CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 7 MIND WARPING Reddit Horror Stories for the Halloween month

Episode Date: October 14, 2020

LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "I got myself a Weighted Blanket, and now I'm trapped inside my Bedroom" Creepypasta►28:58 "My brother and I found a structure buried beneath our home" Creepypasta►1:03:07 "I'm not allowed to talk about Papswall" Creepypasta►1:28:02 "Children keep disappearing in Pirin National Park, and I found out why" Creepypasta►1:44:13 "Spelunking in the Passage Cave System" Creepypasta►2:15:04 "There Is Nothing In The Walls" 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. CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►vladimirchebakov: https://www.instagram.com/p/B7Qvo9qJs0H/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-

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need to This all started because of a simple sentence, every single day. I just feel so tired. Now, anyone who has a full-time job in any sector would use these words at least once a week. I mean, the only people who ever seem immune to this are your high-earning career people, who I am sure are all on some form of upper, if not straight up cocaine, or people who have graduated from tired to just plainly no longer giving a damn. damn. The latter are characterised by a simple, I'm fine. All I know is that my mental

and physical fatigue must be brought on by my inability to switch off at night. I can point out several possible culprits to blame for this, the anxiety of an overworked, underpaid career, my recent breakup with a girl I had been with for the last three years. It could also just plainly be the fact that I am out of shape and tend to stress eat, a truly vicious cycle. Regardless of the end of the end of the end of the day I am simply not getting the required 8 hours of rest needed to keep a healthy lifestyle But come on

No one has time to sleep anymore Bills need pain And that rich ass all above you doesn't give a crap How tired you are You are replaceable I was able to function on 3 to 4 hours of sleep in the past But for the last week or two It seems my body has set an ultimatum for itself

either I get a full eight hours of sleep or I don't sleep at all. This has begun to influence my ability to work as I would pretty much turn into a zombie staring at a monitor. Don't get me wrong, I still get some work done but it sure as hell isn't the amount expected of me. Thankfully, my team manager was a friend and had known about my insomnia before I had even started working there. She remained as supportive as she could for as long as she was able to

and, I would have made a formal complaint, if I saw someone sleeping during that many team meetings, but when the bottom line started to hit, she had to step in. I remember how terrified it was when she asked me to stay behind on Wednesday before quitting time.

When I was entering her office, my palms were slick with sweat and I felt as though all the blood in my face had retreated to the recesses of my stomach. Jason, you don't have to look so pale, man. She gestured to the chair opposite her. With my slightly blurred vision, I attempted to keep eye contact and sat down. You wanted to see me, Becca?

She gave a blurry smile and replied, Jason, you're tired, and it is pretty obvious that you can't cope with the work I'm sending away. She gave a slight shrug. Your numbers aren't going down, and I can't keep hiding it, my man. I gave a shaky nod. She was right I'm not much of a senior

if I'm barely keeping up as I was getting ready some sort of apology and promise of improvement the awkward silence was broken so I sorted out a quick fix for you well maybe

I stared up at her and replied a bit louder than intended anything I really can't lose this job whatever you suggest I'll do my vision had returned as though my mind had managed to learn the tiredness, eager to learn the good night's sleep. Like you, I was having some trouble sleeping a while back.

I mean, you think you have a lot to do? She smirked. Just never become a team manager. The hours are bad and the pay is even worse. She paused and looked over at me, half-expectingly. In hindsight, I realised she wanted me to laugh. I was just too eager to hear what her solution was to pay attention to any unrelated details. She augudely cleared her throat. You ever try a weighted blanket? I could honestly say no.

You ever have that feeling when someone mentioned something you both knew about, but never actually thought about. The concept just seemed odd to me way back when. My go-to-for-fixing my sleeping problem was medication and trying to tie myself out with exercise. No, never really tried it. I heard her give a small snort no doubt in response to how I've been suffering lack of sleep it was too tired to explore all the possible ways of fixing the problem Well I remember you used to look a lot more alive with your ex

Amanda Amy I auto-corrected Not really sure why my head wanted to get online again now Yeah her Anyway I remember when I was having issues I slept better when I felt like someone was in the bed with me I assumed I pulled an odd face because the next response from her

out at maxed and I'm not talking about bumping uglies I mean some good wholesome cuddling people feel safer and can fall asleep easier the thought had honestly not even crossed my mind I was too busy daydreaming about Amy wondering what she was up to sorry I kind of dozed off

so should I just get some heavy blanket She let out a sigh She let out of her phone Link, read, Yes She looked at me Though I was a confused child Trying to get which end of the spoon

Goes in its mouth A test, I honestly felt I could fail at this point in time Yes, Mom I said Trying my best to balance the gratitude With the sarcasm Yeah, yeah

Stop slouching and go play with the other kids then Let me know if you need an advance on your pay I really suggests going with a more expensive option. And so I spent the rest of my week, researching weighted blankets, looking online for the prices. And I must say, it is expensive. The pricing naturally being influenced by size, but also by what they actually put in the damn thing. When I read glass, I actually imagined them putting fist-sized crystal balls that would hang off the sides of my bed. I was actually a little disappointed when I saw that everything they stuffed in the same thing.

the blanket was essentially the size of sand. So in the end, I took up my manager's offer of getting an advance payment. It was only the second week of the month, and I kind of went a little crazy the weekend prior, and got myself a 13-kilogram glass bead blanket. They said the shipping would take from three days to two weeks, depending on whether or not you were stupid enough to trust the mail service of my home country. Like any sensible person, I opted for a courier. It was the price irons, but I'd rather the blanket than let some disgruntled a run off with it.

The following three days were excruciating. My sleep had somehow managed to get worse since now my head was occupied with thoughts of the blanket. You could say the anticipation was actively trying to kill me. I remember how, on the third day,

I'd pretty much been sleeping through my shift when I was awoken by my manager. Damn, what planet did you go to? The grasp by my shoulder felt firmer than usual. Pretty sure Becker was more annoyed with my sleeping than she was letting on. Sorry, sorry, we'll take a walk and get some coffee in me. I'm so...

She squeezed my shoulder to quiet me down. Packaged for you at the front desk. Take it and go home. I write it up a sick leave, alright? A genuine warm smile came across her face, and I knew she was right to send me home. At this rate, the day of her. was a write-up, upon arriving home, I grabbed a knife and basically went Mike Myers on that box.

I felt surprised when I remembered that the blanket was in there, and I could have easily damaged one of the most expensive pieces of cloth I had ever owned. Once out of the box, I could say it looked like it was worth the ridiculous price. Velvety soft and thick, not at all coarse like I had imagined it. I could feel the weight too, my brain almost screaming that the blanket should be about five times bigger than it was around 1pm, but I was so floaty that I decided I might as well test the blanket out right away. Being optimistic, I set my alarm for my usual wake-up time for work. I was too tired to care about waking up for supper. I would just make up for it the next day

during lunch. I got onto my bed and burrowed underneath a new blanket. At first, it felt slightly odd, as though I was buried several pillows. Slowly I began to think that this would end in failure, another expense in the unwinnable battle of sleep. But then, the weight began to settle around me.

My mind began to imagine the embrace of my mother, and I could feel myself fall away. The park smelled like spring. I could hear the faint sizzling of meat on grills, along with the laughter of my friends. It was summer holiday, and we were all at the

park for my birthday. I was turning 12 and my parents decided that rather than doing a stuffy at home or restricted in a restaurant, that we would go to the local botanical garden and set up several picnic spots. Jason, why are you sitting there, son? I looked up at the warm, wide smile of my dad as he loomed over me. Don't know, felt like sitting, I replied, scanning around us to see where my friends had gone. They were all running near the shift. trees, yelping and jumping as they tried to avoid everyone. Don't you want to go join them, kiddo? My dad asked after I stared for a while.

Not yet, I want burgers. I looked up with my dad with a toothy grin, feeling the gentle breeze blowing past the gap at the bottom row of teeth. Dad raised an eyebrow with a mock stern face. You want burgers? Please, I responded with a giggle. Dad, we'd keep holding sounds and we remembered our manners. My sister and I once got him to hiss like a snake for almost five minutes before mom decided

the game had to end. With his smile returning, he said, Sure thing kiddo, go find your mom for me, huh? But she wants to see the birthday boy for a bit. I presented to him my arm and he took a firm grip and, in one swift motion, lifted me so I was on my feet. The moment he let go, I shot off towards my mum, walking with my little sister near the trees. Before I reached her, I saw her turning to me.

And here he comes. Can the birthday boy make it all the way? Sarah, my sister, took on a roll of a proper hype man for my mum by beginning to ooh and R at the comments. I leapt at my mom once I was within arm's reach. We both fell to the ground, and I began to half panic my mum. I realised I knocked her over. But these fears were immediately extinguished when I heard a laugh under me. Ouch, I was more thinking of a racing car than a wrestler.

What do you think, Sarah? Mom looked up at her while she started tugging on my arm. He's just not happy that it can't make Dad fall. I heard a small voice say in between the tugs. Sorry, Mom, did I hurt you? Hoping the concern of my voice will be very obvious. Oh, don't worry, Jason. Your mommy isn't a pushover.

She paused. All right, but you got me, but you got me, I felt a kiss of my forehead. My little boy is too big and he's only 12. We need to start stocking up on more food or you might eat the whole house with how fast you're growing. Once we were both on our feet, Mom knelt down and hugged me so tight I thought my eyes would pop out. Mom, you're crushing me. I could hear her laughing as a grip loosened. Oh, don't be such a bit.

baby. burgers, you animals. Dad's voice out, the park. The army of kids stormed my dad at his station. I could see him holding some of them back, since they almost ran into the grill. I looked

back at Mom and Sarah to walk back with them for the food. I was starving. The only problem was that I couldn't see Sarah anymore. My mom was staring at something in the opposite direction of me, and the party. Mom, where'd Sarah go? We had fallen

into the shade of the trees. It was a warm day, but I don't remember it being so close. My breath began to get louder in my ears. It sounded as though I had run flat out only moments ago. My mom turned around and with a gentle smile said, She wants to play hide and seek silly, you shouldn't be rude now. She raised an arm and pointed at the trees. Get going now.

She seems so... The loud screeches my alarm ringing my ears. I swear, sometimes I hated Becker for suggesting making the sound of a car crash for my alarm. But damn if it was ineffective, never slept through it. I couldn't believe it though.

I slept right the way until morning, and I felt amazing. The only oddity was that dream I had and how clearly I could remember it. My face was not buried under the blanket as it had been the previous night. My head had popped out during the night. However, the blanket was still wrapped around me. It felt like a warm embrace that almost made me want to go back to sleep out of pure comfort. The slow, deep breaths in my ears began to mesmerise me back to sleep. The thought left my mind when my stomach reminded me that I had committed the cardinal sin of not eating supper the previous night. And, for once, I wasn't too tired to make myself a real breakfast before work. I had a feeling it was going to be a good Friday. I reached the office.

