CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 5 Horror Stories To Kickstart a Terrifying December

Episode Date: December 1, 2020

LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►00:00"A Face Only a Mother Could Love" Creepypasta►22:34 "I Was Sent Away to a Young Offenders Camp, Something’s Very Wrong Here" Creepypasta►1:06:22 "I was paid $5,000 to participate in a Past Life Regression Study" Creepypasta►1:41:54 "I took yearbook photos in a school that didn't exist" Creepypasta►2:02:41 "I Exchanged my Baby Teeth for Favors" 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. 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-

Have you ever heard the sound a scalpel makes as it slides over a bone? If you haven't, it's like a little blade scraping over a hollow rock. The bone isn't as solid as you might think, not as solid as the blade at least, and the sound has an eerie quality to it. The more I reflect on the sound, the more it reminds me of nails on a chalkboard or sidewalk chalk that kids drag over the pavement. It's a weird noise that sets your hair on edge and makes you greet your teeth against the intrusive grinding. I've had a lot of time to think about that sound in the years following my wife's death.

That was the sound, though, that woke me that night. It had been a long week, the department reeling over a series of brutal murders, and this was the first night I got to sleep in my own bed in almost four days. I'd been crashing in the break room, sleeping in my car, and living one cup of coffee at a time while we tried to track the sadist asshole. I know many cops in the same situation, but as most of us are locals the desire to see this guy brought to justice

is palpable the killer had been sticking to a certain area my area actually he was killing with no pattern no particular demographic and seemed to be sticking to those in this particular part of town these were low to middle income families

people who couldn't afford to just up and leave because a crazy killer was on the loose no matter how heinous the crimes were and the crimes were absolutely haines Venus. Seven different victims, none of them having anything in common, had been found with their faces skinned down to the bone and removed. The whole face. It was as though someone had cut the face off, skinned it down to the skull and took it with them when they left. Nothing was ever taken from the apartments, no messages were ever left, and the killer never lingered after doing their strange deed. We called him a killer, but the victims were usually still alive when they left. They died. from the blood loss afterwards, sometimes living for hours, lying there as they watched their life leak away as they screamed wetly. The last one was a store owner, well liked in the community. The one before that was an 80-year-old grandmother. Before that, a 19-year-old girl who was popular

with the boys in the neighbourhood. A bike messenger, a beat cop, an aspiring actress, a high school student who was once a beauty queen. None of these people even knew each other. There was no connection besides where they lived and no one could even find a single person that any of them knew in common. The only connection they all had was being well liked. I had been sent home that night. My captain was telling me I looked like crap and I needed some sleep in a real bed. My wife had been waiting for me. Captain Weems may have called her before I left and the night had been a good one. She'd saved me dinner, roast and potatoes, which I'd like and we had cuddled on the couch as we watched something on Netflix.

As tired as I was, I remember feeling warmer just by the time I spent with her that night. When she looked up at me, her head pillowed in my lap, I remember thinking I was the luckiest guy in the world. When I fell asleep after a rather heated lovemaking session, I found myself looking forward to the next day, hopeful that we could catch this guy and get rid of some of the fear that was hanging around like a cloud. When I came awake, it was because of the scraping noise. Some nights I wish I had just stayed asleep. I lay awake for a few seconds, listening to the scraping sound and wondering what it could be. It was an alien sound, like a nail dragged across a window.

There was an underlying sound as well, a wet and muffled sound that sounded like someone having a bad dream. I rolled on my side, thinking that my wife was having a bad dream and wanting to comfort her. She was prone to nightmares. her childhood had been less than ideal, but I found myself unable to move. My whole body was heavy, my muscles unresponsive, and all I could do was lie there and listen to a soft groaned and husky moans. I kept trying to move, but this was different than a bout of sleep paralysis somehow. This felt like being out of my body, unable to control it.

Then my eyes tracked to the mirror that sat atop my wife's vanity, and I felt a scream hanging my throat like a piece of meat. I was choking, choking on the scream as my mind tried to process what I was seeing. I was dreaming. I had to be. Things like this did not exist in the real world. This was a nightmare. Maybe I was even the one making those noises I kept hearing.

This simply could not be happening. I was dreaming. I was nightmaring. I would wake up and this would all go away. The longer it went on though, the more I concluded that it was happening. The thing reflected in the mirror was nearly seven feet tall. It crouched in the bedroom, leaning over my wife as it slid one, long finger over a face. Its head was large, a large grey baby dull head, with a face covered by a grotesque mask that looked stuck on.

There was a spread of red around the mask's corners and it looked stretched and frayed. The creature's body was grey, long and disproportionately slim, on a pair of spindly legs that disappeared below the corner of the bed. What interested me the most, however, were the long, grey arms that ended in very sharp fingers. Fingers, he was currently sliding over my wife's face. He was taking that long finger along the same track again and again, and I could see a trickle of blood,

sliding down one of her cheeks as I watched helplessly. I could see a trench working its way through a skin The blood beginning to run more freely as he went His eyes, his overly expressive blue eyes Followed the finger's path as he worked And I tried with all I had to break out of whatever held me The two big head looked up from his work And I realized I was shaking a bit as I watched him

His hand stretched out, impossibly long And one of those claws came to rest in my ear It was cold and wet Like a fish that's been plucked from a stream Suddenly my shuddering stopped And I realised why I couldn't move This thing Had done something to me

Had done something to my wife I was forced to lay there and watch As he went about his work The process was not quick Whatever tool he had at the end of his wrist Must be dull indeed He had to make the circuit for nearly an hour and a half And my wife's muffled cries were becoming more and more piteous

The blood was really coming down now Pulling on the bed and turning the white sheets a deep red I saw my wife starting a shudder Thinking she might be coming out of it But he touched her with one of those claws Put the tip in her ear And she went still again I was going to have to watch

As he took her face At some point I realised that but all the realising in the world wouldn't prepare me for it. Finally, after what felt like ours, he pulled the finger back and bent low over a face. He brought both hands up,

ten scalpel fingers peeling the face I loved so much from her two white skull. That's the other sound I'll never forget until the day I die. The sound of my wife's face being peeled away sounds like nothing so much as Velcro separating. I saw it in the murky glass as it came free, and for an instant I could see the creature's face too.

It pulled off the odd mask, and I realised too late it was the face of the shopkeeper we'd found a few days ago. It put the face into his mouth, and as it chewed, I could see a face like a swollen potato, its mouth like a carved jack-o'-lantern sneer. Its rubbery teeth chewed at the flesh as those eyes stared blankly into space. It had a pair of two expressive blue eyes And for a moment I thought they might have come from a doll They looked at me suddenly Locked mine as I stared into the mirror

Those horrible blue eyes held my gaze for a count of 20 Before it slapped the new face on with a wet chuck sound Those eyes stared back in me through the eye holes Of my wife's detached face And the creature went out through the window Without a second look back Those eyes, peeped at the eye, I'm taking jealousy out of my wife's face with the worst part, and that face haunts my dreams

every night by the time I could move. She was dead. She came out of it before I did, though. She lay in the bed, gasping wetly and called for me. I didn't know if she could see me. Did her eye still work? She passed out a few times as she tried to turn her head, finally just laying in her own blood and calling for me softly.

She wanted me to save her, wanting me to wake her up from this dream. It was impossible for her to be dying in her own bed after having a face cut off. I began to get some feeling back in my arms as a voice trailed off. I could flex my fingers, but my arms didn't start to work until after she had slipped off. The light had begun to peek in by the time I could fall out to bed and scramble for the phone. I told them everything. I told them about the creature. I told them about its long.

claws, I told them about the paralyzing dread. I told them how it had taken my wife's face and left out the window. Their response was to send me to a therapist, to give me time to grieve, to have my work with a hypnotherapist to try and decide if I had actually seen something. I had suffered through the bereavement period. I went to the therapists and told them what they wanted to hear. They wanted to tell me that the creature was away from my mind to cope with what had happened. I knew better though. I used that. downtime to gain information on this creature. There wasn't much to go on. The crimes had all been committed within two blocks of each other, all in a central location, all in the part of town that

housed several large apartment complexes. I asked around, seeing if anyone had seen anything like it, but I got a few answers. Some of the homeless people had told me they'd seen something skulking about lately, but most of them were too strung out to be credible. A few of them led me to an abandoned underground station that had once been central to the area but now stood abandoned. The homeless didn't stay there anymore, and if they did, they stayed forever. Or so they told me. After a month of bereavement, I came back with my information compiled and ready to hand to the chief, but I returned to a very different work environment.

No one believed that I had seen a monster steal my wife's face, and I began to hear rumbles around the station, that I was a suspect somehow. A 15-year officer had just lay there and watched his wife have a face taken off? Not likely. Is he more likely that I'd been out all night and came home to find her like that? Is he more likely, still, that I was the killer,

banking on the idea that my reputation would put me above suspicion? I didn't care. I knew what I'd seen, and I took my information straight to my boss. My boss, however, was in another camp. altogether. Is this how you spend your period of morning?

I wanted you fresh, all this monster stuff out of your system. The others already think you're unhinged. The ones who don't think you're the killer. You need to be careful talking about this kind of crap around here. Get back to your desk. You're on light duty until further notice. And I don't want to hear another word about this damn monster. I seethed behind my desk, already planning my next move.

If it was proof that they wanted, it was proof I'd give them. I left early that afternoon and went home to prepare. I backed a bag, took my service pistol and a shotgun from the whole closet. The little pump action fit nicely into my campsack, as well as a rope, a flashlight, and some trail bars. I dressed warmly, the November weather already becoming frigid after dark, and I looked back at my apartment before leaving, unsure I'd ever see it again. I glanced at my wife's portrait on the mantle, though, was enough to send me on my way. The creature wouldn't be wearing her face for long.

The old underground was a dilapidated relic, a toothless mouth that gaped out of the pavement. The gate was locked, but I'd been told the fence was cut around the back. Some industrious bag had made a neat little hole to scurry through, and I entered the perimeter without much fuss. The sun had begun to set as I flipped on the flashlight, and it cast a red glow across the grimy tiles. The glow was gone after the second staircase, and I was plunged into true darkness. The outside had looked bad, but the inside was a ruin. The tiles had been shattered in places, light fixtures hanging from a leaking roof, and a single train stood like a hulk on dead tracks.

There was a constant sound of dripping water, a constant sound of scurrying feet, and it was easy to imagine that this was what Bilbo Baggins had found under the Goblin Mountain. I found myself swinging my flashlight about at every second, my years of cool police training melting away as I descended into the station. Near the tracks, I found a handprint that looked red with dried blood. I jumped down into the tracks without a second thought, drawing my gun and looking left and right. My light fell across a fainter smear going left, light red standing the side of the train,

and I decided this was my direction. I moved quietly, not with it. wanting to tip my prey off, but he could have been hanging over my head, and I'd have never seen him. If he lived here, he could probably see in the dark, and bringing a beacon with me would be as good as screaming down the tunnel. As I moved, I'd little doubt that he knew I was here. The deeper I went in, the worse the scuttling and the skittering became. I told myself it was rats. But how sure was I that the scrambling I heard wasn't the sound of those sharp fingers scampering across the ceiling? How sure was I that that scrambling was the sound of his equally

long toes? Toes I had never seen, gripping the pavement and moving his body along in a quiet scuttle. As he took another corner, I could swear that something big moved just out to my flashlight beam. I held it there for a count of 12 before turning away and continuing down the tunnel. The blood smear's were all but gone, but I felt drawn deeper in as I took turns at random. It was almost as if I could hear my wife's voice calling me, and I had little doubts that he knew I was here now. I had even less doubt when he fell onto my back, slamming my head against the floor and sending my guns spinning out of my hand.

I blacked out, and when I came to, I wished I had died. I was laid across a metal bench somewhere deep in the tunnels, an eerie light. lit the space, some kind of plant life maybe, and I found I was paralyzed again when I tried to move. That was with my wife's face. Her face made terrible by those two expressive eyes loomed over me, and I'd have cringed the way if I were not held by whatever power the creature had. It stuttered me, maybe even recognized me, but his regard was terrible as it came from a face that I loved so much. Her face was decomposed. posed, rotting away as it clung to the creature's skull, and I felt something goopy fall onto my

cheek as he leaned in close to inspect me. I had only thought it couldn't get any worse, but that was before he pressed that finger to the cleft of my chin. He began to circle, the claw digging against my skin, as he slid the nail around and around and around my face. It didn't hurt at first. It was little more than a discomfort, and I began to wonder. I wonder how long he had been carving at my wife.

I stared at him, and he stared back, those baby blues boring into me. His eyes were mesmerizing, terrifying as they held unwaveringly still, and as the minute stretched into hours, I began to feel my face heating up. It was subtle at first, just a little warmth around my chin and forehead, but as the circling finger went around and around, I felt something. I felt like someone was holding a lighter to my skin. I would have screamed, my flesh becoming seared, but I couldn't move.

My horror was trapped to my throat again. I started to feel the flood as it slid there my cheeks and head. First, it was just a trickle, a damp line or two, but soon it was running in riftily. Soon I could feel my flesh parting from my skull. Soon I could feel that sizzling heat as it cut my skin. and I felt as though I must pass out, I must black out from shock. There was no way that everyone was awake as he cut their living face from their body.

It was impossible. It was sick. It was... He pulled the finger back, suddenly. And I realised with horror what was about to happen. All ten fingers gripped my flesh, and I tried to pull away then. Maybe I could still make it to a hospital. They could fix me.

