me what I was doing, so I explained to her a bit of what happened. I bought a unit recently. there were some things in there that I thought would be valuable to Martha Bailey.

When she saw what I was holding, I saw a lip quiver and a tear rolled down her face. She told me that her mother owned that unit but dropped off those things because they belonged to a sister, and she didn't dare part with them. Her frail hand clutched at her chest as she stood there and told me what happened to her sister, Barbara Bailey, aka Bunny. She was married to a man who said he loved her and would give her anything she wanted. On the outside, you'd think they were the perfect couple,

but that was far from the truth. Apparently, the man had been abusive, cheated on her every chance it would get. Well, she finally confronted him about it, but he was mostly unfazed. He had money, lots of it, and if he were to leave, she would be left with absolutely nothing

aside from embarrassment and heartbreak. So Barbara, bunny, she took it upon herself to end things one night. The man was on his way home to patch things up like he normally did, but she had enough. She wrapped a rope around her neck. The old woman burst into tears

as she slammed the door in my face. I could hear a wails of pain beyond the threshold of the piece of wood between us. I didn't know what else to do. so I went back to the unit and dropped the stuff back everything back to where it was and slammed a garage door shut not sure what to believe anymore

I'm sure that I didn't imagine this and I'm sure that what I heard felt really happened so just a little backstory my husband and I moved into a new place a few months ago in May I'll refer to him as Mark ended up getting a great job opportunity, so we packed up our things and headed west.

Things were going great, actually. Everything was absolutely normal. We didn't move into some ancient house with a dark past. We moved into a small, single family home with a freaking cul-de-sac. Mark went to work. He had a good 9-to-5 schedule, and I was able to do some work from home. He'd get home a little after 5.30, we'd have dinner. Then we'd relax until we head to sleep.

Once it's 10pm, I'm already extremely sleepy, so I usually lie in bed and flip through my phone for an hour. Then I usually fall right to sleep. My husband is a night owl. He has issues with sleeping, so he usually stays up late. I'm a pretty light sleeper, so whenever he finally decides to go to sleep, I usually wake up a moment and hear him go to bed.

Mark always follows a routine before going to bed He clicks off the TV in the living room Chakes the locks, turns off the lights Goes into a bathroom to brush his teeth Slips into bed Then kisses me before finally drifting to sleep We live a pretty mundane lifestyle Until a month ago

Something happened to me It was an average day All I did was clean and go to the store to get groceries Later on I'd prepared dinner Mark came home and we talked about our day Everything was absolutely normal The only off thing was that Mark complained That the juice I brought from him had tasted funny

It was around 10pm when I started to feel exhausted So I did my usual and fell asleep I wasn't sure what time it was When I was suddenly awoken by the noise of heavy footsteps Coming from the living room Usually Mark is a bit quieter when coming to bed but I brushed it off. The heavy thuds approached the bedroom door

and I heard it slowly creak open. I was feeling a bit frustrated as he knew I was a light sleeper but I tried my best to ignore it and tried to fall back at sleep. I heard the click from the light switch of a bathroom and the force it squeak followed by a light trickle of water.

I don't know why. I started to feel so damn uneasy. Usually Mark would wake me a bit during the night, the night fall right back to sleep, but something felt off. The way our room is set up from the entrance to a bedroom is a straight shot to a window. Our bed is on that wall, and then on the left is the door to the bathroom. My back was facing the bathroom, so with a light on, I saw the wall Mark's shadow cast it onto it. As I studied the shadow, perhaps it was lack of sleep or my eyes playing tricks on me.

But it didn't look like Mark. Now, my husband is average height and a bit wide. He fits the dad-baud category. The shadow I saw was tall and slender, with the arms seemingly longer, like they would have touched the ground. I didn't hear the sound of him brushing his teeth, just the slow trickle of water, and a deep, gurgling breath echoing from the bathroom.

I finally froze and thought to myself, maybe this wasn't my husband. The faucet slowly squeaked to a halt. The gurgled breathing still emanated from behind me. The light switch clicked off. Then I heard the heavy thoughts of his feet go towards our bed, towards me. I froze still and tried to keep my breath from shaking. I kept thinking to myself that I was just tired and maybe I'm overthinking things.

My husband is just doing his usual routine and going to bed. I felt the comforter rise a bit, as I was a bit. the body slumped into the bed. The weight of it caused the frame to creak and groan. Something much larger than my husband was creeping into bed with me. I could feel my body shifter's.

Whatever it was, but what I assumed was this whole body onto the bed. I get my eyes tight shut as I get my breath slow and shallow, try not to scream, try not to alert this thing that I was awake. This thing's couturo

and gurgle breath was right behind my skull. I heard the sound of something breaking and cracking from above, then suddenly felt something drop in front of me. I cracked my eyes open, to see an extremely long, thin limb, with large, rake-like fingers in front of me that bent and stretched over from behind me. It was red and glistened in the moonlight that peered through my window.

It was as if whatever it was had no skin. My vision began to blur as tears formed in my eyes. Don't cry, don't cry, don't scream, I thought to myself over and over. Where was my husband? Where the hell was Mark? Did this thing? I didn't want to finish that thought. I felt his weight began to shift again, shift towards me. Again, I heard that disgusting noise of breaking and cracking from behind me. Nausea started to overtake me, but I held my vomit in my stomach. The deep and wet gurgled breath inches away closer to my face.

I could feel the hot mist hit my skin. I heard it. I heard the sound of it opening its mouth wider and wider as drops of its saliva descended over my head. Something hot and wet began to slither onto my cheek, and that was when I began to fall. fully sob. I slowly slid my eyes to the corner of my sockets and looked at it.

It was red and fleshy. It had no eyes, just dark sockets. His mouth was a black abyss that stretched open with rows of sharp teeth and a wiggling tongue. I stared at it for a moment, and fully, finally led out an ear-shattering scream that echoed throughout my home. I shouted at the top of my lungs. Mark! But there was no answer.