I did what I no longer thought possible. I started working immediately. I got there about eight and made such good progress. I started to worry I might run out of work to do. Well, hey, the goose finally rose from the dead. Becker's voice was unmistakable. Mind keeping it down. People are trying to work here, I said without turning to her.

And paled with the back of my head, made it clear that the starkiness was noted. Look at us. We wake up for once, and now we think we're hot stuff, huh? I turned to see a giant grin on her face. So it worked then, huh? Unless he did a crap load of crack and drinks with that jet fuel they call energy drinks. Huh, uh, I made my voice more sincere. Thank you, Rebecca.

The blanket really helped, and thank you so much for sending me home. Really needed. I was silenced by a bottle of the bottle. "'and we'll call it even, right?' "'We shared a laugh, and I reminded her blanket was fairly expensive, "'so her bottle would have to wait. "'I was not surprised when she left me with a numb shoulder. "'Work went by quickly, thanks to me, actually being present.

"'As I had predicted, it was a good day. "'I got home and cleaned up the place while my supper was cooking. "'This excess of energy was alien to me, but it was a good feeling. Not getting home trained and trying to run out an internal clock that didn't want to listen was a welcome change. I enjoyed my supper of steamed veg and some oven-fried chicken. It was ten minutes later when I decided that I was going to have an early night. The prospect of another deep and actual restful sleep excited me. Going through the shower in record time,

along with the other bathroom activities, I'd have head first into bed and eagerly wrap myself up in the blanket. Once again, I opted to submerge myself completely under it, so no parts of my body would stick out, emulating the feeling of being cradled in a way. Insert Freudian garbage here. I'm not sure how long I laid there, maybe 10 or 20 minutes. I wanted to check my phone for the time, but I was worried about the whole synthetic light tricking your brain into thinking you should be awake thing. Or maybe I'd gone to bed too early. or I was too excited and now I could hear breathing feel my ears. was my breathing always that loud? The blanket began to feel heavier, as though it was only now trying to cover me properly.

I found it odd that the blanket was actually heavy enough to force me to lay flat to my back. It's all very... The burger was awesome. I looked over at Dad. It's so good. I felt a few crumbs eject from my mouth. Dad looked amused. That was until he saw Mom's angry face. Uh, bad Jason.

No eating with a mouthful. Besides, the obvious splendor in his speech, he tried to put on a serious expression meant to show me his displeasure. He was really bad at it, since he looked more like one of the other kids at the party, pretending to be an adult. Mom just rolled her eyes

and gave me a full blast of a serious expression. My next bite I was tiny. I began I began to look around at my friends, I couldn't see anyone. At the table, it was only myself, mom and dad. Dad? He didn't look up.

Well, not right away. It looked like he was trying to be dramatic by lifting his head as slowly as possible. I couldn't help but giggle at the ridiculous sight of his slow-mo act. My giggle However, out sounding like a long, drawn out, sarcastic laugh.

You know, a kind of ha, ha, ha, ha. It was funny, but I wasn't aware I was trying to copy Dad's slow motion joke. A deep inhale sounded in my ears. Why was I breathing so heavily? What is it, kiddo? I shot back to my dad, who was no longer pretending to be in the Matrix. It took me a second to remember what it was that I wanted to to ask. Um, oh yeah, where did everybody go? My dad made a big, toothy smile and pointed over my shoulder.

To play hide and seek in the trees, silly. I looked over the trees, fairly sure I would have trouble seeing my friends from so far away, but the trees were a lot closer than I remembered. I had to run a decent distance last time to reach them. Now they were just a small jog away. Are you sure, I asked, I asked, I asked, to hold my obvious sounds of my friends playing. My breath, however, kept filling my ears, deep inhales with long exhales, yet not a single laugh or yell.

The only other sound in the air was a breeze that I could see passing through the trees. I couldn't tell how long I stared at them, swaying back and forth, the long shadows reaching out from beneath them. My trance only ended when I saw a figure moving my peripheral. It was moving so slowly that at first I assumed it was a post or something, but after a while I could make out my mom in a white summer dress.

She was walking, but moving too slow to be walking. It seemed more like she was way down by the air around her. At first I considered that my mom might be making a joke, pretending the move in slow motion because I was spacing out. But as she entered my vision properly, I noticed that the breeze going through her hair and making a dress billow was also in slow motion. My mum was moving at half speed. All while I saw the trees swaying normally, the shadows they casted reaching out further and further. Through deep and distractingly loud breaths, I managed to mumble out.

Mom? She didn't reply. She just kept walking towards the trees in slow motion. The shadows they casted seemed similar to clawed her, beckoning her to end of their grasp. My breathing became more erratic. I could feel myself begin to panic. I wanted to save, Mom, but I couldn't move. I tried calling for Dad to save her, but I couldn't speak.

The world around me began to get drained of colour, and I felt a pressure in my chest. My breathing became louder and louder in my ears. My eyes shot open, and I felt a terrible stinging pain in my head. As the light hit my eyes, I had woken up I had woken up again, except my head covered by the blanket. However, unlike the day before

where I felt rested and rejuvenated, now I felt drained, and my body ached as though I'd been doing intense exercise. What the hell was that dream? Some sort of stress that I'm unaware of? Maybe the sudden increase in sleep is alien to my body.

My thoughts were interrupted, by the alarm on my head, as though, a actual car crash. I cursed and reached out for the phone. The only problem was that my body didn't respond to the command. I attempted to will myself more,

but it felt as though I was being held down. My blanket no longer weighed 13 kilograms. It felt more like a building was placed on my body. Simple twitches were the most I was able to perform. I began to panic. I could feel the mosses in my body tensing, but through all of this, the breathing in my ear remained even. Just as tears began to fill my vision of the absolute dread I was feeling, I shot up

and immediately threw the blanket off of me. Running to the corner of my room, I remained frozen there for a while, frantically searching for a threat that was not present. It took me a few minutes to notice that the alarm had timed out. All I was able to focus on was the blanket, now lying in a bundle on the floor. After what I approached my bed once more and picked up the alarm. The alarm had been going on and off for the past five hours. I have never slept through an alarm.

Never mind how I managed to do so for five hours. My body continued to wake and the scare of the morning left me feeling even more drained than I felt when I first woke up. Every fibre of my being begged me to rest more. I was too terrified to get back into that bed. In the end, my unease drove me I went walking around, 8 at the mall And just generally did anything I could

To avoid going home Throughout the entire day, my head throbbed And I jumped at the sound of rustling trees But as it got later, the curfew time for the virus began to kick in Most shops had already closed their doors at 6 And the mall made the final call at 10 I had no choice home

the simple act filled me with dread how could a dream cause me such terrible anxiety I had done some research throughout the day and believed that my frozen state was a form of sleep paralysis

a prospect which also terrified me as I was not looking forward to suffering through shadow people conjured up by my own mind but whether I liked it or not I was exhausted At first, I tried,

with a tried and tested technique of drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee. Did you know drinking caffeine when you were tired actually makes you more tired? I found that out when reading random facts online to keep my mind preoccupied, which was about as effective

as building a house of ice in the desert. I had been drifting in an house of consciousness on my living room couch when I finally decided I needed to stop being a child and go to bed. A stupid nightmare can't cause me this level of discomfort. As I got into bed, I decided to cover myself in my old blanket to test if perhaps the added weight of the blanket might have been the cause for my sudden nightmares. My old struggles of falling asleep returned, and I probably

laid awake in bed for several hours. Mom? She looked over at me again. What is it, darling? I turned away from her. The park seemed so much Is Sarah still hiding? As I turned to face my mum again and noticed a strange sight. Birds in the sky. Now, right, yes.

Birds would be in the sky and that isn't strange at all. But these birds weren't moving. And before you think I meant they were gliding, no, I meant they were stationary. Not a flap, no forward momentum. They just hung in the blue. Gray sky.

My mom was standing at the edge of the tree line now, facing me. I saw her stretch out her arms that becky me closer. The shadows of the trees now reaching all the way to my feet where I was sitting on the park bench. I felt something touched my hand and nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked down and saw my dad holding onto my hand. holding onto my hand. We should get closer, don't you think, kiddo? The breathing in my ears started up again. It seemed so calm. Too calm. My body stiffened when I attempted to look at my father,

stubbornly defying my order to move. A faint panic once again building in my chest as I felt a pressure slowly cover my body. The had? The breathing was once again in my ears, but for the first time I realized, I was holding my breath. Is that you? The hand of mine began to lose colour, as it slowly began to resemble the trees that it surrounded us. I could feel the air becoming cold, and the breathing in my ears was becoming louder and more erratic. Her raspy voice came from above me. Let's go play with your mom and Sarah. I felt a tug on the arm that was being held. and felt my body shoot backwards over the park bench. The figures that had once be my mother was sprinting towards me on all fours. My eyes opened and I immediately thanked

whatever date it was out there, existing or not. I wanted to get out to bed, but I felt a weight covering my entire body. As I looked down, I saw the weighted blanket covering me once more with the outline of something else sitting on it. The breathing that filled the room was exactly the same.

as the breathing that had been from above me, still coming from above me. I can't remember how long it was that I lay there frozen in fear. The presence on my chest, just keeping me pinned down. But, after my prolonged captivity, I felt the weight retreat from me. First, the pressure relieved from my chest, and then release my limbs as it slithered off the end of my bed. I've been laying in bed now. At least this time, I was able to reach for my phone. The tiredness has been hanging over me ever since I woke up. I've been typing out what has happened to help me stay awake. It is now 8am.

The sun is out and you are probably wondering if I have left my room yet. The answer to that is simple. The breathing is still in my room. I can hear it underneath me. My brother and I were in the basement of her home, wrestling in the dim light they're in. when we found the entrance. I was 17 at the time,

my brother 14, although you would have thought the opposite age is by our looks. Dale was tall, broad-chested, with shoulder-length black hair that he never bothered to groom beyond keeping it from his eyes. He had achieved a physique and stature a man years beyond his age,

which is why I had no qualms about rough play. Neither did our dad, although our mom constantly reminding me to go easy on him. as if dare will ever permit me to restrain myself during our combat. We never watched professional wrestling and didn't abide by its regulations or trends. We'd simply grapple, slam or toss each other around, theatrically rough housing, giving ourselves made-up titles,

that often changed each round. The basement was the only space in the house empty and wide enough for our competitions. It was furnished, though the carpeting was old, and you were likely to get a nasty rug burn as you would have been to have a hard landing, if it were concrete. Both of us sustained several bruises, but we look back on these fondly, proudly, as the days went by. Reminders of fun times. The discovery of that damnable portal happened one night when my brother, who, I thought to be beaten, suddenly sprang up and charged at me. I had stood over him as he knelt on the ground, breathless after a prolonged session of grappling, during which I'd had

the upper hand. We had been fighting for nearly 15 minutes without rest, and, if this one thing I always had over Dale, it was stamina. He became exhausted fairly quickly, so when he came at me, I wasn't at all prepared. His shoulders collided hard with my midsection, sending me back, him forward, along with me, into the wall. The walls of the basement were concrete, and in the split second before impact, I tried to steal myself against the back-brusing collision, but the combined weight and momentum of our well-fed bodies struck the wall with considerable force, causing it to collapse inward. We fell onto crumbling stone, although Dale was spared much from harm, having my body as a cushion. I, on the other hand, not only had several rocks studded my back, but Dale's weight pinning me onto them. The wind had been knocked out of me, but I could still move and managed to shove Dave.

off of me with enough ease that told me, I had not broken my back. Dale muttered out a curse, though not in an expression of pain. Even before I had fully risen to my feet, I sensed the weirdness of the space into which we had fallen. Dale's surprise charge had propelled us into some sort of stony antechamber. It was a small space that curved downward, and, at the end of a rocky corridor, a greater space below opened up.