They could make this wrong. right, but there was no way he was going to take my face. This wasn't how he was supposed to go? I wasn't supposed to... He gripped my face, and I heard that same Velcro ripping as my own face came free of my skull. Then he devoured my wife's face as I watched and slapped my own across his gorseaued canvas

that was his lumpy head. He hooted then, hooted and cried in his strange, unknowable language. He turned to a deeper tunnel. and cried out in pure pleasure as he fulfilled whatever ritual he was performing, whatever dark spell he needed these faces for. I hoped he would let me go now. I had lost a lot of blood, but maybe I could still get some medical attention. I felt groggy, weak.

But when I heard something struggling out of the depths of the tunnel, I felt something heavy settled into my guts. What fresh hell was this? Out of the darkness, lit only, Lit, only by whatever phosphorescence dwelt down there, came a hulking thing that slid on long grey limbs. It was spider-like, a massive grey blob that pulled itself along on something like tentacles, each of them ending the same hooked fingers as the creature. It lowered its equally mushy face to the creature, taking in the face, and I heard something speak in a voice made of broken glass. Do I please you, mother?

It cried, and that voice was full of hope and terrible longing. The grey creature seemed to contemplate for a long moment, before it opened its shapeless mouth and whispered her single, horrible word in a language like snakes crawling across a naked face. Ugly. Then it pulled itself back into the depths. I heard the creature sobbing, it fell to its grey knees and wept.

Then, suddenly, I was running. My mind had set itself to waterpilot, and my body and mind simply couldn't take it anymore. Myself pushed against this thing, this thing and its terrible need, and my body propelled itself away, before this knowledge could do my brain lasting harm. I ran and ran, blind in that lightless world,

as the blood trickled down my naked face. If the creature came after me, I never knew. If the thing that wore my face came after me, I never knew. I was running one second, the darkness pressing in all around me. And the next, my world was full of light, and I was falling into oblivion. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital, being told how lucky I was to be alive. An undercover cop had followed me to the underground entrance and had waited to question me when I came back out.

When I didn't come out for several hours, he called him, people to come look for me. Those people had heard me screaming through the tunnels, caught side of my faceless form in their flashlights, and caught me before I fell. I'd nearly died on the way there. I'd simply lost too much blood, and my body was in some kind of shock. They sedated me, my night terraced cause me to buck and scream, and I'd spent nearly a week in a hospital bed. No one thinks I'm crazy anymore, and no one thinks I'm the killer. Certainly, no one believes that I cut my own damn face off. I'm writing this as a warning.

This is a warning. A warning to anyone living in the area. Get out. Leave your home and get out. This creature has no rhyme or reason for his actions. He seeks only to gain something that I believe he will never find. I'm safe now. A faceless horror who will have to live with the knowledge I discovered until the day I die.

But you needn't suffer my fate. Get away from the cheap side. Get away from the concrete apartments and get as far away from the city as you can. Lest you become one more face for this monster to show its mother. It was the final straw for everyone involved. My mother, father, principal, peer worker. They were all sick of me and my destructive behaviour. At 17 years old, I had a pretty impressive resume.

property damage, anti-social behaviour, aggravated assault, and my most recent addition, arson. I really screwed up, well and truly, for the last time. I thought for sure I would be taken away to Juvie. I wish I could lie to you all and say I came from a broken home that I got in with the wrong crowd, that I was just a lost soul who needed guidance. That wasn't the case. I burnt my high school to the ground after my permanent exclusion. call it rage or anger

call it petty if you want to I was actually trying to finish school with good grades but the principal never let me be anything but a thug I never stole them money from the school accounts like they said and I'll just take savvy as they made me out to be it was an obvious setup from the principal

to gain some payback for all the hassle I caused them over the years and of course to get me out of school for good that I take no responsibility for I tried to convince my mom begged her in fact to hear me out. She shook ahead when the police cuffed me. I'm sorry Brody, but I just don't believe a word you say anymore. And then they dragged me away. It was the last time I would see

my home after I was sentenced. My lawyer, Mr. Fairhurst, was actually pretty good, and made a sympathetic case for me. The judge, however, had well and truly had enough of seeing my face. There was no winning situation in that scenario at all. Of course I didn't show it. it, but I was terrified of being sent away. I didn't know what to expect. To my surprise, I wasn't sent away to juvie. You have a chance, Mr. Jackson, to redeem yourself. The judge said, when he passed down his judgment,

one year had a reform facility to prove you can be an outstanding citizen to society. Don't make me regret my decision. I was initially confused what the reformed facility actually was. I hide Mr. Fairhurst while the judge continued talking. After the sentencing had finished, he slid me a leaflet. Stanley Side Corrections Camp, a place of redemption and forgiveness. Feeling lost, feeling like there's no way back from your mistakes, praying for a miracle. Stanley Side Corrections Camp is here to help you reform.

Is this a damn joke? I said, scoffing of the pictures of overly happy young men and women, raft building, kayaking, and sitting with an acoustic... guitar by a campfire, not to mention that they all look like models. I wasn't fooled by the fancy advertising. They're seriously sending me to a kiddie camp to sing Come by Art for a year? Mr. Fairhurst sighed. I could tell he was exhausted by me and was glad he didn't have to represent me anymore. I don't blame him.

I know I'm hard work, and I didn't make any of it easy for him, or myself. It's no joke, he said, sternly, and it's no walk in the park either. you got very lucky Mr Jackson this isn't a vacation it sure as her looks like one I said I was to be escorted to Stanley side right away

I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to my parents my dad sat in the courtroom with both his arms crossed he was only there as support for my mom who sat as still as a statue after my sentence was passed she just stared at me when I got took away without even a welling in a tired eyes

my mom used to be my biggest supporter and defender. She was the reason why I tried to change and become a better person. I was doing well in school and even got most of the teachers on my side by working hard and applying myself. I proved I could do it, that I could be someone else. But it was one last screw up too many for my mother. It broke my heart to see the way she looked at me. It was like I was the biggest disappointment and regret of her entire life. I was surprised to find I wasn't travelling to stand beside in a prison van. When the guide escorted me to my transport,

it was a silver car. I wasn't allowed to bring any personal items with me, and even books. Everything I needed would be provided for me at the camp, I was told. It's not like I had anything worth taking with me anyway. When I got into the car, the driver turned to face me. He was a young guy. If I had to guess early twenties,

all white teeth, blonde hair and chubby cheeks, He smiled at me as I clipped in my seatbelt. I noticed, but didn't make an attempt to return the gesture back at him. I'm Bart, he said. I flooded my eyelids. That's seriously your name? Is your second name Simpson too? Or would that just be too much of a coincidence?

Oh, he's a joker. Bart said, nodding, he said, genuinely impressed. I think we're going to get on just fine, Brody. I made my head back and closed my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time I slept properly. Bart put on some song I'd never heard before and began to drive away. He hummed along to the tune of the song, much to my annoyance. I tried to sleep for half an hour into the journey,

but too much was racing through my head, and Bart still continued to hum away song after song. Since I couldn't sleep, I decided to talk to Bart. I wasn't really in the mood for talking, but I was curious about Stanley side, so I asked what it was. But shifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to meet my own. Didn't you read the leaflet?

No, I said. I'm asking what it really is. You can't tell me that it's going to be all fresh air and marshmallows with a fire every night. Well, that's exactly what it's like, he said, using one of his hands to emoge his point. Redeeming yourself doesn't have to be an unpleasant experience. I still wasn't convinced. B.S. You know what I did, don't you?

They don't send people like me to somewhere that isn't unpleasant. You're wrong, he said, and seemed lost for words for a moment. I was about to close my eyes again when he carried on. I think Stanyside is exactly what you need. Being in that environment will do the world of good. No internet, no phone, no excuse to get into any trouble. Everyone loves it there. Your pitch is good, but I'm still not convinced in the product, I said, shrugging.

What do you do there anyway? I'm assuming you're not just the driver. You're right, he said. I'm one of the camp councillors. I sneered, rubbed my hand over my face. Jesus Christ. We drove for hours, or so I assumed. I didn't have a phone, let alone a watch to tell me what the time was.

I guessed it was well into the afternoon. My stomach rumbled and I tried to convince Bart to stop off somewhere, but he refused. All he could offer me was a bottle of water that rolled around on the floor on the back seat. It had clearly been there for a while. I found myself getting bored again, no longer able to take the awkward silence

between myself and Bart. So, if you're a counsellor, why did you drive all that way to pick me up? I asked. He adjusted the volume of his radio. We always pick our campers up. His answer made him. me laugh and he squinted at me in the rearview mirror.

What? God, Bart, really? Campers? Well, it's more endearing than the alternative term, isn't it? I didn't answer him, but his question was food for thought. Anyone could dress it up how they liked. The matter of the fact was that I was going to be spending the next year of my life as a prisoner. I was more or less dead to the world.

We'll be there soon, Bart said. breaking me away from my deep thought. The reflection of his smile in the rearview mirror It was actually comforting. Bart kept his promise. Twenty minutes later, we drove through a large frame made of tree trunks, which, to my surprise, had no gate. The area around the entrance was surrounded by tall oaks

that seemed to go on for miles. I leaned forward from my seat to peer up at the high wooden frame. It also had a sign at the top. It read, Camp Stanleyside Until I saw it with my own eyes I didn't believe Stanleyside would look like an actual summer camp But there they were

The rustic red cabins A mess hall A playing field with archery target and a huge lake I observed the campers through the window The campers stared back at me With a mixture of grins and general curiosity They were all dressed just like kids at a camp And considering the age of them all

It made them look like they were attending an 80s-themed college party. The standard uniforms seemed to be great t-shirts with Camp Stanley side printed on them, tube socks, white sneakers, and, much to my chagrin, black short shorts. I was expecting a lot of the campers to look roughed up, but they really did look like the people in the leaflet. It was damn weird. After he pulled up, I said to Bart, there is absolutely no way I'm wearing those shorts

he didn't say anything when he got out of the driver's seat and after he did I caught a cheeky grin on his face as he slammed the door I'm not joking I said to myself in the empty car crossing my arms outside the window I saw a group of people walk over to meet Bart they were dressed like the campers too but they were older and wore red t-shirts instead of grey the other counsellors I assumed A mixture of guys and girls, six of them in total. Bart was talking to a man in the middle of the group, who I guessed was around 40.

Their conversation was inaudible to me with the distance and the window between us. It wasn't hard to figure out that the guy Bart was talking to was the big boss. I noticed there was a lot of nodding going on, a lot of smiling. The man in the middle looked over at me briefly and bowed his head at me, then carried on talking away. I was disturbed from my casual observation of the conversation when there was a knock on the window. I was so immersed in what the councillors could possibly be talking about that I jumped from the shock interruption. I rolled the window down to see a guy leaning over to meet my face to the window. He was really tall and looked like he belonged in an apricrombead.

Can I help you? I asked, making it known I was annoyed by his disturbance. The tall guy gave me a half-hearted smile. I'm Luke, he said. I'm supposed to show you around. Initially, I didn't move. I just stared him out, thinking that eventually he would look away and get lost. But he didn't.

He waited patiently. Lucky and lucky me, I said, bobbing my head side to side. When I got out of the car, my legs felt like jelly from sitting down for so long. Luke had already marched off, assuming I would follow him. It was clear to me from the moment we met,

that Luke saw himself as a leader and expected me to be a follower. Showing me around was the only exception. I was no one's follower. Nevertheless, I dragged myself behind him, begrudgingly. What's your name? Luke said, as he paced on. I knew full well he already knew what it was, because he'd been instructed to carry out my induction.

What do you want it to be, pretty boy? Luke stopped and faced me. I was grateful, because I was. I was out of breath and it was hard to keep up with the speed of his long legs. He folded his arms and raised his left eyebrow. Are you going to be a problem? I couldn't take him seriously. The way he tried to be authoritative in those shorts.

I smirked and tried not to laugh. Jesus, take a joke. It's Brody. Luke didn't give me any indication that he registered what I said and continued to walk ahead. I sighed, rolled my eyes and carried on. I was given the tour of the grounds. It wasn't anything I didn't expect to see, and it wasn't a hard place to navigate,

which I guess was the point. After all, Stanley side was a dressed-up prison, so it's not like they would want their prisoners to go far or be out of sight. Luke wasn't an enthusiastic tour guide, so probably wasn't doing it justice. I had a feeling I was getting the abbreviated version because I was so disinterested in everything he showed me. It was a camp with grounds big enough,

for various activities, what else was there to say? The only thing I couldn't help but notice was how happy everyone looked. The campers looked and acted just as artificial as the place itself. At the end of the tour, Luke finally showed me into my cabin. It was a duplicate of all the others that surrounded it, the same shade of red. The cabin walls were made of wood, matching the exterior and overall aesthetic of the camp. It was six beds in total, and overall it was very big. bear, just as I expected it to be. No luxury here. This is your bed, Luke said, and pointed

to the bed in the far corner. It was dressed in baby blue sheets, just like all the others. The required uniform was folded neatly on my bed for me. I had the shorts and rolled my eyes. The air in the cabin was muggy and stale. It was actually suffocating. I began to sweat and decided that maybe the uniform wasn't so unappealing if it was going to be. to be that hot most of the time. It's my cabin too, so we'll be rooming together, Luke said with distaste.

I think this would be a good time to go over some expectations. Wait, so you're not a counsellor? I asked with relish. Your bed should always be made when you're not in it, Luke proceeded, ignoring my question. You should always be hygienic in the camp uniform, so you may as well get rid of your clothes.

You won't need them anymore. Except for when I leave here, I said to find. so I'll keep them thanks. Luke ignored me again. In your storage you have plenty of spares to wear, as well as sweat shirts and search for when it's cold. Always be respectful to everyone.

That includes your fellow campers. And he said that with emphasis. No smoking, drinking, drugs. All meals should be eaten in the mess hall. What are you in for? I asked, bored of his ramblings. Luke's face hardened. And never ask another camper why they're here.