I wanted to get up. I wanted so desperately to run out of that damn room. But I was frozen in absolute fear. I fully realised how immense this thing was, with its limbs stretched over me like some kind of giant-skinned a spider. My scream was cut short when I heard its breathing, turned into a deep and low laugh. It revelled in my despair,

in my helplessness, and I didn't know what else to do. I had nothing else to do, but except whatever it had in store for me. It looked at me. And it smiled, a wide razor-tooth smile. My heart was beating like crazy,

like it was trying to burst out of my chest, and I fell unconscious. I don't know what else happened, but I passed out. I woke up the next morning. I was completely drenched in sweat, and I'm embarrassed to say that my bed was completely soaked in urine. I slowly got out of the bed. I felt so sick, so horrible.

I crept over to my living room. Each of my footsteps echoed like thunder in my skull. I turned the corner, and on the couch, sleeping so peacefully, was my husband, Mark. My knees gave out, and I collapsed on the floor. to the floor. Mark shot right up and looked over to see the state I was in. Mark insisted that I go to the hospital.

I was so pale and in a cold sweat. But I didn't want anything else but for him to just hold me. Reassure me that I was safe and that this was real. A few hours later I told him my dream

and he was completely disturbed to say the least. He was worried so he took me to the doctor's office. After a short wait, I was finally let in to see my doctor. I avoided telling him about my dream, but I did tell him how sick I was feeling. The doctor ran a few tests. I was so anxious, but Mark held my hand the entire time. The results came back and I was in complete shock.

I was listening to the doctor talk, and Mark, I looked at him and he was smiling from ear to ear. Everything sounded like muffled white noise. But the one thing the doctor said, hit me, I'm pregnant. Mark carefully lifted me up and embraced me as the doctor patted his shoulder in congratulations. The whole car ride, Mark went on and on about baby stuff and I just didn't know what to say. So, here's the thing. I never told Mark.

I never told him because I was afraid that he would be disappointed and leave me. I can't have children. I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. I know I cannot have children. Now, a month later, and I'm so afraid to go to sleep. I stay up with Mark until he finally goes to bed no matter what. He's so excited about the baby. But I don't even know.

What the hell it is inside of me? A few days ago, when Mark was at work, I went to the doctors to get an ultrasound. Needless to say, I was shocked when the doctor said everything was normal. But when he turned away, I looked at the dam screen and saw whatever this thing inside of me is.

For a split second, I saw its limbs, stretch and grow. I work bad at. hours, 8 o'clock until 3 in the morning, every day during the week. I don't get sleep, my feet kill me, so do my arms, constantly carrying a bucket filled with soapy water and pushing a mop around a colossal building. And I have to empty all the trash cans and put the new trash bags in them. Boring stuff. I also have to mention my pay.

$11 an hour. Not bad, just not great either. The only good thing about the job is that I get to listen to music while I'm working. I've been wanting to quit my job and after last night I can't keep working there. I get to the museum at around 7.45, get changed and then get to work at 8.

The museum closes at 6 and so it's weird when I get there. The sky is dark but not pitch black. It has this weird purplish grey hue to it so the whole building has a weird dull colour. Most of the lights are off, and the only ones that are on are by the bathrooms and near the exit.

Almost all of the exhibit lights are off, but there are some statues and paintings with the lights on them. It's probably for the guards to check up on. I just show up and do my job. I've been working there for the past three months. I don't think the amount of work I put in is equal to the pay I get. But it's fine.

I'm getting by. I bike to work as I can't afford a car, plus it's good exercise. The museum looked bigger in the inside than it did on the outside. There's so much space, you couldn't believe it. Huge halls, lined with tall marble pillars. The ceiling had murals of angels,

gods and a bunch of other religious depictions. It's crazy how massive the place was. It's kept under constant security. I can't even fathom how extensive. expensive half the stuff is in this place. There were some security guards that go by each exhibit, about four or five, and they just walk around patrolling the area. It's nice, because it's not as scary as it would be if I are alone in that place at night. I got to know one of them one night.

I forgot his name. We talked about our favorite paintings and how scary this place is at night. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who was terrified of the look the statues had on their faces in the dark. There weren't any guards this night though. When I made it to the front door, usually a guard would let me in, but the doors are unlocked.

I didn't have the keys to the place, only the keys to the bathroom and the janitor's closet. When I got in, I went straight to the janitor's closet, which was in a little hallway next to the bathrooms. I unlocked the door and grabbed my work clothes. There's other

people's stuff in there. The day janitors. They have their own side of the closet and I have mine. I'm the only night janitor. There's about four or five that worked during the museum's active hours, usually sweeping the steps in front of the museum, sweeping the floors inside and dusting. I got my keys, unlocked the men's bathroom and started to change. I went into a stall, took my sweatpants off and struggled to put on my navy work pants. Once I got them on, I slipped my belt through and tightened it. I started to take my shirt off, but the bathroom lights turned off. It does this thing where at night there's a little motion detector the lights have,

and it makes them turn off after a minute of not detecting motion. I had to get on the toilet and wave at the lights for them to turn on. Once I got done changing, I put on some yellow cleaning gloves and headed back to the closet. I grout some soapy detergent, the mop bucket, along with a mop, and got to work. I was by myself. I didn't think about it, and I didn't really notice it. My music was at full volume, and I was just cleaning. I started to notice no one was with me, when an exhibit light turned off.

It was way off in the distance. I thought I was just seeing things, or my mind was playing tricks, but I knew the light was on earlier, since I passed a statue on my way in. I took my headphones off and called out. But no one answered. I assumed a guard had turned it off, but someone would have answered. The guards liked to talk to each other a lot. There'd be no reason for them not to respond.

I called out again. Just the faint music from my headphones playing. That was all. It was so silent. I was just hoping that the guards had to go somewhere or were doing something and we'll be back soon. Maybe they were going to play a prank coming. me, that was my hoping. I put my headphones back on and continued mopping.

