CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 7 CHILLING Reddit Horror Stories to crawl into your nightmares tonight

Episode Date: June 16, 2020

What's your favourite SCP?CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "When I was a child we lived in a copy-paste neighborhood" Creepypasta►14:47 "We were told not to break quarantine. I think we've upset the locals" Creepypasta►47:05 "My girlfriend hasn’t moved in months" Creepypasta►1:00:42 "reCAPTCHA" Creepypasta►1:13:52 "I live in a town called Beaver Falls. We discovered the secret of our town" Creepypasta►2:15:00 "I was sent a creepy video from the d██p web" Creepypasta►2:28:51 "I’ve Been Flying for almost Thirty Hours and The Flight Attendants Won’t Stop Crying" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY- mike franchina: ►https://www.patreon.com/mikefranchina►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/8l...►https://www.instagram.com/mikefranchina/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-

Recently, there had been something pulling me back to the street where I lived as a child. A street as unspectacular as it was peculiar. Selin Street had the feel of a different world, and that is because each and every single house in our little neighbourhood looked exactly the same way. Not only did we have the same postbox and the same wooden window frames, but I swear we even had the same type of flowers growing in our gardens. Those little houses, painted in the same shade of dark ocean blue, have a very peculiar architecture to them.

They are all rather narrow, but reach up quite high to assure that there would always be enough space if more homes needed to be added to the neighbourhood. You would never expect such an awfully individual style being copied, but here they were, 20 identical homes holding very non-identical inhabitants. You would assume that all the pastel yellow painted garages hold the same car as well. But, as far as I know, my parents were the only ones owning a vehicle, or at least I'd never seen anyone else in one before. Luckily, our street wasn't the only place for me to go, or maybe I would have turned insane over the years. Our street was rather high up on a small hill overlooking the town where I went to school,

where we would buy our food and clothes and where dad would go to the house. to work. I loved the cycle down to the town, feeling unstoppable with a wind in my back. The way up home was always a drag, however, especially as I had to count not to miss our home when I pulled into our street. It was the fourth house on the left for most of the time. When I was six or seven, I had a brilliant idea to hang up a little sign for me to know where to look or draw a number down on the pavement with chalk. But every time I would come back to look for our home, the signs I made were always gone. I believe mom removed them as soon as she spotted a change to our copy-paste home. She didn't want our home to stick out

next to the neighbours. When I was younger, I would always wonder how my parents were able to find our home in between all the other ones, especially if we came home at night from visiting the town. I would sit in the back of the car, my eyes all sleepy, and my thoughts unorganized. like I had just been swallowed into a different dimension. Dad would pull into our street, and for a moment I would fear that we would never find our way back. With an eerie feeling in my gut, I would shut my eyes and hope that Dad would carry me inside the right place.

How can it be my home if I can't even recognise it? A voice in my head would shout. Though deep inside, I knew I could trust Dad to bring us to the right place. mom on the other hand seemed to have problems with it at times even if she never would confess it to us I swear that she accidentally slipped through the yellow door of our neighbor from the opposite side of the street on more than one occasion I knew she had to be going there by accident

as she had lectured me many times that we were never to visit any of the neighbours on Selin Street for a child the world is still quite blank your parents tell you what is right and wrong and you have no other choice than to believe them. My mum never wanted me to bring home any friends. There were no other children on our street except for the baby on House 8 on the right side.

I'd see mother and child taking a stroll down the street from time to time and the mum would smile and wave. A few times she even invited me inside and asked if I would like to babysit a little girl, but I always politely declined. If I wanted to meet friends, I would have to go down to the time. town. Dad would often drive me. I think he could sense that I was getting a little lonely up there. I bet we can convince your mom to let a friend visit some time. He'd say, in a compassionate voice, she's just a little protective, but I'm sure she won't let her stay all alone up on the hill forever.

He'd joke, but I knew he didn't like it much either that we hardly ever had any visitors. Things were about to change, though. After an event that I see that I see. still find hard to make sense of. I was just finishing with school, and normally Dad and I would drive up together, but he was stuck at work longer, so I decided to take a walk up to our neighbourhood. The road went quite far up, and so I was slightly exhausted when I spotted the sign of Selen Street.

I walked down the street and made sure to count to the fourth house. The door wasn't locked. mom I'm home I shouted she didn't respond for a moment I was afraid that she had mixed up our house again that she was inside the home of the smiling woman from the opposite side of the street but when I spotted the boy standing in the doorway to the garden that looked exactly the same as ours I realized that I was the one standing in the wrong house

are you the kid that lives next door The pale kid with Freckles said Yeah, I'm Felix Are you new here? Sure I am. Dad and I Joshua, the boy doesn't really live next door. Their home just makes it appear that way. The voice of a man interrupted us.

I assumed it was the father of the boy named Joshua. You don't? Joshua said with a disappointed look on his face. You said I'd make friends here, Dad. That's not fair. Well, maybe good. show Felix your swing set in the garden, and if he likes it, he can stay. I wasn't sure what to say to that.

I knew Mum would certainly not approve of me being here, but then again, these were our neighbours, and Joshua seemed really nice. The rest of that afternoon is a blur. I know I followed Joshua to their garden. Outside was the same big tree we had in our garden, and I spotted what I assumed was their swing set. I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow I must have gotten stuck inside the rope of the wooden swing. The last thing I remember seeing was Joshua's smile. But as I woke up, hardly being able to breathe anymore, I heard the screams and shouting on my parents.

Dad picked me up and we drove to the hospital. For days, my throat was all red and blue and painful. When we got back from the hospital, Dad was. was angrier than I'd ever seen him before. I wanted to explain that it wasn't my fault, that I had counted the wrong number of houses, but my parents wouldn't listen. Instead, I was sent to my bedroom. Ear, pressed against the door, I listened to them fight for hours. I built this insane monstrosity of a house for you. I tried, I really did, but I can't do this any longer. This isn't right. This isn't right for me, and it certainly isn't for Felix.

I love you, George, but I can't leave. You know I can't. I'm sorry. My mother said, in a vibrating voice. Yes, you can, and you should. You need to let go, Mirren. I couldn't hear what she said next, but that night, Mom came to my room,

her eyes all black from the tears. I thought she would ask me to stay or try to explain, but all she did was tell me to go with Dad that I could come and visit when I was older. My father... was not an emotional man, and we never talked about feelings much. I knew he despised talking about our old home on Salon Street. I knew the pain he felt when thinking about mum,

who we had lost touch almost entirely. But I was 18 by now, old enough to decide for myself if I wanted to forgive my mother for choosing a house over me. I knew it was time to go back, but before I could do so, I had to talk to my father about the name, night we tried to forget, the night in which I visited the wrong house.

I was older now, and I understood that whatever happened that night wasn't an accident. Dad and I were having breakfast in the kitchen, as I told him about my plans to visit our old hometown and see Mom. While he looked hurt, I could also tell that he understood. He was actually quite compassionate, until I brought up the night. I know we should have talked about this years ago sending you to a therapist but not speaking to you about it was cowardly but you were just so young

I could never have predicted that the loneliness would make you take such measures Dad suddenly had tears in his eyes What are you talking about dad I had other friends I wasn't lonely It was just nice to suddenly have a kid my age lived next door I know I shouldn't have walked inside Joshua's house but you know it probably wouldn't have happened if we had a freaking number on ours I said half-chokingly

Joshua Felix I thought we made you understand that there was no Joshua yeah yeah I know I guess I had to leave after what happened Dad's eyes opened wide Felix what's going on you almost sound like your mother there was never a boy named Joshua who lived next to us

nobody lived next to us that was the whole issue your mother wanted to have a house on that hill and the solitude slowly made it go crazy apparently it rubbed off on you What the hell dad what do you mean I nervously laughed There were like 20 houses just like ours

The blue houses and the yellow garages This really isn't funny dad Dad Put an arm on my shoulder Boy I can assure you There was no other houses like ours Your mother drew the concept of the the building herself. We built it for her because it was a dream home. She was so heartbroken

after her mother passed away. I thought nothing could ever make her happy again until we built the house on the hill. For the fraction of a second, he smiled. I could accept being up there in the solitude with all her strange ways, even not getting visitors. But when you tried killing yourself in that backyard and she didn't want to leave, I just couldn't take it anymore. I knew mum was really young when grandma died. I never even had the chance to meet her. Suddenly, it made sense how my father always laughed when I talked to him about all the other houses on our street.

He thought I was being sarcastic in a time where I didn't even know what that meant. But, Mom spoke to me about the neighbours many times. She saw them too. And she tried to protect me from them. Mom didn't draw a house she made up. she drew something that she saw and that I saw my memories of Selin Street were blurry

but somehow simultaneously crystal clear I knew there had to be a reason my mom never wanted to leave that place and I was about to find out why with a knot in my stomach I drove up the small hill leading to Salon Street as I pulled into the road I could already spot the row of blue houses just the way I remembered them. I tried counting the houses on the left side of the street, but I couldn't tell which one was ours.

So many years had passed, but they all still looked exactly the same way. But then I looked to the right side of the street, and there she was. My mother. Her hair had more grey strains now, and her face had crinkles, but her smile was just as warm,

and her face just as loving. She was sitting on the porch next to the woman she would visit when we were younger. Mom had certainly aged, but the other woman looked just the way she did back then. I'd never noticed before how similar she looked to my mother. Felix, Mom whispered. She got up from the porch but looked hesitant. Her hands were shaking. At that moment, I wanted to scream, shouted her for leaving me,

But when I saw her tear-filled eyes, I couldn't help but run inside her arms the way I always would as a child. Our house might have been the only real one in the street to the eyes of someone else, but Mum and I knew that this house was the only copy. The Imposter House. We weren't supposed to live there. Selin Street was a place for lost souls. I assume when Mum realised that Grandma was stuck there in one of the same. the blue houses, she thought she could trick the neighbourhood if she simply built a house just

like theirs. And so we lived in a street that didn't exist, in a neighbourhood that only mum and I could see. She made a decision all those years ago to stay and protect the soul of a mother. Now, I think she deserves to have someone help her with the job. Joshua and his father both still live on the other side of the street. The woman and a baby girl still. take strolls down the road. Grandma sits on a porch with a friendly and warm smile. It gets hard sometimes not to mix up our home with the other ones, especially as the neighbourhood has been growing over the years. But I don't mind. I'll just have to be extra careful not to visit any house that isn't, our copy-paste one. We weren't supposed to leave town.

The government orders have been very specific about that. No travel between regions was allowed since the virus death rate had begun to climb again. The world had been struggling to recover as the virus had slowly receded. Life as we knew it had begun to resume as normal, with the addition of masks and social distancing. A vaccine had been fast-tracked and would be out in a year to a year and a half. We all relaxed and let down our guard pretty quickly, thinking the masks and wateredown hand sanitizer would keep us safe. The economy reopened quicker than expected against the warnings of infectious disease experts.

Those experts quickly proved to be right, as the rates of infection suddenly skyrocketed again. As a security guard in a medium-slaughey-security mental health hospital, I was deemed essential, so I'd been continuing my full-time shifts. I patrolled the hospital grounds, responded to Code White's, violent patients, searched for missing patients, code yellows, and documented everything in my trusty notepad. It helped at the end of the day when I wrote my shift summary report to have exact times and details written down to help fill in any blanks in my memory. I'd been working full-time for about two years, so I'd managed to accrue a bit of vacation time and by midsummer decided to take a trip up to the family cottage.

I'd bugged the time off long before, but I'd been debating where, whether we should go. The hospital wasn't any busier than usual. In fact, they'd been discharging people much more quickly than normal. They were pushing people out to try to reduce the effects of potential outbreak within the hospital. All non-violent patients who could be treated safely on an outpatient basis were given the boot. The halls of many units that had been full of patients just months before were now empty and very spooky to patrol, especially at night. There were several problems with going to the cottage.

First of all, it was illegal. The government still had orders in place, stating no one could leave their designated region without express permission. There were hotspots where the virus was out of control. Our family cottage was five hours away and well outside our region. We would have to pass through several different jurisdictions

to reach it. We lived in a hotspot. The cottage community was a cold spot. The TV showed maps in red and blue with shades of orange and yellow in between. Red for hot, blue for cold. In the news, they were reporting about small cottage communities becoming tribal and militaristic about their territory in some places, especially remote blue regions where the virus hadn't yet spread

and where hospitals and life-saving supplies like ventilators were scarce. I had gone up to my cottage every year, for my entire life. I knew the people up near our cottage to be friendly and neighbourly, so I wasn't worried. Just the news trying to show the worst of everything, I thought. We resolved that we would only stop when necessary and take all the supplies we needed along with us.

There would be no reason to go up to the small town near our cottage where we usually went for groceries, coffee or bait when we were up there. I didn't see any harm in it, and we really needed to get out of the city for a while. Our apartment was suffocating. There was no green space nearby and we didn't even have a balcony. The windows were tiny

and we were on the top floor of an ancient and poorly ventilated building. All the heat from the floors below rose up to us as we steamed like dim sum in the wooden basket that was our 11th floor apartment. We had gotten up to the cottage without incident, relieved not to have been pulled over by any police. since we had no real cover story for our trip and would have been find and sent back home.

I'd used an app on my phone which showed police locations to avoid roadblocks. Our cottage is off the beaten path to say the least. I had one friend admit to me, half-jokingly, that he thought, just maybe, I was taking him out into the wood. After I'd brought him up for his first trip, it was late at night by the time we had gotten up there. Without the benefit of the text I sent him, I'll try to recreate its contents, which were probably slightly less creepy than this. Directions after highway are as follows. Turn right onto a gravel road from the paved highway.