The ceiling of the immediate room was half-wood, a cross-network of beams, eventually terminated into bare rock, and an array of bulbs, long dead, dangled haphazardly from the wood, as if strung up in haste. The floor was rough stone, black and slick and uneven. The corridor beyond, though clearly hewn into the earth, was similarly bereft of human embellishment. Whoever had carved this place and the passage into the rock had done so hurriedly without any care of incorporating lasting architecture into the deeper areas. Our parents were away at the time visiting friends and some adults vacation. It was a weekend and Dale and I rarely did much outside of the house. We were both homeschooled. My mom had frequently gone an impassionate rant about the educational inadequacy of public schooling. So we hadn't had any social, professional or educational.

obligations, no reason not to immediately this strange, …theirrational passage. Dale went ahead first, life fumbled behind, trying not to move too quickly in case something was actually wrong with my back. We descended the downward curving passage, which lasted for about 20 feet,

until we arrived at the threshold of the greater area beyond. While I thought we would enter into some cavernous expanse, somehow unknown to the family and perhaps forgotten, by the world at large, we instead had ventured into what was apparently someone else's basement. Even in my pain, I had been excited at the prospect of an underground adventure, however short-lived. The basement was similar to ours, furnished to the barest conditions, with boxes, stands, shelves, and other ordinary mundane objects placed normally about. In a moment of acute observation, rare for him, Dale said,

How is this even possible? With my mood soured by the lack of more fantastical environment I was about to make some derisive comment about his surprise at someone having an equally drabbed basement But as I forgot the lingering pain in my back I came to the same realization that Dale had come to Judging by the declivity of the preceding passage The basement of this other house would have to be well below ours

The house's roof would it best be leveled with our first floor Her houses were not only in design and structure, in placement as well. Our street with no house having any prominence above another. This house would have to be buried below and behind ours,

somehow deeper in our backyard. It was both a fascinating and unsettling revelation. Our neighbourhood was not exactly new, having been built at least a decade before the births of Dale and I. But neither was it incredibly old, certainly not old enough for some ancient structure to exist so closely to the foundations of the house built there. Somehow, a house had been built, one that was fairly modern, judging by the layout of the basement, and buried, accidentally or intentionally.

It was virtually impossible. Unlike our own basement, there was no light that came in through a small window which ordinarily looked out onto the lawn. Instead, The passage were placed in a single The ceiling, leading from the passage's threshold To a flight of stairs The lights were like those

You'd find in mines or a network of excavated caves Dale and I went further into the room examining the objects throughout it We recognised brands, designs and labels that existed within our own home organised in an eerily similar manner It didn't take us long to realize that this basement had almost the exact same set up her own.

Dale swore again, and I found myself repeating the vulgarity in agreement. Aside from the lights affixed the ceiling, the rock-acluded window, and a heavy coating of dust upon everything, we recognised our basement. Having looked around the room enough and being rendered considerably disquieted at what we found, I suggested that we go home. Fear had crept into my heart, of that, I have no problem admitting, but I also felt a sudden, never before experienced sense of responsibility. We were clearly in a place that was meant to be forgotten, if it were not outright dangerous.

Despite his larger frame, I was still Dale's older brother and had a duty to protect him from harm if possible. While nothing harmful had yet presented itself, I nonetheless felt the basement and whatever lay upstairs was a perilous environment. The very air was uncanny. Its taste, but distorted. Dail disagreed with my desire to leave. The spirit of adventure, which I had felt only moments before, still persisted in him. The unearthly reality of our situation had not yet deterred his courage. Even though I felt plainly unnerved and sensed that the levels above might hold some baleful sight or presence, I couldn't say no to my brother. His excitement was not only infectious,

his grin, his grin, and unspoken dare. Against my better judgment, I agreed. The pain in my back had stopped. I could stand upright well enough. I shoved Dale aside and began ascending the steps. I heard Dale groaned behind me, and I at first thought that he had stepped on a nail.

I had narrowly missed on myself as I went up, and in my focus to sidestep any others, I'd forgotten to warn him of the first. But when I looked back, Dale hadn't reached the nail. He'd only taken a single step and the nail had been in the middle of the third. He looked pained and held himself with both arms, as if a chill had swept over him.

I asked him what was wrong, and he shook himself, then continued on, dismissing subsequent questions with a hand wave. Worried, I kept my eyes on him as I continued up, keeping my balance with the rickety, bolted to the concrete walls. With each step, Dale grew visibly enfeebled, and early collapsed forward.

I caught him before he slid or tumbled down, and sat with him in my arms near the top of the stairs. He shivered, and his skin was unusually cold. I hadn't felt any source of heat in the basement, but it wasn't nearly cold enough to affect Dale in such a way. I again asked that what was wrong, what had happened. But he just shook his head, I don't know. I wanted The atmosphere The bizarrely sunken house was obviously

In some way immacable to Dale. I put my arm around his waist And hoisted him up and started to make my way down But Dale stopped me before we could go all the way out. He insisted with strangely willful eyes That we continue up He said that some odd impulse drew upstairs. His health

markedly improved in the few steps we had taken, which I cited reason enough for returning home. Clearly, the building was toxic to his health, and who knew what further, possibly irreparable harm would come to him once he'd reached the top.

He didn't bother arguing against my logic. He just insisted we continue. His eyes were alight of the resolve that I hadn't ever seen in them before. Looking into them, I saw the intent. the readiness to do what he would not say. If we returned, he would use his oddly renewed strength to overpower me and return alone. He would be able to. I already knew that. And his fiery gaze beat out my own.

Up we went, with Dale in my arms, his strength weakening with each step. By the time we reached the first floor, he'd all but lost consciousness. His body sagged down, unsupported his legs. His eyes barely open It had taken It had taken all my strength To get him up there So when we finally touched the tired floor I laid him down as gently as I could

Beneath a great draping of dust And an atmosphere which spoke of time's prolonged passage I recognised Our kitchen Not just the outline or near say model But our exact kitchen Complete with a cutlery And cooking materials placed throughout the one

in our home. Dale noticed these as well, although his expression didn't change from its visage of deep discomfort. I walked around and affected by whatever odd forces harrowed Dale and examined the ashen emulation of our kitchen. It was surreal and fear-inducing. It was as if our home had been lost in time, wholly entombed and we had stumbled upon it in the bowels of the earth. But that couldn't because Dale and I had just there perhaps ten minutes ago. I swore to myself this duplicate

couldn't have been our home. Come on, we have to go. Dale had started to crawl across the floor his destination apparently being the living room. I ran to him and helped him up but the situation was the same as it had been on the stairs.

He was virtually powerless and relied entirely on my body to stay upright. As we stumbled towards the living room, I asked him what he expected to find. He didn't answer me, but the light in his eyes seemed for a moment to flare, as if he held some foreknowledge of the events to come. His expression terrified me. The contrast between his debilitated body and his eyes full of fiery life we passed into the living room and saw all the furniture that I knew would be there. A couch, black leather in our house, sat before a cracked mockery of our TV. The couch in this other place was torn, the leather split at various spots to reveal the yellow cushioning beneath.

The plants which sat before the windowed wall were all dead and shrivelled, having not received nourishing sunlight, the windows, through which the rays would have been allowed, had been shattered long ago. The rough face of a rock wall was the only thing seen through them now. The place was not just ruined, it had succumbed to the stresses of decay, that, only an enormous amount of wrought. Dale looked upon all this, with a knowing sadness. His expression intimated a dreadful prescience, and I again questioned him about what he knew.

I can't go upstairs with you. You must go alone. But know this, Callum. I love you. I've always loved you. You've been a great big bro. Please, go let me rest here for a while. He closed his eyes,

and by his expression, his expression, one of both solomity, I knew, I knew, of returning or ascending with me. I realized that it would be foolish to bring him with me anyway. The weakening effect corresponded to his elevation within the house. In his present state, he couldn't even stand.

I didn't want to risk some worse fate by bringing him upstairs. I picked him up and laid him the couch, dusting it off beforehand as best I could. He seemed to immediately asleep, and I stood by to ensure he did not slip into some lower state. Once satisfied

that he would be all right, I headed for the stairs. As I ascended the steps to the second floor, a powerful feeling of dread overcame me. It was a dark knowing, a foreboding, unlike anything I had ever felt. The air felt heavier, older, as if suffused with a corpse-born emanation, of a tomb or the earthlyle-of-theirth of some hypergill demon. The walls were grey and fortified by-tified by-ash. The carpet was thick and undated with the dust of unknown bygone cycles. It was dismal and horrible. I reached the top of the stairs and came upon something I can only now impartially recollect.

The sight of it, the abysmal image a few feet away was far too much for my adolescent mind to fully fathom. I hadn't the cognitive capacity to fully accept and present and processed the scene. There, lying abreast in the middle of the floor, was my family. My mother's body was barely recognisable beneath the armour of ash, her shrivelled, half-mummified figure, laid furthest away from the stairs, near a rock-choked window. The chest table, which sat beneath the window in my other house, was nothing more than a pile of splinter wood in this one. The decorations and furniture which had occupied the room were now piled around the bodies, encircling them as if in inanimate reference. My father's corpse lay beside my mother's decay just as advanced. The third and final body sat beside his. I went to it, tears in my eyes, expecting to find my brother's rotted face beneath

beneath a heavy coating of dust. Gently, I wiped the greyness away and recoiled back in fright. The face beneath wasn't my brothers. It was mine. I knelt there in utterance. a shock, my heart rate skyrocketing, and it wasn't until I looked upon the rest of the body that my heart calmed, and I was able to examine it further. The frame and clothing were clearly mine, though belonged to a much younger version of myself. I recognized the shirt and pants as things I had grown out of years ago. As I looked over my mother and father, I noticed that they too looked much younger in their builds than they did elsewhere. These people were clearly decayed, decayed, as with the passage of many years, yes, but they hadn't aged, hadn't lived,

past the time that was nearly a decade ago. Terror blossomed anew, and I suddenly became hyper aware of my surroundings. Something was not right. The situation was vaguely, but in arguably dire. Having seen the corpses, I felt that I had I had inadvertently set into motion some awful, sinister process. In an eerie confirmation of my fears, the sound elicited from above. Turning my gaze to the ceiling, I looked incredulously upon a yawning void.