It's forbidden, he said. Dinner is in an hour, showers are two doors down, no time like the present. Then he twist his nose before turning on his heels. Weirdo, I muttered when he walked out the cabin. I tucked at the front of my t-shirt when I walked into the mess hall later, conscious that it was a little too tight. I felt like an imposter wearing the camp uniform and also a little bit ridiculous. But I thought it was better to blend in than to stand out in this point.

place. Perhaps that's what they were all already doing, I wondered. Sure, that everyone's true colours will come out sooner or later. The noisy atmosphere in the messal made my head pound. Campas laughed and talked away, shoveling large bites of food into their mouths, sat in their little cliques. I just wanted to go to sleep, but I hadn't eaten since the day before, so I walked in with the intention of grabbing a quick bite and sneaking back out. I made my way through the rows of smiles, nods, waves and injure. from the strangers before me. I made no intention to grace them with the same courtesy.

I just held my head high and marched into the serving area. The staff looked like they were closing up for the night, but the cook served me a burger. That might as well have been charcoal and cold concrete fries. Looks delicious, I said to her when she passed it to me. My sarcasm didn't faze her. I managed to find an empty bench, hoping to stay invisible from everyone. Of course, that didn't happen.

The way some of the campers looked to me was making me lose my appetite more than the food was. I spotted Luke with his little entourage. They talked amongst themselves as he stared at me with his chin resting on top of his clasped hands. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I thought it was best not to cause a scene on my first day. I saw Bart approach me from the corner of my eye, dressed in his red counselor t-shirt. Now he fitted in with the rest of the clones. I couldn't help but notice how thick his body was and how muscular his legs were. He gave me serious body envy.

You should try and making some friends, he said. Luke's a great guy. He'll be a good influence on you. Bart sat down, but I didn't meet his eyes. I just picked him my food. I don't need any friends, and I don't need anyone to influence me. I do a good job of influencing myself. So, you're going to sit alone for the rest of the year.

Bart asked. Everything here is built on teamwork and bonding. You'll have to get along with people sooner or later. I was tired and couldn't take any more BS. I can get along with people. I just don't need to make friends with the poster child over there, I said, nodding my head in Luke's direction, which seemed to remuse him.

I bit a big bite out of my burger, which Bart took as an indication I was done with talking. He got up to walk away, but I stopped him. Bart, Can I call my mom? His face dropped. I'm sorry, but there's no phone calls here, for anyone.

Uncle John's rules, he said, shrugging. Uncle John? I sneered, finding the name not only hilarious, but downright creepy. Bart pointed over with the man he was talking to earlier when we arrived. Uncle John waved to us, confirming that he had been watching us talk. He's the camp leader. Before any of my fellow cabin buddies came back from the mess hall, I grabbed a hoodie from my drawer and went for a walk on the grounds. I made my way past the rows of cabins, looking over at a couple of people sat around a fire. I couldn't understand how everyone

was so happy. The matter of fact was that this was a prison. I was angry and had so much rage bottled up inside of me. I just wanted to go home and move on from all my mistakes. I walked out to the main camp past all the cabins into an area surrounded by trees The smell of damp wood that filled my sinuses were satisfying I suppose the fresh air was one advantage

To being at the camp I found myself wondering towards the lake It was a big open space Surrounded by more trees on either side And the moonlight shined on its rippling surface Occupied near the docks With some kayaking boats and oars And I wondered how long it would take me

To kayak my way head of Stanley's side. I guessed I wouldn't make it far. They probably had security somewhere around here to stop us getting away. They just weren't making it obvious. It was peaceful to be alone without other people around, just the faint sound of crickets which soothed me. I walked further out onto the dock and took my shoes and socks off to rest my feet in the water. It was ice cold, but it felt amazing. I was daydreaming for a while, just staring out into the lake, thinking about my mom, and how much I let her down. I wanted to call her.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry and that I never meant to hurt her. Then I remembered the way she looked during my sentence. Deep down, I knew she was done with me, even if she never said it. She didn't have to say it. I saw it.

My eyes welled up. I tried to fight it, but in the end, I let the tears come. My tears stopped at a halt when I witnessed something large, briefly rise to the surface of the lake, making an almighty splash from its impact. The heavy sound made me jump up

and pull my feet out of the water in a flash. Whatever it was, it was just as quickly back below the surface. It was dark, and the moonlight only made the thing's silhouette more mysterious. I briefly thought it might have been an alligator, but it seemed far too large, like it wasn't even exposing its whole exterior.

I didn't even know if they had alligators around there, because I had no idea where I actually was. After my heart stopped pounding, I watched closely as the ripples in the water settled under the moon. My trance was broken when someone called my name. Brody? Brody? I recognised the voice. It was Bart calling behind me. I turned around sheepishly. He looked angry and worried at the same time, even though it was dark and I could see the pink flush on his chunky cheeks. You can't be out here alone, ever. Did Luke not explain that to you? I shrugged. He must have missed that part out. Bart shifted his eyes from me to the lake. Come on, let's get you back to your cabin. If you ever do

this again, I'll have to write you up. I jumped off the entrance to the docks, dodging the three tiny steps below. So you're letting me off? How generous I've you, counsellor. Bart grabbed my arm with a little more force than I liked. If it had been an anyone else, I would have smacked them square in the face. He was even more flushed when he pulled me closer. I'm not missing around, Brody. Don't ever come out here alone ever again. Do you understand me?

Bart's insistence actually frightened me. His wide eyes looked over at the lake once more. Come on, let's go, he said, still holding a firm grip in my arm. We walked away from the lake in silence, and we stayed that way until he escorted me to the outside of my cabin. I went to open the door and stopped. But, are there alligators around here? No, he said, shaking his head.

Why? I saw something in the water. His face was only slightly pink now. It was probably just the big fish. Okay, I nodded. No, in full well it wasn't. But there was no use in trying to explain something I couldn't actually see. but whatever it was, it didn't look

natural. I knew it would only make him dismiss me or say I was imagining things, so I just kept my mouth shot and turned to open the door to the cabin. Inside, Luke eyed me suspiciously. The other boy smiled my way and said hello. I gave them a quick small smile

before I turned around one more time to say good night to Bart. Good night, Brody, he said. and remained there until I closed the door. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep at all that night. I kept thinking about how I was going to cope with being away for a year and also what I saw in the lake. I couldn't get it out of my mind.

Eventually, it became the only thing I could think about. It began to rain outside, and the pitter-patter sound it made on the roof was comforting. It also drowned out the sound of Josh's snoring, one of the boys in my cabin. but soon the snoring stopped and all six of us shot up in our beds the sound that came from outside was like a loud horn an air siren

an almighty repetitive roar it was so clear and so loud that it felt like it was coming from just outside the door what the hell is that? I said panting another boy called Rich went to answer me but Luke spoke before he could

it's an escape siren someone's tried to run away They'll be gone in the morning, Josh said, which made Luke purse his lips. Josh looked away from Luke and shook his head before placing it on the pillow. Pete and Ricky, the other two boys followed his lead. It'll stop soon, Luke said to me, go back to sleep, and then he turned on his side. I stayed, sat up and listened until the sound finally faded out. My heart continued to pound moments later, and even if the boy's

were used to the sound, I couldn't help but notice that they all seemed terrified, even Luke, though he was better at hiding it. I wished to be anywhere else in the world before I finally found sleep. Breakfast the next morning was unusually quiet, a far contrast from the night before at dinner. I sat on the end of a bench and observed glum faces occupied with their deep thoughts. I knew the looks in their faces. They were troubled or worried. Eventually, Uncle John stood before us all near the surfing station. I'm going to call an assembly to address what you're probably all already aware of. He began.

Last night, Jessica sadly left us. She was caught with contraband and had to be dealt with accordingly. We will all miss Jessica, but please don't let her ignorance dampen our spirits. Dealt with accordingly, I thought. What did that even mean? I didn't have a chance to know who Jessica was. Whatever she was caught with must have been bad. Luke said the siren was for an escapee.

Something didn't add up. It's a beautiful day, Uncle John continued. So let's embrace the beautiful weather. I want us to feel joy, express laughter and enjoy the rest of our day. Here, here, Luke shouted, banging his cutler in the table. Everyone else followed suit. Uncle John sat down with the councillors in a brisk fashion They all smiled at him as he did so

I briefly caught Bart's eyes And even though he was smiling He eyed me cautiously The volumes slowly went up amongst the campers Until they were back to their old selves From the night before It was like nothing had disturbed them And they weren't phased by this Jessica girl's absence anymore

The whole thing felt off to me I glanced over at Luke and wondered why he lied to me about Jessica. I'd been at Stanly'side for a week and started participating in the activities, despite my initial reluctance. It turned out, I was really good at painting. I started off slow by painting stupid things like fruit

and then started painting trees in abstract colours. It relaxed me and took my mind off of everything. I still hadn't come round to the idea of the camp, but I tried to make the most of my time and keep a low profile. I also warned to pretty much everyone in my cabin, except for Luke. One day we got into an altercation over my bed of all things. He came strutting him like he always did, thinking he was the king of the cabin and demanded I make my bed. I'm sick to death of telling you, he said.

That's funny, because I'm sick to death of hearing you tell me. He placed both his hands on his hips and towered over me. I'm serious. I told you how we need to keep our beds made, or there's consequences. I took this as a threat and stepped up to him. Sure, I was a hell of a lot shorter than him, but I didn't find him intimidating just because he was praised as a golden child. Luke, if you really want to have a dig measuring contest, then come on, let's go, but I guarantee I'll win.

All the other boys watched in anticipation. Josh even stood directly behind Luke with his arms folded, daring me to do something. Even if we had been getting along, it was easy to see where his loyalties lied. I moved even closer to Luke and tiptoed so my height nearly matched his. Your mess has an effect on all of us, Luke said, and my cabin is always spotless, got it?

If you really want to make the bed, then do it yourself, I said, then blew my kiss with my pout. This provoked him to snap and grab me in a headlock. I managed to tackle him to the ground and went to punch him until the other boys got me off of him. No, you can't do that. Rich pleaded. Luke's right.

Just, please, make your bed. Luke and I were both out of breath. He sat on the floor, eyes in fury. Now, if I did my hand, no point in starting a war over an unmade bed. Fine, I will, I said, continuing to hold my hand out. He pushed it away and got to his feet. Everyone, out! Luke yelled in the direction of the other boys.

I stayed putt as they left without question. you need to realize what's going on here Brady Look, I'm not here to step on anyone's shoes I'm just here to do my time and leave He laughed and shook his head I don't want you to screw up our lives Just because you can't stay in line Ha thanks for the concern

I said with a sly wink But I'm hardly doing drugs behind the mess hall am I Luke got in my space this time His eyes run fire If you carry on the way you are Leaving a mess everywhere you go isolating yourself from everyone and cussing after every other word you will be gone just as easily as if you were doing drugs

like Jessica I asked exactly I watched his face relax and he went to leave without another word until I said you said the siren was frisk a piece the night it went off Luke didn't turn around so Jessica didn't run away she was caught with contraband so why did they raise the siren

It's not a siren, he answered. What was it then? Luke's body suddenly started to quiver. You'll find out, he said. Then he left the cabin abruptly. A week later, I started to sit with my cabin buddies during meals. I was sat on the opposite end of the table, away from Luke, and we never conversed. Pete was a talker, and didn't know when to shut up.

It was like it was a broken record and kept talking about the same things he thought were funny and they all laughed along After the second or third time It just got annoying But I tried to reserve my usual sarcastic nature to show them And Luke I was making an effort

I didn't bother to quiz Luke any more about the siren Or whatever it was It was clear we were never going to be best friends So even if we did some other activities together We went back to ignoring each other once we were in our cabin. I got bored of archery, playing baseball and painting every day.

I decided I wanted to do something new. We were in the cabin one morning when I said, he wants to go kayaking. It was like I just told Rich that someone had died. He started hyperventilating, and I thought he was having a heart attack. The boys rushed over, and Luke met him at eye level.

Rich, Rich, look at me, Luke said, pointing his fingers to his eyes. You don't have to go to the left. okay? It was just a suggestion. Despite Luke's calming technique, Rich continued to panic, shaking his head. The eyes, Rich said

breathlessly. The eyes. My mouth was wide open. I looked at Josh in confusion, holding my hands up. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a trigger. To my surprise, Luke answered me, amicably.

It's fine, don't worry. Rich as a fear of water. I kneeled down next to Luke. I'm really sorry, Rich. I didn't know. We can do something else, okay? His breathing started to slow down after a while. Sorry, guys.

I don't know what came over me. It's fine, Luke said. Brody, why don't you show us how to paint today? The request came as a surprise. I saw it for what it was. An extension of his hand. he wanted to start getting along. I'd love to, I said, and he smiled, genuinely for the first time.

I hadn't thought about the lake much since the one and only night I went there. I remember that thing I saw and wondered if Richard also seen it. Maybe that's why he was scared of the water. He said, the eyes. The eyes, like it wasn't the water itself he was scared of. But what might be in it? After dinner that night, Bart asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. We didn't talk much since he caught me sitting by the lake.

I agreed, and I thought it would be nice to get away from hearing one of Peter's repetitive stories. The evening was cool and crisp, and it amazed me how the camp I found so alien when I first arrived became so normal to me. A group of people sang by the fire, and I actually found myself smiling at them. So far, I couldn't complain about Stanley's side. it really was a good place for reflection, and to do things I never in a million years would have done before. You've confirmed, Bart teased. I saw that smile, Brody Jackson. He actually made me blush from the embarrassment of being caught.