Via left, continuing past the cemetery, where the roads turn to washboard-textured dirt. Turn left after five miles, then proceed carefully through the twisting hairpin turns through the dark, moonless forest. Turn left onto a laneway of two barely visible dirt tracks through long grass, twisting and turning with not a soul in sight in the pitch black night, up steep hills and back down the other side, left again at the gate of what appears to be a walking path. Do not fret about the water only inches from the tires of the car as you pass through low points with a crickets chirp and bullfrog's bellow.

Finally, with increasing bumpiness drive forward until you think, this isn't possibly a road anymore, and you will arrive at a small shack at the end of a drive, with still black water on all sides, a peninsula just narrow enough for a driveway and a cottage with a small deck and fire pit area at the back, where I have spent many happy summers. No running water and only a small marine battery with limited juice for electricity. Kerosene oil lamps flickered in the corners and spiders nesting all around

with the odd mouse or two scampering in the shadows. I loved it. The only thing I didn't like about the place was the toilet situation. The outhouse was a problem that my procrastinating family had been planning and negotiating how to remedy for years. The ramshackle hut which served as our toilet had been standing askew at the end of the driveway for decades, after my grandfather had built it many years before. Snakes and squirrels nested in it, and giant spiders made webs inside the most inconvenient places.

I always felt like something was going to bite me from the ancient human waste pit below my exposed ass as I sat on the poorly secured and splintering toilet seat. The worst part was that there was no lighter window, so when you closed the door it was pitch black in there and all you had to see by was the starlight through the wood slats on the side of the outhouse and whatever dim an ancient flashlight had been pilfered from the cottage storeroom. We got up there late at night and the mosquitoes were ferocious. I pulled at my hood and dashed in and out of the cottage, bringing in luggage until it

all inside. My wife was already wiping down tables with disinfectant and tidying up. Mouse poop was scattered here and there and everywhere. I took out the broom and began to sweep. Eventually, the place was tidy enough that we could sit down and relax after our long drive. I opened the cooler and grabbed a beer and Chloe surprised me by doing the same. She doesn't usually drink at all, and I drink pretty rarely, although slightly more at the cottage. The place always had a spooky feeling when you first arrived there at night. We were so isolated there and it was so quiet, especially contrasted with the constant noise of the car on the road and the never-ending noise of the city. I checked my phone for the time,

11.15pm and saw I had no cell signal. That's strange, I thought. We'd had pretty good service up there since several years before when they had installed a cell tower close enough to reach us on clear days, and tonight was as clear as they came. We sat on the couch in the tiny old living room and drank our beer. There wasn't much to do up there after dark, especially since we didn't feel like building a fire. Chloe pulled out the laptop, and we watched an old episode of a community while we talked. Weird that there's no signal up here all of a sudden.

I guess no Netflix tonight, I said. I downloaded a bunch of episodes before we left, she said. I breathed this eye relief. We had brought our auxiliary laptop and last I checked it was dangerously low on content. We had been snacking while we talked for a bit and my always troublesome stomach started to gurgle into backflips, signalling an urgent need to hit the bathroom. Hesidently I made my way outside and began the fifty-yard walk to the outhouse. I turned off my flashlight to admire the stars up above and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

The moonless night was beautiful. The sky above came into focus as my eyes adjusted and I saw the Milky Way start to appear in all its glory. Billions, trillions of individual stars of varying sizes and shapes stood out against the background of Milky White, which featured prominently in the sky. Details you can never see decently from the city. Fireflies lit up intermittently in the distance ahead of me. My stomach gurgled again and I continued on.

reminding myself to be careful not a trip walking blindly over the uneven ground toward the outhouse. I paused outside the outhouse in the silent darkness of the forest. In the distance a coyote howled. I braced myself for what was behind the door and opened the hook latch. I showed him the flashlight inside and walked in, turned around, pulled down my pants and began to sit down. I looked to my left and screamed. A large family of bat had taken up residence inside the rickety old outhouse and were hanging from the ceiling in the corner. Their eyes glinting red in my flashlight beam.

There were dozens of them inside the outhouse with me and I suddenly noticed their sticky, oozing guano covering every service on that side of the outhouse. They woke up and began to beat their wings and shriek, swooping down at me and all around me, nipping at my face and neck. I jumped out the outhouse, my pants halfway off and the flashlight still laying inside the nasty guano-covered ledge beside the old beat-up toilet seat. I crawled away and pulled up my pants to run, zipping them up as I went, blood trickling down my face as I hurried inside. Oh my God, what happened to you? Are you okay? Chloe jumped up and ran over to me when I came inside.

I told her what had happened and she led me over to the couch to sit. She grabbed a fresh bottle of water from nearby and poured it over my tiny bite marks and scratches covering my face and neck. I decided the only logical course of action was to head to the nearest hospital. I needed a rabies shot and some disinfectant at my wounds immediately.

We got into the car and Chloe drove down the nauseating road through the forest to the nearby town, Bronze Lake, where they had a very small 24-hour medical center. The fact that we were in the area legally crossed our minds briefly, but neither of us chose to bring it up. If the hospital decided to call the police,

the worst they would do is find us and send us home, we hoped. When we got to the hospital, it was quiet, dark and empty, save for a few cars and a buzzing red fluorescent cross which lit up the parking lot. We walked up to the doors and saw a sign hanging there, which instructed us to wash our hands and put on a mask from the distance. Spencer to the right. We did so as a woman appeared unbidden at the glass door.

The woman who answered the door turned out to be the nurse. She looked us up and down from behind a mask and face shield, took our temperatures and begrudgingly let us inside after we explained what had happened and begged her for a rabies shot and some alcohol to clean my wounds. The doctor came in an hour later, clearly annoyed and having been called in during the night. Who do you think your people are anyway? He asked, frowning as he stabbed me in the ass with a giant needle, a horrible pain running down my leg from my buttocks, causing my knee to buckle.

They had seen my ID and didn't appear to be calling the police, but they were ticked off. I could tell that much. You know, you're coming from one of those hot spots, one of the hottest spots in the country, and you come up here to our community, bring God knows what germs and viruses with you. he trailed off.

I couldn't help but feel guilty, but also a bit angry. It's not like we were dirty or something. We had a right to visit our own property, didn't we? To check on it and make sure it was okay. I didn't say anything though. I just nodded my head feebly and apologised saying we were just checking on a plumbing issue

and we'd be heading back the next day. He didn't seem to buy any of what I was saying, just finished what he was doing, and left, leaving his dirty needles and supplies for the nurse to clean up. She came in looking even angrier than before and told us to get out as she began nosily cleaning up the exam room. We got back into our car and I turned it on, backed out to the parking spot and headed back to the cottage. After a few minutes of driving, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw headlights behind us. It was unusual to see anyone on the roads at this hour of night

before the pandemic, and since then it had been deserted everywhere. We had barely seen another car on the road, even in broad daylight. So it startled me a bit when a car began to follow us down our winding way back to the cottage. The gravel road continued on for a while, with houses on both side of the road where locals lived. Handmade signs were posted here and there and lawns, but I couldn't make them out in the darkness. I assumed there were inspirational messages. to first responders in healthcare workers as it became the familiar trend. I tried not to worry too much about the car behind us.

It was probably just a local on the way home from somewhere. But as we got closer and the car followed us down each turn, I began to get worried. Is that car following us? My wife asked. I'm not sure, I said. Try not to scare her by sounding calmer than I was. I slowed down to a crawl, begging the car to pass me,

but it stayed stubbornly behind me, its headlights now blinking bright as it pulled closer and closer to my bumper. I remembered a tip I heard somewhere. If you think someone is following you, pull over. I told Chloe what I planned to do and I pulled over to the side of the narrow road,

opening my window slightly and waving the car behind us past. The car pulled over behind us. behind us. He had just sat there with his headlights on, and for a moment I couldn't tell what was happening behind us. The headlights in my mirror were too bright. The car suddenly pulled away from the side of the road and sped away. I tried to get a good look inside but couldn't see through the tinted windows of the old yellow Dodge neon that drove past us. Trying to tell ourselves it had been nothing, just another

car on the road, but we were both freaked out to say the least. After waiting for a while, I started driving again. The dust from the car which had been following us still hung in the air as we proceeded onward. We chatted nervously as I drove, trying to talk about something, anything else, other than what had just happened. I think that doctor had a nerve with that damn needle, I said. Oh no, Chloe said, soothingly. Are you alright?

Yeah, I think I'll be okay. It just feels a bit numb all the way down my leg. Not a good feeling at all. Do you want me to drive? Chloe asked. Nah, I think I'm all right. It's not that bad, I said. In truth, it didn't feel good at all.

But I didn't want to stop again, and I definitely didn't want to get out to the safety of the car, even for a second. Okay, if you're sure, she looked worried. We finally made it back to the driveway of our place, just two dirt tracks in the grass, barely wide enough for the car. I hadn't noticed when it happened, but the cloud of dust which was hanging in the air from the yellow dodge

had disappeared suddenly and the air was clear again. The car had pulled into a property along the way somewhere. There were no crossroads in this area of the woods. I turned into the driveway and drove up the long and winding road towards the cottage. We got inside and locked the doors behind us. I told Chloe I was exhausted and ready for bed and she agreed. We pulled out the futon and made the bed quickly before lying down and tossing and turning restlessly. Neither of us could sleep despite the late hour.

We were both on edge. The cottage was completely silent until we heard a noise. Kerr. Shh. Kerr. What is that? Chloe sat on the darkness. Whatever it was, it sounded familiar.

It was a noise I had heard a thousand times before. But what was it? It sounded like it was coming from the front of the cottage. Cur. The noise continued on like that for a while, and we were both too afraid to go outside and look. You ever hear a sound late at night when there's no one around and you're home alone and think, that noise sounded like it came from a person, but it couldn't have been.

There was no one home and that noise had come from the basement. Those footsteps, that cough, the silent tapping of an impatient foot, it was all in your head. It had to be. That was what this noise was like. Finally, I placed the sound, but that didn't make me feel any better. At first I didn't want to tell Chloe But I had to get a second opinion She would tell me that I was crazy

I hoped Does that noise Sorry, are you still awake Of course I'm awake That noise is freaking me out so much right now Okay, just tell me if I'm crazy Does it sound like Digging?

Like someone is digging with a shovel She grouts me and sat bolt upright bringing me with her. That's it. Oh my God, what, why? Why would anyone be digging outside our cabin right now? We huddled together. I had no answer for her.

We had no weapons aside from the little pocket knife I brought with me to cut fish in line. I hoped I was wrong about the noise. I tried to think what else it could be, but came up empty. The noise continued on methodically for a long time. Whatever the whole, the person out there was digging, it was large, assuming I wasn't wrong about the sound.

I checked my phone periodically for signal, hoping maybe for a bar or two to call 911. No service stayed stubbornly abetted on the top of my screen. After an hour or so, the noise finally stopped. We both lay awake, our eyes fixed on the ceiling, unsure of what to do, waiting for the light of morning when the world outside would be a less terrifying place. we hoped. Sleep was out of the question. I told Chloe I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I was sure of that much. Finally, we began to see dim light outside and we could hear birds singing mutely through the glass of the windows. We didn't hear anything for a while, and despite our fear, our exhaustion took over and we both drifted off into a light and dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, the scene around me made no sense. I looked up and saw the blue sky behind the tree branches above me. I was at the bottom of a shallow hole and couldn't move. My hands were bound behind my back. The cold earth was moist against my back. I looked up and saw a face behind a mask and face shield looking down at me, standing on the ground above the hole I was in. It was a man, and he was mid-sentence, speaking to someone else, ignoring me as I woke up.

Can't let it bother you. They were the ones who ignored the news, or the warnings. We even put up signs in town telling them not to come, that we didn't want them here. What else are we supposed to do? You saw what happened to Becky? You want that to happen to your nan? How many people do we need to lose? I closed my eyes, flinching with surprise, as he poured cold dirt over me.

Kerch. I know, I know, but it just doesn't feel right. I mean, it's one thing to kill someone, but bearing them alive, that's just gruesome. The other voice said, as it scooped up another shovel full of dirt and poured it over me, avoiding looking and my darting, terrified eyes. We went over this at the meeting last Tuesday, Rodney, remember? The good word says very specifically, no murdering, doesn't say nothing about bearing folks alive now, does it?

In fact, if I remember correctly, there was a certain story about a fellow named Jesus. He said Jesus like a folksy Southern TV televangelist. Who went and got buried alive and came out three days later, Fine and Dandy, Praise be. I know, I remember the pamphlet, but now that we're doing it, the younger man trialled off. Just seems a bit wrong, that's all. He said too quietly for the other to hear. I was completely terrified. It's amazing how your mind begins to race

and kicks into the survival mode when you know you're going to die. I began thinking hard, grasping for anything that could get me out of this. My mouth was gagged, so I couldn't try to talk my way out of this. My hands and feet were bound tightly with rope. One thing I had going for me

was that I had restored. strained enough mental patients at my job. I knew that ropes were not as foolproof as they seemed, no matter how tight the knots. So many times I had expertly restrained patients, following a cold white, coming back five minutes later to check on them and finding them loose and running around the isolation room,

banging their hands and heads against the walls and plexiglass windows. None of the nurses were ever upset or blame me, except the young new ones. After a couple years, we all knew that some patients were Houdini's, and all knots were fallible. I began to move my wrists around, bending the rope and trying to create space. Kerch, kurch, by the time I was completely covered in dirt. I hit the rope loose enough that I could almost pull my thumb through.