There was no rocky surface, no hanging stalactites. It was a preternaturally and darkened, abysmal expanse, devoid of any celestial objects or visible roof of any kind. The enormity of the space was dizzying, Despite having solid ground beneath my feet, I felt as if I could fall headfirst into the stygium abysm at any moment.

I shrank down, falling to my face and clinging to the ash-stuff carpet. My fears of being pulled into the void was certainly not assuaged, when all three corpses simultaneously fell into that tenabrous sky, plunging into that black oblivion. The horror of it is inexpressible. They fell from sight, quite possibly from existence, into that noiseless, void. I didn't feel

I didn't feel as if I had been by some inversion of gravity, but still the threat to sink therein seemed real. My hands dug deep into the carpet as I crawled away towards the stairs. I even went down them

on my hands and knees, risking a broken neck. Behind me, I still felt the presence of the void, as if it was an evil and blinking eye that pursued me with its sight. I managed to reach the first floor, and, with the proper ceiling beneath me, I rose to stand. After dusting myself off, I returned to the living room.

Dale was still there on the couch, but his eyes were now open, and he stared upwards. I followed his gaze and reeled away in terror as I beheld a smaller, but ever-widening hole in the ceiling. Right before my eyes, the ash-plated ceiling quickly gave way to the terror. terrible black moor. truly, the same abyss. The living room sat beneath the in which I had found the corpses.

The house was suddenly beset with a rapid, all-consuming deterioration, the structure collapsing and eroding beneath a blackened, odious sky. I can't hold it back anymore. I'm sorry, Callum. There's only so much I can do, so much I can imagine.

It's so exhausting. Tears felt unimpeded from his eyes, and he started to sniffle after his ominous statement. My brother, who started this dark adventure, as if he was some intrepid explorer, had been reduced to a state more befitting his age, that of a fearful teenager. He turned to me, blinking through tears, which had occluded his vision, and gave me the most woeful expression. I knelt before him and pleaded with him to tell me what was going to be. going on, but he only smiled and put a limp hand on my shoulder. staring into my eyes with twin conflagrations in his, he spoke one evocative word. Remember, I suddenly saw through eyes that were not mine.

I saw the kitchen, as pristine as I remembered it in the other house, but younger somehow, existing within an earlier period of time. the body I, I was much younger as well. I at first thought that I was witnessing memory perceived with pretty natural but sounds from upstairs shattered that possibility. Mingled

with the laughter of my parents was my own voice, the three of us enjoying some humorous moment together. Despite the bizarre circumstances and the desire to investigate this existential inconsistency I felt a more powerful compulsion draw my attention away from the voice

upstairs, a predestined impetus towards some other action. As if led by a deeper world of my own, I found myself approaching the stove. It was above the microwave. On some deep, barely perceived level, I understood that my body was hungry. I sensed within myself a desire for autonomy, a budding need to demonstrate self-sufficiency, the person whose body I inhabited wanted to prepare their own food. Against my control, and eventually to my terror, the child whose eyes I saw through began hazardly preparing a meal. Things unfit for heating in the microwave were placed obviously therein. Food was thrown about without caution into pots and heated dangerously fast in the stove. Even as the stench of burnt food reached my nostrils, I saw a spine-chilling flash in the microwave.

Seconds later, the burnt food in the pots below was set to flame. In only a few minutes, minutes, the the volatile circumstances into a mounting I found myself from the kitchen, my small carrying me with surprising towards the back door.

I heard a name called out and the sounds of several pairs of feet hastily descending the stairs. I fled into the backyard, terrified and ashamed. I didn't look back at the house, now flaming so much that the heat singed my back.

I finally escaped the heat. sitting with my face, beside my father's equipment shed. I heard the house's destruction by the blaze as audibly as if I had stood within it. The flame-assalted structure creaking and groaning as if it were a living thing. The last sound I heard before I was ejected from that body was a name. In a scream of some unfathomable emotion, I heard Del's name summed the noises of the conflagration. I was suddenly thrust back into the normal reality, the one which my brother laid on the couch, his strength sat by some imperceptible trauma.

His eyes were closed, and for the moment I feared that he had died through my psychological transportation. But then he smiled, sadly, as if knowing I had returned from the bewitchment. Years ago, wanting to feel older than I was, I tried to cook my own food. We'd all been watching some comedy movies. I had fallen asleep in the same one, and I guess you guys decided to let me sleep and watched the TV upstairs. I was awoken by your laughter, I think,

and realized that I was pretty hungry. Well, I messed up, started a fire in the kitchen and ran out. I hid in the backyard, terrified and embarrassed. I heard man call out my name, but didn't even turn to look at the house. He cried freely, turning the ash beneath him, into a sloppy grey sludge that dripped thickly from the couch's cushion. You guys never made it out. The firemen did their best, but the blaze was too strong.

Most of the house had been swallowed up by the fire before they'd even arrived. I sat on the floor beside the couch, and my brother turned back to look at the every expanding nollity above us. I stared in my hands as if seeing them for the first time. For some reason, they seemed thinner. as if my physical substantiality had been somehow reduced. . I couldn't bring myself to finish the question, fearing that by asking it, I'd cease to exist.

The following morning, when it was all over, and the police had reiterated what happened, something in me broke. Even as a kid, I felt the gravity of what I'd done, the guilt, the sorrow, the anger at myself. It was all so powerful. For days, I was essentially catatonic. I didn't answer anyone. I didn't move or speak or eat. I didn't think. My psyche was all but shattered. And then, just before I slipped into an even darker state of mind, just before the thoughts of self-termination seeped in, even as a child. I heard a voice. With the same limp hand he had placed on my shoulder, Dale pointed up to the darkness above me. I followed his point, but saw nothing, that immeasurable, nightmarish void. He called himself, the black horologist. He said that he had sensed my grief, through the far-flung reaches of space in which you resided.

He said that he could provide me with a power to bring you all back, to conjure the family up from memory. He asked for nothing in return. He said that his power, while so distance from earth was incomplete. If I brought you back, but longer than the years, but longer than the I had already lived. Being a kid, that sounded like quite the deal. He told me all of this in a dream, but when I woke up, I could still hear his voice, whispering to me through space. I was too young, I think, to even consider the possibility that I had gone crazy. He instructed me on how to bring you back. He told me that all I had to do was remember you guys as much as I could and then imagine that you were all standing in front of me. At the time, I'd been in the care of our uncle, who had become

my de facto guardian. He was in his study, reading or working, when I decided to try and conjure you guys. I didn't want to tell him beforehand, didn't want to get his hopes up in case I failed. I did my absolute best, recalling everything that my brain worthy of storing. When I opened my eyes, there you were. You were all standing next to each other, motionless, as if asleep on your feet. I was ecstatic. I ran to my uncle's study and told him what had happened. I thought he'd be happy, but instead he looked extremely worried, frightened even. It hadn't occurred to me that since I hadn't spoken in days, this sudden outbursts seemed odd. Dales'all's arm fell, and he closed his eyes.

I thought he had fallen asleep, or perhaps worse. But after a few moments of terrifying silence, he continued. He came in, cautiously at first, probably thinking I'd drawn some image of you on the walls of the guest room. When he saw you standing there, blissfully asleep, he froze in place. He didn't look at me, just stood there. there, wide-eyed, in complete disbelief. Meanwhile, up and down, some stupid little clown. Hours, after the house had burned down, he'd identified what he could of the child remains. There was no question about your deaths in his mind, before that moment. Eventually, the shock were off, an uncle brought you to my bed and laid you

down as gently as a newborn. He then gently shook our parents, who awoke as if coming out of a rest or sleep. Dad scanned at me, as if he had learned he didn't say anything. Mom cried, mumbling, I wasn't sure if she was happy or sad. But I couldn't think of a reason why she'd be sad.

Our uncle tried to calm our mom and dad eventually came to his senses and went over to you. He kept brushing back your hair, even when it wasn't in your eyes. I thought that was silly, and didn't need to see anything at the moment. you woke up a few hours later though, and mum and dad practically wrestled to get to your side first. I thought they would bring up how you would come back. They hadn't asked me, but I assumed they already knew, being adults. I would have proudly explained the generosity of the black horologist to you,

finally knowing something that you didn't know. But they just said good morning and asked how you were feeling, and if you were hungry and all, and all, that had not once referenced what had happened to you all. I was giddy and wanted to tell you the story of what happened, but a look from Dad made me stand still and kept my mouth shut. Clearly they hadn't planned on telling you about your death, at least not then.

It was clear that you had no memory of it. The days went by, and then the weeks and months, and now years, and they never told you. We stayed with her uncle for all. while, an extended family visit being the reason, if you remember. They quickly had the house and redecorated exactly as it had been. They made her uncle swear to secrecy and conducted other adult business with the town that made their deaths appear as a misrepresentation of facts. They wanted things to be as they were, as you would know them. Dale wins again and

began spasming far worse than he had before. The couch shook with his chaotic movements and I grabbed a hold of him so he wouldn't fall off. I'm sorry, I can't hold on any longer. The truth is, mom and dad aren't on vacation. What the black horologist hadn't mentioned was that I would be the continual source of energy behind your lives, like psychic energy, I guess. The strain worsened over the years, though I had managed to hide his effects pretty well. But mom and dad saw me bend over in pain one morning and made me what was wrong. They talked for a while, insisted that I let them go, so that you could

live just a little bit longer. I tried to argue with them. I really did, but they insisted. For a moment his trembling stopped, if only so that he could gush fresh tears. I swear, they went peacefully, they sort

of just... They just sort of faded away, and while I know this won't be much comfort, Their memories ended me when it happened. They were as real as anything else. Their love for you was just as pure, just as valid as it had been before the fire. Please, believe me. None of you were fake.

Not to me. Not to each other. But I'm sorry, brother. I can't hold on to you anymore. This place is some sort of manifestation of my memory as everything breaks down and returns to my mind. But it's not just going away. It's coming to me. You'll be part of me. Just how mum and dad are now. Your memory will live on. And through me, through my hands, you can tell your story. That way, you won't just be real to me.

You'll be real out there too. I felt the tears my eyes swell, but something kept them from falling. I wanted to sob to vocally let out the tempest of emotions in my heart. but the psychological process such an action felt restrained I wanted to embrace Dale but I felt suddenly enfeebled as if years had been added to my life

or taken away my final thoughts before fading away as Dale had put it were of my parents waiting to receive me among the vaults of Dale's memories my name is Dale and this is the story of my older brother

Calum. These are his words. His observations. Put the text through my hands. He lives on in me. As do our parents. I know they're strangers to you. But I beg you. Please. Don't forget them. From world-wide topmerker to entrepreneurs who just begin. Milliooning, vertrow on Shopify. Vercoop online, in your winkel. TikTok and more. Alles from out of one platform. Behear your products. Bestellings and betaling, and betaling, very much step of the way. Start today

your gratis-proof-perioder on Shopify.b. That is Shopify.b.e. I've been keeping this a secret for years now. It's rot inside my soul. But I couldn't care less if it spreads and eats me alive. I kept it inside me. nurtured it and let it fester like a nasty cut. So now you're probably asking, then why are you suddenly revealing this to us now? To be frank, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's my hero complex.