After about two hours of mopping, I got the window cleaning bottle and a rag and started on wiping down the windows. That's when the light turned back on. I was closer to it, and this time, the statue was gone. It had just vanished. I knew it wasn't the security guards messing with me. The exhibits and painting galleries weren't allowed to be tampered with by anyone besides the art restorer or conservator as far as I know. It just didn't seem real to me.

I was just tired. That's what I brushed it off to. I was tired, but that's not what was happening. And then another light went out. It was on the opposite side of the museum as the other one. Everything was slowly getting darker. I turned my phone flashlight. I hadn't noticed earlier, but the lights outside had turned off, and so had the lights by the bathroom.

I put my headphones back on and tried to avoid this terrifying situation. I wanted to leave, but I knew I couldn't. It was only 12, and I needed to finish my shift. I could just go to sleep after and forget this ever happened. While I was wiping the windows down, I thought I could see things moving out the corner of my eye. but when I turned around, it seemed to have stopped. Everything paranoid me. The twisting people in the paintings,

the weather statues glared at me, the murals on the ceiling, looking down, mocking me. I was exhausted and I needed to finish my shift. I wasn't just about to give up because these stupid paintings and sculptures making me uncomfortable. After I was done cleaning the windows,

which was about 1.30, I noticed one of the, one of the statues looked out of place. I had memorized which statues were where. Everything seemed odd, just slightly different. The faces and the statues were different. Or so I thought. I couldn't see it well.

So I pointed my phone at it to illuminate it. The eyes were empty, and its mouth was shaped in a disgusting smile. I thought I saw crooked teeth, but I didn't get a good look. look. My phone died immediately after. I ran to the exit. I knew what the statues looked like. I'd seen it during the day. This was not it. Its whole face had lit up, except for the eyes, just dark holes in their place. I just had an hour and a half. I could leave, then quit the next day.

That was the plan. I took a deep breath and went back to the janitor's closet. I grabbed my normal clothes and went to the bathroom. I flicked the lights on and headed to a stall with an open door. I slammed it shut and pulled the lock. I knew no one would walk in or anything. It was just a force of habit. I closed the toilet lid and sat down. I put my normal clothes on the toilet paper dispenser

and started to take my work pants off. As I was struggling to undo my belt, I heard a noise from outside the bathroom. It was of a door opening. And then the door shut. I waited about ten seconds and called out. Hello? Is anyone there?

After getting no response, I waited another ten seconds. The lights went out and I held my breath. A creek echoed and a layer of lights spread throughout the bathroom and dissipated. The door closed with a large thud. I was stuck in the bathroom with something else. I closed my eyes and hoped for the worst. Then the lights turned back on. The blank, grey, expressionless face of a statue stared back.

Its face was perfectly still. His stone hands were gripped onto the top of the stall door. I wanted it to cry. I didn't know where to go. I was so still. It was the longest minute of my life. and then the lights went out again. I managed the courage to crawl on the bathroom floor

and get under the store next to mine. I felt around and realised the door to the store was open. I darted out and was met with a wooden thud of the bathroom door. I yanked it open and shut it as hard as I could on my way out. I immediately locked the bathroom with my keys and ran to the museum exit, wiping the sweat and tears from my face. I got to the front of the museum and pulled on the doors, but they were locked. I didn't have the keys to open them.

I kept pulling on the door, but I was met with a small click every time. I ran back to the janitor's closet in a panic. I looked around and noticed that a couple of the statues had gotten closer to me. I know I'm not crazy now. I know for sure. I know all of that wasn't in my head. My brain wasn't playing tricks on me. I tried getting out every single way possible.

I ran to the emergency exits and they were chained up. I tried every single exit, every single door and nothing would budge. I decided to give up and lock myself in the janitor's closet until someone showed up to the museum. I spotted a fire extinguisher on the wall and opened the case it was in. If anything went bad, I could use it as a weapon. I grabbed my keys and prepared for the wait. I shut the door and cram myself into the small room. I shoved the key into the lock and turned it until it clicked.

I pulled the key out and sighed in relief. The smell of chemicals and dirty clothes filled my nose. I felt like I was going to puke. That feeling went away when I heard something coming from the room next to mine. It was coming from the bathroom. thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. I held the fire extinguisher as tight as I could. It was the statue.

It wanted out. I had to deal with this noise for a good ten minutes. My head hurt and I felt dizzy. I don't know what happened, but I remember waking up. I didn't remember passing out, though. I thought it had to have been mourning. I didn't hear anyone. but I thought it was safe to check.

I slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open a bit. Everything was still dark. My brain was foggy and my vision was dark and fuzzy. I could make out a silhouette in the hall. It towered over everything and it didn't make any noise as it moved. No footsteps or anything. It was as if it slowly floated above the floor. Everything was quiet.

The thudding in the bathroom had stopped. stopped. I opened the door a little more and the hinges screeched, echoing throughout the entire building. The statue stopped moving and turned around. I slammed the closet door shut, or I tried to at least. I looked up to see a pair of shiny marble hands over the door, blocking it from entering back into the frame. That same face from the bathroom, devoid of life, hollow and soulless. I kicked the door open and ran. I didn't know where I was going to run. I ran as fast as I could, past the figure in the hall and into the main part of the museum.

Every statue was gone, off of where they were supposed to be. I knew the museum well. I could find another place to hide and hopefully they wouldn't find me. As I ran frantically throughout the museum, I noticed something I didn't before. Way in the back of the museum. museum with the escape exit stairs. I sprinted at the door and rammed my hands into the bar as hard as I could. There was something blocking it on the other side.

I kept pushing and pushing until it slowly started opening. Every time I pushed, the door opened more and more. I looked behind me and saw the entire room covered with stone people. And they were looking at me. slowly moving towards me. I backed up and slammed into the door with all of my weight. The push bar let out a satisfying click as it opened up and I kicked the door closed behind me.

The room I'd entered enveloped me in darkness. I couldn't find my way to the stairs. I fumbled around trying to find my way out. I reached out and touched the metal railing. Then I found a step, then a second step. I could see through the window on the emergency door. The statues were getting closer and closer. I ran up those stairs as fast as I could until I saw light.