I couldn't breathe, and was struggling not to panic. My years of swimming classes and lifeguard training as a young man came back to me, and I tried to control my breathing. I had the two men packing up their equipment and trudging off. I tried to control myself and wait as long as possible, knowing even if they had left, they could be watching to make sure we didn't escape. It only took a few minutes to run out of air,

so they wouldn't have to wait long to know for sure we were dead. I finally had my hands free. My wrists were raw and bleeding from the friction of the ropes in my skin. I could hear Chloe's muffled cries through a gag from a shallow grave right next to mine. I waited a few more moments and then could take it no longer. I had to get to the fresh air above. Who knew how long it would take to dig my way out?

It was possible I had already waited too long. I began to wiggle my hands out from behind me and tried to dig at the loose soil above me. The grave was shallow so I knew I didn't have far to dig. The locals had depended too much their ropes to hold me, but I was a Houdini. I used every last ounce of muscle I had to burrow and push my way up through the loose dirt above me. I pulled my upper body out of the ground until I was partially out, waist deep in

soil, before pulling my legs out with a mighty effort. I realized with alarm that the soft and muffled noises from the grave next to mine were no longer audible. I scrambled over to the dirt pile next to mine, pulling fresh soil off in great mounds with my blooded hands. A few fingernails had come off and ended up in the pile of dirt, glinting in the sun. After digging like mad for a minute or two, my fingers bumped up against something cold and hard. I looked closely and realised there was a forehead. I continued to dig around her face and managed to unearth her head.

She didn't look like she was breathing. I don't really remember that. next few minutes that well, except for the sobbing and the weeping, as I hastily pulled more dirt off a body, committing to doing CPR once I had her up and out of the dirt. I finally got her under the solid ground above the shallow grave and checked her pulse. It was there. Beating weakly, but it was there. I looked down at her throat to check her airways. It was ocuiled with dirt. I reached in and pulled out a chunk of earth, which had clumped together.

and got in lodged in the base of her throat. I cleared the dirt around her nostrils away and saw she was breathing shallowly. I tried a stern or rub, a quick manoeuvre used the check if someone could be brought back to consciousness through pain infliction. I rubbed hard with my knuckle

against the bony prominence of her chest. Chloe! I tried not to raise my voice too loud, worried the locals might still be close. She started to come too, moaning with her eyes closed. I shushed her and told her not to make too much noise. They were still close.

When Chloe was awake enough, we made her way back over to the cottage. Our shallow graves had been dug at the end of the driveway beside the outhouse. Our car was surprisingly still intact and appeared untampered. I couldn't understand why they hadn't taken it. I checked underneath and all around for booby traps but didn't see anything. I told Chloe I would start it. that she should wait a little ways away in case it was rigged a blow up or something. I wanted to get the hell out of there.

I started the car and waved Chloe to get in. We drove away, leaving our luggage and all of our belongings behind. I only grabbed my wallet and cell phone from inside, dashing in quickly and full of fear that someone was hiding in the cabin. No one was. We made our way through the forest and away from the cabin, moving slowly, looking up ahead carefully, at every turn to make sure there was no one waiting for us.

Finally, we made it to the hill at the end of the driveway. I drove up the hill slowly, beat of sweat pouring down my face, terrified of what might be waiting for us once we crested the hill and approached the gate to the cottage. Would they be waiting for us there? As we crested the hill, I saw someone was in fact waiting for us.

A man in a mask and face shield stood beside a black Volvo at the end of the driveway. He was waving a little flag. I stopped the car. He waved meekly and pulled up his shirt a bit, exposing his waistline. He spun around with a shirt pulled up like that, as if to say, no weapons, I come in peace.

Is that the doctor from the town? Chloe asked. I think it is. He began to walk over slowly with his hands up. waving his little white flag around without much enthusiasm. I decided it was pointless to reverse and try to get away. There was nowhere to go with a dead and Beninthola behind us and his Volvo blocking the way ahead.

I worked with doctors and knew they took an oath not to harm others. I hoped that oath might protect us now. He stood about six feet away from the passenger side window, practicing appropriate social distancing and waited for us to roll down our window to talk to him. Chloe rolled down her window a couple of inches. I knew those two idiots were too dumb to finish a job like that. The human body is more resilient than people think, you know.

Plus the ground is hard up here, and those two are as lazy as they come. I had a pretty good feeling they wouldn't dig those graves, even close to deep enough, and you two would manage to find a way out. I hope you learned a lesson. You You knew they were going to bear us alive? You didn't stop them? I couldn't believe what I was hearing from this doctor.

He hadn't done the job himself, but he knew what was going on. There's no stopping a mob when they're in a frenzy, son, and that's what you two walked into here. Guess you don't read the news much. Didn't bother to look at what was happening in the area you call your second home, as if there could ever be such a thing.

His face was impossible to read behind his mask. How's your leg feel today, by the way? Sore, numb. We usually don't inject the dorsal gluteal anymore. Too risky. Skeatic nerve right near there. They can be seriously damaged. I was pretty tired last night.

Guess it slipped to my mind. Was that even a rabies shot you gave me? He shrugged and didn't say anything. Up ahead, LeVarvo moved out of the way. I hadn't noticed the other person in the car before. I stepped on the gas and started to drive away. Y'all don't come back here, you hear? I heard the doctor say in a fake hillbilly accent as we drove off.

As we passed the Volvo, I saw the nurse from the night before was sitting behind the wheel. His wife maybe. We turned on to the road and drove quickly back to the highway, speeding past the local 's houses with boarded up windows, signs on the lawns were spray painted with various slogans we hadn't been able to make out or even notice on our way in the night before. Keep outsiders out, no room for tourists, keep blue zones blue. Those were the tamer ones. Then there were a contingent of more radical signs.

Revenge for Becky, make them pay. Report outsiders to the committee for justice. We made it to the highway without seeing a night. another car on the road. Our tires squealed as we pulled onto Highway 7 and sped off west towards home. This all started about four months ago. We were looking at apartments together. Amy was so excited. This would be our first apartment together. I can still recall the happiness in her voice when she talked about organizing our bedroom. We finally settled on a newly built apartment building in a new development. The apartment was beautiful, but there was a much nearby, just a grocery

store, railroad tracks and a pond. Amy expressed the joy of walking down to the pond and feeding the ducks. We signed our lease and began moving in. We spent the first few nights at our old apartment. My parents were bringing up their truck to move my bed in, but they were out of town for a few days. We finally were able to bring my bed over and Amy and I were officially moved in. I bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate. It was one of the happiest days of my life. All of that came to a crashing halt when I woke up the next day. I was a little bleary-eyed and hung over, but I noticed Amy wasn't in the bed with me. I looked up to see she was standing in the corner of our room.

Faye turned away from the wall. Amy, what are you doing? I asked. No response. She didn't move. She didn't turn around. Nothing. Amy, what's wrong? I got up and put my hand on her. She was stiff as a board.

I tried to pull her away from the wall, but she wouldn't budge. I pulled with all my might, but I couldn't break her away from her. the corner. It's like she was magnetized to the wall. I started to freak out and called 911. I told them I needed an ambulance and that my girlfriend is unresponsive. While I waited for the ambulance to arrive, I reached out to her parents. Hey, it's me, David. You guys need to get in now. I found Amy standing in the corner and she won't respond. Who is this? Her father asked. It's me, David. Didn't you hear me?

Your daughter is in trouble and you need to get here fast. I don't know, David, and I don't have a daughter either. I think you have the wrong number, pal. He hung up on me. I frantically looked through my phone to see if I called the wrong number. I didn't. I could see all the previous times I'd called that number. I even found the text conversation with him about planning Amy's birthday.

Her father, Phil, likes to joke around, but he took it too far this time. I called him back, straight to voicemail. I yelled into my phone. Look, Phil, I don't know what your problem is, but this is no time for jokes. Something is severely wrong with Amy, and you need to get here now. As I hung up the phone, there was a knock at my door. It was the police. I opened the door and explained everything.

I took them into my room to see if they could get it. her to move. Son, is this a joke? The officer asked. What do you mean? Please, just see if you can help her. Where is your girlfriend? The officer said.

There's no one in that corner. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I became explosive and started to yell. I don't know what's going on here, but you need to help my girlfriend. I need to know if she's okay. The officer told me to calm down or he would determine. me. After a quick sobriety check to make sure I wasn't on drugs

he decided to leave. I begged him to stay and help her. He told me to stop wasting the police time and then left. I ran back over to Amy to see if I could try and move her. She was still standing in the exact

position, hadn't moved in an hour. I bent down to get a look at her face. She had a blank expression. I know noticed that she was still breathing and blinking. Please, Amy, I begged. Tell me what's happening.

I tried to move her again to no avail. That's when I looked up and realised that her plant that she kept on the windowsill was gone. When I looked around the room, I noticed everything she owned was gone. I ran into her closet. All of her clothes had just disappeared. I frantically ran all over the apartment. Nothing. Everything she owned that we spent days moving into this place had just magically vanished.

Even her car was gone. I decided to contact the property office to see if they caught anything that happened to a car on camera. When I explained the situation, they told me that I rented that apartment by myself. What? No, I didn't, I cried. You guys saw Amy. You saw Amy and I sign the lease agreement.

Can you please just look through the parking lot footage from last night? The guy said he would, but assured me that my signature was the only one on the lease agreement. I went to find my copy, and sure enough, all her signatures and initials had disappeared from the paperwork. I felt like I was going to vomit. My head was spinning with a million questions. I spent the next few hours trying to get Amy to budge from that corner. I eventually gave up and cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my situation hadn't changed. She was still standing in that corner, hasn't changed position since I first saw her. I tried to move her again, but she was like a rock. I noticed she was still blinking and breathing, so I tried to communicate. Amy, if you can hear me, blink twice. Nothing. I decided to ask again. Amy, if you know what's going on, blink twice.

Again, nothing happened. She didn't really seem to be blinking in a pattern or anything, just blinking sort of normally. I felt like I was losing my mind. I had no answers to why this was going on. I spent the day trying to contact her family and friends. everyone had pretty much the same response they all claimed they didn't know her

and had no recollection of who I was she was an honour student in high school and always made the honour roll I tried searching the internet for any school records nothing it was like Amy had vanished off the face of the earth yet she was still back at our apartment I spent the next few days searching the internet

trying to find any information on Amy I never found any. Weeks started to go by. Every day I would wake up and see Amy still standing in that corner. She never moved a muscle. Every day I would try and move her. I never could. I became desperate for answers.

I started going on religious slash paranormal forums. I would ask anybody and everybody if they'd ever seen or heard of anything like this. I went to forums on Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, pagan, paranormal investigator, even magicians. I asked everyone I could. Nobody had any answers. Nobody had ever experienced or heard about anything like what was happening to me. Eventually, I just gave up.

It's been four months since this happened. I've gotten used to it. I tried to spend as little time as possible. in the bedroom. I really only go in there to sleep or get dressed. I feel so heartbroken, like I've lost Amy, yet every night I see her just standing there. She hasn't moved one bit in four months, still just blinking, still just breathing. I could just sleep out on the couch, but I like listening to a breathing when I'm trying to sleep. Hearing a breathe is soothing to me.

I see her every day but I feel like I've lost her This apartment is so quiet without her I miss a voice her smile I miss the arguments and most of all her bubbly personality It pains me so much to look at her now

Just to see her standing there Not moving That blank expression Every time I look at her face I can't take this anymore I was planning a finding another place to live and move on. Then, yesterday morning,

the unthinkable happened. She moved. I woke and found that Amy was no longer in the corner. She was standing at the foot of my bed. She had a big smile stretched across her face. Her teeth was showing. She was no longer breathing or blinking. She was staring directly into my eyes.

I just sat there in shock. I have no idea how long we were staring at each other. Neither of us moved a muscle. Finally, I cried out, Amy, what's going on? What happened to you? She didn't say anything to me. She started slowly lifting up her hand and stretching it towards me.

It was as if time stood still. She never broke eye contact. I yelled out, What are you doing, Amy? I haven't spoken to you in so long. Please, just tell me what's happening. She finally spoke to me. David, it's time for you to come join me.

Take my hand, David. Come with me. I hadn't heard a voice in so long. I broke down. I jumped out of bed and grabbed a face. Amy, I beg you, just tell me what's happening. What has been going on with you? She never spoke another word after that.

She just stood there, smiling with her hands stretched out. She never broke eye contact with me. I decided that I can't stay here anymore. I packed and was ready to leave. I had made a reservation for a hotel and I was going to stay with my parents until I could find a new place. As much as it pains me, I need to move on. Whatever this thing is in my bedroom,

isn't Amy. As I was packing my bags, I looked over at Amy, and she had a tear running down her face. She still hadn't moved since this morning, still smiling and still sticking her hand out. Amy and I had been through so much together. She was the love of my life. It was like my heart was being ripped out from the thought of leaving her here. I decided to cancel my hotel reservation. and spend one last night with her before going to my parents.

As I laid in bed, I had this incredibly uneasy feeling. She wasn't breathing this time. Every time I looked up, all I could see was her standing there, still smiling, staring right at me. I didn't sleep well that night. When I woke up, I'd received dozens of text and phone calls. All of them were from all of them. unknown numbers. Every text I read was apparently sent from Amy. They were all urging me to come

join her. All I have to do is grab her hand. I started to listen to the voicemails. It was Amy's voice. She was crying. David, please, I need you to come with me. Please, I need you to grab my hand. Every single voicemail was the same. I looked back at Amy. She still had a handout. I miss her so much. I would like nothing more than to see her again. I've already sent goodbye texts to my family and friends.