That was the original reason why I trained to be an officer. I'm thinking maybe I could still warn you, alarm the public. But to be honest, I just probably want to convince myself that I still draw breath for a reason. My name is Lance Becker. I just think it's polite to know a stranger's name before a stranger's story. I used to work in a police station ten years ago.

Now I own a bookstore near my apartment. I told the chief that I was leaving because I wanted to pursue my artistic calling to write. I want to inject colour in lifeless white canvases with every stroke and every scratch of a pen. That's the BS I told them, but I'm pretty sure they didn't buy it. If they did, they wouldn't still be watching me 24-no. no matter how much dirt you smear into those bumpers and windows, I know a discreet government car when I see one. You see, I left the force for a reason I'm not allowed to discuss, a reason I couldn't discuss,

but I've moved past the sleepless nights and haunted visions. I'm ready to tell you what happened. To Papp's Wall. It was June 26th, I was in charge of the night shift. Together with me at the station was my good friend, Brahm, and the new girl, Joanne. Brahm and I went way back in high school. We considered ourselves particularly ordinary. We grew up without any answers to what we want our future jobs to be.

We never aspired of being a scientist, a programmer or an athlete, but at least I had some semblance of a goal or a dream. I've always wanted to join the Justice League, be a hero you know. Well, you can figure out. When the time came, we'd have to answer the question for real. Backed up in the corner. Rome and I simply just decided to join the police force. Joanne's story is quite different. She wanted this position. She had that bright, starry-eye perspective of what it's like working as an officer. Didn't want to break it to her. She needed to figure that out herself. Not like that, though. Not that. phone call. 2.

a. We were all minding our business inside the station. The room would almost be pitch black if it wasn't for the warm light of our desk lamps. We'd only get up from our seats to use the bathroom, stretch or fetch coffee. Bram occasionally threw things like me to keep himself entertained. Whether it be stupid dad jokes or peanuts, it was a 50-50. I needed a reason to turn my neck away from my computer anyway. It was a somewhat peaceful night. somewhat peaceful night, until the phone

rang. almost immediately groaned, we probably needed to do our actual jobs. Joanne bugged up, like a puppy hearing a treat bag shaken up. Me, I flinched. I got surprised. I never expected a call at 2 a.m., so I had to take a deep breath to calm by suddenly rising heart before I could answer.

The man's name was Peter. Peter Ingram. He was a resident of a small neighbouring town named Pap's Wall. The last time I checked, it had a population of only 300 or so. It was the seaside, so it was kind of a fishing place. People there were, traditionally, I like to say. Most of the town was still covered in wet soil and the streets aren't made of concrete either. I only got to visit the town when I was a kid and the only thing I remembered is the smell of fish in the air. They had their own police If I could remember correctly So the call was very much odd Alarming That wasn't what gave the situation away though It was a loud panting

And panicked voice he had While talking to me He was stuttering Catching his breath And trying his best to relay the situation I thought to myself He must have killed someone No, he might be in danger

Someone might want to hurt him Was there a fire a hostage situation, is his family in need of an ambulance. it wasn't any of those things. A girl flew into the sky. That was word for word.

What? And he jerkily replied. He said that a girl was hoisted up to the sky. Lots of people saw it, he said. And she disappeared in the dark rumbling cloud above them. The clouds, he mentioned them in detail too. It was unlike the clouds you'd typically see outside. It was kind of a blanket.

He told me it was just one big sheet, the size of the whole town. No stars, no moon, just clouds. I turned the loudspeaker on so the two people around me could take a listen. Maybe, because I was waiting for Bram to say it. And, of course he did. It's a bloody prank, Bram sneered. I gave a flat smile. Sir, sir, I would need more details of your situation, I asked. . Bram was running his finger across his neck and shaking his head. Peter proceeded to recount what happened. He told me that he was simply taking a cigarette on his porch

when people started running in the streets, shouting to get the residents inside their houses. He immediately complied out of panic. Within the safety of his windows, he saw a woman with a head up high, floating towards the clouds. "'Sir, "'lock your doors, "'you there, "'I simply,' "'without a second thought.

"'You mental?' "'Bram raised his voice. "'He got up and walked towards me "'to place his finger at the mute button. "'This is a prank!' "'He tilted and lowered his body to reach my face. "'You seriously want to drive out of town "'at three in the morning

"'because the fish town gave birth to Supergirl? "'Before I could answer back "'with my own snarky comment, The phone call dropped. Bram raised his eyebrows as he stretched and went back to his seat. I don't know. It sounded like he really needed help. Joanne was standing up the whole time, rubbing the tip of her fingers. Her eyes looked at me, waiting for my response. Well, they shouldn't have hung up, and nonchalant replied. Joanne hadn't got a chance to sit down yet when the phone rang again. I put it on speaker.

Where are you guys? It's been five goddamn hours. We all stared at each other in confusion. It was Peter again. Only this time his voice was shaking. The words couldn't escape his mouth anymore, unlike the first call. He sounded like his lips were quivering. Emily, my wife. He proceeded to moan and cry in the phone. I asked him what's wrong. And the words that came after were most bizarre at the time. fish lines. They're hanging the sky. He described the town to be ridden with hugs,

dangling three to six feet off the ground. They were all coming from the clouds hovering above their town. They were spread unevenly, almost depending on the number of people nearby each house. All of our faces wrinkled and disgust as he proceeded to describe

the supposed bait. He said the lines had fat, yellow worms, pierced on each hook, resembling maggots the size of pups. They had beady black and blinking eyes decorated around its body. It dripped viscous fluid to the ground beneath them, making puddles all over the streets. My wife, Emily, Peter continued. She was looking out of the window. She said her father was still outside. Peter sobbed uncontrollably. So, did you get your father back in the house? Bram suddenly shouted from his desk,

losing all sense of professionalism. I wouldn't blame him. At that point, we were all getting dragged in this person's narrative. No, you don't understand, Peter exiled. Her father has been dead for years now. Silence blanketed the room. All I heard from Peter was mumbling at that point. I looked at Joanne and Brom, and it was easy to tell that we all got a little spooked out. I focused again and started to tell Peter to calm down.

He continued. After Pete's wife, he said that she immediately ran towards the hook's and grabbed the worm. She, let it crawl inside her mouth, as Peter said, letting it squirm and go bulging down on the throat, down to a chest, and disappear inside her stomach. The fishing line was all that remained on a slime-drenched lips. So, before Peter could chase it down, the line tensed and word, making a sound of a strong guitar string, before hoisting a wife up, like she weighed nothing, and disappeared into the clouds. Peter told us that he was in shock, and he didn't realise he was walking towards another hook. His neighbour from across the street shouted at him and snapped him out of it. His neighbour then proceeded to throw a walkie-talkie at him, which Peter carried back inside the house.

That was my good pal, Billy, he explained. I'm talking to him through the walkie. He told me that the hooks are reeling in tons of people from the town. Dozens are going up by the minute. Like idiots, they get themselves snagged to be dragged up like dolls. I'm scared, officer. I'm just really, really... Peter continued to sob on the line.

We need to go, Joanne interrupted. Well, you're full of beans. To where? The whole damn thing seems a bit dodgy to me. Rome tried to refute. They need help. We need to do. something. What? I... do you even know?

What? I don't. Bram was on the brink of shouting. They raised their voice higher, inching towards each other, trying hard to make the other person back down. I was as confused as both of them, but I had to intervene. We're going, I said. Although almost whispering, they both paused and looked at me. Bram was taking a deep breath, ready to say something that would probably have led me, but, but I said no before the words could climb out of his chest. The light from our lamps wasn't enough to reveal the sweat, beating on our foreheads, but also how our shoulders stiffened, how Joanne kept touching her buttons, and how Brahm

kept biting the skin off his lips. We were all wrapped around the sudden anxiety that we failed and noticed that Peter had already dropped the call. We felt as seconds of just sitting around, press heavily on our chest. Okay, I gathered my thoughts. Joanne, keep an eye on the phone. Contact the neighbouring town's police departments. Insmouth, come with me.

I can go. Joanne stopped me from fetching the keys from the rack. Well, she wants to go. Brom nervously smiled. I gave Bram a meaningful glare, one that would etch the seriousness of the situation on his damn skull. I left the front door. Brom entered the car.

almost in a trance. He kept bouncing his leg the moment he sat down, silently looking at the dark road ahead of us. I had no words to say during the drive either. It was an hour-long drive to the town, but it felt like we came there much sooner than we wanted to be. I let out a deep sigh upon stopping at the road sign. Welcome to Papswell. Population 652. From our car, we saw windows and street lamps lit warm yellow-orange amidst the dark and blue night.

It was peaceful, quiet. We didn't want quiet, however. We both froze in place, unable to move a foot in front of another, seemingly wanting for the first one to take the lead. Hello? Bram shouted as loudly as I could. I jumped. felt as if I was about to vomit my heart out. "'Hello,

"'This is Ashbram,' "'the hell, "'the hell, "'I don't want to go. "'I don't,' his voice started to crack. "'He walked around in circles, "'his hands behind his neck. "'He then looked up. "'I knew it was to push the tears back in,

"'but I decided to shut up about it. "'Instead, I gave the most convincing chuckle "'I could pull out to my ass. "'Dud, come on, "'it's probably just the point. Prank, I smiled at him. He smiled back, enough to me a bit of comfort, enough to push myself

to walk past the first sign. Walking forward, the salty scent of the sea welcomed us with a cold hug. The people of the town, however, never gave us the same courtesy. The houses were all lit up, but not a single shadow can be seen inside the windows. The front doors are wide open.

They creaked and slammed almost in sink, matching her every step on the soft, Bram's gun was pointed. I shine my light. I was honestly getting more nervous about accidentally getting shot by him due to his nervous and snappy movements and heavy breaths. I looked back and he was sweating like a horse despite the cold breeze.

I wasn't a tough nut myself. I just needed to put a front until we met someone. Anyone. Hey, look, Lance. No hooks from the sky. Yeah, no hooks. honestly, I wasn't so sure if that was good or bad. We'd made some distance going inside the town.

Our steps made crunching noises on the rocky ground, so I looked back when I heard that Brahm wasn't taking any more steps. When I checked, he was looking down, his eyes wide open and his hands almost loose, ready to drop the gun. What's wrong? I asked. I approached him and shine my feet. My jaw slowly dropped.

It was the puddle. The white, pool of gunk. Bram raised his foot and the liquid dripped down off it like snot. I looked around and it was everywhere. Every six feet puddles of slime and if our memory served us right we both knew where it came from. I think we should leave, Bram mumbled, and I couldn't have I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from being fixated on the puddle. We briskly walked back, past several empty houses, yet the sign nor the car was nowhere to

be found. We started to walk faster, slowly transitioning to a sprint until we caught ourselves running. We never took a turn, yet it felt like we were lost. The houses, the roads, the puddles, all looked the same. I was panicking, and kept on looking back to make sure Brahms still following me. The last thing I'd want is to be alone in that godforsaken place. At that point, we both knew that something weird was going on. We were going around in circles. The town seemed alive, morphing itself to keep us in.