Well, it is exhausting being cynical every waking moment. I suppose I can let my guard down a little here, right? I'm glad you've made some friends. Even Luke, if I'm not mistaken. Hmm, I hummed. He's not so bad, I guess, even if he is a people-pleaser. Well, I'm glad you've come round to him, Bart said. He's a good guy.

I noticed Bart shivered, who's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. I knew he wouldn't fit him, because he was much broader and bigger than me. But I took off my hoodie and passed it to him. Here, I said. He looked surprised. Look, Brody, I think you're a great guy, but... Dude, don't read too much into it, I said, I'm just offering you my hoodie. It's cold and I'm pretty warm, so just take it.

He nodded and put it on, even though he'd tightened around his arms. We carried on walking down the rows of cabins until the sound of someone blowing a conch bled through the entire camp. My face dropped and everyone around us stood to attention. Campers came out of the cabins with dread written all over their faces. I looked at Bart as he bit his lip and closed his eyes. follow me he said he started to walk away wait Bart what is it I said as people rushed past us in a hurry Bart continued to bite his lip and considered me for a moment before he turned and followed the crowd I saw Luke running out of the mess hall and he spotted me Josh Ricky and Pete followed behind him

where's rich I asked but they followed the herd without saying a word everyone and was heading to the lake. When I arrived, all the campers, the councillors and Uncle John stood on the mountain near the dock. Bart stood with his hands together, looking at his feet next to Uncle John. Everyone stood anxiously, awaiting Uncle John to speak as he walked at the top step of the dock and opened his arms out to us all. We provide an excellent environment here at Stanley Dale. All of you are lucky to be here.

You are all lucky to have escaped a much worse fate. and yet Some of you show your gratitude by deceiving us The blood rushed to his face And a vein popped out of his neck Gone was the enthusiastic leader Encouraging us to bask in the joy

of the day What stood before us was a man Striking us down expressing his anger He reminded me of a god Ready to cast down his infinite power Here here Loop chanted raising his fist in the air

The others followed even the counsellors, even Bart, reluctantly it seemed. I didn't move. I just listened and took in the campers' reactions. One of your fellow campers has let you all down and shamed you all with his deceit. Uncle John continued. My heart sunk when he said he.

The only person missing from the crowd was rich. He tried to deceive us, tried to run away from this little corner of paradise we created, just so you can all redeem yourselves in an environment where you can forget the disgusting human beings you used to be. Uncle John's ramblings made my blood boil. I wanted to run from the crowd and hit him,

knock some sense into him. His phony demeanour shine through, and so did the demeanour of Stanley Dale in general. It wasn't a reform facility or a prison. It was a cult, and everyone had been sucked in by it. Bart and the other councillors walked away briefly during Uncle John's speech and returned after he finished. They were grabbing Rich forcefully by his biceps.

He yelled and struggled. Please, no! I saw the terror in his face and wondered why nobody was doing anything, saying something. Bart gritted his teeth the more Rich struggled. At any moment, I thought he was going to swipe him across the face. I felt my feet ready to fly off the ground until Luke appeared next to me. We can't do anything. It'll be us next, he whispered.

Don't move. I shook my head. I'm not going to stand here and do nothing, I said. They're going to hurt him. I went to march up to Uncle John, but Luke crouched my arm and held me back. Bart glanced over at us, noticing the commotion. I glared back at him with utter hatred. How could he participate in this, I thought.

It was all just an act, being Mr. Nice Guy. This public scrutiny was vile. Poor Rich didn't deserve it. No one did. Richard, Uncle John began. You have broken your promise to become a better citizen of society. You have betrayed all of us. And for that, you must face the consequences.

You've ruined your chance, and now you must walk the dock. Rich struggled even more and screamed hysterically, as Bart and the counsellor dragged him up the dock. looking out over the lake. Here, here, Luke bellowed again behind me, and everyone followed his lead. I tried to run again, but Luke wrapped his arms around my stomach

and tightened his squeeze. He was ridiculously strong. You can't save him. Rich was repeatedly pushed forward until he was at the end of the dock. He looked back at us all, a blubbing mess. My stomach tightened from the anxiety, which wasn't being helped by Luke's grip.

Bart and the other. the counsellor stood back as rich coward. Uncle John stood patiently. I convinced myself they were going to push him in the lake, like he was on a plank in a pirate story or something. His biggest fear is water, I remembered. But then I thought about what I saw on my very first day. It clicked.

Luke, what the hell is in that lake? He didn't respond. He just tightened his grip even more, making me feel like I was going to puke. And then the sound. came, the horrible air siren, that big, almighty roar, and it deafened us all. Some of the campers looked away like it just hit them in the face. When it stopped, there was a momentary silence, not a gasp or breath could be heard.

And before my eyes, it erupted from the lake, erect, towering high above rich like a skyscraper. My eyes expanded. Every fear I've ever had hit me all at once like a cluster of the world. of stones. Before all of us was a dark, shiny-scaled, giant cobra, stretching out its diamond-shaped hood. Jesus, I managed to whisper. His blood-red eyes reflected in the moonlight with a menacing gaze as it expanded its jaw, and hissed its fork-like tongue, revealing two extremely long, extremely sharp fangs. Rich's scream deafened my eardrums as the giant servant crashed down on him. In the blink of an eye, and instantly, Richard is a man.

his scream deafened my eardrumbs as the giant serpent crashed down on him in the blink of an eye and instantly impaled him with his fangs. My mouth trembled. The rest of my body went numb. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Everyone watched on, some in shock, others with no remorse. The black cobra slid its giant head off the dock back into the water. He took Rich's mangled body with it.

Uncle John turned to us all, grinning with both arms out. The judgment has been cast. Here, here, everyone around me chanted before they started to scatter away and walked back to camp. Luke let go of me and followed them without saying a word. I wiped away the tears that fell from my eyes, which Uncle John saw. He bowed his head like he just committed a good deed.

I didn't look at Bart when he approached me. He opened his mouth and I was ready to go ballistic, but he decided not to say anything I was the only one left standing as I looked at the ripples on the lake, trying to come to terms with what I had just witnessed. When I returned to the cabin, no one else was there. I couldn't even look at Rich's bed. I went to sit on my own bed and noticed the hood I gave to Bart earlier was folded on the end of it.

I threw it off my bed and kneeled on the floor, attempting to rip it to shreds, until it gave my hands friction burn. The next day, I walked into the mess hall, and all action stopped. There was a silence from everyone. Uncle John waited with patience, but couldn't even look in my direction. They all stared at me and anticipated what I would say or do. But I just smiled brightly at Luke and his grim face. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?

When I sat down, the laughter and joy resumed, and echoed through the mess hall. I was sat in what looked like a dentist's chair in a dimly lit room. The doctor strapped me in and gave me word of advice before starting. Now Jack, it's important to keep your eyes closed once the session begins. Is it really necessary to strap me in like this? The doctor threw me a stern look. You sign the way of a Jack.

You know these restraints are for your own safety. Anything could happen once the brain's unraveling is initiated. If you want payment, you have to adhere to all the test's requirements. I attempted to nod in agreement, but the leather strap around my head prevented me from doing so. All right, doctor, whenever you're ready. I have to admit, I was more than a little nervous. The ad seemed harmless enough when I filled out the form to apply. $2,500 for a one-time, past-life regression study,

and another $2,500 if any memories I collected were of merit. It was touted as being an incredible opportunity to, quote, remember one's past lives. Now that I was here, I wasn't so sure. The doctor must have noticed how anxious I was. He placed a hand in my shoulder in consolation. Relax, Jack, I assure you, this will be an amazing experience. If it works, you mean? Oh, Jack, it will.

Over a thousand candidates applied, based on the survey answers you chose. you are one of the only people uniquely equipped for this study. Strength of the mind is key. He said that as if it was a comfort. All I could think about were the hundreds of ways it could all go wrong. $5,000 wasn't bad for a day's work, but I wouldn't be able to spend it if I fell into a coma. At that point, it would barely make a dent in the subsequent medical bills.

Okay, Jack, sit tight. The doctor left and reappeared at the control centre. just visible through a window in the corner of the room. His voice resonated from a speaker hanging down for the ceiling. Jack is just like we discussed. A pair of cables descended from above and rested at each of my nostrils. These cables will enter your nasal cavity and allow us to access specific sections of your brain. From there, you will experience a series of small electric shocks.

As a reminder, there will be no long-term damage, but you will feel an overwhelming jolt in your head. after each shock. With each word he uttered, my anxiety grew. I had no idea how my body would react to this. Wait, I shouted as the cables began the journey up my passages. Yes, something wrong? Doctor, what's our safe word?

Safe word? He asked, apparently confused. You know, if something goes wrong and I need to stop. There was a brief pause before he spoke again. I'm sorry Jack, no safe words. You signed the paperwork. The test cannot be stopped now. I promise you'll come out on the other end of this in one piece.

My heart was now pounding away my chest, loud enough to hear. Coupled with the insidious sound of medical machinery, it was an unsettling symphony that mirrored my feelings of dread and regret. The perfect background noise to keep the fear in me alive. Just then, a sharp pinch. The cables had reached the base of my cranium. I writhed against my leather binding. Ready? Here we go.

Without so much as a second to brace myself, the first shock was administered. If you've ever been electrocuted, you might be able to picture what it feels like. The only difference is that the electricity is directly in one location, amplified in a single spot, creating an intense pain that lingers long

after the current subsides. And again, The second shock was even worse. I screamed out in pain, but the doctor's focus never wavered. Again. The shocks built on each other, each one more painful than the last. Had I known it would feel like this, I would never have signed up, no matter how much money they offered. Again!

The doctor wouldn't let up, even when I begged him to. He shocked me more times than I cared to remember. I lost count somewhere after twelve. Eventually, he stopped, but it had nothing to do with my outbursts or any sort of ethical dilemma the experiment posed. These readouts are astounding. Your brain activity is spiking, Jack. This is it. We've awakened your subconscious.

You're about to go under. Before I could react to his comments, I felt a wave of energy passed through my body, then another and another. It was a powerful sensation, but soothing at the same time. A welcome change from the beating my brain had just. endured. Doctor, I think. A final wave of energy, more powerful than the previous ones, interjected and pinned me in place, more so than the straps ever could.

I can neither move nor speak, and it wasn't long before I felt my eyes glaze over and roll back into my skull. Then, darkness. Jack, can you hear me? I could hear the doctor's voice, but I couldn't see him. There was nothing but pitch blackness all around. Listen, Jack, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes. I did as instructed, and to my astonishment, my vision returned, revealing a long, narrow hallway, a slew of doors on either side.

Doctor, what's going on? You'll have to speak up, Jack. Your lips are moving, but your voice is just a faint whisper. I said, what's going on? That's better. Well, Jack, we did it. You are now in a representation of your subconscious. I was more than a little skeptical. My subconscious? Really? Yes, Jack, really.

Your body is still strapped down here in the room. With the help of the electric shock therapy, we were able to unlock this part of your mind. Now, we should be able to access latent memories from your past lives. Tell me, what do you see? It's just the hallway of doors. Good, that's good. It appears different to everyone. For some, it's a large home, others an ocean of endless ports and their lighthouses.

Yours seems to be more accessible. If you open the door, you should be allowed a glimpse of a past memory. I look down and notice my body, legs and all. It may not have been my true body, but it certainly felt to be mobile again. So, just open a door. Anything I should be worried about? No, Jack, nothing can hurt you here. When you open the door, your memory should play like a movie.

No one will know you're there. It's just a projection. All right, here goes nothing. I walked over to the nearest door and tried the knob. It wouldn't turn. It's locked, Doctor. I can't get in. These are your memories, Jack.

Your doors. The only one locking them is you. Your will is the key to opening them. Try once more, but this time, give in. Open your mind to the idea of it. of it all. Let yourself remember. I took a deep breath and tried again. This time without any inhibitions. He emptied my mind and turned the knob. This time it worked. I was able to push the door open. It worked, Doctor. The door's open. That's great, Jack. What do you see? There were stairs

descending down into a pit of darkness. Just a staircase. Should I go in? Yes, find out where it leads. I cautiously travelled downward, taking deep breaths with every step I took in an effort to reel back my anxieties. It was exciting to have access to my inner psyche, but I didn't know what I would find there. What if I didn't like what I saw or who I was in another life? What if I couldn't handle the truths I uncovered? Eventually I took the final step down and found myself in someone's home.

A lovely quaint cabin, circa the 19th or possibly the 20th century. century from the looks of things. There was a beautiful cobblestone fireplace, elegant furniture, and an older gentleman sitting in an armchair with a pipe in hand and a book in the other. I wondered if that was me from the past life. Hey, doctor, I'm in a cabin, probably around the 1800s or so. There's a man reading by the fireplace. Is that me?

The doctor didn't respond. Doctor? More silence, followed by a replacement. But not from him. He can't hear you. I turned to the direction of the voice and saw the old man, now looking up at me. It couldn't have been him, right? The doctor said no one could see me.

I said he can't hear you, not from in here. It was the old man. My heart skipped a beat as he placed his book down and stood up to meet my surprised gaze. This is just a memory. How can you see me? It's simple, really. I'm you, or at least a part of you. I didn't understand and he could tell. Evolution is a funny thing, you know.

Attributes handed down from generation to generation in an attempt to make us feel better, safer. Survival of the fittest, as they say. What do you mean? I asked. Still unsure of what he was getting at. reincarnation is very real I am the body of your brain tasked with locking away past regressions Without me your mind would be overloaded at birth With memories of each and every one of your past lives

All of those memories flooding in at once It'd be an assault on the senses Something your brain could never hope to handle I am a protection against that What he was saying was Unbelievable moments ago I was taking part in a paid medical study and now I was somehow learning the secrets of the universe from within my own mind

it was a lot to digest may I sit I asked of course Jack be my guest I sat down in the armchair and took a moment to collect my thoughts before responding so why can't the doctor hear me right now I've hijacked this memory to speak with you Being a part of your brain, I can also access other functions, so I've temporarily disabled your physical body's speech and hearing. But why? Why did you want to speak with me so badly, and in private, no less?