A lot of them are trying to call me right now, but I'm not answering. As I'm writing, I noticed Amy's eyes have started to bleed and a smile has become a lot more twisted. I hope I'm making the right this. here. All I wanted was to buy a vacuum. That's it. Mine completely gave out on me halfway through cleaning the house, so I have half a really nice carpet and half of it's a

complete disaster. So I hopped on the computer and navigated my way to Amazon. I had recently deleted cookies and my browser history, so I wasn't automatically logged in like I'm used to. When I went to log in, the page refreshed and asked me to confirm if I was a human, so I click the checkbox and press continue. The page refreshed again and the robot check showed up again. Thinking nothing of it, I press the checkbox again and press continue. That must not have been enough for Amazon because when the page reloaded, I was presented with a set of pictures.

Above the pictures read, Click all pictures with a car in it. This was a bizarre request because all the pictures. pictures were of a forest. Just different angles of deep green leaves and tarring trees. With a sigh, I click continue, as there were no cards for me to click on. The page refreshed, and once again said, Click all the pictures with a car in it. This time, though, there weren't any images to click on. I could see a thin black line that bordered where the images should have been,

but nothing was contained within them. As you can assume, I was already starting to get frustrated with the capture system failing to get me through over and over. So, I backed up and started the logging process all over again. Typing in my account and password,

the page refreshed to show me another capture, the one where you have to read two distorted words and type them into the box. The words were, going around, and were hardly distorted. When I entered them, the words I needed to type

switched to say, and around. I tilted my head to the side without meaning to, as I stared at the words. I could tell the words were continuing to refresh without me touching the keyboard.

The words just kept repeating and around, and around, and around, getting more and more distorted as it went on. I tried to click the enter button and the page finally offered new words. This time, the capture said, Going where?

Something in me decided that the vacuum could always wait for another day and I clicked the red X to close the page. I went to go make a status about the strange experience on Facebook to make some light of it, as it had admittedly left me feeling a little uneasy. Just as before though, I had cleared my saved logins and without thinking about it, I typed my info into Facebook and was met with another capture.

This one didn't seem out of the ordinary though. The words on the screen were all warped, bouncing like waves. They said, chaotic happenstance, which coincidentally describes captures as a whole. I typed the words in and upon clicking continue, I found that the process wouldn't progress. The page wasn't frozen as I could type in different things but the continue bar wouldn't work clicking refresh did nothing so I closed the browser and reloaded it to try again

going through the same steps when I got to the capture it was the same words and they were already typed into the box below like I had never left then I saw the bright blue option that said listen to the audio instead I just wanted to make sure something wasn't wrong with my internet or that I didn't get a malware somewhere along the line

so I clicked the option and was presented with a play button for audio and foolishly I clicked it when the button was pressed I couldn't hear anything I saw the audio bar progressing but nothing was coming out of my speakers frustration ever growing

I reached down and plugged in my headphones before slipping them over my ears. Restarting the audio, I heard a faint crackling of static that seemed to be echoing. There was a soft dragging noise followed by male voices spouting out numbers.

His voice was shaky, like someone on the verge of crying, someone just barely holding it together. Each number stuttered out of his mouth and between the numbers I could hear deep and love. labored breath. He stopped talking, but I noticed there was still a bit of audio left, and that I hadn't even been typing the numbers in. My body wasn't moving like it was supposed to.

The static continued until I heard a loud smacking noise that nearly had me throwing my headphones off my head. The man whimpered and continued reading numbers until the audio ended. Once the audio was over, I felt glued to my chair. I hadn't typed a single number in, but there was no way I was going to listen to that again. Unfortunately, the capture had other intentions, and I saw the play button flicker and the audio start to play. It was different this time though. A woman began speaking. Her mouth was way too close to the microphone, words were chopped.

and muffled whenever her lips made contact with it, but I could still make them out. She repeated a familiar phrase. Around and around and around and around. A voice was stern like she was angry at me. I decided to just be done with a whole ordeal when I moved my mouse to the red eggs in the corner. Please don't, the woman suddenly shouted as my mouse hung over the eggs, and I suddenly felt like I was made of stone. I pondered what the hell was going on.

Sometimes you don't notice something is truly wrong until you're in the middle of it and I was smack dab in the middle of this. When I pull my mouse away from the eggs she started to repeat the phrase over and over again but I could hear that her voice wasn't the only one. Several different people all whispering the same thing repeating it ad nauseum.

In one quick movement I moved my mouse up to the X and closed out of the browser before anyone had a chance to call out I sat staring at my desktop fingers resting by my mouth as I attempted to calm myself down

I could tell by my leg bouncing under the desk that my efforts were in vain it was then pairing at my wallpaper and my heart nearly flipped over I had been using pictures from my vacation my family went on as my wallpaper.

It was a slideshow that would cycle through them. Every so often, a picture of a forest would cycle through. There were several different angles from the trees, because my mother wasn't that great with using the camera yet,

and she wanted to practice. I didn't recognize the pictures when the capture used them because there was no context and they were so small. I could feel my teeth sinking into my skin as my nerves built up.

Could capture do that? Pull up pictures from your drive to use? If they could, why these pictures? A box appeared on my screen, a very familiar one. It was a text capture. Words clearly displayed in front of me. Listen again. My mind had been growing so blank that the order seemed to fill it up, and so I complied.

moving the mouse to click on the audio option I was met with an audio player once more but this time there was an image capture under it and said pick which one and displayed a grid of people pictures all taken from odd angles like around corners or through windows

I wouldn't have done anything but when I moved close to the window I saw that all their pictures were granted a blue check mark like I had picked them all. When moving the mouse away, the check marks vanished. But a number appeared. Ten, and then the number nine.

Then it was eight. My hand started shaking, making it hard to bring the mouse anywhere, but I knew what would happen if the counter reached zero. I closed my eyes and jiggle the mouse a little before randomly clicking on a picture. When I opened my eyes,

the capture went back to a text, one that read Matthew Connors. And the option to continue was replaced with the option to listen to an audio capture. So I did. What else could I have done? Whatever was in the audio file happened the moment I clicked his face. The audio player started up and I was met with the same static I'd heard before, but in the background there was soft pleas.

Before anything was said, there was a sharp and loud bang that was instantly recognisable. If I didn't know what happened based on the noise, I would have figured it out when a handful of voices let out cries and desperate callings to a higher power. My face had become flushed and small troughs of liquid running down my cheeks stung hot. I sat back in my chair and stared at the audio progress bar. It never moved forward. It just sat there as the people in the audio cried out amongst the sounds of a body being dragged across the cement. I don't know if it was worse or better that all I could do was hear what was going on. I slowly moved the mouse cursor and closed the capture out, silencing the static that was coming from my headphones.

Anxiety took me over and staring at the desktop, I knew that any moment that box could pop back up again. So, to stop that from happening, I reached down and pressed the power button on my PC. The warm air coming from the vents stopped, and the soft hum the computer gave off was silenced as the monitor flicked a black. I hadn't noticed how much I had been shaking. My knee was sore from smacking the underside of my desk so much. My body needed water or food, and I needed to lay down for a while. What could I have done? What would I even begin to tell law enforcement?

I rose up from my seat, trying to steady myself. My legs had become so shaky, it was difficult to stand up straight. Pushing my chair away, I started to walk away from my desk. When I heard the computer whirling up behind me. A soft blue light surrounding the power button to indicate that it had turned back on. Turning, I watched the screen flicker again and go through the process booting back up. It had gotten to my account login screen and I could see my password already typed in. Then the green enter button was pushed down and a new box appeared in front

of the login screen. I stepped closer to get a better look. It was as expected. A capture. One where you have to click the images. Again the screen asked, which images have cars in them? Again, most of the images were just trees, except one had changed. This image did indeed have a car in it. I stood up straight and walked to my bedroom window, peering out into the front yard, my eyes trailed over to the car sitting in the driveway. The same car, the same house. A picture, taken from the distance, sat in the sea of trees within the capture.

I turned just in time to see that the picture with my house had been selected, and then I watched the proceed button, be pressed. Hey look, it's do-do pile! Before I could turn and see who was cackling, something hit my back hard. I stumbled, my feet catching on the uneven ground I was walking on. I fell face first into the wet dirt. I looked up in time to see them riding away in their bare. bikes and groaned. Of course, I had to be wearing a white t-shirt today. My mom was going to kill me. I sighed and pulled myself up, tried to wipe the dirt off my shirt, and continued on my way to

school. It's all I could do, really. With a name like Dewey Pyle, big ears that stuck out, and huge glasses, I was destined for a life of merciless teasing and bullying, and in a town as small as Beaver Falls, I was never going to escape it. Beaver Falls is an odd little town. With the population of under a thousand, we're a bit behind the times, lucky to even have electricity. The phone lines only worked when they felt like it. Access to the internet was rare, and hardly anyone had a cell phone because they almost

never worked. We all blamed it on the rain. It was always raining in Beaver Falls. I'm just a kid, but I've never seen the sun shine here. It's either pouring rain, drizzling, or thick grey clouds block out the whole sky. If you leave town, eventually you'll see the sun. But most people don't leave for long. They always come back.

Those who do make it out and don't come back, I never heard from again. Every so often, you can hear yelling and screaming from somewhere beyond the town. I've heard it my whole life. Sometimes people just stop and stare off in the direction of the screams, a solemn look on their faces. I asked everyone I can about it, but they never give me an answer, just a sad look and tell me not to worry about it. And then there's the beavers. I used to think they were a myth, just something parents used to scare their kids. If you don't behave, I'm going to feed you to the beavers.

If you lie down, the beavers are going to come get to. you, bad kids go see the beavers, is that what you want? But, as you get older, you start to realize the beavers are a lot like Santa. They don't exist, just something to keep the kit in line. Or at least, I thought so, until I woke up at night. My watch read 3 a.m. My parents had gotten me a new digital watch last week for my birthday. It was the only thing I'd gotten, and it probably cost more than my parents could afford.

But I was really proud of it. The rain was coming down hard, and a crack of thunder jolted me awake. I stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake me, when I heard something clicking out in the street. I glanced out my window, the curtains blowing in the wind. I listened hard, waiting to see if I could hear anything besides the sound of the rain pelting the house. I held my breath, half expecting a blood currant,

screaming scream to cut through the night. Then I heard it again, and my heart dropped. A faint clicking noise, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged. It was coming closer to the house. I tore out of bed and up to the window, straining to see what was making the noise. I was breathing too heavy to hear anything else. I felt an edge, every nerve of my being waiting. My heart pounded and my eyes strained. to see the slightest movement. But my heart stopped and my insights froze when I saw it.

As something walked into the dim light of the street lamp, I froze. It was huge and hairy. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to see better, but I left my glasses on the nightstand. I raced back to my bed and pulled them on.

But by the time I got back to the window, it was too late. Whatever it was, it was gone now. Mom, Mom! I screamed. I was panicking now. It's here, I thought. What if it attacked the house? Was it here to kill someone? Would it carry someone off?

But, my mom never came. I ran out of my room, down the hall and into my parents' room. My dad was snoring loudly, likely passed out with the help of his good friend Jack Daniels. "'Mom! Mom! There's something outside!' I whispered, shaking my mom. "'Don't wake your father,' she whispered. Her words heavy with sleep. It's just the beavers.' She rolled onto a side and dropped off to sleep again. I wandered back to my bed and sat on it. My head was buzzing with confusion. So much for that, I thought. Were they real? Did I really see a giant beaver?

If they were real, then what did that mean? From then on, I looked at my life a little differently. If the beavers were real, then what else was? Of course, none of my classmates believed me. There was only one school in Beaver Falls, and it was way outdated. It desperately needed repairs. It was overdue for a new roof, and it leaked every time it rained. The desks were old and rickety, and some of the times.

textbooks were missing pages. We didn't even have a school yard for recess. With all of the rain, there was no point. We spent our lunch and recess in the classrooms. Every year you were stuck with the same kids through every grade. All the students in each year fit into one classroom and one teacher taught everything each class would need. They were tired and overworked, and from the state of it, so was the school. We were in fifth grade now. No way, you're crazy. They're made up. What's next?

You believe in Santa and the Easter bunny? My classmates sneered at me. I hung my head and went back to my desk. It was raining as usual, so we couldn't go outside for recess. We were stuck in the same classroom all day. My classmates were so adamant, though. Had I imagined it? I was so enraptured in my thoughts about the night before,

and the beavers, and I missed most of the questions on the math quiz that day. Mrs. Wilson handed us our graded quizzes, and we left for the day. She gave me her stern look, and a big red F glared back at me from the paper. I sighed and started making my way home. I've seen them too. Her voice startled me, and I jumped, whirling around. There was a girl leaning against the school right outside. the main entrance. She was tall and thin, red curly hair framing her face. She stared at me

with cold, brown eyes. She was in my class. Her name was Mary Alice, and there were rumors about her having an evil eye, but I didn't know what that meant. I'd asked my mum once, and she yelled at me for spreading rumors and gossiping about other people like a yenta. But her eye did look pretty bad. The skin around her left eye was gnarled and scarred. The eye itself was white and milky, contrasting her other eye, which was so brown it almost looked black. It made me shudder just thinking about it. No one knew for sure how it had gotten like that,

and everyone was too afraid to ask. But the rumours were awful. What? I asked, not sure what she was talking about. The way she was staring at me, made me uncomfortable. The beavers, I've seen them too. My grandma said they come to town sometimes when they get hungry.

She said, pushing off from the wall and walking past me. She turned back and looked at me, tilting her head to the side. Are you coming? I just stared at her. She shrugged and continued walking. Wait, I scrambled after her. When did you see them? From time to time, they only come at night.