We just didn't want to acknowledge it, so we kept running. even broke the most logical thing to do and started taking turns, left and right, looking for something different, an establishment, a shop, anything. But it was the same old, empty wooden houses everywhere. We stopped to catch our breath. Brom fell to his knees, digging his hands in the dirt. Lance, what's happening? He started to burst out in tears. I looked around while grabbing the hair from the back of my head.

looking for a way out, looking for our attention. A phone was ringing the house on our left. Where are you going? Someone might be able to help us, I replied. I pulled my gun out and pointed at the front door before kicking it in. I didn't need to. The door opened up by itself because of the wind, almost causing me to lose my balance from trying to kick it and trip. I called out for anyone No response I slowly approached the phone It was a dirty white

With a pink handstitched holder at its handle I took a deep breath And answered What blasted on my ears Was the sound of a grating scream Coming from a woman No, hello Please stay putt

I pulled back a little Before I could recognise the voice Joanne, becker, she replied. How are you there? We're at Papswell. But how? You just left minutes ago. Everything was starting to spin around me. What? I asked her. Lance, the sign. Bram called for me outside. It felt like a knife was pulled out from my chest. My smile was almost ear to ear. Joanne, have you been calling the neighbouring? No answer. The call already dropped. I didn't have and simply ran outside the house and followed Bram sprinting towards the car.

When I got in to start the engine, I noticed that he was still standing outside the car, looking at the town. I lowered the window to call him inside, but he wasn't answering. I got out of the car again. Brah, I called out. I looked into the direction he was staring at, saw it. something was glistening in the distance, just beneath a street lamp. Mom?

He muttered. Every hair on my body stood up. Bram, are you okay? I got nervous, especially when I saw him take a couple of steps forward. My heart dropped seeing him. lean over, ready to run back the adrenaline caused me to grab,

wrap my arms around him, before he could start chasing after whatever that was. Bram! Brom! Your mom's not here. She's back in England, remember? I whispered into his ear, holding him as he struggled. After a few seconds, he started to calm

down. He looked at me, confused as the why you were at the ground. Yeah, she is. We went inside the car and had a silent We were still trying to process everything I hadn't even told Bram about what happened when I entered the phone He seemed lost in his thoughts that he never cared to ask anyway

We got back to the station around 4 a.m It was dark but the sun was starting to peak on the horizon When we arrived at the station Bram asked me to go ahead inside He wanted some time of the station alone in the car. The feeling of confusion and dread still followed me inside the station. It didn't help that everything was so quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the buzzing of the air conditioner. I found Joanne standing and staring blankly beside my desk while

holding the phone on her shoulders. Joanne? I called her. I grabbed a hand to receive the phone and put it down. She flinched her Her eyes welled up Her legs started to get weak Almost causing her to fall on the floor I was ready to catch her But she quickly grabbed my desk and stood back up herself

No words were spoken between the three of us But the rest of the shift It was safe to say that none of us Got some proper sleep after going home too The next day men in suits were swarming inside the station The chief called me and told me that some guys And talk to talk to the three of us The suits called us one by one in the interrogation room

Inside were four folders One for each of our names and another labelled K-7 They had their way with words But to dumb it all down All I heard was shut up about it or die It was pretty obvious to me that the They had no idea what was happening either, or at least, aren't in any control of what happened. What they do have control over, however, is information.

This was ten years ago, and as far as I know, the town of Popswall was erased from the face of the earth. I heard it was nothing but a barren wasteland now. It's not on the internet, nor any map you could find. No one would ever remember its name, except for the three of us, I guess. Rom was the first one to resign went back to England I resigned after having to see the phone beside me

every day became too much for me to handle Joanne she stayed but I never heard from her for a long time this kind of thing sticks with you it haunts your very core

nothing you can do about it you can't escape so I let it eat me It ate me up like maggots Even though The suits tried the best I still managed Something from what happened

I got a copy of the recording of the calls It was my own sick masochistic idea Of trying to remember the 652 people That disappeared that day I still play the recordings on loop Before I go to sleep

But not all of them Not until recently Maybe this is the reason why I decided to tell this story. Why I decided to warn you, not to warn you, large clouds and dangling hooks, no, but because Joanne sent me something. Something I didn't need to hear. Maybe I just want someone, you, to take a glimpse at the horror we've been through. Not so much of a hero now, am I? I didn't need to know. I didn't need to hear the call that Joanne received that night after Brahmin and I left us. station. There's no crying over spilled milk.

The suits are coming for me now after this anyway. So I just let it eat me. Let it eat my soul and let it eat my sanity. Or, what's left of it. Start playback of recording 26th-06,

2008, 306am. Click. Joanne. Good morning, um, Asbury Police Department. Peter Hello I was talking to Billy

And he told me There might be a way out of Static Sir Mr Ingram Oh God Billy's kid He's outside

He's running towards a hook No Joey Stop Mr Ingram Whatever you do Please stay put He grabbed his son They both being pulled up

Oh God Click Static Billy Let go Silence. Billy. Sir. From the walkie. Peter, who are you? Billy, where are you? What's happening up there? Hello? In this thing screeching. What was that? Nothing matters now, Peter. What are you talking about? sobbing, laughter. Billy? Silence.

It's real beta. And it looks hungry. End of recording. I was dumbfounded when one of my best friends, Nicolay, invited me to come on a bro's trip with him and his other friends to their home country two years ago. I always thought I was somewhat on the outside, being a born and bred American and a group full of Bulgarians. But this assured me that they thought of me as one of the lads.

I remember Nikolai came over to hang out while I packed it was not often, his parents, even his 11-year-old brother, Stephen, often left as a family on weekends, which meant we could drink, smoke and party as much as who wanted. Nikolai's family left Jacksonville to go to Bulgaria three days before the folks our age departed.

His mother took a liking to me and insisted I'd have a need. and relaxing trip since I was not familiar with anything in the country. Nikolai's friends, however, we were in for a series of parties and adventures that we'd be getting absolutely blasted at. Simon, George and Peppo had been hyping up Piran National Park to me. They claimed it was a godsend for late night parties and it was perfect to camp overnight in,

although Nikolai was more interested in going to the beach and picking up babes enjoying the Black Sea. the Black Sea, he compromised with his boys that we spent at least one evening there. The first days we spent there was amazing. Mostly the big name attractions in and around Sophia, the capital. The boys showed me a festival where the guys their age would wrestle each other on the street. They participated. The rivalry was about as strong as their friendship. It was hilarious seeing Nikolai Suplex Pippo and George full body slam Simon. Where we were staying

a couple of the city but not an inconvenient distance. It was fun I could tell that the others were itching to break away from Nikolai's parents and Stephen Surely enough we had our chance midway through the trip I remember vividly when

Nicolai and Pepo got some weed off of some local dealers who apparently used to work for Peppo's uncle Turns out being the son of a truck company mogul gave you a ton of connections Our goal was to get cooked out in Pyrin' camp overnight, but then Nikolai's mom threw a wrench in the plans. We had to take Stephen with us for a couple hours

while they went to a bar for a parent's night out. George made it no secret that he didn't want Stephen's company. Stephen was old enough to be aware, but much like his older brother, he didn't give two dams about the negative opinions of others. Simon was all right with it, as he was planning and not getting as the others out there. Pyrin itself was absolutely breathtaking. Something about the mountains that aren't the Appalachians hit different.

It was definitely a bit chilly, so I was glad I took Nicolet's advice and packed a jacket. The variety of the place was plenty. Trees, fields, tons of rocks, and some lakes and ponds that top it off. The six of us spent most of the day hiking, and I took several mental notes of places off the trails where we could go later. I saw quite a few clearings that would be perfect for a tent. I also noticed it looked like there was some sort of old, abandoned-looking cabin just past the tree line, maybe an old ranger outpost.

On one of the trails we encountered a very worn and battered sign, and next to it a cluster of what I could only assume were missing children's posters. I couldn't read the sign, but the others insisted on transatlantic. for me. George, as ever, he could provide the most accurate translation. Do not leave your children alone, keeping close contact with your child at all times.

Stephen was visibly confused, huddling closely to Nikolai. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around why a child would be a target in this area. We decided against better judgment to continue with a plan. Nikolai insisted we could still have our part of the plan once Stephen went to sleep. I never knew it myself, but apparently

he could sleep through a lot of noise. The night quickly approached, and we managed to find ourselves a nice clearing that gave an excellent view of the stars and the moon. We made a fire and told stories around it. Stephen got tired fairly quickly, and we knew that the night was just beginning for us, boys. We waited for Stephen to fall asleep before we busted out the weed. We wasted no time, and we were feeling quite the effects of it. We began to blindly into the woods, with the exception of Simon, who stayed to tend the fire. I stay close with Nikolai, talking about random philosophy while Pepo and George were bickering about something as a pair about 100 metres apart. The beauty and peacefulness of the clearing we just left disappeared

as soon as I stepped into the tree line. Something was here. Maybe an animal. I felt a primal sense of weariness take over me, but I did my best to keep it concealed. Was it just a bad strain of weed? I noticed a warm glow in the distance. I was equal parts intrigued and confused, but as we got closer, I recognised what we were getting into. We stumbled upon the weird cabin I saw earlier. bizarrely enough, it looked furnished. It even had lights on inside. We kept our distance. The others noticed too and changed course. From what I could observe, there was a strange essence in the house. It was grotesque looking.

Road to me the wrong way. I wanted to keep away from it, but talking Nikolai out of going right up to the house was like pulling teeth. He was usually completely unable to negotiate with, but he'd often compromise for me, the friendliest American he knew. It was eerie. I felt like there was an entity in the woods, glaring at Nikolai and I, judging us for what we saw. Nicolai choked it up to the weed, but I think he was trying to convince

himself more than me. I kept looking over my shoulder towards the strange cabin, expecting something to jump at me. I've struggled with anxiety, but this felt more like being stalked by a predator. This fear was reacting to something tangible. Boom. I heard something loud behind me that the doors of the cabin swung wide open and we felt a gust of wind blast from in front of us. Then they slammed shut as loudly as they opened

with another boom. We heard Simon screaming and we all immediately ran towards the camp. It was a sobering moment. Upon reaching the camp, the fire was toppled there was a massive hole in the side of one of the tents. Simon was shivering and whimpering, and had deep cuts on the palm of his right hand. He was distraught, and the boys went full Bulgarian to calm him down.