He leaned in close and grabbed my shoulders, making deliberate eye contact. Jack, you're tampering in things you shouldn't be. I'm here to give you a warning. Stop what you're doing at once. He loosened his grip and took a step back. Stop remembering, you mean? Why? What will happen? I asked.

Nothing dangerous. I still have a lock on the floodgates. This short trip down memory lane, unlocking one's past life at a time, wouldn't by itself have any serious repercussions. That said, I won't allow it. Won't allow it? Why not?

If the doctor's experiment succeeds, others will follow suit. There's no telling how many will walk this path and experience their pasts in this manner. It will, after some time, disrupt the balance of evolution. After years of this negligence, humans could very well be born without me,

leaving their memories completely intact. In effect, they will perish of the hands of coma or death, soon after exit in the womb. He walked over and grabbed me again. If you continue this little journey of yours, I will retaliate. I'll take them all, all of your memories, one by one until you have nothing left.

You will be in a vegetative state for the rest of your life. I pushed them away, unhappy where the tone he was taking. What the hell are you talking about? You're me. We'll both die. He scoffed in my retort. I'm a facet of evolution, just like all your inherit traits. My duty is to the species as a whole first, self-preservation second.

I'll do what I have to do, no matter the cost. Though I wasn't keen on being threatened, I had no intention of breaking the natural order of things. In all honesty, I didn't want to be in my own head to begin with. The sooner I could get out, the better. Fine, I'll stop. Good. The man sat back down in his chair, and the memory resumed as normal,

reverting to its natural state like a pause button had been lifted. I walked up the way I came and landed back in the hall. closing the door behind me. Jack, are you there? What's happening? The doctor's voice returned, and we were able to converse once again. I told him what had happened. I could hear the disappointment in his voice as he let out a heavy sigh. I was scared it would come to this.

What are you talking about, doctor? You knew about this? He sighed again before responding. It happened with all my previous tests. It's a failsafe our bodies have built against past life recollection. Previous tests? There were others before me? Yes, and they all ended the same.

Each and every test subjects was rendered comatose after the session's conclusion. One guy died shortly after. Comatose? Somebody died? You said nothing in here could hurt me. I needed you focused. We can bitter about this until the cows come home. But for now, let's stay focused on the task at hand. Let's open another door.

shall we? At this point, my blood was boiling. Another door? Are you serious? Let me out of here. I don't have any intention of being another one of your failures. You sign the paperwork, Jack. I won't wake you up until we've finished this.

I need more information. My career is on the line. Just two more doors and I'll pull you out. What do you say? I don't give a damn about your career. I refuse to continue. I'll wake up on my own eventually. The doctor gave a slight laugh.

No, you won't, Jack. You'll deepen the bowels of your mind. The only thing that will wake you is another electric shock, calibrated to precise specifications. If you don't continue, I won't wake you, and you'll become comodose anyway. I can talk, right? Just like I'm talking to you right now. I'll tell someone, and they can... The doctor interjected.

I can shut that off with a flick of a switch. You'll be unable to communicate with anyone. I was now seething with anger. You're a sick man, doctor, a very sick man. I'm sorry, Jack, I have to do this. It's for the betterment of mankind. This research could change the world. I'm at the precipice of something big, something life-altering.

I threw him some choice curse words to no reaction. Just do as you told Jack, and don't even think of lying. I can see your brain waves and will be able to detect any deceit. I sat there in the hallway of my memories for a great long while, contemplating my options. It wasn't long before I realised I only had one at my disposal. My best bet

was to continue. It was just two doors. Maybe I could get in and out unnoticed and finally end this nightmare once and for all. Fine, doctor, I'll do it. Good, open another door but walk down the hallway a bit first.

I want something deeper. I reluctantly did as instructed and open a door further down the hall. There was another set of stairs, but these ones went up. It's another staircase, doctor. I'm going in. I walked up the levels with determination, hoping to see what I could, and then leave as quickly as possible. All right, Jack, what's in there? I was in the living room of another house.

It's someone's home, mine presumably. Keep looking around. Try to place where you are exactly. I walked around the room and took notice of a framed photo hanging on the wall. It was of a woman, a young girl and a man. He looked just like me. Doctor, there's a photo here of a family. I'm in it. The man is identical to me.

That's rare, but it can happen. Keep looking around. As I walked through the home, I was taken aback by how modern everything looked. It wasn't until I noticed a newspaper in the dark. dining room, that something clicked, and I became alarmed. The paper had today's date on it. Doctor, something's not right here. This isn't the past life. There's a newspaper here with today's date. Really? Are you absolutely certain? Yes, I am. This isn't the past. Incredible. My theories are right after all. Theories? Mine cluing me in here? You're right, Jack.

This isn't a past life memory. It's an ongoing memory, playing out in real time from a current life. Current life? I'm not following. It has long been my belief that there are other parallel worlds out there, an infinite number of different universes, some similar to our own. In each one we have a counterpart, a copy of ourselves living a different life. This isn't a past life memory, Jack.

It's a current memory from another Jack in another timeline. fascinating, isn't it? Just then, the front door opened, and the family from the picture returned home, walking right into the dining room where I was standing. The other me, the woman, and what must have been their daughter? It was a surreal sight to behold.

They're here, doctor, the other me and his family. That's great. Observe and see what you learn. I glanced over at the stairs in the living room. I should have left right then and there to avoid potential consequences, but something held me back. At the time, I thought it was plain odd curiosity keeping me in place. And yes, I admit, I was curious to know about my copy's life,

but that isn't what made me stay. As the memory unfolded, I felt it, a warm energy emanating from within. It was a connection. I didn't know anything of this other Jack's life, but I could feel what he felt, the love he had for his family It was an emotional bond

I couldn't bring myself to run from The memory played out And I watched it all I'd come to learn that my wife's name was Charlotte And her daughter was Leslie The day was spent together playing games Eating dinner and watching movies A catalogue of unfamiliar titles

That didn't likely exist in my own universe I reported everything to the doctor as it occurred No longer angry at him I should have been But this immense warmth overtook me It felt like this was my family and I was the one spending time with them. It was a truly perfect day if there ever was one. But, so often rings true in life, good things never last.

Without realising it, I had spent the whole day in that memory. Before long, everyone was in bed and I was left downstairs, alone in the dark as a sliver of moonlight shone through the windows. Though I didn't want to, it was time to leave. I walked off to the stairs, but not before turning back and taking one last look at the house. It was clear to me in this moment that I would miss them, however strange that may sound. As I took in the sight, something was noticeably amiss. Standing in the corner of the living room, it was a man, or at least the silhouette of one. He was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint red glow of his eyes, leaving his other features of mystery.

Upon making eye contact, he spoke. It was in all too familiar cadence. You're not supposed to be here. No longer, taking on the form of a harmless old man, I was now frightened of this part of my brain. Still, I mustered up enough courage to say something in response. This memory, this place, it isn't a past life, it's a whole other world.

You didn't say anything about that. I told you to stop, Jack. Now I have to take from you what you were never meant to see. In an instant, I was transported outside the house, looking up at it from the road. He was now ablaze, burning a hole into the night sky. I watched in horror as both my wife and daughter cried out for help against the glass of the bedroom windows. The red-eyed shadow appeared in front of me, blocking the terrible view behind him. I cried out for help myself.

Dr. Covenworth, he's back, he's back! How many times do I have to tell you? He can't hear you. How? How is this possible? All versions of you are connected. There was only one brain that you all draw from, sectioned off by yours truly.

I tapped into this one and had him start a fire. Why? How could you? I didn't tell you everything, but I didn't lie either. You're not meant to have this kind of access. It will destroy everything. not only evolution but the balance between worlds he bolted toward me in the blink of an eye and began squeezing my neck

making it all but impossible to breathe this is the last time I will tell you stop what you are doing or I'll burn it all down all at once the memory faded and I could breathe again I was back in the hall at the open door Jack are you okay what's going on now again I told the doctor everything He seemed more intrigued than concerned. Okay, Jack, one more door than you're free. He'll kill me, doctor.

Pull me out now. Jack, I can't. I've no new information. I've reached this point many times before. What? Are you kidding me? The good news is you're still here. All other subjects became comatose after viewing other timelines.

So, you knew what I was in for? That surprise over your theories finally being proven was all for show? What else are you keeping from me? The curse words began flying from my mouth and again were met with a little reaction. The less you knew, the better. I can't have you flying off the rails when we're so close. There can't be any hesitation. So please, Jack, focus.

This hallway of yours isn't endless. There's always a final point, a finish line, if you will. With each memory you've experienced, your mind has gained immunity. It's what you'll need to open the final door. I sighed, knowing I would have to humour him if I wanted a way out. Final door, you say? Yes, in your case, there should be one at the end of the hall, unlike the rest. Had we jumped the gun and opened it at the start, you would be as good as dead.

It's happened more than a few times the previous subjects. But now, the hope is that you should be able to cross the finish line, so to speak, without sacrificing the infrastructure of your mind. No, doctor, pull me out. I'm done. It's over. Please. My comments didn't even phase him. What's more, we need to be smart about this. The part of your brain that's wreaking havoc in there will be waiting. You need to throw him off the trail.

Open as many doors as possible. Enter, run through and exit another door. If my theories are correct, you should come back out in the hallway. Rinse and repeat. No! I'll leave you in there, Jack. I'm serious. I'm telling you the truth now, so you'll be compliant.

This is everything I know, the furthest point I've ever reached. Do this for me, and I promise to wake you up. You have my word. As livid as I was, I had no choice in the matter. I would have to do as he wished if I wanted even a chance of coming out of this and being able to live a normal life. Fine, last door, and that's it. No more games.

You have my word, Jack. After a moment of mental preparation, I began opening as many doors as I could to get the hound confused and off my scent. I didn't have time to bask in each memory like before, but I still saw some strange sights. In one world, I was in a hotel holding onto a strange list of rules. In another, I was hunting down a supernatural entity in a thick forest. In another still, I was digging through NASA's archives to learn about their secret projects. There were countless more, far too many to list. My memory demon was never too far behind

I ran scared for my life As he scorched everything in his wake Luckily in time I lost him After my last memory The doctor spoke up That should be enough Jack Quickly run to the end of the hall I did so

But to no results It was an endless loop I wound up right back at the door I started from I know because it was still open the same memory playing within. Doctor, it's not working. I'm running in circles here. It's like before, Jack, your will is the key.

Open your mind to the final door and it will appear. Okay, open your mind, Jack. This is it. Do this and you're a free man. I ran again but with more meaning. This time, to my relief, the hall came to an end. And there, at the end point, there was a door. just like the doctor described

completely unlike the others before it blood red and with a handle instead of knob I'm here doctor I found it don't waste any more time open it her thunderous voice spiraled down the hall and stopped me in my tracks no

I turn around to see the red-eyed shadow a blaze of fire close behind him burning through all the doors and my memories with them you're going to ruin every He was ending it. This was the point of no return. If I was going to die or be in a coma, I figured I might as well solve the mystery before I go.

Stop, I'm begging you. Before my nemesis could close the gap between us, I pulled the handle, stepped inside and shut the door behind me. When I was sure it was firmly closed, my eyes darted around and examined my whereabouts. To my surprise, it appeared to be an ordinary room. It was reminiscent of an office, complete with a desk, some chairs and a computer. Sitting at the desk was a person. Not just any person either.

It looked like me. Hello, Jack. He stood up and walked over to me. I took a step back. Who are you? You met my brother, didn't you? The one out there throwing a temper tantrum. He gestured to the door behind me.

Well, we're two sides of the same coin, a divergence in human coding, a choice that is made every time a person is born, two elements of evolution fighting for control. Everybody has one of him and one of me. He pulled one of the chairs over to me. Please sit. I slowly sat down, still unsure of what I was dealing with here. You see, Jack, so far, my brother has won every battle. His coding is written into the DNA of. of every human when they're born, leaving the brain's true function just out of reach.

If humans were to evolve with me instead, your past memories would be intact, among other abilities, but safety trumps innovation. Overloading the mind can be dangerous. With that, I agree. However, I've been transforming as of late. I imagine is the same for the pieces of me and other people as well. Transforming how? I asked. evolution isn't black and white it involves vigorous trial and error stuck in here i've had nothing but time to practice my integration now i believe if i'm passed on in the genetic pool humans will grow into me so to speak your odd memories will return over time piece by piece and your full brain function will develop gradually everyone wins what do you mean abilities and full function exactly i asked now curious now curiously Well, Jack, take a look. This is your brain's control room, where all the magic happens. I looked around again.

It was hard to believe my brain was governed in such a small space. An office with a computer? Really? All brains perceive it differently, Jack. This is just how you see it. Okay. And what does this have to do with evolution? My brother blocks memories.

as well as higher brain function. Remember what you were told? One brain controlling every version of you out there? How did you know that? I asked. I've been eavesdropping. Nothing else to do in here. Fair enough. Okay, go on.

Well, he wasn't lying. If here stand bursts and you gain access to all of your memories, you also gain access to a sneaky ability called transference. You can jump from jack to jack, timeline to timeline, and it doesn't stop there. You can also jump to any point in any given timeline. Want to relive your first kiss, or start things over and change your decisions? About your life differently.

With me, you can. It's the closest humans will ever get to immortality. It was a good pitch, but there had to be a downside. What's the catch? He looked at me for a moment, almost as if deciding whether he should divulge more or not. Then he continued, There are always kinks when evolving. Trial and error, as I said before.