My grandma said they used to live here, but when humans started settling here, they retreated into the forest. She said when they come into town, they're looking for people who have been bad. They carry them off and they're never seen again. Where did they go? I asked. She didn't answer, but the look she gave me turned my mouth dry. I swallowed hard. We walked in silence for a while. gravel and dirt crunching under our sneakers.

It wasn't raining, but thick clouds in the sky threaten a torrential downpour. I glanced at Alice, wanting to ask her about something that was nagging me, but afraid of what her answer might be. What? she sighed, not even looking at me. Had she known I was staring at her? Does...

Would your grandma know about the screaming? I asked. It came out as much as much as much, of a horse whisper. She said it's the bad people. Mary Alice looked down, like she was trying to choose a word carefully. Her voice was quiet. She said, if you're bad, the beavers come to get you.

They carry you off, and then they eat you. The screams are from the people eaten alive. They use your bones to build their dams. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I wished I hadn't asked. We walked in silence for the rest of the way. I wondered why she was even walking with me, but I didn't want to ask.

Mary Alice never talked to anyone. Mary Alice didn't have any friends. Everyone stayed away from her because of her evil eye. When my house came into view, in all its dilapidated glory, my heart sank. The house needed a lot of work, but Dad was always too drunk to fix it.

And he wouldn't allow Mom to do anything. He said it was man's work, but then he just spent the afternoon passed out on the couch. Mom tried to call someone once to come clean the gutters, and it didn't go well. And now, as we approached my house, I could see my dad was sitting on the porch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Even from where we were, I could see he had a mean look in his eyes. Mary Alice stopped when she saw him. I stopped too and looked at her curiously. I felt a little embarrassed about the state of my house and my father,

but it was pretty common in Beaver Falls. Mary Alice was standing perfectly still, rigid and tense. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples. Hey, are you okay? I asked. Is that your dad? She struggled to speak through clenched teeth Yeah, why I gotta go

She said simply Whatever happens Don't leave your room tonight It'll be over soon Then she turned and walked back the way she had come Her words hung heavy in the air What did she mean It occurred to me that Mary Alice

lived on the other side of town I looked back at my dad There was a cold, hard look in his eyes I thought the urge to turn and run and instead forced myself to walk closer to my house Dad could be unpredictable when he drank And I couldn't remember a time when he didn't have a bottle in his hand Sometimes he just passed out and did nothing

Other times he was cruel Mom always sent me to my room when he was like that But sometimes at night I would hear him crying, telling my mom how sorry he was, begging her not to leave him. I wasn't sure why we didn't leave him to rot in this house. I asked my mom once, but all she said was I would understand when I was older.

She had an odd look in her eye then, like she was hurt or something. I walked the rest of the way to the house, trying to ignore my father, leering at me. I averted my eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me. Ah, that you girlfriend. A pussy like you, thought you were gay.

He took another swig of whiskey. I ignored him. Hey, I'm talking to you boy. You ought to show me some respect. He grabbed my leg as I continued up the steps to the front door, but missed and fell over, tumbling down the steps and landing on his back on the ground. Whiskey splashed all over the steps, the ground, and my dad. He sputtered as I looked at him.

He was pathetic. You little, you waste of space, get back here. He led out a string of curses as I went inside. My mom was in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Just ignore him, do he? She said, folding me into a hug. She pulled back and looked at me. Why don't you go to your room?

I'll bring you something to eat later. best just to stay out of his way. I nodded and retreated to my room, shutting the door behind me. I spent so much time here. Sometimes it felt like a prison, but it was the place I was safest from Dad. I sat at my desk and started on my homework. It wasn't long until I was bored and looking for something else to do.

I pulled a comic book from my bookshelf and started reading that instead. I lost track of how many hours passed. The sound of something crashing somewhere in the house broke my concentration. I looked outside to see the sun had already set. Muffled yelling brought my attention back to whatever was happening in the house. I got up from my bed and crept to the door, pressing my ear to the crack between it and the doorframe. I wanted to open the door and see what was going on.

But Mary Alice's warning echoed in my head. laughing at his drunk old dad who does he think he is the little twirp my dad was in another drunken rage slamming things and yelling at my mom there was a pause and my mom spoke quietly trying to calm him I couldn't hear what she said

I don't care I never wanted him in the first place he's a freak there was a crash as my dad threw something and it shattered more hushed words from my mom and then my dad stomped down the hall towards my room. Instinctively, I grabbed my desk chair and shoved it under the doorknob. I rushed back toward my bed and slid under it, just as my dad's boots stopped at my door. I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my breathing. My heart raised as I watched

the doorknob twist and turn. Then the door shook as my dad slammed his fist on it. I knew if he got the door open, I would be in trouble. Alan, stop it! My mom. My mom screamed. There was a crack, and then his assault on the door continued. I watched the chair in horror, but it held fast. I'm going to kill him, my dad roared. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears, trying to block out the yelling and the banging. It was hours before I moved, but the house was silent by then. My watch beeped, indicating it was 11 p.m. I'd been messing round with the watch after I'd gotten it, and programmed it to let me know when it got to that hour, but as much as I tried, I couldn't figure out how to get it to stop doing that.

I crawled out of my hiding place and removed the chair, carefully setting it back at my desk. I opened my door as quietly as I could. The house was dark, except for the light from the kitchen, spilling into the hallway. I tiptoed my way there, careful not to step in places where I knew the floor would creak. I found my mom standing at the sink, drinking a glass of whiskey. Mom, I whispered. My voice shook and my heart stopped as she turned to look at me. Red marks wrapped around her neck and a bruise was forming around one of her eyes. It's okay. He's not here, she said, setting a glass on the counter. She looked disappointed and tired. Are you hungry? I nodded.

It's going to be better around here, do we? I'll talk to him. I'll make sure he understands. He can't act like that anymore. Or he'll have to leave. Okay? She pulled a plate from the cabinet and started making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I sat at the table, unsure of what to say. The silence was heavy around us while she made the sandwich. She got the crust off and slid the plate in front of me. I took a huge bite. I was ravenous.

He didn't mean it, you know, what he said. My mom looked at me, sadly. Yes, he did, I said in a small voice. She sighed and took a gulp from a glass. She didn't say anything else. I finished my sandwich. My mom gave me a hug and a kiss and sent me off to bed. In the morning, my dad still hadn't come home.

The bruise around my mom's eye had turned a deep purple. She set a bowl of cereal down for me at the table when I came into the kitchen. It was Friday, but I wasn't in a good mood. After last night's events, I wasn't looking forward to another weekend

my dad was spent drunk. Does it hurt? I asked. She just shook her head. Hey, you haven't mentioned Martin lately. Are you two still friends? I nodded Martin was a kid my age and I guess he was the closest thing to a friend

but he could get annoying sometimes he always had to be right and he loved to remind people that he was asthmatic so he never wanted to play games but he was also the biggest weenie I'd ever met why don't you to have a sleepover it's been a while since you've hung out my mom suggested

a sleepover might not be a bad idea it would get me away from my dad no rain that morning, just a grey sky I got to school early and was surprised to see Mary Alice waiting to greet me Did you do your homework last night? She asked But there was a look in her eyes

Like she already knew the answer I shook my head I didn't think so Here She pulled her own homework out of a backpack And handed it to me I looked at her dumbfounded. You're letting me copy yours?

Sure, she said, and then she turned and walked off. I sat down on a bench and got to work quickly. Dewey, was that Mary Alice? I looked up to see Martin to come over. Yeah, she's letting me copy her homework, rough night. You know she has the evil either, right? Martin looked panicked as he sat down. Yeah, but.

But what does that even mean? I don't know. Melanie said, if she looks at you with it, she can put a curse on you. And Tyler said it means her eye is going to rot and fall out of her head. Chris said it means her grandma's a witch and she put a spell on Mary Alice when she was still in a mom's stomach. And now Mary Alice can see the dead. Martin was talking frantically, causing him to breathe heavily. Do you really think all of that's true?

I put my pencil down and looked at him carefully. Don't you think if any of that is true, something would have happened by now? Well, I... Martin scrambled for an explanation, but came up blank. Seriously, man, don't believe everything you hear. Sure, it looks bad, but you've got your own crap to worry about, with your dad and all. That shut Martin up. The bell rang and I rushed to copy a few more answers before shuffling the papers up

and passing them back to Mary Alice as we entered the school. The rest of the day flew by. Hey, my mum wants to know if we can have a sleepover tonight. I asked Martin as we exited the school. The sky was still grey, but a light drizzle was coming down. I'm sure my mom will be fine with it, he said. We both knew sleepover was code for. Can you watch my kid for a night?

I need a break. Sleep over, huh? Maybe I'll crash it. Mary Alice remarked as she joined us. Martin immediately went pale. I chuckled. You can't come to a boy sleepover. You're a girl.

I don't have to sleep over, but I can still come over. She stared at me with cold, unyielding eyes. I could see Martin shaking his head adamantly. We can go looking for the beavers. What? Martin and I both said in unison, We stopped in our tracks. My stomach clenched with dread.

The beavers? We can get proof they're real. I got a camera last Christmas. We can take a picture of them and prove they really do exist and they're not just made up. And then those guys at school will stop making fun of you. You guys want to come to my house today. Mary Alice said it so casually

like we were going to go to the store and get some pop. Do we? We can't go to her house. Her grandma's a witch. Martin hissed in my ear. Mary Alice whirled around and glared at us. Really? You of all people should know better than to spread rumours. Her voice was ice cold and Martin turned beat red.

Sure, we'll come, I said, trying to smooth out the tension in the air. Well, I'll come. And that was how we found ourselves at the door to the witch's layer. I'll come. And that was how we found ourselves at the door to the witch's lair. Except not really. Mary Alice's house looked relatively normal. Sure it was a little run down.

The yard was a little overgrown, but that's how most houses were here. Her house was made of bricks that were once red, but had now more of a faded dirt colour. Ivy crawled all over a house and the grass grew high. This is where you live? Martin asked incredulously. He had insisted on tagging along, so if something happened to me, someone would know about it.

Yeah, why? Mary Alice asked. It's so... Normal, Martin replied. Truthfully, her house looked in better condition than most of the houses in town. Mary Alice shrugged. My family was one of the original settlers here, way back.

She opened the front door and we went inside. As we took off our shoes and looked at the house around me. It was warm, cozy, more inviting than my own house was. A delicious smell wafted out from the kitchen and my stomach growled. I flushed with embarrassment as they both turned to look at me. All I'd eaten that day was the cereal my mom had given me. for breakfast. My mom rarely packed a lunch for me. Grandma, I'm home, Mary Alice called out as she made away to the kitchen.

I brought some friends, I hope that's okay. We followed her and found an ancient looking woman standing at an old oven. She sat down a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen table, pulled Mary Alice in for a hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Oh, well hello. How wonderful it is to see you. It's been far too long since we've had guests here. She said, Come in, sit, sit, you look hungry.

I flushed again, and it felt like her eyes pierced right through me. This is Martin and Dewey, Mary Alice said, sitting down and grabbing a cookie. Of course, how lovely to meet you, Grammy exclaimed. Make yourselves comfortable.

I'll leave your kids be. She gave us a wink and headed off into the house. Are you going to sit or what? I asked Martin as I climbed into a chair and grabbed a cookie. Martin was still standing in the doorway, frozen. He forced himself to walk over and climbed into a chair next to me, but his eyes were wide. Have a cookie, Mary Alice said, biting into another one.

As I bit into mine, the cookie melted in my mouth. mouth. There was nothing better than fresh-baked cookies. What if they're poisoned? Martin whispered to me. I don't think he intended for Mary Alice to hear him, but she rolled her eyes. Whatever, more for me, I told him as I bit into another heavenly cookie. So, what do you want to do? Let's go to my room. We can play a game. Mary Alice grabbed the plate of cookies.

cookies and raced down the hall and opposite of stairs. Mary Alice's room was not what I expected. Her walls were painted a lavender colour and she had potted plants in both of the windows. Her bed was neatly made, no clothes were on the floor, and tall bookcases stretched from the floor to the ceiling, crammed with books. Some of them were so worn and old that I couldn't read the spines. A dull house sat in one corner, an exact replica of her own. own house.

Mary Alice and I sat down on the floor with a plate of cookies between us. Martin followed us, looking around a room in wonder. You knit? He scoffed. Isn't that for old ladies? I make blankets and donate them to the shelter and the community centre, Mary Alice replied, giving him a sharp look. So, what game do we want to play?

I asked. Martin sat down next to me and gingerly took a cookie. His whole demeanour changed as soon as he bit into it. Truth or dare? Mary Alice exclaimed. I immediately felt uneasy. I'd never actually played truth or dare before, but I knew it could easily get out of hand. Who goes first? Martin asked nervously.

Do we? Truth or dare? Mary Alice asked. Uh, dare, I guess. I dare you? A wicked look crossed her eyes. To stick your tongue in Martin's ear. What?

No, Martin squirmed, but I knew I had to. I shut my eyes, stuck my tongue out and got it over with. The sour taste of earwax lingered in my mouth. Okay, um, Martin, truth or dare? I looked at him. I knew he wasn't one for risks, so I already knew what he would choose. Truth. What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?

Martin shifted uncomfortably. Last summer, a bunch of us went swimming in a creek. I had to... Um... Pass gas, but... It um... Martin's face went beat red. That was you?

Mary Alice fell over giggling. You're the one who pooped in the creek? She asked between laughs. Martin frowned and looked at her challengingly. Mary Alice, he said firmly. She immediately stopped laughing and sat up. Truth or dare? Truth, she said defiantly.