He kept pointing at the tent, trying to form words, and eventually it came out. Stephen was missing. Nicolai paste, spraying out frantic words in his native tongue. Pepo did his best to calm him down in plain English, but it was a little bit of the wasn't working. George and I wrapped up Simon's hand. The wound was bizarre. It was one clean and it was slimy, like someone had drooled all over it. Simon was in shock and given how deep the wound was, it was a combination of physical and psychological injury. Simon eventually began talking, saying that he had to take a pee but didn't leave the clearing. His back was initially

turned away from Stephen's tent and when he turned around to return to camp, He saw a figure in a massive rugged cloak sniffing at the tent. He said that it repeated the same thing over and over in their language. Child, child, child. Simon tried getting the jump on the figure, but a massive tongue shot out from its mouth, slicing Simon's hand wide open. As he inspected his hand, the figure tore through the tent and took Stephen. Stephen apparently didn't wake up as he was thrown into a sack, and together they seemingly

vanished with the wind. Nicolai lunged at Simon, spewing out what I could only imagine was rage and profanity. Pepo and George restrained him. Nicolai cared deeply about his brother, even if they were a decade apart. I knew that Nicolai wanted to teach Stephen Taekwondo in wrestling, that he wanted to give Stephen his old 1997 Nissan Skyline when he was old enough to drive. It had crushed Nicolai if he couldn't show his brother these great things. I understood his anger. but I'm not sure what Simon could have done against that thing. from its description.

It sounded like a witch from an old children's tale. I couldn't stop thinking amongst the panic that maybe the house had a clue. Something about it seemed supernatural, but I felt we had strength in numbers. With no one no longer needing to look after the camp, I proposed we all investigate the house and fast. I was met with a surprising amount of support.

The boys, And they were satisfied with me So courageous I didn't think weed But my body no longer felt the effects We hastily packed ourselves up No time was wasted as we charged into the woods Heading straight for the cabin

Fear was clawing at me But I had to push through for my friends I could tell from their expressions That they were scared witless too but Stephen was counting on us. we heard a shriek, followed by some cackling, blasted the woods at us.

It scared the hell out of us, but again, we had to power through. Something unexplainable was just beyond these woods. I could see the trees ending, and I knew we were close. However, something was off.

The house was gone. but a bunch of things were scattered on the ground. They looked like rocks. We held our breath in a massive amount of confusion and dread. Were we hallucinating before? Nikolai was sweating profusely, his glassy eyes bulging as he scanned the clearing.

He kept screaming Stephen's name over and over. Peppa noticed something strange. On the other side of the clearing, there were tracks. They were massive, And bird-like. They trailed The other side of the clearing. I was concerned about the weird things

on the ground in the clearing Because They smelled rotten. I cautiously approached, But Nicolai and Peppo charged straightforward, yelling for Stephen. Peppo began to get sick from the smell and vomited. George laughed at him.

Nikolai hacked and gagged, but kept it together. The things on the ground were massive bullet bags. I tapped on with my foot, it felt like there was something heavy, but thin in it. I held my breath, and opened the bag. The smell got even worse. Then I saw it. It was a small corpse. The meat looks like it was chewed right off of most of it.

Its eyes were missing. Its cheeks looked like it was cruelly bitten off. Bones are intact. This kid must have been only eight or nine. I screamed and kicked the bag. George curiously opened a bag, and judging by his reaction, he discovered something similar. I never imagined seeing a dead child, much less a neat and one. What kind of sick thing would eat children?

I nearly got sick myself. The images of the missing children posters rushed through my head. None of those children were coming back, were they? But then I saw one of the bags moving Nicolae noticed too and quickly rushed to it He ripped the bag right open And inside was Stephen

And he was alive He had heavy bruising on some of his body But no bite marks He was panicked and clutching a severed finger From what looked like an elderly lady He quickly tossed the finger away And it turned into a twisted bush of roses the minute it hit the ground. There was no point in going for the tracks, we got Stephen out of there, and that's what mattered.

Stephen told us that he woke up in a cottage, with his legs tied together. He saw an, quote, ugly old lady, eat a baby with a sharp teeth and long tongue. Stephen said he tried using a move he saw from his older brother wrestling Pepo, and then bit off the finger of that witch. She shrieked, stuffed him out of the And threw him out the window Along with the finish snacks of the day The night was still somewhat young But it was going to end that way

I never packed up and ran back to a house that fast All the boys Even the more mature ones like George or Peppo Looked sick and somber for the rest of the night The rest of the trip was us doing our damnedest To get that distinguishing image and shock out of our systems Even deep in all sorts of A feeling of dread and vices

A feeling of us Like a curse While we managed to get Stephen back Could have shaken the feeling That whatever was out there Wasn't done with him yet During the last night I stayed in Bulgaria

I couldn't sleep It usually happened on the last night of a trip There seemed to be a light shining through my window that wasn't there before The sun had set hours ago. I was content with merely the blinding the blinding to sleep again. But curiosity had its grip on me.

I went to investigate. I saw a familiar glow of a furnished house in the distance just beyond the tree line. The festival season is on-bebroken and that betekent modder. Goh

To go to come from Aftable mudder And lukechrane Miao Now has Kim No matter to make Over the modder man That's like he now

Has he now only modder on? Oh yeah Allene Modder Drove blithe? Goar for Find what you know You know on Amazoncom.com B'E

Each year My father and I were going on an annual splunking adventure. for those of you who don't know, Splunking is a hobby of exploring caves. Oftentimes, you are down in a dark, dank, narrow passageway, pressed firmly against the suffocating rock wall,

squimming millimeters, just to get an opening. But once you reach that opening, you can find wonders down in these caves, giant stalagmite, and beautiful minerals. The best we had found was preserved human bones

dating back thousands of years solidified into the rock during our cave trip in Iceland. While my father and I had explored hundreds of caves, there is one cave I'm most fearful of. This cave system is located in upstate New York, only known to the local caving club who has since shut it down after various deaths. This caving system is known as the Passage, a name that was given to it when it was first discovered in the 80s. It has not been fully mapped, and many areas are inaccessible. I barely escaped the passage during the fall of 2019.

My father... was not as lucky as I was. My father and I had contacted a local caving club in a desolate upstate New York town. My father and I drove over five hours to reach this town where the caving club met every Thursday to plan their weekend caving trips. My father contacted them earlier in the week,

asking if we could join them on the next expedition. They agreed for us to visit. to join them in the next meeting where we would be fully prepared to explore one of the oldest and longest caving systems in the state. Eagely, my dad and I waited all week before making the drive. More research online. We weren't able to find out much about the caves or anything about this small town. Most we got was a B-list movie celebrity grew up here, but nothing more. Thursday morning hit, and in the early hours we packed our bags and made the drive. The drive upstate during the fall was beautiful

The leaves changing to vibrant oranges and yellows A cool breeze was sweeping in I nervously tapped my finger on a caving helmet the whole time Something I did before every new cave Shot me his soft smile and told me to relax It was the same smile that he gave me on my first caving trip at ten years old The start of my new hobby As a child I suffered from claustrophobia

an intense fear of tight, Dad, Dad, always the caring one, what better way to get over the fear of a crowded place than to deliberately crawl into a narrow and dark passageway. Well, during that summer trip to my

first cave, the panic really set in. Dad disappeared into a seemingly impossibly tight passageway on the floor, slipping into the darkness. I heard his voice echo from within the passage calling for me. I still alone in the dark cave, hearing the dripping of the

and scurring of spiders around me. I shakily crawled up to the mouth of the passage, feeling the dry lump in my throat bulging out. I pressed my face against the muddy ground and shimmied into the passage. I couldn't move my head, stuck facing the right wall. My arms were pinned ahead of me, dragging me only millimeters ahead. I shrieked, feeling the weight of the rock pinned me down, unable to move. Dad heard my wails.

He was further ahead. I squirmed and screamed for help, unable to move ahead. I felt like an eternity, Dad finally returned. I saw his muddy face up ahead, his arms reaching out for mine. Calm down, but it's going to be okay, shooting me his warmest smile. Dad had big brown eyes and a lot of personality. Even down hundreds of feet, pinned to the earth in the most claustrophobic setting,

Dad made me feel calm. He grabbed my arm and helped me square my way through this narrow passage. Eventually, eventually we emerged into a large cavernous room, Folly able to stand, feeling a cool breeze blow through. Dad turned on some lanterns and lit the room up, exposing bright coloured minerals on the walls. It was truly beautiful, and after that trip, my claustrophobia was swept away. Dad and I pushed ourselves on our annual trips,

crawling deeper, seemingly impossible, and turns to meet the wonders down below. As we passed the fiery reds and yellow leaves around us, I thought back on that first trip. Seeing Dad aged since then has been the hardest thing, knowing he won't be around forever, cherishing the moments we had together. At some point I dozed off on the drive.

Dad lightly tapped me on the shoulder, waking me. We were parked in a gravel lot, in front of an old yellow building. The sign was out front, poorly kept, which read, Pine Valley Splunking Community. The building was dark. The sun was barely rising. We had a couple more hours before they opened.

Dad cracked the window, letting in the soft breeze. As he sipped his coffee, I closed my eyes for some much-needed rest before the trip. The rising sun was a beautiful alarm clock. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, Dad dropped my lap and headed out the door in a hurry. As my vision cleared, I could see he was talking to a man that had just pulled up in a dirty green jeep. Dad looked over his shoulders. He seemed strange.

He reached into his pocket and handed the man something who placed it in his rear pocket. I stumbled out of the car, helmet in hand as Dad waved me over. The three of us headed inside the building. The man in the jeep was named Carl. He was about 60-something years old, lots of loose skin on his face and stringy grey hair that fell down his face. He shook my hand with a dainty squeeze before leading us to a table with a worn-out map. Carl unfolded the map before taking a magnifying glass out of his pocket. Dad watched intently as Carl traced a tiny path on the map with his stringy finger. Here's the cave opening, Carl said. You follow this passage, which ain't too difficult. Figure your boy here could do it blindfolded. Continue along the path. You should be down on your

belly most of the way, but nothing too crazy. It'll lead to a tiny opening. Should be able to crouch and turn if you had to. Once you're in the opening, look down for the next passage. This one's going to get a little narrower. As Carl explained the route to us, Dad seemed nervous. Biting his lip the entire time Carl was speaking. I tried to follow along as best I could, but hoped dad paid more attention. Crawling to the passage and start bending up. We call this spot the scissor, as your body will start bending and almost folds in half. You'll be climbing up into a ledge that will lead you down a long passage with a lot of turns

and dead ends. I painted a few red markers every so often, so you should try stick with those if you can. If you reach a dead end, you'll have to crawl backwards back out. This is where I suggest You keep a lot of lights on you The sky who got lost down there For two days in the darkness Before we found him and got him out

After you make your way through this pass You'll come to a door A door I asked Carl looked at me With those grey eyes of his Yes boy A door

Carr replied Don't ask me where it came from All I knows is that some crazy guy Went all the way in there Hundreds of years ago chiseled into the rock and mounted a door frame. Now, we got the key here. Made a few copies over the years. Use the key, unlock the door, and you'll be able to fit.