One foot after the other, I got closer to being away from those monsters. I could see the moonlight coming from the rooftop door. I was a couple steps away. I was about to make it. And then I felt something grab my foot. It was so cold. Its face was barely visible, but it had a huge grin. The statue's grip tightened, and its smile grew wider.

I tried tugging, but it only got tighter. I swung at its hand with a fire extinguisher, but before I get hit it, I tripped and slammed my head down into the step in front of me. As suddenly, as I made my way up, I was dragged down. My face hit each step on the way down with a thump. There was a terrible metallic taste in my mouth and my nose was wet with blood. I couldn't see it, but I knew.

I'd finally reached the bottom. I didn't feel like moving. I held the fire extinguisher closer, cradling it like a baby. I looked up. The door in front of me was bombarded with dozens of silhouettes, gazing at me. My muscles were fatigued,

but I tried my best to lift the fire extinguisher up. Then I brought it down onto my ankle, and then again, and again. I screamed in agony as I slammed the fiery signature down on the statue's hand, its grip tightening with every hit. I lifted it behind my head and brought it down onto my foot, breaking most of the stone hands fingers off. The statue screeched and stumbled back. My ankle felt as if it had broken, and I caught slowly up the stairs, back towards the light.

I pushed the door open and stumbled onto the roof. The sun had just started to rise, and I lay down, wiping the blood from my nose. I took one more look back at the door. It was open just a sliver, the face of a cold, dead, stony face. Looking back, I don't know what happened between then and now. I've been in a hospital bed for the last couple of hours. An earlier, the police wanted to ask me some questions. They told me they had found the bodies of five security guards in the women's bathroom.

They asked me if I knew what happened. I told them about the statues. I told them everything that happened. They didn't believe me. They think I'm crazy. They think I killed those men. But I know what happened that night. I know what I saw.

The winters are brutal here. Even though I live in the city, just about every night, someone freezes the death. A good chunk of those throwing boiling water and watching it freeze videos are from here. Even if the sun is out, it still hurts to breathe. When the sun goes down, it hurts to exist. As soon as it gets dark, Fahrenheit and Celsius slam into each other in a horrid marriage of minus 40 degrees. The air turns into crystallized pain No one walks slowly after sundown

He was staring at the rusty wheelchair ramp of my housing block Shivering beneath a pile of rags I had forgotten one of my gloves at work And the overfilled plastic bags I was carrying Were cutting into my swollen hands I was worried about losing my fingers But I knew I couldn't live with myself If I let an old man freeze the death

Hi, Mr. I don't think we've met. I'm Alexei. Can I help you up this ramp? Stay away. I have nothing to give you. Oh, I don't want anything from you, Mr. We'd just hate to see a new neighbour freeze the death. So, how about it? Can I help you up this ramp? No response. Too proud to ask for help. Yet, when I grab the handles of his wheelchair, he didn't resist. He just grumbled. I'm pretty apt with wheelchairs and strollers, and it wasn't the first time that I forgot my gloves at work, but pushing the old man up the ramp was harder than it should have been. While we waited for the elevator to come, I made a quick note to talk to the building manager about the rusty ramp.

Which floor will it be, mister? Out of his rags, the man produced a crumbled piece of stained paper. He tried to make sense of the handwriting. Ah, floor seven, looks like we're neighbours. Yes, seventh floor. The elevator creaked and groaned with his usual strains and dragged us up towards the roof of the complex. With the stinging pain fading from my eyes,

I got a chance to look at the stranger. White air with a consistency of spider web, skin and bone and stubble, a discomforting amount of swelling over his right eye. So, Mr. New Neighbor, are you around these parts? No. Are you from here? No. I'm born and raised right here in this winter wonderland. Quick tip, don't ever turn that radiator knob lower than the maximum. It's a nice little home that we have here. But the heating system is back from the Soviet days. Tends the leak as soon as you tamper with it.

And boy, oh boy, are those things no fun to fix? No response. I was used toward folks being suspicious and quiet, but from my experience, once you talk for a bit, they tend to open up. My new neighbour wasn't like the other old-timers I've met. All that kept us company for the elevator ride was the choking and coughing of metal. Here we are, seventh floor. He passed me the keys.

They were covered in rust, but they fit the door. A stove, a bed, a window. the bare minimum for survival. All the Soviet-built housing projects have a sort of melancholy about them. But there was something especially desperate about that cramped room. An aura of dread and mildew flowed through the air. Then again, there could have just been the old man. As soon as I opened the door, my new neighbour wheeled himself to the window.

Well, like I said before, my name is Alexei. Nice to meet you. The odd man didn't turn away from the window. Outside, the world was still. Nothing but a collection of snow-covered panel housing and flickering lamplight. I, uh, work in a supermarket and they let me take food that's past its due date. There's nothing wrong with the food, just can't be sold. We'd be ashamed to see it go out of the way, so I bring it back to the folk over here. Quite a big hall today.

What's a beans? Would you like... I have nothing to give in return. Leave me, I've not come here to make friends. I've come here to die. I left the man two cans of beans on the stove. The weather was significantly

kinder in the morning. Having a day after from work, I went to talk to the building manager about the ramp. We still had to wear scarves around our faces, but the icicles on the railing was starting to melt. As we cleared the ramp, we spoke of spring.

Above my unit lives a single mother with a particularly noisy yet adorable infant. When she saw the newly cleaned ramp, she was ecstatic. All of a sudden, the daily struggle of getting the carriage inside of the apartment complex was gone. It felt nice to know I'd managed to improve her life, if only just a little bit. Yet, she was not the neighbour who I was most concerned about. The mailbox for the old man's unit didn't have a name on it.

Neither did his door. When I rang the doorbell, there was no answer. I pressed down on the bell for a bit, just in case the old man's hearing was bad. After about 30 seconds, he acknowledged me. If you're here to rob me, I have nothing. Not here to rob you, mister. It's me, Alexi, your neighbour. I've brought you more food.