What really happened to your eye? A cold silence filled the air. Mary Alice looked down dolefully. Mary Alice, you don't have to... I started. Martin clared at me. It was clear. He wanted his revenge.

Mary Alice took a deep breath. When I was born, my eyes were two different colours. The other one was red. Like, the colour was red. And my dad... She took a deep breath before continuing. "'Grammy says my dad was a paranoid schizophrenic. "'He stopped taking his medicine and he didn't like my eye.

"'He said it was from the devil. "'One night he took a knife and tried to cut my eye out. "'My mom tried to stop him, and he stabbed her. "'When she wouldn't stop bleeding, he ran away. "'My mom died and they arrested my dad. "'So now I'm half blind and I live with my grandma, "'but I can see things with my blind eye. I can see things about people no one else can see.

I can tell when people are bad. I stared at her, dumbfounded. A sick feeling was twisting around in my stomach. Neither of us knew what to say, what we could say. I'm sorry, I said, but she interrupted me. Martin, truth or dare? There was a venomous look in her eye, and I knew what was going to happen. Martin was silent for a moment, weighing his options.

I think he knew what was coming to. Truth, he said finally. Where's your dad? It was more of a daring statement than a question. This time it was Martin's turn to look down. I already knew what had happened to Martin's dad, but no one else did. His mom was pretty embarrassed and wouldn't talk about it at all. He ran off with some guy who was having an affair with, probably the entire time my parents were married.

Apparently, he's always been that way, and my mum just trapped him by having me. Well, that's not so bad. What's wrong with being gay? Mary Alice asked. But we all knew not all of the residents of Beaver Falls were as understanding. I've tried calling him sometimes, but even when the call goes through, he never calls me back. I haven't seen him since he left. It's like he doesn't even care about me anymore.

Martin continued. My dad's the town drunk, I piped up, trying to smooth out the tension. I can't remember a day in my life when he wasn't drinking. He hit my mom last night, and he said he never wanted me, and he wanted to kill me. More uncomfortable silence.

No one knew what to say to each other. Well, aren't we a bunch of pathetic outcasts? Mary Alice chuckled. We all laughed then at how awful our home lives were. Is it raining? Martin suddenly exclaimed. We all turned to look at the window. The clouds looked almost black,

and it was indeed starting to drizzle. Oh no, I said, scrambling up. We got to go. We got a long walk ahead of us. We got to go. Martin stood up. I gave Mary Alice an apologetic smile, and we both turned and ran out of a room

and down the stairs to pull our shoes on, leaving her on the floor with her cookies. After Martin and I parted ways, I thought about what the truth or dare game had revealed about each one of us. I shivered as I thought about what Mary Alice's dad had tried to do to her. How could a parent try to hurt their own child so much?

But I guess the same could be said about my husband, dad. Martin's situation was bad in its own way too, although not as severe as mine or Mary Alice's. I vowed if I ever had a kid, I would be nothing like any of ours were. Just before I turned down my street, a scream pierced the air and I jumped. My heart jackhammered inside my chest and I whirled around, trying to find where he was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere. The screams came again and adrenaline filled my veins as I ran the rest of the way to my house. By the time I got home, it was pouring and I was soaked through. I climbed up the porch stairs, my wet clothes weighing me down and shoved the key into the lock on the front door.

But it wouldn't go in. I frowned. Mom? I called out, trying to be heard over the pattering rain. I banged on the door as hard as I could. After a moment, my mom opened the door. Oh, you're finally home, she said, looking relieved, and you're soaking wet. Go take a hot shower and I'll make you something warm to eat when you're done. I did, as I was told, relishing the warm water.

By the time my dad was done showering, there wasn't usually any hot water left. When I emerged from the steaming bathroom, my mom had collected my wet clothes and dried the puddle they had made on the floor. I pulled some pajamas on and went into the kitchen. My mom was stirring something in a pot on the stove. Why didn't my key work? I asked her, climbing into a chair.

I had the locks changed. Oh, I said, unsure of what to say. She slid a grilled cheese in front of me and then a bowl of steaming hot soup. I looked at it in wonder. Soup was a staple in our house, even in the summer, because of how cheap it was, but we hadn't had grilled cheese in a long time. One of my dad's favorite drunken snacks was grilled cheese, and he made it so often that my mom had just stopped buying cheese because he went through it so quickly.

Things are going to be different around here, she said, turning back to the stove and serving herself some soup. But what about... I was going to ask about my dad. How would he get home if the locks were changed? Don't you worry about him, my mom said. Did you ask Martin about to sleep over? Yeah, he said it would be okay. After you eat, pack some clothes in your sleeping bag and I'll drive you over. It's going to rain all night and I don't want you walking around in it. I nodded and started in my meal. It was a short drive to Martins and his mom looked exhausted when she opened the door. She apologized for the mess and exchanged pleasant use with my mom while I passed them to find

Martin. He was playing Donkey Kong on his Nintendo 64. The thing was ancient but still worked like it was brand new. He had bought it from the pawn shop in town three years prior after saving up his allowance for the whole year. Hey, I brought my raincoat, I said. dropping my voice to a whisper. Martin looked at me, puzzled. What for? For when we find the beavers? We're not going out there,

Martin said, turning his attention back to his game. Diddy Kong was shooting peanuts at bright blue beavers. For starters, it's raining. Secondly, my mom will never let us go out. Third, Mary Alice doesn't know where I live. And fourth, if we go out to that forest in the middle of the night, we're going to die.

After a night of video games, frozen pizza and junk food, we both fell into our respective beds long after his mom turned in for the night. I wasn't used to eating so much food in one day and my belly hurt. But just as I started to drift off to sleep, there was a tap in Martin's window.

Clink! My heart skipped a beat as we both sat up and looked at each other. Clink! There it was again. My heart thudded in my ears as we crept to the window, trying to see what was making that noise. A flash of lightning lit up Martin's front yard, and we saw small, green figures standing there. I grinned at Martin, took out my raincoat, pulled it on, and tiptoed to his front door.

Doey, we're not going out there, Martin hissed, trying not to wake his mom. Why not? Don't want to know if they're real? No, and especially not in the rain, not in a storm. When is it not raining here? I retorted. Fine, you can stay here, but I need to borrow your bike. I carefully unlocked and opened his front door and ran outside. Finally, Mary Alice exclaimed as I approached,

she was wearing her raincoat, which was green. Mine was black. A purple bike was parked behind her. Martin's not coming, I said. I was giddy with excitement. I'd never snuck out before, especially at night. We'll be better off without him, she said. Wait for me, Martin, whisper shouted as he came to join us in a blue raincoat.

He brought his bike down from the porch and got on. I climbed on, sitting between his handlebars, while Mary Alice climbed on hers. We rode in silence, only the street lamps and the occasional blink of lightning lighting our way. Mary Alice led the way, and I wondered if she knew where to go, and if she had been out into the forest before. Thunder rumbled ominously,

and I wondered if what we were doing was wrong, if we should turn back. We followed her through town, down the main street, turning towards the old abandoned lumber mill and the hiking trail that led towards the mountain. That was where everyone said the beavers lived near the giant waterfall that ran through the forest. It was supposedly where the town got its name.

Watch out! Mary Alice called back as she suddenly veered to the right. We were about halfway up the hiking trail when a pair of headlights swung around ahead of us. Martin turned sharply and with me on the handlebars he lost balance. We both fell, toppling into the underbrush. My heart was racing and I froze as I watched the car roll past us.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, but ice filled my veins as I recognized a familiar magnet on the back of the car. Panic rose in my throat and my stomach twisted. Wasn't that your... Martin said. Mom, I finished, frowning. What's she doing out here? Let's go, Mary Alice whispered, walking a bike back out to the trail.

I think this is where it splits off anyway. She pointed at a picnic table set across the path. A small tree had grown through the middle of it. It was a popular landmark that indicated you were about halfway up the trail. Just as we passed the table, a blood-curdling scream filled the air, and it sounded close. What the hell was that? Mary Alice whispered.

My skin prickled and goosebumps broke out across my flesh under my raincoat. I think we should leave, Martin whimpered. A scraping noise filled the air, followed by another scream. No, we came here for proof, that's what we're going to get. All we need to do is take a picture, Mary Alice said, unbuttoning her raincoat and exposing her camera. Just one picture. I agreed,

despite the feeling that I should turn around, go back the way we came, and pretend this never happened. Mary Alice leaned a bike against the picnic table and stepped into the forest, following the sound of screaming. Eventually, the screaming died down and all we were left with

was the sound of rain falling in the forest. We shuffled through wet leaves and sticks. Trees tall and thick, loomed high above us, The smell of wet foliage surrounded us. I'd only been up here once when I was a kid. We came here on a field trip to study the ecosystem. Even though it was only a few years ago,

it felt like it had been much longer than that. The forest looked much different now too. Back then, it had been another grey day, but the leaves were every hue of green. We overturned logs and rocks, looking for wriggling bugs beneath them. We took samples of water from ponds and streams to look at under microscopes. Now the forest seemed mysterious, dark and foreboding, like it was hiding a horrible secret.

The air was cold and chilly. The storm was relentless, and the more we weighed did in deeper, the more I wanted to go home. Occasionally, the scraping noise filled the space around the trees and sent chills at my spine. Hey, I whispered, getting the attention of my friends. I pointed to deep grooves that had been dug into the ground. Tire tracks. They led us to a river. The ground squished under our sneakers as we walked.

It felt like we had been walking forever and my feet were starting to hurt. What's that? Martin whispered, startling me and I jumped. We could see a light up ahead and someone was talking loudly. We crouched, until we were close enough to see and hear what was going on. We dug down behind a bush. A pickup truck was parked near it.

Its headlights were on, illuminating the forest ahead. You shouldn't have crossed me, Marcos, a voice called out. I peeked over the bush to see three people standing in the truck bed. You shouldn't have crossed me, Marcos, a voice called out. I peeked over the bush. to see three people standing in the truck bed. Then someone was kicked out of the truck. He fell onto the ground with a grunt and scrambled to stand up.

His arms were tied behind him. A second person jumped out of the truck and dragged the first to his feet, then dragged him in front of the truck. I recognized the first person immediately. His name was Marcos and he was an engineer. He worked with the construction company. which is where I recognised the second person. I'd seen him with a construction crew when they worked fixing up houses and roads.

I was pretty sure his name was Vinny, and he was always glued to his boss's side, which means the person in the truck must have been Tony. They were bad news. They were always cutting corners on their projects and drinking on the job. No one told me, but I always stayed out of the way out of instinct. But what were they doing out here?

Did you really think you could just throw me under the bus like that? That it wouldn't get back to me? Tonya was saying, you're a stupid sack of trash. He jumped from the back of the truck to join them. He kicked Marcos again. Yeah, did you really think you could leave town and turn us in? Vinny sneered.

You know you can't leave this town. And trying to turn us into the feds? The local police are in our pocket, you idiot. They know exactly what's going on, and they get a cut of every deal that goes on." Tony continued. "'Please, I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I'll do anything you want.

I'll give you anything you want. Just please, don't do this.' Marcus pleaded. "'See, that's your problem. You don't have anything I want. You're no use to me. And now we can't trust you.' Tony chuckled.

"'No, please,' Marcus cried out. There was a pause and my blood froze as I thought I saw something big and hulking, moving around just beyond the reach of the headlights. I looked at Mary Alice and Martin. Both of their eyes were wide with fear. They had seen it too. I turned back and watched as Vinny's stooped to pick something up. Then he pulled back his arm and threw something.

There was a soft thud and primal grunt as whatever was thrown made contact with something else. Vinnie repeated his actions until there was a low hissing noise. Vinny and Tony ran back to the truck as something huge and furry lumbered into the light. Thunder rumbled again and a chill gripped my spine. I recognized it immediately as one of the fabled beavers. Its long yellow teeth jotted down and glinted, its enormous tail dragged behind it. My stomach twisted. and I felt all the blood drained from my body. The beaver growled as it stepped closer to Marcos. It opened its mouth.

He screamed in anguish as blood rushed down from his wound, but the beaver didn't stop. Marcos continued to scream as the beaver's protruding teeth bit into his skin again. There was a chewing, scraping noise as it tore the flesh from his arm, picking the bone clean. The pale bone glinted as another flash of the skin. lightning cut through the sky. A wet squelching noise came from it as it chewed its meal. My stomach rolled and I thought I might puke. I dug down behind the bush, breathing heavily. Marcos has stopped screaming, but the sound was still ringing in my ears. The forest was

spinning in front of me. I thought I could see Martin and Mary Alice trying to get my attention, but I was having a hard time focusing on them. Just as I saw, turned to tell them we should leave. A beeping cut through the forest. A sick feeling came over me as I frantically tried to stop the alarm from my watch. A heavy silence filled the forest as I held my breath and waited to see what would happen. Who's there? Tony called out. Mary Alice and Martin were frozen with fear beside me. I had the click of a gun before Vinny spoke. Either you come out or I'm coming over there. On shaky legs, I pulled myself up

and forced myself to walk out of a hiding place. Every instinct in my body told me to run. Mary Alice and Martin followed me. Martin looked like he might crap his pants. And what do we have here? Tony crooned. Kids? You shouldn't be out here all by yourselves.

Come here. We'll take you home. A sinister as smile grew across his face Do we need to leave Mary Alice warned through gritted teeth She was holding her eye and hunched over in pain He's not a good guy, we can't trust him I looked between Tony and Vinny and the beaver

He was still chewing a mark as his arm The bone glinting in the light Get ready to run I whispered Towards the beaver Mary Alice breathed. Martin didn't say anything. Come here, Tony commanded.