There is only so much I can do from here. If you unlock me in your own mind, I can potentially be passed down as a trait in future generations. Between you and the doctor, continuing his research with others, I'll have a fighting chance. In the real world, I can hone my craft in a sense. It was beginning to make sense, but I had my concerns. And while you hone your craft,

will people be hurt along the way? He frowned, and it honestly looked genuine. There will be casualties, yes, but it's for the greater good. The human race will flourish with me by the side, I assure you. He gently raised me from my chair, walked me over behind the desk, and sat me down in front of the computer. It was a black screen with a single window open. Password I could never crack this thing.

In truth, only you can. It's your mind, after all. Just like the doors in the hall, you have to use that will of yours. Open your mind, enter the password, and will be free. As soon as he said this, the door burst open and the red-eyed shadow charged in. No, don't do it, Jack. It won't end well. The human race isn't built for this.

His considerably friendly half chimed in. Don't listen to him, Jack. This will be the start of a whole new era. and it will be all thanks to you, a world where the unthinkable is possible. The shadow marched over and grabbed his brother, tossing him against the wall as the fire entered the room. All the while I sat there looking at the screen, a huge way to my shoulders as the decision loomed overhead. The nicer brother yelled over to me as the shadow held him against a burning wall by his neck. Jack, you can stop him. When you unlock the rest of your

brain, you can shut him off. It was clear he didn't have much time left. Red Ice was not going to let up. Any point in any timeline, you can shut him off. The words rang in my ears as a brief moment of introspection came and went. The possibilities became clear, allowing me a greater focus. I knew what I had to do. The fire now filled the room.

In the password field, I typed the first thing that came to my mind and struck the enter key. The scene around me faded to black And my body slipped away into an endless abyss My body was falling Oh no Am I too late I sprung to life in the doctor's room And he came running

Quick to remove the cables and undo the leather straps Jack where are you I lost you in there What did you see? What was in the final room As soon as he unbuckled the last strap I swung my fist around and made contact with the side of his face His glasses flew across the room. Jack, what the hell?

If you think you're getting paid after this, you can forget it. Keep the money, doctor. I don't need it anymore. I walked out of that godforsaken room and never looked back. That's the end of this Jack's story. The password worked like a charm. Just six digits. I can't tell you how I knew it, but it was Leslie's birthday.

Now I remember everything from all my lives. past and present. In a few moments after I finish typing this up, I'm going to flip a switch in my head and join my wife and daughter in their timeline before they were killed. I'll shut that shadowy demon off for good and make sure he can't ever hurt them again.

And that's where I plan to stay for the rest of my years. No jumping from world to world or using my newfound power for any other purpose. The universe with my family lives is the only world I need. I can't remember the last time I took a photo of anything. It's been years at this point.

After the internet in question, I held on briefly trying to pursue a Korean photography, but in the end I couldn't keep it together. Now, when looking through the viewfinder on my camera, my hands clam up as my heart beats as if trying to escape my chest. Nowadays, selling insurance is a suitable fit for me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. It happened about three years.

ago. The company I was employed at allowed for me to work independently as long as I could supply my own equipment. Every week I was given a schedule of schools to attend. On this particular week, I had been given an alert to my schedule to report to a school on Friday. I was mad, thinking I had the day off, but money is money, you know. According to the alert, I was going to report to Corfin High School at 7am. I was confused looking at the name, not only. recognizing it at all. I had been doing this job for seven years, and most of the time, if a school that I'd never been to decided to use us for pictures, I at least knew of the name.

At the time, I just wrote it off as a new build that flew under my radar. Friday came as quick as any other day, and while getting into my car, now fully loaded with my gear, I input the address into the GPS. ETA was about 35 minutes out, south of my home. With no other thoughts, I started driving. Despite not having arrived at the school yet, this is where stuff started getting weird. I don't remember ever really looking at the GPS.

I don't remember making any turns. I mean, I'm sure I did, but I really can't recall any route that I took. Time seemed to do what it wanted during the drive. Anytime I glanced at the ETA, it would switch from me driving in 20 minutes to 5 to 40 to 30. once I'm pretty sure it said over ten hours In the end it didn't matter

Because after what felt like only a few minutes of driving The familiar voice chirped from my speakers In 500 feet your destination will be on your left I knew it couldn't be possible But for some reason I didn't even question it You know when you start drinking and you hit that buzz Just before you get drunk and stupid You're in a good mood but kind of just go with everything

It was similar to that but I wouldn't say I was in a good mood. I just didn't feel like protesting anything. I stopped when the GPS told me to and got out of the car. I do not remember pulling up to a school or my surroundings as I did so, but when I stood up, a relatively normal high school with a word, Corvin above the front door, stood before me. I started unloading my equipment without saying a word.

Something's wrong, my thoughts boomed. I've only been driving from every ten years. minutes? Or was it an hour? I stopped unloading for a moment and looked at my hand. Slowly, I began to move my fingers to make sure I had control over my body. I definitely did, but it felt as if all my actions had no meaning behind them other than to get inside the school. Once the dolly was loaded, I began walking towards the front door. It dawned me at this point that there were no cars in the parking lot. In fact, the building itself didn't appear to look in good condition. I would think it had been abandoned. This did not slow me down, however, as I

continued to the door unbothered. When I saw the entrance from my car, I could have sworn the door was closed. As I got closer, it was as if my vision moulded into seeing it open, propped by a doorstop. I know that sounds odd, but that is the most accurate way I can explain it. My demeanour so far had been reserved and calm despite my confusion. something happened the moment I crossed the threshold of that school or whatever it is really I entered into what seemed to be the lobby of a high school with nothing spectacular

the passive feeling I had up to this point immediately left me fear crept in my stomach and felt like a physical force that went up the back of my neck a daughter my right opened and a small lady in a black dress came out I looked to her trying not to appear afraid before I could say anything, she spoke. You'll be in the auditorium. She abruptly started to walk down the hallway in front of us.

I started to follow her, even though she honestly creeped me out. I was just relieved to not be alone. As I followed, I reflected back on the sound of her voice. She didn't sound right, I thought. I could feel my legs getting weak and struggled to maintain my balance. Hell, I damn near fell over, but look. refrain from it. The lady in front didn't seem to notice. Most of the classroom doors were closed and the small windows that should allow you to look

within seemed to be covered with tape. We did pass one that was open but the lights were off and I couldn't see what was inside. I remember thinking how impossibly dark and devoid of life it felt when I saw it. We finally reached large double doors at the end of the hallway. She opened the one on the right. After you, she was. she said. This time, her voice wasn't like the one from earlier. It sounded too young. I walked in and onto a stage that looked out towards a normal-looking high school auditorium.

Once I was in the middle, I turned back, half expecting her to be gone. But she stood, holding the door, staring at me, her face now showing a slight smirk. Guess I'll... Start setting up, I said, wavering a bit. When to we start? They'll know when to come, she said in my voice, and then close the door. At this point, the fear overtook me. I doubled over with my hands on my knees and left out a hushed cry.

Tears started to roll down my face, but I quickly reached up and wiped them away. Keep it together, keep it together, I said. I was scared to say my thoughts out loud, as if it would somehow make it worse. Everything was so wrong in the most abnormal way possible. I started setting up as if I was being held at gunpoint, fighting tears of panic the entire time. I was the only one in the auditorium, but I felt watched the whole time. Every now and then I'd hear a door open, far off, but look up to see no one had entered. After finishing my setup, I awkwardly paced the stage, waiting.

No part of me wanted to see what kinds of kids went to this messed-up school. I should have pulled out of the lot and left, I said, quietly to myself. Why didn't I just leave? Right then, all the lights in the auditorium went out, except the stage lights. I walked to the left of the green screen and looked out into the ocean of darkness. It was a different kind of darkness, though. It wasn't as if illumination was not present beyond the stage, but as if the stage itself was where the room began and ended, as if the stage were a singular place in a void of nothingness. After a moment or two, I finally heard something.

It was a door opening far off in the distance, presumably the back of the auditorium. It opened but never closed. I listened harder and some shuffling could be heard in the darkness. I slowly backed up behind the camera and held my breath as the sound came closer to the stage. Then, as if been birthed from the void, a girl who appeared to be about 16 stepped onto the stage. I looked on in confusion as she walked forward around the green screen. She approached the stool and sat in the correct pose without having to be told anything at all, sitting upright and smiling widely at the camera.

I stared at her for a little bit, not really knowing what to do or say. I was really taken aback by how normal she looked. She had brown hair that stopped at her shoulders and she was wearing a black sweater with a tulip on the front. She was also wearing high top converses partially covered by dark blue skinny jeans The only thing about her that was off Was the fact that she had not blinked one time since stepping on the stage Awkwardly my hands assumed position on the camera

My eyes zeroed in on the viewfinder And I quickly snapped the picture Expecting something messed up on the previous screen I slowly checked it out But there she was Just like she looked in real life A smile faded as she stood up moving to the right, leaving in the opposite way she came, still never blinking as she did.

Before the lights went off, I knew I'd seen stairs leading up to the stage, but when she stepped off, she didn't descend. She disappeared into the darkness, as if she was never here in the first place. I heard more shuffling to my left, and a young man in a grey athletic hoodie stepped onto the stage in the same place the girl had entered. In the same fashion, he approached the stool, and sat smiling with open, never blinking eyes. To this day, I have no idea how many pictures I took. Similar to the ETA, it kept changing. You would say 150, 400, or sometimes to be as low as 8,

despite knowing I'd been taking pictures for at least an hour. No matter how many of them were there, none of them blinked or spoke at all. As soon as I took the picture, they left to the right and faded away into the darkness. Eventually, after God knows how long, a student left and then the silence returned. No one came from the left or to have their picture taken. I felt a little surge of hope, thinking I was finally done. Come on, lights, come back on.

Then I heard a sound as if all the doors in the auditorium swung open. I jumped and stifled a scream. I still couldn't see, but it sounded like hundreds of people were filling the room and sitting in the seats. I heard the creek as they were pulled down and shuffling up people in the aisles. It started to die down a bit, but was then replaced by whispers. Every single person beyond the stage were quietly talking amongst themselves. I strained to hear what they were saying.

I started to move towards the edge, but one look in the dark, and I couldn't move any further. Instead, I moved in front of the camera and stood just behind the stool in front of the green screen. With it blocking my vision, I felt a little more at ease as I tried to make it out. after a bit I could tell they were all just saying one word over and over again but never at the same time so I couldn't make it out

I strained harder trying to listen to everyone at once I heard the letter M first and mistook it for the other letter after another rotated I realised it was the second letter and then it clicked as if to read my mind the whispering ended for a brief moment

only to come back in one final wave as everyone repeated the word in unison in the same terrifying whisper. Smile. Oh God, I heard movement behind me and whipped around to see what it was. The only reaction I could give to what I saw came in the form of frozen fear. From the curtains at the back of the stage, a long skinny arm was reaching out and touching the shutter button. I got a good look at it for about half a second. It was long, as I said before.

but in a very inhuman way. The camera was easily six feet from the back of the stage and the arm continued into the curtains with no shoulder in sight. It was darkened to a deep brown as if it were burned and then rotted. The fingers were long and as it lowered them just before pressing the button, I saw it had no fingernails, only rotten flesh in the place where they should be. Flash!

As soon as it was over, the auditorium erupted with the sound of screaming. It was shrill and made me clutch my ears. Then another sound came from beyond the stage. This one I could feel from the ground beneath me. A few flashes of movement just of the stage confirmed my fears. Everyone, or everything in the auditorium, was stampeding towards the stage. I turned and ran to the door I came in. I was worried it wouldn't be open, but luckily I burst through it and sprinted down the hallway. Behind me I heard a loud bang and it sounded as if they blew the doors off the hinges, but I dared not look behind me. I kept running, without my heart's sink as I realized, though I could not see the rooms fly past me as I ran

at the exit in the distance. I was not getting any closer to it. The loud booming behind me was growing closer, but I still had a good lead on it. I ran so long that my stomach felt as if it on fire and my knees were starting to cry out in pain. Eventually, I caught sight of the room I noticed earlier. The only one that was open. The exit still seemed just as far away as before, so I saw it as my only chance. I cut to the right as I ran and quickly approached the room, still unable to see through the darkness. I turned around without thinking to shut the door and by accident caught sight of what was

chasing me. I thought it was a hoard of, well, something I guess. In reality, it was only the woman from earlier. Only she had hundreds, maybe even thousands, of long, skinny, rotted arms coming out of her back. The same as the arm that took my picture. They pulled against both walls, the floor and ceiling, to propel her through the hall. Her body dangled uselessly, only being used as a shell to hide the monstrosity within. After turning towards the room and stepping in, I began screaming when my foot did not meet the floor.

Instead, I fell down into the dark void What fell like maybe ten feet I shouldered myself expecting to fall for much longer But then I hit the ground I bounced once and turned over a few times Before coming to a rest a few feet from where I hit My eyes were closed but I could still feel what I was laying on I was confused as what I felt was grass

I heard another sound It sounded like wind Leaves shook as birds chirped into the sky I put my shoulders sink into some loose dirt And finally let out of breath After a few moments I finally opened my eyes I was outside

I raised up to a sitting position What the hell? I said out loud Another thing I noticed Was I was not out of breath and my legs felt totally fine. After running as hard and for as long as I did, I should be writhing and gasping for air. I slowly stood up, not really sure how to feel,

and then spotted my car up ahead, right where I parked it. Wait a minute. I quickly turned, expecting to see the school. But it was gone. In its place stood only a small clearing with a few small trees and other plants. A feeling of relief washed them. over me as I ran to my car. But when I got closer, I noticed my equipment was still in the back.