No response, but the door wasn't locked. He sat facing his window, just where I'd left. him. The cans of beans, however, were empty. Me and the building manager clean the ramp. Should have no troubles going up and down on your own. If you have one company for a walk, though, I'd be more than happy to join you. Why? Walks of strangers are pretty fun.

The neighbourhood is a lot of concrete, but I think it has a certain charm to it. There's an abandoned hotel nearby where students get together and play jazz from time to time. Once it warms up, I'll be happy to take... Why do you help me? That dread, that sense of discomfort was still in the air But it wasn't as prominent as the evening prior With the sun shining and the laughter of children echoing from the housing projects The world seemed a bit more welcoming

Why do I help you? Because it's the right thing to do God knows we have to help each other There's a cold world out there An aspiring saint Helping those in need makes you feel powerful it makes you feel special. I don't think I'm special, mister.

I'd just like to help. I think most people are like that. His wheelchair creaked like nails and a chalkboard as he turned around to face me. His uncle eyes regarded me as if I were a maniac. Something had changed in his face from the day prior,

but I couldn't put my finger on it. Most people want to help. Are you truly so naive as to believe in the goodness of mankind? What of the wars What are the orchestrated famines? What are the men who force May Day parades Through clouds of radiation?

I shrugged. I try not to think about that. Don't see much of a point in it, mister. The Soviets are in the past. If we all work together, we can build a better world. The swelling that once existed beneath his right eye and now moved to the left, leaving behind dark, diseased skin.

If you would have witnessed what I've witnessed, you would know how foolish you sound right now. All your thoughts of human goodness and charity dissipate in the face of reality. Man cannot rule over man. Staying in power requires an iron grip, and that grip, that cursed strangle of rule, will squeeze any semblance of humanity out of the ruler. If you would have seen what I've seen,

you would know that no amount of charity can save us. What have you seen, Mr. Markarov, Dr. Konstantin Markarov. the swelling around his left eye pulsed, causing him to grit his remaining teeth. The man had introduced himself as a doctor, but he clearly needed to go to the hospital. I was about to offer to take him to the nearby clinic, but before I had a chance to offer my help, he spoke once more. I have seen unspeakable horrors processed through flawed human systems. I've seen good men fall into despair in the face of this horrid reality that swirls

beneath a side of stability. My name is Constantine Markov, and I have worked. The children outside went silent. The lights in the apartment flickered in the same way they did before the blackouts of the 90s. The swollen flesh and Marcos' face throbbed as if it was trying to reach past his skin.

My name is Constantine Markov, and I have worked as the chief scientist in Ilionandiri. Saying the words clearly drained the man, yet for all the words, weaknesses in his voice, the throbbing of swollen flesh in his forehead strengthened. With each shivering pulse, it seemed as if the infected skin was about to force his way out of his skull. I immediately grew worried for the old man.

Dr. Markrov, your face. May I take you to the clinic? I have a friend there. I'm sure he would happily inspect you for free. The growth on your face looks no. The rapid heartbeat and the old man's face died down. With a screech of rusted iron, He turned back around to the window. Down below, the neighbourhood children were riding old plastic bags down a snowy hill. Please, just leave me be. I've not come here to be a charity case. I've come here to die.

I thought of saying something, but I didn't. Instead, I just left the man another can of beans in the stove. The structure was said to be hidden in the forest that neighboured our housing projects. In educated circles, the structure was known as the building, formerly known as the United People's Institution of Science around campfires and the village pubs who was known as Illinois and Derry

When I was young my uncle used to tell us stories about it He described the place as an old Soviet science facility that dabbled in knowledge beyond the scope of human understanding He spoke monsters and curses and forbidden knowledge I listened to his stories in rapt attention

but even as a child I considered them to be fiction. As an adult, I considered it to be the byproducts of our collective imagination, a way to explain away the 60 years of harsh Soviet rule. After talking to Markov, I wasn't so sure. The man was old, but he was not mad. Elen Yonderry existed and he worked within its confines at some point. That was not what kept sleep away from me that night. It was the old man's eyes that convinced me that not only was that place real,

but that, at least some of the stories I heard about it, were true. There was no doubt in my mind that Margarov had seen something unearthly in his previous work. The whole night through, all I could think of was that throbbing mass of flesh stemming from his skull. I spent most of my morning thinking about it too. I tried to figure out the source of the injuries, the way that something so discomforting could manifest. Yet all I found was pained empathy. Thoughts of swollen flesh followed me to my morning shift, where they metastasized into a burning migraine. By the time I got back home, I could barely think straight.

I put aside their leftover groceries for later and settled down on the couch for a nap. I thought that after a bit of rest, I could go hand out the leftover food, and check and mark it of. Yet sleep refused to come. Instead, I laid on the couch with stinging pain in my head and nausea rolling around in my stomach. There was tenseness in the air, like the kind that fosters up when a fight is about to happen.

I lay there, sick and anticipating something I couldn't put my finger on. I came to the door before I had a chance to press the buzzer twice. Markov's strange growth had shifted once more. Now, it was sitting in between his eyes, making his face look like a highwayman mask made of bruises. Alexi, I'm not long for this world. I appreciate your help throughout my short time here,

but there is one more favour I could ask of you. Seeing the poor brown man dragged all of my attention away from the migraine. Of course, Dr. Markov, how can I be of help? Take me to the roof. The roof? I don't think it's very safe there. You could easily... He looked sicker than before.