His face was full of anger and irritation. One. Two. I tensed, ready to run. Three, Mary Alice hissed. We took off, rushing past the beaver. It watched us go, moving on to Chorn Marcus' other arm. The truck revved and bolted after us,

panting heavy. I tore through the woods, dodging trees and branches. I kept the river next to me as I ran, but I didn't know left from right out here. For all I knew, I could be heading right into the beaver's den. And that's exactly where we ended up. I stopped abruptly, realising where we were. Beavours were everywhere, and they were huge, as big as a horse. Quick!

Mary Ali said, pulling us behind a beaver. Its fur was thick and wet from the rain, but it didn't seem to mind us. We hid behind the beaver trying to catch our breath, light spilling into the area as the truck pulled in and rumbled to a stop. I know you're here, this is the end of line for you, Vinny called out. I took in my surroundings, trying to come up with a plan. I could see eight beavers in the area, two were trading water. in the river. The rest were milling about, waiting to see what would happen. I could see the dam

further up the river, and my stomach twisted as I could see it was made up of branches, trees, and bones. One of the beavers in the water had a bone in its mouth as it swam towards the dam. I watched as it packed it in with the other logs and branches. Other bones were scattered within it, and I shuddered as I thought about how many people must have died, and whose bones were now built into the dam. A crack filled the air, and my spine turned to rubber. They had fired a gun. Suddenly, all the beavers growled and hissed.

The one we were hiding behind heaved as it breathed heavily. The two in the river slapped the tails against the water in warning. I was so afraid I thought I might pee myself. I looked at my friends. Martin was shaking. I'm not going to tell you again. Tony yelled. There was another click as he cocked his gun again.

The forest was filled with the sounds of growling beavers. Another crack sounded as he fired the gun again. Silence followed. But only for a second. And then, the beavers attacked. They rushed the truck, swinging their thick tails and slamming them against the truck. It wasn't long before they managed to knock it of the truck. over. Vinnie and Tony scrambling out from inside it. Let's go, Mary Alice grabbed my hand and

pull me along with her. She had Martin in her other hand. We rushed past the truck as the beavers descended on it. Horrible screams filled the air as we passed. The sound of chewing and scraping filled the sky again, coupled with the screams of pain. We raced back the way we came, my heart beating in my ears. I was starting to wonder if we would get out of the same. I was starting to wonder if we would get out of here alive. But I gulped down my fear and pressed on. Wait, I skidded to a stop and looked back. I can't. Martin was wheezing and holding his chest. What's wrong? Mary Ellis asked. He's asthmatic. He needs his inhaler. Where is it? I shouted. From the corner of my eye, I could see the beaver who had been eating Marcos. Its eyes were

alert and trained on us. At home, Martin struggled to speak. We have to carry him, I said, as Mary Alice and I took each of his arms to support him. But we'd only made it a few steps when he let out a yelp, and something tugged us back. He let out a scream, just as I looked back to see the first beaver we had accounted sink its teeth into Martin's leg. Go without me. You have to. His screams pierced my ears. I looked into his eyes, the eyes of the closest friend I had,

who I'd spent countless nights playing video games with and having sleepovers. How could I just leave him? He let out another scream as the beaver bit down again. Mary Alice grabbed my hand and dragged me up. We ran until my legs burned, but I pressed on anyway. When we got back to the picnic table, we grabbed the bikes and rode down the hiking trail, Back into town.

The screams from the forest haunted us the whole way. We went right to the police station. We told them what happened. I expected the police to laugh at us, to not believe us. But they did believe us. The two officers who questioned us shared an odd luck when we mentioned Tony and Marcos, but they said nothing. They called our parents to collect us.

Martin's mom arrived first, demanding to know what happened. The police consoled her, promised her they were pulling together a team to go looking for Martin. But I knew better. My mom arrived next, crushing me to her. Oh, Dewey, are you hurt? Are you all right? She asked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked me over. Just a little bruised, I guess.

I said, numbly. I was still trying to process the events swirling around in my head. Let's go, we're leaving, she said in a hush tone. When I got to the car, I was surprised to see it was packed. Mom? Get in the car, Dewey. She said nothing else. I got in the front seat and buckled my seatbelt. We rode in silence until we came to an old, weathered, now leaving.

beaver falls, we hope you had a damn good time sign, and then passed it. My mom stiffened as blinking red lights waited for us just beyond the city limit. The chief of police stepped forward with his hands up as my mom slowed the car and rolled down the window. Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to turn around and go back the way you came. Why? My mom asked, her voice shaking. "'Ma' "'You know we're investigating the disappearance of your husband,

"'and you're a key witness. "'Neither of us said anything "'on the drive back to our house "'until we pulled into the driveway. "'I glanced at Mom. "'She looked exhausted, "'like she had had decades since the last time I'd seen her. "'I took a deep breath, and then I spoke.

"'Mom, why were you out there "'in the woods tonight?' She squeezed her eyes like she was in pain. She didn't answer right away, like she was weighing her options, trying to figure out how to answer me. Why were you out there, Dewey? You were supposed to be at Martins. She wouldn't look at me. She kept her eyes trained on the steering wheel.

Where is Dad? I asked. It came out more like a challenge instead of answering her question. She didn't answer that either. She sat back, leaning her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. I waited for her to answer. But she didn't. Neither of us said anything.

We just sat there in silence. My mother's truth hung heavy in the air. I knew why she was out there, and I think she knew that I knew too. There was a lot for me to process. The closest thing I had to a friend was now gone, forever. My father would never be coming home. And now this. After everything I witnessed tonight,

the bullying I'd experienced throughout my life seemed so insignificant. I noticed Mary Alice was sitting on our porch. I left my mom in the car, the door slamming shut behind me, punctured our conversation. As I climbed up the steps, I tore off my raincoat. But my clothes were soaked underneath. I threw it down on the floor beneath us and looked to Mary Alice. What happened? she asked.

We can't leave, I said. She nodded knowingly. We didn't really have anything else to say. We both needed to think about what had happened, what we had seen. She handed me something and then jumped down the stairs, climbed onto a bike, and rode off into the rain. It was her camera. I turned it on.

There was only one picture. A beaver was standing behind Marcos, his bloody arm in his mouth. His face was frozen in an eternal scream. At least I'd gotten my proof. I still wake up in the night when a beaver stumbles into town, its long nails clicking on the pavement,

dragging its heavy tail behind it. I now understand the looks the town people get when screams fill the air, the pain and hurts behind their eyes. I understand what causes it and how. I know the secrets of this town now. But one day, I know I will leave this town and never look back. Sea air, it's idyllic, people crave it. To live beside the seaside is considered a privilege. some sort of picturesque life that those living in cities can only dream of.

That's the sort of thing they told me, my friends online. The part of grown up by the sea that others don't tell you about, or for the most part even consider, is the loneliness. The pool of friends and love interests is much smaller, especially in the tiny ocean towns. It's what drove me to a life of lurking the darkest corners of the internet, trying to satiate my need for some kind of human connection. I'm a horror fan.

I've spent hours lurking this sub and a million other dark and interesting forums on the web. I won't name the place I found my friends. I wouldn't want others to go digging and end up in the sort of predicament I find myself in. After all, I'm sure most of you are just like me, merely looking for a scare before bed and someone to talk to.

The friends that I made online were hardcore, obsessed with urban legends, unsolved mysteries, and finding the real scariest things that's been posted online. I suppose I was no different. Not at first anyway. I reveled in the grainy video footage and my favourites were the tales that you couldn't quite disprove. I wasn't alarmed about the obsessive direction my friends were taking until a guy with a username, Loitus with intent, started posting. posting to the forum. He got involved in the Discord and became a big player amongst the group.

He claimed to have spent years proving urban legends real. As skeptical as the group could be, we all desperately wanted proof. For even one of the mysteries that we had obsessed over to be real would have vindicated all the hours we spent discussing them. Loiters with intent was the kind of guy that no one wanted to admit they were a little scared of. Whilst the others were sharing memes and John Bonnet theories He was sending us freaky videos from the depths of the web With gore and jumps that looked perfectly realistic When he sent us instructions to access one of the websites for a video

I knew that it had to be some deep web stuff It didn't squash my curiosity I'd always been fascinated by the idea of surfing the deep web Browsing the dark, the mysterious corners of the internet To my heart's content It had some type of sick allure, and I'd often found myself looking for worse things people have seen on the dark net threads over the years. I followed the instructions to the letter

and was met with a mostly black web page with a tiny video box in the middle. In red letters above the extra small video box were the words A Birth of a Legend. I wondered if Loiters with intent had made it himself in some poor attempt to scare us all. I wasn't very technological. I had only been able to access the website with instruction,

so I had no idea how difficult or easy that might be. I pressed play, and the first thing I was confronted with was a beautiful girl. Man, she looked terrified, but she was so stunning. Long, wavy, dark hair, and deep brown eyes lured me in. But the terror that glazed them made me. me feel wholly uncomfortable. If the girl was acting, then she deserved an Academy Award before she ever said a word. If the cameraman backed up a bit, I could see that the girl was stood on an unfamiliar, empty beach. Run, came a voice from behind the camera, a mocking and gloating man.

Please, it hurts so bad, the girl replied, voice cracking as she spoke directly into his camera. If anyone's watching, please help me. She wore a tattered white dress, the sort of dress a girl like that would wear to her fancy party. But it looked like she had been away from the party for quite some time. There were rips exposing bruises that covered her whole beautiful body. My heart broke as she attempted to run across the sand, tripping and stumbling as the cameraman laughed and mocked her. The beach in the video was huge.

A vast expanse with no sign of reaching a town or long. land. As the camera panned round, I could see that the sand stretched of miles. If the guy wanted to hurt her, then she had no chance of escaping. He was allowing her a head start, purely for his own amusement. The sicko. Discord notifications pinged my phone on the desk as the others made their way through the video. What the hell, man? What is this loiters? Is this real? Ha, nice try, but this is fake, I remained fixated on the video, the girl trying to run and hide in the open landscape with a choice between miles of sand or the thick barrier rock pools that met the water. It was no choice at all really.

In her position, I probably would have just laid down and accepted my fate. The camera turned around to face the cameraman, fully clad in a balaclava. He lifted the mask just enough so that the viewers could. see his ravenous smile. Well done to the highest bidder. This is for you. He walked towards the girl, his steps making a lot more progress than her frantic,

panicked running. He wigged a screwdriver in front of the camera as he approached her and she fell to the ground. Watching the video from the cameraman's POV felt voyeuristic, like it was me standing above the poor woman with a weapon, like I'd taken her there. I winced hard as he brought the screwdriver down with force and plunged it into a leg,

then her arm, then her other leg. He hit every non-deadly area possible before finally sticking it deep into her eye, hovering as it forced its way into the socket like jelly, and the tip of the metal implement presumably reached the brain. He dragged and threw a body into a deep rock pool and turned the camera to face him one more time. Balaclava still rolled up above his mouth. I hope your bottom feeders like that.

Time for some real bottom feeders to enjoy her now. He laughed evilly, relishing what he'd done. I felt tears rolled down my cheeks. It was too realistic. I felt responsible for not saving her, for her death, for making my way through an entire snuff film. I felt dirty. Then the video took a turn.

The smile turned to an expression. of shock before the killer dropped the camera. Sounds of screaming overtook and I could hear my Discord notifications going wild, but I didn't stop to check them. I couldn't tear myself away from the screen. The screaming ended promptly and the video shook as it was lifted to focus on the body of the cameraman, still clad in his balaclava, but now lined face up on the rock pools. I wish I could say he suffered like the girl did, but he was certainly dead.

Most alarmingly, his entire face was covered with small baby crabs, nipping away at chunks of mask, flesh, and then raw skin. I felt sick, fought back the bile and pushed my computer chair about a foot back from the screen. The video turned around once more to face the new videographer. She was just as beautiful as before. despite the dark waves being a little distressed. Parts of her squished eye were smeared around the socket and inside it were more of the tiny little crabs. They weren't consuming her the same way they were her killer,

just decorating her face. She smiled a wide, unnatural smile and spoke. You should have tried to help me. Instead, you just watched. I'll see you soon. Then it went black. and I tried to steady myself a little. I'd seen what probably amounted to thousands of creepy and dark videos on the web,

but never anything like that. Everything I'd seen before had a grain of skepticism about it, but something about what I'd just seen had felt so real. I wondered if it had been a live feed. If it had, was she really addressing me? It felt like she had. I lifted my phone to check the notification. see what the others were saying about it.

There were a ton of messages, mostly expressing pure shock and confusion, quite a few insisting it couldn't be real. The only one that stood out to me was a single message from loiters with intent. It said, This video was part of a live stream on the deep web as a result of an auction held by a hitman. The winning bidder chose the girl from the party and the murder weapon. weapon. Rumors in those forums state that every viewer from the original stream found themselves drawn to the beach and disappeared mysteriously not long after watching. I never clicked play, but I knew you guys would. Prove it real, friends. Beware the Crab Woman. His message

had made most of them laugh. They couldn't get over the ridiculousness of the Crab Woman, and in all honesty, every single one of us was desensitized to that stuff. some more than others. Monsters and creature features was something of a joke in our community, a subgenre to be mocked. A few of them even praised the video's production values asking if Loitus had any more.

But hours passed and no new message from him appeared. I didn't say anything else either. Something about the video made everything we were interested in seem dirty, sinister somehow. I couldn't get that beautiful girl out of my head, the sheer terror in her eyes at the start. Even if it was fake, those eyes would haunt my dreams.