I didn't care though. I just wanted to drive away and never come back. The ride home was quiet as I drove nearly 20 miles over the speed limit. Part of me wanted to get pulled over, just so I get to see someone outside of that damn place. This time, 35 minutes did seem reasonable time from my house to the school, but as fast as I was going, I trimmed it down to about 20. I ran inside my house upon arrival and made the beeline to the bathroom. I threw the door open, flipped the toilet lid up hard enough to almost crack the top, and threw up everything inside me. When I was done, I went over everything in my head.

Was it a dream? Did I pass out? It sure as hell felt real. I checked the time, and apparently I'd been gone for about an hour, as I was in the school for at least an hour and a half, and then you have to count time for the drive there and back. I went outside of my car and retrieved my camera. After turning it on, I checked to see if there were any pictures. If I could go back, I would have burned it as soon as I got home.

But I'm writing this right now, aren't I? There was only one photo on the camera. The one of me. The first thing I noticed was that I was smiling, even though I know I didn't. also the green screen was gone and you could see into the auditorium I quickly retrieved the SD card from the slot and ran to my computer

after pulling it up in the gallery after copying it over from the card I was able to see what was behind me the auditorium was filled with all of the kits I took pictures of however the only reason I knew it was them was because of some of the clothes I recognised

their bodies were horribly roughed but they didn't look dead. They were all turned towards where I was standing. They were looking up from their seats, holding out a lifeless hand to me. I called my boss and quit right then and there. He was angry, of course, and wanted an explanation, but I told him a better opportunity had come along. I hung up as he was still yelling.

For weeks after, I tried to find evidence online of Corvin High School, but no such records exist. I couldn't even find a town could call in, let alone a school. I tried looking at the address, but I couldn't remember it, and there was no history of it on my phone. In fact, when I think back to that moment, I don't really remember typing in an address. It's as if I opened my phone, and it was already set to take me there,

and I just went with it. As for the SD card with a picture, I can't destroy it. Not that I've tried and failed, just that it's connected to me in some way. I hear it call out to me sometimes to look at the photo just one more time, but there's always more times. It also changes when I look at it. Each time I do, the students change positions, or my smile is either not as wide or wider

than before. No matter what though, I'm always smiling. Until today, I heard it beckoning to me once more to open the picture. At this point, it's almost routine to look. this point, it's almost routine to look, know the small differences and then go about my day. I'd actually become used to it, but part of me knew it wouldn't last. I don't know how much more time I have left. Today was the 358th time I've looked to the picture.

I kept count out of pure curiosity, just in case it ever leaves me alone. I know exactly how many times it got a hold of me. I think today was the last time, but I never imagined the last time being like this. The picture was more different than it had ever been. The auditorium was empty, except for one seat in the front, right behind the centre. The camera angle was also confusing, as it shouldn't have been able to capture that seat, but weirder things have happened. The only person in the entire room was in that seat.

That person was me. My smile was gone, but in its place was that same smirk the lady. had before speaking in my voice and shutting the auditorium door. I sat both arms resting beside me, glaring straight into the camera. To make matters even worse, the outfit I have on in the photo is the exact same one I'm wearing right now. If you've had the luxury of experiencing a normal childhood like most, then you'll probably remember the stories about the tooth fairy.

When you lost your baby teeth, you were supposed to put them under your pillow or an glass overnight. Come morning, the teeth would have been replaced with small gifts or coins. Excited, you'd run to your parents and tell them about the visit from the fairy, blissfully ignorant to the fact that they knew all along what you'd get, because they were the ones who put the gifts there in the first place. I can't be 100% sure, but I think it's safe to assume that it's more than often the parents that tell their children about the fairy that comes in the night to collect the teeth. As for myself, my parents never bothered to introduce me to the wonders of imagination and fairies. They were too preoccupied, drowning their senses in bottles of vodka and Jack Daniels to care.

Instead, I was told the story by my friend, Lindsay, who showed me the $5 she had gotten in exchange for her first mola. She seemed genuinely surprised when I told her that I didn't know anything about the tooth fairy. And in hindsight, I don't blame her. When I first heard the story I thought it was scary that a stranger would creep into your bedroom at night and take her teeth When I lost my first baby tooth After my dad had a rather nasty fit during a drunken stupor

He simply threw it into the trash And didn't speak a word of any fairy wanting to collect them He was a large man And he had gotten a gold tooth He used to brag about during his rare moments of sobriety Which puts a certain irony on this entire ordeal Of course I didn't share that part with Lindsay, and, as strange as I thought it was, I became curious about what I could get in

exchange for a tooth. In fact, it made me eager to lose my teeth. Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait long. Three days after my conversation with Lindsay, my dad got another hissy fit and threw a half-empty beer can at my face when I accidentally tripped and spilled one of his vodka bottles all over the living room carpet. Now, you might think that an empty beer can wouldn't be strong enough to knock a tooth out of a child, but given the strength my dad used when he threw it at me, you'd be surprised. At first, things went dark for a moment, but when I regained consciousness again, all I could see was a white tooth lying in front of me and the feeling of a hole in my mouth. The happiness I experienced knowing that I could get a dollar for this, outweigh the pain

my mouth was in. I quickly grabbed the tooth, got over my feet as if nothing had happened, and rushed to my room. It was already past my bedtime And since my dad was probably Too wasted to bother chasing me with a belt I couldn't wait to fall back asleep Once I got to my room I stuffed the tooth under my pillow

Hopped into bed And excitedly waited for the tooth fairy to arrive Being as naive as I was I thought that if I stayed up long enough I would be able to see her with my own eyes An hour or two passed by With only the sounds of my parents arguing to keep me company

and my eyelids started to feel heavy. I eventually fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my dad, banging at my door, telling me to get up if I wanted breakfast. He didn't mention anything about the stain on his carpet, so I took this as a sign that this would be a good day. It wasn't until I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and I noticed the gaping hole in my mouth that I remembered what I had done the night before.

Without even taking the toothbrush out of my mouth, I rushed back to the room and threw the pillow off my bed, expecting to see some kind of gift left behind by the fairy. But there was nothing. The tooth was still there, untouched like the night before. What remained of my childish innocence nearly left me on the spot, and all hopes of a better day went along with it. For the rest of the morning,

I didn't care that I got yelled at by my dad, dad for being so down loud when I was simply breathing or that my mom decided that making me a breakfast of bland bread and a lump of butter was too much of a bother. I just didn't care. I was too disappointed as it already was. At school, Lindsay quickly picked on to my depressive mood and asked me what had happened. I told her that I didn't get a gift from the tooth fairy, and she tried her best to remedy my mood. Did you have your window open? She asked me. I was confused. I don't think so. Why?

How would the tooth fairy get inside your room? I thought she just went through the door like a normal person. I reasoned, but she simply laughed. The tooth fairy isn't a normal person. She's a fairy. She comes from outside. That's why you need to have the window open if you wanted to get in. Thinking of it, it made sense.

So, the same night, I put the tooth back under my pillow and open the window all the way up, letting in a cold breeze that momentary. really chill the room like a freezer. It wasn't too different from what I was used to, seeing as my room didn't have a working heater, since my dad didn't want to waste much money on things that didn't have a percentage of alcohol in it. So I wasn't too concerned about the cold temperature.

And before I went to bed, I made sure to write a letter to the tooth fairy. It went something like this. Dear tooth fairy, last night I lost my tooth and put it under my pillow, but you probably couldn't get it because I had to do that. the window closed. Sorry, I hope you can take it now that the window's open. If you leave a gift, I want you to know that I'm not picky. I'll be fine with whatever you have, smiley face. Love, Lisa.

I put the letter on top of my nightstand and went to bed shortly after, exhausted from the lack of content in my stomach. My mom only put a mouldy piece of bread on the table for me to eat for dinner, so it didn't do much to make me full. If anything, my stomach began to hurt after I ate it, but I didn't complain to her. It was better than nothing. I sighed. If only I could taste one of the croissants Mrs. Adams brought to class again.

The next morning, when I woke up, I felt under my pillow to check her the tooth was still there. A part of me still expected it to be there. But as I slid my hand across the barren mattress without feeling anything, I instantly threw the pillow off and discovered that it was gone. I checked every part of the bed and the floor without finding it. Still, there weren't any gifts or coins there either. So, I was even more

confused. Then, as I looked from the floor and to the nightstand, my eyes became as wide as plates as I discovered what laid on it. Money. A lot of it, stacked on top of my nightstand, as if whoever had left it had been in a hurry. I'm talking about probably a three-digit number at the least. There were ones, tens, even twenties, and for a child who was barely given an allowance of a dollar a month at the most, you can probably imagine the bewilderment that went through me as I held the many pieces of paper in my hand. I thought of all the croissants I could buy with this. If this was what my baby tooth was worth, then I was curious about what my dad's golden tooth was worth. What I did next is something I would come to regret for a long time, and I don't blame

those of you that wish to condemn me from my actions. However, keep in mind that I was just a child, and I wanted to share my happiness with my parents like they cared about it. Long story short, I went to the kitchen, money in hand, and showed it to my parents. I told them about the tooth fairy

and how she had given it to me. Yeah, I didn't go to school for the rest of the week. Don't take this the wrong way. They didn't do what they did to me because they thought I had stolen the money. No, they simply did it because I was so goddamn loud that morning. Also, they took the money too, so I could forget about the croissants I thought I was going to buy. On the bright side, they did get to knock two teeth out of me for good measure,

so at least I had something to give back to the tooth fairy for compensation. It took me a while to find them, though. One of them had managed to end up on the opposite side of the living room, but I retrieved it nonetheless after they were done. Now, you may think that my parents were impulsive, recklessly, people. And that's true to some extent. However, they were quite cunning when they wanted to be. They knew where to strike, so I wouldn't have to end up in the hospital, but they knew where to hit to make the impact last hours after making contact. They wouldn't be able to handle it if they got

the CPS on their hands. I went to bed at night with enough bruises than I cared to break about. I think I cried too from the pain, but I can't remember the details. I still held my teeth in my hand, but I didn't have the energy to put it under my pillow and write a letter of apology to the tooth fairy. Still, even if I was in excruciating pain, I was happy because I knew the tooth fairy was real, and that there was something beyond this turbulent house of mine. It took me at least three days before I managed to recover slightly. I still have physical problems to this day because of what had happened, but back then, if I could stand without falling, I was as recovered as could be, using my mom's words.

My face still looked like a child had drawn over it with blue crayon, so I couldn't go to school until I looked like I'd only accidentally tripped on my face. My dad tried only once to force me to tell him where I'd gotten the money from, and clearly didn't believe my explanation when I told him. At one point, he threatened to knock all of my teeth out to see if I was speaking my truth. But he didn't. If I went to school with no teeth, he'd have to do some explaining, which he clearly couldn't be bothered to do. so he left me after that and didn't speak another word of it. He was content enough to use the money on another stack of bottles, and that was all that mattered.

No more questions asked. On the third night, which was on a Thursday, I finally had enough energy in me to write another letter of apology to the Tooth Fairy. It went something along the lines of this. Dear Tooth Fairy, thank you so much for your gift. I was very happy. I'm sorry but my parents took it So I didn't get to buy anything with it

I understand if you're angry But I have two new teeth for you that you can take You don't have to give anything back for these Love Lisa Like before I opened the window all the way Left the letter on my nightstand Put the teeth under my pillow and went to sleep When I woke up the next morning

I checked under my pillow and my teeth were gone I looked at my nightstand And instead of finding a gift or money I found a message that had been written on the back of my letter. What do you wish for? I blinked at the handwriting. It was a mixture of large and small letters, not something you'd expect from a fairy,

but readable nonetheless. The tooth fairy was asking me what I wanted. I didn't think she took requests, but the thought of it made me happy. I quickly got her from bed, ignoring all the ache that surged through my body at the sudden movement. got another piece of paper from my backpack and excitedly wrote on it. Dear tooth fairy, I hope the teeth weren't too red for you.

I didn't get to wash them off properly. I'm sorry. If you want to give me something, I'm not too picky. If you really want to, I won't mind a new notebook and some pens. I'm almost out, but it's no trouble if you can't get it. Love, Lisa. The next morning, I woke up to find not just one notebook in my nightstand, but five of them.

stacked together with a tied knot on top. They weren't just blank colours either. They were pink with unicorn drawings on top, just like I'd seen with Lindsay when we last went to town. Next to the stack was a pack of both coloured pins and normal ones, knotted together with a similar knot like the books. It took all my self-restraint not to squeal with happiness at the sight of them. The last thing that I found amongst the many gifts

was a paper bag filled with croissants, and they were still warm to the touch. My mouth watered like an animal Starved as sustenance And I ate at least one third of them in the bed Savouring the flavour They were just like the ones Mrs Adams had brought for class

That one day before summer vacation last year And I could still remember the taste As if it was yesterday After I was finished I decided to save the rest of them for later In case Mom decided to give me Another piece of mouldy bread Or nothing at all

This time I did not go down to my parents With my gifts once bitten twice shy so instead I decided to hide everything beneath the loose floor tile under my bed that's where I kept things that I didn't want my parents to find

looking back on it I should have kept the money there as well but it was too late for regret I was just so happy about the books and pencils I had gotten that I couldn't be bothered to linger in the past anymore when I returned to school the following week my mom made sure that I wore some of her old

long-sleeved shirts took over all the bruises that had failed to disappear from my body, even though the sleeves were long enough to touch the ground if I didn't fold them up. I could tell Lindsay thought something was wrong with me, but my cheery demean had distracted her. I wanted to tell her about the tooth fairy and all the things I'd gotten from her, but my mind went back to my parents and I stopped myself before I could share anything with her. During the next couple of days, I tried to keep Lindsay from poking her nose in what was going on with me, but she had always been a persistent girl. She was smart for our age,

observant like a hawk, but from where I was standing, it was both a blessing and a curse. I didn't want to worry her, but I also loved her for a concern towards me. On Friday, just before class was ending, Lindsay finally decided to ask me about where the marks my face had come from.