Much sicker than before. A reason for why he would want to take me to the roof immediately struck me. I'm not looking to jump if that's what you're thinking. No, Alexi. I merely want to see the sunset one last time. I fear my body will not make it through the night. I can take it to the clinic.

surely they can help you there. I much more qualify than any doctor at any clinic in this provincial town. I know the nature of my injuries, and I've made peace with them. Now please, neighbor, would you help me make my way to the roof? Beyond us stretched an infinitely repeating collection of cement coliseums. Below us in the centre of each of the circular panel houses, children played. The laughter echoed below us, a reminder of joy in a sea of brutalist architect.

picture. See, Doctor, doesn't the neighbourhood have a charm about it? The old man was completely deaf to my attempts at Smalltalk. He just stared into the steadily reddening sky, lost in his own thoughts. I've been part of something horrible. What do you mean, Doctor? I've been part of something horrible, and for decades I've stayed silent. I believe that what I did was for the greater good. I've been. believed my work at the facility would usher in a new era of humanity. I believed that what I partook in was a necessary evil. But now that I sit here, now that all is done, I always had doubts.

On a primal level, I knew that I was doing something wrong, but I've always denied myself the clarity of thought. I... The mass of flesh beneath his forehead started to pulse harder than it ever had before. Even past his bruises, the old man's skin was turning. the colour of the setting sun. The growth on his forehead was completely foreign to me, but the look in his eyes was familiar. In my younger years,

I volunteered at a hospice. Constantine Markarov had the same look in his eyes of the soldiers brought back from the war. He had done something horrid and needed a chance to confess. I would not rob him of that right.

What have you done, Dr. Markarov? A sharp wind drowned out the children below. The light started to seep out of the sky. With each moment that passed, the mass of flesh and marcois forehead grew more frenzied. The old man's speech came through choked gasps, yet he refused to give up. Parasite. When I worked at the United People's Institute of Science, I was tasked with the study of a parasite found in the nearby step.

profoundly fascinating organism capable of communication with other members of its species across the world indestructible highly intelligent physically decentralized the more the organism grew the closer it was to its descendants the more dangerous it became yet the scientific potential of this organism was limitless I kept on telling myself all that was needed was more research I kept on telling myself

that the parasite's potential could be harnessed for the good of humanity The pursuit of knowledge blinded me It made me skip safety protocols It made me reckless With my own flesh The Soviets were not the only superpower in possession of the parasite

Across the iron curtain A certain Dr. Gross was enlisted by the Americans to study the We communicated He I Markrab's entire body had flared up with a red pulse of flesh.

Post of steam rose like a boiling kettle from beneath his scarf. Take a time, doctor. Take a deep breath. I'm here to listen without judgment. Tell me what you need to get off your shoulders. With a deep, shivering groan, he continued. Chaos. When the satellite state started to fight for their independence, when the walls started to crumble, there was chaos. Gross and me used this chaos to transatlose. support the Western breed of the organism.

The Soviet Union was doomed to fail. The People's Institute of Science was doomed to fail. Yet, with a Western breed of the organism, all of that would be irrelevant. The day the package arrived, the day the two halves combined into a greater hole. That was the end of the United People's Institute of Science. That was the day Elenion deri was born. For years, research continued under my... the parasite's leadership.

We were making progress. We were gaining valuable information for the good of mankind, but... The military. They left us alone for years. But once they realized the power that we held, I sacrificed my body to science. I sacrificed my body to the parasite to keep the institutes safe. The military incursion was taken care of quickly.

They stood no match against. They were not prepared. They couldn't be. But my body, the parasite, it refused to give back control. It used me to feed. Above us, the stars painted a chaotic galaxy. The streets had gone silent. It was far too cold to be outside.

Even past my thick gloves, I could feel my fingers going numb. Yet I knew that the shaking man in the wheelchair needed to speak. It used me. It used me to hunt, to feed, to grow, to spread. Dr. Markroff, you're shaking. It's freezing. Please, let me take you to the clinic. Or, if not that, let me at least take you back downstairs. You're not well.

You can leave if you need to, but I cannot go yet. It hasn't happened yet. What hasn't happened? The organism. It grew inside of me. It fed and killed and grew. and when my body could no longer hold it. It spread.

Where did it spread to? The old man didn't respond. He simply sighed. The throbbing beneath his flesh was starting to calm. The lock of tortured guilt in his eyes simmered down to resigned acceptance. Alexi, do you truly believe in the goodness of mankind? Yes. He sat in his eyes.

silence, his skin grown paler by the second. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. Thank you for all of your help. May you one day find forgiveness in your heart, for what I have done. We all make mistakes, Dr. Markov. It's part of being human. Everyone deserves forgiveness.

I don't. An explosion cracked the silent night in half. The housing projects lit up in the twin flames of rocket. rising in from the forest. The projectiles moved with dizzying speed towards the sky, as freezing as it was outside, a flurry of windows opened beneath us to see what was happening. Did... did those rockets come from the facility?

The old man did not respond. He simply watched. Even past the disease bruising on his face, I could see tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. The parasite spread through. throughout my body until it could be contained no more. Now it will spread much further. The rockets flew higher and higher,

making their incursion on the starry sky. It wasn't until the sound of the thrusters had completely disappeared that they changed their trajectory. Each went in a different direction, drawing a line of white smoke through the black sky, growing smaller and smaller until... Poof. Two times.

silent explosions in the sky rained down bits of fiery debris all over the earth Dr. Markrov is that where the parasite spread to the rockets? The old man did not reply he was no longer

shivering, his skin was bloodless, Dr. Markov his eyes were still dripping tears and locking at the sky yet the man wasn't breathing I took off my glove willed as much warmth into my fingers as I could and slid them behind the old man's scarf.

My fingers were numb, but the lack of a pulse was clear. The old man was dead, yet just as I was about to pull my hand away from his corpse. I felt something. Up through his neck. Something moved. Something squirmed.

Something was making its way up towards his jaw. Markraft's head dropped to the side His lips parted And something horrible Slid out My fingers shook so much That it took me a couple of tries to dial the hospital When the men finally arrived to retrieve the body

I let them into the apartment complex But I refused to go with him to the roof I couldn't stand to look at Constantine Markraft's shell Of a body again It reminded me far too much of what dwelt inside of it. A horrible mess of arteries and blood and muscle. It crawled out of his lips and dragged itself to the edge of the roof.