I thought about what Lloyd's has said too, and to be honest, living by the sea made me nervous. As far as I knew, none of my other anonymous friends lived this close to the ocean. They could joke about an urban legend that suggested they would end up on a beach dead without any real consequence. I was creeped out, and for me, it was a little close to home. So I did what I could to push it out of my mind. I spent the next few days watching Disney movies and browsing much fluffier places on the internet. I muted my Discord notifications. I didn't want to talk about creepy stuff for a while.

It encouraged me to get out when I started to take daily runs, attempting to improve my fitness in the hope I could maybe make some of my stuff. in real life friends. Thankfully, it worked. It had been weeks since I thought about the girl, the man in the balaclava, and the horde of tiny crabs

that ate them both. Loiters with intent and his freaky message had been all but forgotten. Until a few hours ago. I left for my run today, just like always. I ran along the cliff top

and passed the bandstand. I don't know at what point I climbed down. the stairs to the beach. But I did. I found myself there, exhausted. I did what any human does and I tried to rationalize it in my head. The beach didn't look like the one in the video. It wasn't a vast expanse and there were other people on it. There were steps to the left and a slope to the right. I convinced myself that my forgotten journey was my mind playing tricks on me. The video had bothered me so much that I had

I'd ended up at the beach as some sort of sick subconscious joke. That's when I started typing this out. I thought maybe if I processed what I'd saw, then I would be able to get over it. It was therapeutic at first, sitting here in the sea air typing out my experience, cathartic even. But the last time I looked up, I realized that something was seriously wrong. There aren't any steps to my left anymore, or slope to the right. The cliff top has all but disappeared, and all I can see for miles is sand. The people have gone too, all but one that is.

I'm sure I can see a girl sitting on the rock pools. Thirty hours ago I hopped on a late night flight from New York heading to Los Angeles. After boarding, I saw that I had an entire row to myself, take off past without incident, and soon I was stretched out for a nap across the row. I slept for a few hours, I don't know how long, but I woke up to some severe turbulence. It's possible that the lights in the cabin went out for a moment, but I was so disoriented that it's hard to say. I checked my phone to see that it was 403 a.m., which I figured gave me about an hour until we landed.

When I looked out my window, I was shocked to see nothing but wide open ocean. My jaw dropped. There's obviously no ocean between New York and Los Angeles. I hit the button to call the flight attendant and spend the next few minutes racking my brain for a lake that could have been possibly big enough to explain what I was seeing. I jumped when the attendant flipped the light off. She was grinning from ear to ear, and tears were pouring down her cheeks.

How can I help you, sir? She asked. I froze for a moment at her reaction before deciding to just ask my question. Where are we? Why does it look like we're flying over an ocean? She wiped her cheeks to clear the tears. still grinning widely.

Sir, we'll be landing in about an hour. I... Uh... Okay, thank you, I said. After she left, I checked the clock of my phone again. 4.03am blinked at me. It hadn't changed. I had to have been waiting with my call light on for at least five minutes.

How is it possible that it had to have been waiting for at least five minutes? How is it possible that it had to have? hadn't changed at all. I opened up my laptop and saw it too displayed 403 a.m. I pulled out my phone, started a stop watching the app and spent the next two hours looking back and forth between the clocks, waiting for them to change. They never did.

I tapped the shoulder of an older woman sitting in the row ahead of me. She looked back, an annoyed expression across her face. Yes? she asked. Do you know how long until we land? I asked. She narrowed her eyes. That flight attendant said it would be about an hour.

I shook my head in confusion. That flight attendant? We talked almost two hours ago. We should have landed already. She stared at me as if I was crazy. I was going to continue trying to convince her, but I felt a hand of my shoulder. I spun to see a male flight attendant grinning down at me,

tears pinging off his cheeks onto my shoulder. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down, or I'll be calling the captain. I told him that wouldn't be necessary and sat back. He removed his hand and stepped away. The flight attendant continued to stop by every few hours offering meals. My stopwatch continued to tick up

and is now telling me that I've been on this plane for more than 30 hours I've explored all of the coaches and tried talking to some of the other passengers but they've all told me that they're expecting to land in an hour or so around three hours ago I tried getting into first class

I made it past the curtain but was escorted back by two grinning flight attendants they grip on my arms were like iron Sir, the seatbelt sign is on, one said Please remain in your seat with your buckle fastened We'll be landing in about an hour I'd just about giving up hope When a woman came down the aisle dressed in a business suit

She didn't look at me or slowed down But she dropped a piece of paper onto my tray And she made away to the bathrooms at the back of the plane I shot a look around before unrolling it It said Are you stuck too? I pulled out a pen and wrote Yes, it's been 30 hours

I folded the scrap of paper up And set it on the tray closest to the aisle She left the bathroom And picked it up as she passed It's been 20 minutes since then I don't know why But I don't think the flight attendants would like it If they knew we were talking

It doesn't matter I have to do something I'll update you all with whatever happens next a few hours after the business woman picked up a piece of paper with my message she came back down the aisle and sat in the seat beside me

she bent over trying to stay low so you're stuck too she asked I get my voice low yeah my name's Jack by the way I'd say nice to meet you but she nodded

I'm Mary. You're wrong. Getting your message was by far the best thing about the past day. I spent the last day and a half thinking I was alone in this. She paused for a moment before looking up the aisle. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. So, Jack, you have any theories on what the hell's going on? I considered lying, but decided the truth was for the best. I think... might be dead. Mary shook ahead. Maybe if it were just me or just you. If this was some

cosmic train to hell, why would there be two of us who realize what's going on? No idea. Mary pulled out her phone and handed it to me. It displayed the Wikipedia article for flight MH370, the airline that disappeared in 2014. I read through the article carefully. There were dozens of theories trying to explain what happened. They ranged from hypoxia to suicide to aliens. Doesn't tell us much, I said. Not much other than that this may have happened before, she said. How about you?

Any theories as to why anyone else can't see what's going on? We talked it over and realised one thing we had in common was that we were both fast asleep at 4.03 a.m. There's no way we were the only ones asleep at that time though. Maybe everyone else was just napping. I don't know about you, but I was well and truly asleep. The cabin lights flicked off and a dozen red emergency lights on flicked on, casting the cabin in a red glow.

The intercombelled a life saying, Passengers, please return to your seat. The seabelt sign is fastened. We may experience some turbulence. We will be landing in about an hour. Mary froze Should I go back? She asked

Maybe they won't notice if you're gone But maybe they already know And they're just trying to separate us Mary nodded We should stay together That's a better idea The intercom crackled again Ladies and gentlemen

I am pleased to announce the arrival of the captain We'll all be given the opportunity to speak with him Please remain in your seat until he calls you If you need assistance, don't worry, a flight attendant will happily help you on your way. Sounds of passengers getting to their feet echoed from further up in the plane. We sat in silence, trying to get a good look through the curtain, separating us from first class. The captain? I asked.

No idea, but it didn't sound like they were talking about the pilot to me, did they? Nope. That's when a pungent sulphur smell hit us. so strong that I had to resist the urge to gag. It reminded me of the worst rotten eggs I'd ever smelled in my life, but the old woman sitting ahead of us didn't react. She just kept watching a movie on the back of her seat. Don't cough, I said to Mary.

We fought it for a few long seconds before giving in, coughing hard and violently. A second later, the curtain over. opened. Mary and I froze, staring down at the now red fuselage. Four flight attendants passed through the curtain and made their way down the road towards us. Grins stretched wide across their face. They were still crying, but this time the tears streaking their faces were darker. It's hard to say with the lighting, but it looked like blood.

My eyes weren't drawn to them though. I looked over the shoulders of the figures standing near the front of the plane. It was a black silhouette standing beside the cockpit door. It was at least eight feet tall and pointing towards us with a single finger. It had called us. The bathrooms, I shouted. We ran towards the back of the plane, the flight attendants closing in behind us. Blood dripped from their grinning cheeks under the carpet of the plane.

The captain is here, he said, in a perfect customer service voice. His grin widened as he moved towards us. We made it to the bathrooms, jumping into opposite sides. I slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing my feet against the folding centre part of the door to keep it closed. They began banging in the door and pulling at the handle while I fought to keep it closed. I'm sorry, but you'll both need to speak with the captain. One of the flight attendant said,

Jack, Mary screamed. Jack, help! A distinct snapping sound like breaking metal came from her door. She continued screaming as the sounds of struggle migrated up towards the front of the plane, towards the dark figure I'd seen. I'd like to say I jumped out and fought them, that I distracted them or did something heroic. I didn't.

She was carried away, and a few short seconds later, her screaming was cut off. That was a few hours ago, and I'm still locked inside this bathroom. I keep trying not to think of what they've done with her. The thing at the front of the plane didn't seem human. I hope they didn't kill her. Not after she was shouting for my help like that. I... couldn't take that.

I haven't heard any movement outside for a few hours, but I'm terrified to open the door. I'm far from the sea outlets, so my phone's almost dead, and I haven't eaten in way too long. If I go out there with the flight attendants, remember? What if that thing is still waiting for people? I don't have much time to make a decision. After another dozen hours or so, I opened the bathroom door. The lights in the cabin were back to normal, and I couldn't smell any sulphur. I cautiously made my way back to my seat and almost cried when the grinning, crying flight

attendant came by, offering a meal. That crappy airline food was the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten. When I'd finished, my mind immediately turned to Mary. What had happened to her? I crept down the aisle towards first class. trying to keep a low profile. Surprisingly, the flight attendants were nowhere to be seen. It almost seemed to ignore me, almost as if they wanted me to find her.

She had a road to herself and was staring down at her phone in the window seat. I slid into the aisle and shook her arm. Mary! Mary! I hissed. She pulled out her headphones and stared at me with a surprise expression. expression. Yeah? What's going on? Are you okay? I asked. What did they do to you? I'm sorry, remind me how I know you? What do you mean? We just... I realized with sinking horror that she had no idea who I was. I thought back tears. Mary, how long have you been on this flight? She checked the watch on her wrist.

It's 4.3 a.m., so a few hours at least. She stared at me the same way you'd look at a person claiming there were the second coming of Christ. Her tone was low and reassuring. Hey, don't worry so much. Look on the bright side. We'll be landing in about an hour. I felt an iron grip in my arm and looked up to see two flight attendants. Sir, this is an area for first-class passengers only.

They were still crying and grinning, but just with tears this time. I could still see streaks of blood standing in the front of their uniforms though. I was escorted back to my seat where I spent the next several days. Attendants continued to stop by with food. I would use the bathroom and soon was going absolutely crazy with the monotony. In retrospect, those few days weren't so bad. There's a lot of content on the internet after all, even with crappy plane Wi-Fi, so it didn't get really bad until around 10 days later, when the Wi-Fi failed.

It was sometime a week later that I lost control and began screaming for a flight attendant. They didn't come for several minutes, but eventually one did. Just... Just let me see the captain. I asked. The flight attendant bent low and spoke with the same customer service voice. I'm sorry, sir. The captain has made his decision regarding you quite clear.

You didn't answer his call and will therefore wait. How long? Quite a while, I'm afraid. We'll be landing in about an hour. She straightened and walked away. I started making notches on bruce. various parts of the seat back to keep track of different things. One notch was for each time I used a bathroom.

One for each meal. One for every time I was given a movie. That sort of thing. It was hell. I watched every movie in the seat back a dozen times over. If I acted out badly enough, I would be escorted back to my seat by one or more flight attendants. Any attempt at conversation with other passengers was met by confusion.

by them, followed by a quick escort back to my seat. I guess it was on or around day 30 that, in a moment of panic and psychosis, I broke my laptop and phone, screaming at the top of my lungs. No one around me reacted in any way. Two months later, I stunk. The muscles in my legs were tight and cramped constantly. I finally concluded that suicide. The suicide was my only option after my 128th rewatch of Thor Ragnarok. I got to my feet and limped towards the emergency exit.

I knew normally the pressure inside the airplane would force the door closed, but I figured that nothing about my situation was normal. If this didn't work, I'd find some more painful way to go. I grabbed the handle and swung it up. To my shock, the door opened easily. easily, though no wind of any kind whipped around the cabin. It remained the standard, slightly too cold temperature that it had been for the past who knew how long.

The open door called to me, the black portal out of the plane. I stared at it for a moment longer, almost too long. An attendant's hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me away. In a fit of anger and strength that surprised me, I wrenched away and the way. and jumped out of the plane. The wind whipping past my face was almost magical, a new sensation after so many months of the same. The ocean below grew closer and larger,

and I realized that suddenly I didn't want to die after all. It grew larger and larger and larger until it seemed that all I could see was darkness and waves. I impacted the surface of the water. so fast and hard that my entire body jerked around in the seat. I pulled my hand back, sucking, and my bruised knuckle. I'd hit it on the seat in front of me. No, I whispered, then shouted.

No, no, no, no, no, no. And flight attendant ran down the aisle, kneeling beside me. Are you okay, sir? I clenched my hands into a fist, almost swinging it at her. But then I realized. She wasn't crying. To be honest, she looked a little scared of me. I reached my right hand down to my pocket,

where I could feel my now unbroken phone. 4.4 a.m. Sir, if you calm down, we'll be landing in about an hour. My mouth tasted like ash. Thank you, I managed. I will, I stared. I'm blinking at my phone. It now displayed

405 a.m. Then I looked at my window and began to cry at the sight of city lights below me. We did land in about an hour. I can't even begin to explain why or how, but I'm currently sitting in an airport cafe

typing this out. I'm free. I'm out. and I'm never going flying again.