I was just about to distract her by shown her my unicorn notebook when I discovered that it wasn't in my bag. I must have forgotten it at home. As such, I was forced to come up with an answer to her inquiry. I tripped, I lied. You seem to trip a lot of times, she pointed out. You've also lost three teeth I've noticed, she gestured to my mouth.

I waved my hand up dismissively, seconds away from having the sleeves slide down and expose my forearm. I was quick to fix it. I'm fine. Lindsay didn't look convinced at all. You've been gone the past week, and when you're back, you've lost your teeth and your faces all messed up. You're not fine. Before she could finish her sentence, the bell rang and everyone hurried out of class, including me. I didn't want to stay behind and have Lindsay involved in the mess that was going on at home.

So, I quickly packed my bag, gave her a quick hug goodbye, and was out to the school in less than a minute. I desperately wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I didn't think the day could get much worse, but boy, was I wrong. Before I could even graze the doorknob to the entrance door, my dad burst out of it, grabbed me by my shirt, and shoved me inside the house like a rag doll, slamming the door behind him. I nearly stumbled to the floor on my way in, and was met with a sight of my mom holding my unicorn book.

He then dawned on me that I'd forgotten it on the nightstand. My dad then proceeded to grab a handful of my hair and shove me closer to my mom. his grip strong enough to scout me if he wanted to. What the hell is this? He didn't shout the words. That's what made it more terrifying than it already was. It's my notebook, I said, in between gasps, desperately cleaning to his hand in an effort to ease the pain in my head.

Don't you think I see that? Where did you get it from? He asked. It was a gift, I swear. From who? My mum asked, considerably calmer than my dad, but no less. ruthless. From the tooth fairy, I cried out, the pain becoming increasingly unbearable.

My mom took another look at the book, then back at me. If looks could kill, I'd be a puddle on the floor. Still going on about that damn fairy! Without breaking eye contact with me, she started to tear out the pages from the book one by one, and I watched despairingly as my precious gift was then torn to shreds in front of me. All the pink pages filled with pictures of unicorns and glitters were reduced to nothing more than waste. By the time she was done, all that was left was shreds, with not even enough space to write my name on it. The next thing I knew, I was hurled to the wall. All air knocked out of my lungs upon impact. I didn't get the liberty of standing up before my mother threw a punch

in my face. Don't be mistaken, even though she was much smaller when compared to my dad, she was arguably twice as brutal. Like a broken record that was going on and repeat, she hit me and punched me again and again and again, not even smiling as she did it. If this stupid fairy of yours is real, then how about we give her all your damn teeth, then see what happens,

she said, voice void of emotions as she struck me time and time again. I could feel the warm blood pouring from almost every hole in my face, both the ones that were naturally there and the ones that my mom saw fit in adding onto it. The metallic taste of my mouth is overwhelming, and the urge to vomit accompanied this unbearable feeling. I don't know how much time passed before she finally ceased her attack, but it's hard to know anything at that point. I could barely see anything. The pain had numbed all of my other senses, and it wouldn't surprise me if she had knocked out more of my teeth.

Maybe it was just imagination or the aftermath of my mom's assault, but I swore I felt a multiplied number of holes in my mouth. Go to bed, I heard my mom say, and in spite of it, I managed to get up and do just that. I walked away and didn't look back. I didn't bother checking where my teeth had fallen. I just up and left, though that in itself was a feat. I went to my bedroom and closed the door, and that's when I fell to the floor like the limp sack of meat I felt like. My breathing was almost non-existent, and I felt like I was going to die. if anything I wanted to

This life was unbearable And while the knowledge that the tooth fairy was real Brought me some sense of solace If only for a time I couldn't go on like this With what little strength I had left in my body I curled up to a fetal position And mumbled words I thought only I could hear

Dear tooth fairy I don't have any teeth on me But could you please Please help me Please Everything went black after that. When I woke up again, I was at the hospital. My wounds were bandaged and nursed.

I had all these different tubes tucked my skin, and my head felt light as a feather. It took me a while before I gained consciousness, and when I did, I was being visited by a police officer. His name was Nathan McCarthy, and he was one of the officers that had been assigned to deal with the domestic violence that revolved around my home.

Once I was in a relatively stable condition He explained everything that had happened to me Lindsay had told her parents about her suspicions And they called both the police and contacted CPS In his words my parents had run away And they found me in my room Looking like I'd just been killed When I tried to pry him for information regarding my parents' whereabouts

He dodged the question like the plague I'm going to spare you the unnecessary details of what happened after It isn't of any vital importance. Long story short, Officer McCarthy was the one who ended up adopting me and he provided me with a stable home and life my parents had failed to. He was a good man and an even better father. It was because of him and what he did

that I decided to pursue a career as a social worker. While I managed to recover from what had happened to me after years of therapy, I still suffer from some issues because of the injuries my body had suffered from, though it's nothing too severe. I eventually managed to graduate college and pursue my goal. I also stayed in close contact with Lindsay after all these years. She became a primary school teacher and we ended up working in the same city.

We occasionally go out drinking together when we both have the time. It was during one of our nights out that I learned something from her that I didn't know before. Our drunken conversations ended up on the same subject of our past and even in my drunken stupor I heard something that made my head come to a halt Your parents were assholes she said

And I agreed Then she continued They had what was coming to them Had what coming for them I asked Suddenly feeling sober again I hadn't talked about my parents Since my last therapy session

three years ago And now that it was brought up again Something didn't add up Dad said they ran away after they beat the hell out of me. Lindsay suddenly looked sober again and she paled at my confused expression. Wait, you don't know?

No what? She shubishly played with the rim of her glasses before she answered. They didn't run away, Lizzie. They didn't? She went quiet again for a moment, as if debating with herself whether to tell me or not. You should ask your dad about it, Lizzie.

He should be the one to tell you if he hasn't already. He probably knows things in detail. And that's what I did. The next day, I drove back to my dad's place, which was only a two-hour drive. He seemed surprised to see me, but happy nonetheless to have me home. We shared a few good words,

drank a few beers, and that's when I decided to cut to the chase. Dad, what really happened to my parents? Much like Lindsay. He paled at my question. Even with years of experience within the police field, he was easy to read. How do you know? It doesn't matter, I said.

Tell me the truth. He took a deep breath and put the beer can down on the table. He drew a hand over his head and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to say. The reason I didn't tell you the truth was because you were already in a delicate state. Please don't fault me for not telling you. I won't, I promised, offering him a weak smile that seemed to ease the tension. When we received a call about the abuse in your home, we came to your house and discovered that the doors were open. When we went inside after hearing no response, he paused for a bit, and I could tell from his expression that he was afraid.

I had known this man, my father, for the past two decades, and I'd never seen him like this before. When we went inside, your parents were lying dead in the living room. My heart dropped, but not out of sadness. Dead? How? We linked the cause of death to a broken bottle of Jack Daniels that we found on the floor next to the bodies. It matched the wounds we found on them. It was the worst homicide I'd ever seen, even if they got what was coming to them. He took a moment to collect himself, after sipping a dead.

generous portion of beer. We found you in your bedroom, wrapped in your blanket. We feared we were too late, but fortunately, you were alive. Your window was open too, so we concluded that the murderer

got in through your window. We didn't find any evidence of who it was, but quite frankly, it was all the same to me if we caught him or not. I don't know how long I was quiet for. The discovery that my asshole parents had been killed didn't necessarily bring me any gratification,

but it was better than knowing that they were alive and still out there. Leaning back into my seat, I took another sip of beer and tried to process the information I'd been given. I played through what he had told me over and over again in my head, and something didn't add up. You found me, wrapped in my blanket? He nodded. Yes, we assumed you simply took it before you fell unconscious from the abuse.

Breathing rapidly, I shook my head at this assumption. No, I said I didn't have my blanket It was on the bed when I fell We shared another look of horror And decided to chuck another can of beer Before we called it a night The next day we said our goodbyes with a hug

And didn't utter another word About what we had discussed the night before For his sake I prayed that the alcohol had dulled his memories Just as I was about to get into my car My dad spoke up Lisa Yes, I tilted my head at him.

Your parents, their mouths, they... Dad, open and close his mouth and repeat. But in the end, he decided against it and just waved me goodbye, and I took that as my cue to leave. I initially intended to make it straight back home, but decided to make one last stop before I left town. And that was outside my childhood house. It was weird being back after so many years.

Standing outside that damned Endrance door brought back a ton of memories that years of therapy had failed to make me permanently forget. I remembered each punch, hit an insult I had suffered from, every wounded scar that still adorn my body. But most of all, I remember the teeth I'd lost.

I don't know why I returned here. I guess it had something to do with closure, or something like that. Either way, I had to go back. What stood in front of me now was but a forgotten memory. A desolated, nearly demolished house that hadn't been touched in years. The walls had been graffeted, no doubt by teenagers with too much time in their hands,

and the wood looked about ready to collapse with a simple push. Going inside could as well cost me my life, but that wasn't something I was too concerned with anymore. The door was unlocked, so I let myself inside. The first thing that hit me was the stench of old alcohol, that reminded me of all the bottles the old man used to drink. most of the furniture was still there but mind you it wasn't something

I would put up on the market for free I ventured through both the living room and the kitchen but didn't find anything too remarkable even after two decades things still look the same old cans of beer was still littered across the floor and it was evident that whoever was in charge of cleaning this hellhole didn't put much effort into their work

knowing that it probably didn't matter when I returned to the living room I looked down on all the mess that laid around, and that's when I noticed the two red stains on the floor, like puddles that had gathered up during my absence. I bent down and inspected it, and, after a few moments of observation, I stood up again and smirked while digging my heel into the two spots.

Serves you right, I said, and spit on the stains, one for each. Rot in hell. I walked right over them and prepared to head down the corridor that led to my old bedroom, looking around the place as I went. It was weird to think that as a kid, this place seemed too large and so unsettling. Now, as an adult, he was just a house, an abandoned, mess-stained house, but just a house in its core. There was nothing left here. When I saw the blue door, I had to compose myself before heading in.

The bed was where it had always been, the nightstand too. I didn't notice how small it really wasn't there, just barely larger than a cupboard. For a girl who used to be so little in life, this used to be a luxury. I looked out the window, which stood tilted open, even though the glass was broken and pieces were stuck to the floorboards. Someone was the broken inside at some point in such valuables, only to discover that there was none to be found within these empty walls. Turning back to the bed, I saw that it stood slightly askew. The interesting thing was that the dust on the floor was smudged with the bedpost, which indicated that it had been moved quite recently.

While this made me wary, I was past the point of no return. I climbed past the bed and down to the floor tile I knew to be loose under it. I guess the police didn't search the place as thoroughly as they should have, but that was just fine for me. I gently removed the floor tile completely and a wave of nostalgia hit me as I discovered a stack of old pink notebooks that had drawn. drawings of unicorns on them. While covered with dust, they were still in good shape. I guess the small space beneath the floor tile had preserved enough. After pulling the stack

of notebooks up, I was quick to find the pencils I had hidden as well. Like the notebook, they were covered in dust, but untouched and preserved. I promptly took them up and put them next of the notebooks, expecting to find nothing else but a bag of croissants I had left there. God knows how rotten they must have been. But there was something else there that I knew for a fact I hadn't left the last time I was there. There was a blue pouch, knotted, with the same kind of tie that kept my books together. The hell? I pulled the light pouch of unknown content up and got to my feet.

I gave it a light shake. It wasn't heavy, but it sounded like it was filled with pearls or maybe coins. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it. Grabbing a hold of the knot, I undid it and slowly opened the bag to see what was inside. My heart skipped a beat and I immediately dropped the pouch from my hands. As it landed on the floor, teeth poured out from the opening and scattered across the tiles. I wanted to run out of there, scream, do anything to react according to the situation, but my body wouldn't comply with my wishes.

Instead, all I could do was stare at the many teeth that was spread around me. From a distance, they may have reminded me of hail. but the discolouring of some of them disillusioned that. They were undoubtedly teeth, 66 of them in total. As if the horror of the situation didn't scare me enough as it was, I noticed that one of them wasn't a real tooth. It was just a gold piece meant to resemble one,

just like the old man's. I didn't want to, but I put two and two together where I stood, and the realization of whose teeth these belonged to came crashing down to me with the old man's fist used to. These were their teeth. They're discoloured, disgusting, alcohol-drenched teeth.

My eyes wandered down to the blue pouch again, and I noticed a note sticking out of it. The paper was pink, and had the outline of a unicorn drawing peaking out of it. Despite every voice in my head that told me not to give him to temptation, I did. I picked it up,

my hands quivering, as if I was suffering for it, from hypothermia, and I read what was written in handwriting I was familiar with, to the girl who gave me her teeth. I have repaid your generosity in kind. After that, I left. I grabbed the books, picked up the teeth, and simply abandoned that place. There was nothing left for me there anymore.

It's been a few months now, and I've tried to come to terms with what happened. As a child, it was easier to believe that it truly, really was a fairy that was responsible for all the wonders I experienced. But as an adult, I've reached a conclusion. I don't think is worth sharing. Feel free to come up with your own theories, however. As for myself, I'm not going to fall any further down the rabbit hole than I already have, and I don't think you should either.

If you still believe in the tooth fairy, good for you. But I would advise you not to leave your windows open for it. You never know. What might enter?