I fear that the thing survive the fall, that it still lingers somewhere in the bushes below, that it is waiting for another victim somewhere in this housing projects. The image of that monstrosity of flesh crawling through the places where the children play haunts me. yet there is another image which cuts my sanity much more somewhere in the stratosphere two giant rockets carrying a horrible load exploding

the thought of that flesh raining down on our earth of Markrav's experiment being sewn across the planet without warning that is what truly haunts me look ah I am much of a storyteller didn't even graduate high school but I got no rouse to turn it all started when I stole the guy's passport

I mean maybe it started earlier than that way earlier I guess I was always going to turn out crooked at home nobody cared what I wanted and there was no money to buy it anyhow but I had this cousin right the guy had cashed a spare I was just a kid but he treated me

made me feel important So it was no big deal when he asked me to distract this three-piece suit lawyer for a couple of seconds. When we turned the corner, he handed me the guy's wallet, and that was just a taste. My cousin and his buddies got me deeper and deeper into their little schemes. I was 13 by then, and if I got scared or didn't want to, all they had to do was call me a pansy or shove me around till I did as I was told. Truth is, they played me like a damn piano. Course, before long, I got caught.

And getting caught only made me want to get better. Easy stuff at first. Tourists, unattended luggage, drunk college students. I dressed up as a waiter, bow-tie and all, to raid the purses at some charity event. Even got myself hired as a janitor for a few months to snag this one-stock broker's computer. Hey, if it pays, I don't ask. That's why the big guys sent me over to the airport. Great place to skim credit cards for one.

Luxury shops, first-class carry-ons, fake Wi-Fi for snagging passwords, account numbers and more. But the real money is in paperwork. Companies pay top dollar for a look at the competition's plans, and everybody wants a first-world passport. The guy was mayonnaise pale and blonde as an 80scent of old. tailored suit too All the same He was trying hard not to stand out Same as me

That made him interesting Maybe he had a secret to sell All it took was a little bump And a reach inside his front pocket To get what I was after I stuffed his paperwork inside my own coat And settled off to the restroom To check out what I lifted

First off The guy's passport Was white Like glowing white. The gold letters on it weren't in any language I'd ever seen before, and instead of pages for stamps or personal details, there was just a single coin with seven circles around it. I frowned. I was on my way to throw it in the trash when all hell broke loose in the airport outside. There was so much security running around, I wondered if the Taliban were holding a convention

in the food court. It wasn't the usual render cops either, but also. the G.I. Joe types with their big-ass guns and some men in black-looking chumps with their earpieces and anchorman haircuts. They were stopping frisking people and nobody was getting out the front doors. It made me wonder just whose pocket I'd picked. Gave me an idea too. I figured I just walk up Border Patrol and flashed the guy's passport. If they let me through, I was in the clear. If not, I could always say I found the damn thing. Funny thing happened when I held out the white passport. The renter cop got all slight-jawed and hazy-eyed.

More than they usually are, I mean. She just waved me through. No stamp, no questions, no nothing. Everybody was waiting on me to go forward. So I did. Couple summers back, me and my cousins got drunk and jumped off a railroad bridge into this nasty brown river that runs through town. soon as I stepped off, I knew I made one big-ass mistake.

It was way higher than we thought, and I spun like a windmill all the way down. I don't know how far I fell. It was far enough to count a lot of heartbeats. Anyhow, stepping through the security gate, fell sort of like diving into that river. Suddenly, it was darker than the inside of a mobster's trunk, and I was falling, falling, falling, till I came out on the other side. Might have taken a couple seconds, might have taken a couple years, I couldn't say. There was no heartbeat to count.

Far as I could tell, I was still in the airport, except it was pitch black outside, and there were no people, no guards, no arguing families or yogurt shop cashiers, or hippies and flip-flops running to catch a flight. Nobody. The music still played over the loudspeaker. The moving walkways and trams and escalators still ran. So where the hell were all the people? For a sec, I even considered trying to turn back. But I didn't want to go through that darkness again. It seemed...

Hungry. I started walking. What else could I do? For the first time in my life, I actually hoped, no, prayed to see an authority figure. Anybody who could help me or just tell me where I was going. Anything but endless fluorescent lights and tall floors. I kept going.

I just didn't want to admit that the place I was in was actually truly infinite. I didn't want to admit that when I crossed that plastic barrier, I'd stepped out of the real world and into... someplace else. So, I walked. I kept going a long time after my throat fell like a gargled sandpaper and my legs turned to jelly. What I found when I gave up and went back, though, was even worse. The security checkpoint, the place had started from, was gone.

No matter which way I looked, the endless hallway stretched on. The same forever, in both directions. I punched the wall, screamed for help, sat down. down, cried. Nothing made a difference. I don't know how much time passed. I just know that after a while, I got sort of crazy. I shattered glass and tried to dig through the wall with it. I yanked up the moving walkway and tried to crawl out through the gears underneath. I argued with myself. Apparently me and myself both think that I'm a real piece of work. I was still hollering at nothing.

when the wind picked up. I didn't notice it at first, but it picked up quick, so much that I had to grip onto the guardrail to keep from getting carried off. I flew out to Vegas once to make a drop, and the wind smell like the air out there. Dust, gasoline, and the end of the world. It wasn't just empty air either. There were people in it,

or at least they looked like they'd once been people. They were thin and wearing rags, like those in pictures of prison camp survivors. They tried to hang on to anything they could, even each other, but the wind just dragged them along. Cold fingers grabbed onto my hair, more caught in my pants. I was almost ripped off the guardrail. And then, they were gone. Suck down that endless corridor like dust into a vacuum cleaner. I pulled myself up and looked at my reflection in the back.

black glass stores to one of those inter-terminal trams. After who knows how long without food and water, I didn't look so different from those things. With a ping, the tram door opened. I blinked. I couldn't believe it. I saw seats and poles for passengers, but no light, no way of telling where it went neither. I looked around.

I didn't want to wait for another cloud of star. starving maniacs to come blowing down the hallway, and who knew when another tram would stop? I got in. Soon as the doors closed, I wish I'd taken my chances with the hallway. The wagon started moving, and I realized that I wasn't alone. Whispers all around, eyes in the dark, big, white, hungry eyes, like junkies looking at a pile of coke. And I was it. hands, hundreds of them, grabbing and pulling and shoving.

My watch and shades were gone right away. They fought over my clothes till they ripped off my body. Even my damn shoes. I wound up naked and curled up in that position that people always seem to curl into when they get stomped for missing a payment. This time though, it was me on the cold metal floor. They get pouring at me long after I had nothing left to take. Well, nothing except the weird passport.

They didn't even try to take that. Another ping, the doors open, and those horrible eyes and hands retreated into the shadows, like cockroaches beneath a kitchen light. I was shivering like a damn puppy when I crawled out into the terminal, scratched, bloody, and wearing nothing but my birthday suit. I fit right in. The terminal I remember.

rows of vinyl chairs, big white columns, gates with desks and little screens, like any airport, any place I guess. It was the things walking around that made it so wrong. It was them that made me miss prison. The ones in line beside me looked normal enough, till I realised their heads were turned around backwards, like that girl from the exorcist. They shuffled forward, or backward, depending on how you look at it. All the same though, passports in hand. Theirs was blood red. A tall thing in a red robe

check their papers as they passed. I was glad for its robe and its hood too because its hands and neck were awful long, inhuman long. On the black screen behind it were eight red rings. I guess I must have been staring too long because I got this feeling like spiders crawling up my neck. I realized that all those backwards people

were slowly turning their heads my way. The hooded thing at the gate looked interested too. Or hungry, more like. I wrapped my hand around my balls and got out of there like a cold, scared, beat up guy with a hand round his balls. Face front, I told myself, don't listen to the bloated dead things eat each other on the left

or look at the big ones with a whips with too many teeth. It's kind of like when I was a kid hiding in the closet or dad laid into mom with a belt you just got to keep quiet and hope that if you don't notice them they won't notice you magical thinking I guess it's called

a professor I robbed once was writing a book about it most of the black screens just showed rings three or six or two a few had names but they were in a funny language like the one from the guy's passport

even when they came up in English. There were places I never heard of. Where the hell is cockatus or dis? That last one caught my attention, because I recognised the guy at the desk. It was my old buddy, Rex, which was sort of funny, because the last time I saw Rex, he was at the bottom of a muddy hole with five bullets in his chest. But here he was, dressed in this weird flight attendant get up, with a gunpowder smoke still rising out of the holes on his back. He was checking the docks of a guy in a suit whose head was on fire. Rex waved.

I started heading over to him, right up to the point where he was glad to see me. Sure, he said it like a guy talking to someone who'd buried his body in a swamp. But that wasn't what made me turn and run. It was the extra jaw and the two tongues. Seeing Rex gave me the bright idea to check the guy's passport again. Maybe there was something in there I could use. there were seven rings round where the coin was, where the coin had been anyway.

It was gone. It made me think that maybe. It was like some kind of fee I'd paid to get here, though you have to be one real sick guy to pay for what I'd gone through. The coin was the key, and I was going to need another one. Problem was, none of the passengers seemed to have them.

Coins only appeared in the passport of... The other things. The ones with too many body parts and all of them in the wrong places. The ones who smelt like hate and sulphur. The ones who'd rip me apart for fun. I was gonna have to do the biggest lift of my life to get out of there. I walked around in that awful crowd for a long time before I saw an opening.

The flash of a white passport like mine. Only there was something shiny inside of it. I closed in on the thing holding it. I figured I tried to bump it, but it slipped the passport back between its folds. And when I reached for it, the thing's skin was so hot that it burned me. I guess I got lucky,

because it didn't seem to notice. Once I got to the point that I didn't want to puke from seeing, hearing and smelling the place, I was able to notice a couple details about the place. Firstly, most of the passengers seemed to be able to. to be outbound, while the, uh, others were mostly inbound, or some kind of security. Almost all of them had passports with coins. I was watching them from behind one of those big white columns when I finally saw my break.

A thing like a huge centipede with a human head tried to eat one of the passengers. It lifted this fat dead guy into the air with one claw and its jaw dropped to the floor, ready to swallow the guy whole. A bullheaded thing with a meat cleaver didn't like that one bit, and pretty soon they were fighting over the poor guy. I didn't watch him get shredded, because I saw what I wanted between the centipede things scales. A white passport, just like mine.

There was a big crowd by then, so it wasn't hard to get close. I made it look like I was knocked into the center bead things back. When I bumped against it, I swapped its passport for mine and fell down amongst the skittering legs. I rolled out of their fast, but not fast enough to avoid getting a nasty gash down my back. I cut up, though, and staggered toward the tram with nobody wiser. Far as I could tell, at least. Nothing bothered me, as long as I was holding a coin in passport.

I stepped onto the dark tram and thought about home. I thought about the dirty brown river and the board renter cops in the airport. I thought about the weeds in the sidewalk on the run-down street where I lived. I thought about my stained old mattress laying on the floor over my tiny apartment. Seemed like heaven all of a sudden. The tram rumbled into motion, and when I heard it ping again, I was back in the airport I knew. Of course, I was arrested for public indecency, but I didn't care.

Hell, I don't think I even noticed. I wanted to kiss that cop on the cheek. From the gum on the sidewalk to the smog over the city, it was all beautiful. Damn beautiful. Wasn't long to my cousin bailed me out. You should have seen the look when I hugged him. He dropped me off here at the apartment to think.

Thing is, the mark I stole the passport from, looked like an ordinary guy. Makes you think how many other things out there that look human but aren't. Maybe the thing is still out there Looking for a coin or something to trade Trying to get itself back to wherever it came from And that ain't all Maybe I'm just going nuts

But I think I feel crawling Under the cut, the centipede thing made on my back Like there's a bunch of little worms in there With lots of legs It's like I hear them in my head Telling me I gotta go back to the airport