Hands up ahead and shimmy through. Weird. Never heard of a door being installed hundreds of feet under the ground. Carl brushed the stringy hair from his face. Once you get through, follow the straight passage. It's going to feel like it's getting narrow, and that's because it is. I suggest hands out in front You will be heading

Of the first of the birth canals My mouth dried when he said I could feel the sweat pouring down my face Birth canals Like the name suggests are long extremely narrow passages in cave systems Now you're gonna feel like you're getting the soul squeezed out of you Do not panic

The harder you could lodge yourself into the birth canal And get stuck Remain calm get through the birth canal and you find yourself in a wonder of a cave. stalagmites like you've never seen before. Carl handed the map and keyed to Dad, who folded it in half and put it in his pocket. We headed back to our cars to grab our gear.

I triple-checked each light we had, not wanting my worst fear of being stuck in the dark to come to fruition. We had a quick protein bar as Carl hurted us into the woods. We hiked deeper into the woods about two miles. Carl trotted ahead, giving us a backwards tour. Lots of drunk back there, old cars, machinery. Finally, we made our way into a clearing next to a rock. This wall must have gone up 200 feet, clear past the treetops.

There was a cutout in the wall at the base, where lots of loose stones were gathered up. Carl took around the base, clearing leaves around the firmly placed stone. And there it was. a dark hole in the size roughly the size to tightly squeeze into I looked around at the nothingness of the quiet woods around us

wondering how the hell anyone found this tiny hole in the ground and decided to go inside it while I tried to brush off the nervousness which called me difficult with his erratic behaviours Dad and I fixed our gear and prepared to head into this void in the ground for a good chunk of the day

it was early about 8 a.m. The wind blew through the woods, nearly blowing over frail or Carl. You're not coming with, I asked Carl. Not yet, son. I'll be back in a few hours to catch up. Don't worry, Carl replied. Dad headed in first, squeezing my arm. Feet first, he dropped into the dark opening.

Landing with a thud, I looked down into the hole, feeling the breath of the cave wash over my face. Dad turned on the light and lit up a tiny area. Drop you back down first. I'll catch it. I lowered my bagging and dangled my feet into it. Carl stood back, tipped his hat and skipped away down the trail. I swallowed the lump and plunged into the darkness. I landed firmly a few feet down.

Dad was close by. The cave entrance was about 20 feet in diameter. Dad and I got her gear ready and scanned the air. areas. We were looking for a little opening on the floor, one you'd never think of a person through. Dad found it first. He dropped to his knees and inspected the entrance. Ready to do this? he asked. I shook my head and we bumped helmets. Dad led the way. He squeezed himself into a tiny opening at the base. His torso disappeared in while his feet stuck out like he had flew face first into the wall.

inch by inch, He went in further He was gone I waited a few minutes Wanting to get kicked in the face By him squirming Before heading in The breath of the cave was strong

sounding like it was coming From a different passage I felt an eerie feeling Just waiting there I must have zoned out As Dad was calling me to come in I raced toward the entrance And stuck my head in

Press nearly sideways I inched my body in one arm forward and the other to my side. I dragged myself further into the passage, not able to turn my head enough to see Dad. We called out to each other, making sure each of us was doing okay. Father and father we navigated this passage. Little crevices in the wall revealed spiders of disproportionate sizes. Before I could get a good luck, they would scurry off. After what fell like hours, I heard Dad grunting. He pulled himself out of the passage. way. He called me to hurry up. We must have been at the first opening. I shimmed harder and a hand grabbed me.

Dad pulled my arms slowly, helping me out of the passage. We were covered in mud and dirt and probably rat poop. We were crouched in a tiny opening, our helmets clanking onto the walls. We inspected the opening, looking for another tiny passage that would lead to the scissor. The scissor opening looked even more impossible than the entrance. This cave was already to be more difficult than originally thought. My arms were already burning from the miles of dragon we had just done. Dad went in first, his torso slipped in. He slowly started bending his body upwards, his grunting sounding painful. Soon

his legs were bending up. Dad called out, I'm basically standing now. I can see where we have to go. Better limber up for this part. Dad grunted once again, where he was pulling himself up and into the next passage. Dad called out that he cleared it after some time. Now it was my turn. I went head first into the scissor, as far as my body would take me. As my head clanked against the wall in front of me,

I pressed my hands into the ground and pushed my body up. I felt my back crack as it folded in half. Inch by inch, my back folded, till I was able to slide my legs in and stand up. My back was scraped by the sharp rock walls. Now I was standing, wedged between two rocks, with no way it seems to get out without going forward. The claustrophobia was starting to set in. I had nowhere to go except up. I reached up high and my tippy toes until I grabbed the ledge. I slowly pull myself up the ledge, which opened up thankfully a bit more. I dragged my body, up and looked down the shaft. Dad was far up ahead. The passageway started

tighter. I noticed the red-painted blocks on the wall. Must be the ones from Carl. Dad was making progress up ahead. He wasn't calling back to me. It looked like he was miles ahead of me at times, but when I looked back at him, he was only a few feet in front of me. We twisted and turned through the dark, trying to follow the red blocks. After one turned down a passage, Dad called out, stop. What? I replied, nearly out of breath. Dead end. We got to turn back. Ah, okay. I called, feeling my handshaking. And now a backtrack the way we came in, reversed. I started pulling myself backwards, unable to see where I was going. Dad shoes were right in front of me, which gave me some comfort. Down in the caves, your mind starts playing tricks on you. Dejaveau sweeps over you.

Every little knock in the rock looks the same. It feels like you're swimming against the current, making no progress. As we backtracked more, my feet slammed into a wall behind me. Stop! I screamed. We have to go left, Dad replied, pulling himself further into the passage. I took a minute to breathe, unable to reach back. and grab a water. My mouth was deathly dry, feeling like it was lost in the desert. I rested my heavy head in my arm, which was quickly falling asleep, wondering why the hell I'd do these things. As I picked my head up, Dad, was nowhere to be seen. Dad, I called out, hearing my voice echo through the three passageways ahead of me. Three options before me, like forks in the road. We just came from the far right one. Dad must have gone down the middle one. I called out again, but to no avail. I heard a scurrying behind me, like something was racing down the passage. I quickly squirmed

into the middle passage, hoping Dad was up ahead. This passage I was heading down was growing increasingly more difficult. Each obstacle proved to be an undertaking that physically and mentally slowed me down. I felt as if I was hearing running water somewhere further ahead. Carl mentioned nothing about water. The dirt below me was growing softer, I squire him through tight squeezes, calling out to my dad but to no avail. My worst fears were coming to life.

Terrible thoughts of my father being hurt intruded into my head. I desperately tried to shake them. As my thoughts raced, the flickering of my helmet light snapped you back to reality. There was nothing more unnerving than being in pitch-black darkness, Not a sound to be heard, wedged between unmovable rocks. My stomach nearly dropped outside of my body, when my light went out. What had to be, only really a few moments, but felt like an eternity. I smacked my headlight, and it flicked back on.

I crawled forwards once again, feeling my heart beating through my chest, but pressing hard into the ground. My back ached fiercely, trying hard to stretch it, only to be blocked by the rock above me. That squeezing feeling was really setting in, like I was crawling deeper and further into a narrow passageway, only to find a dead end and unable to crawl back out. I moved through a wider squeeze that brought me further down in elevation. A faint smell started to linger in the air. My voice was growing coarse as my calls to my father were falling on deaf ears. I could not figure out how we got so turned around in such a short amount of time.

The smell in the air was growing stronger, like wet feces. A tiny squealing and scratching started to rumble around me. I pressed forward, trying to catch my breath in this narrow passage. My arms fully numb from being squeezed into my side. The squealing grew louder with each inch I was making. More and more I heard them moving. I was able to manoeuvre my head forward, only to light up with my helmet, a horrifying mass, of creatures. A mass of rats lay before me, crawling all over each other, huddled together.

The squealing sounds they made as they started crawling closer to the light of my helmet. I led out a yelp, desperately calling for my dad as I started shimming backwards. The rats pressed up against me, squirming their way, trying to get past me. I pressed my face into the mud, hoping they would pass quick. They came in waves, feeling their tiny feet and whiskers up against me. As the initial wave passed, I frantically started shimbing backwards out of their den. The rats eventually thinned out and I lost sight of them. While I frantically backpedaled out of their den,

the toll of poor maneuvering through the passages left its marks in my body. My suit was torn in a few spots, when my skin was rubbed raw and bleeding in some areas. I somehow made my way to the fork in the cave, when I started hearing movements behind me. with enough space in this area, I bent my body in such a way that I was able to fully turn around. My light shined down the initial tunnel we had originally came from.

I prayed it was Carl, coming to show us the way out of here. As the sound grew stronger, my father emerged from the darkness. Dad? I called out, utterly confused. Boy, am I happy as hell to see you? you, Dad replied, nearly out of breath. How the hell did you get behind me? I asked. Dad stopped for a minute. His head was beating with sweat, as was mine. The cave system led her long breath as a cool wind blew past us. I'm not sure what the hell is going on here, son.

I can't seem to get us to the birth canal. Well, we know the right passage is no good. I just came from the middle one, which was a dead end. A nest of rats. met me right at the end, shakily replied. You came for the middle one. Are you sure about that? Dad questioned. I scoffed back. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. No in hell I'm going back down there either. Son, I went down the middle passage. Dad replied in a monotone voice. Well, how did you get behind me then? My mind was really playing tricks on me at this point. I couldn't even tell you which way was up. Dad wiped the dirt

I can't explain it either, Henry. All I know is that we can turn back around here and call it quits, or try the left passage, see if we can make it to the birth canal and into the cavern that Carl said is so magnificent and complete our route. Dad made that second option sound a bit more desirable. Besides, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.

We only had one passage before us, I guess it was our bad luck that we chose the incorrect passages the first time round. So, we agreed to press forward towards the left passage with me leading the way. I pressed forth into the passage, making sure to keep Dad close this time around. We tried making small talk through the passage, but it felt as if both of us were just keeping focused and pressing forward. We must have crawled for about 30 minutes at that point, with no end in sight. I figured it was a good thing that we didn't. hit a dead end yet. Dad, there's something up ahead, I called out. What, what is it? He replied

nervously. It's a door, I said, nearly out of breath. Thank God, Dad replied, here, I'll pass you the key. The door before me looked as if it belonged on a dollhouse. The passage we were in was nearly suffocating as it is. To now crawl through this door and into the birth canal, was starting to ramp up my dormant claustrophobia. Dad was able to toss me the key. I pushed the key into the old lock and pressed hard. The door was tough to open. The ancient looking wood cracked open.

A stench from the new passage blew right into us, sending us into a coughing fit. I went in, arms forward, trying to grab onto something up ahead. Dad was pushing my legs forward as I squeezed the door. I felt the hard wood scrape against my back, crushing my ribs with each inch. Dad grabbed my leg,

helping him, through it. Dad let out equally painful screams. He was a larger guy than I was, so for him to get through that door must have hurt something fierce. What the door led us into was not any more inviting.

Immediately, the passage before us was narrowed into seemingly impossible widths. This must be the birth canal, I called out to Dad. I wriggled into this narrow passage, feeling the pressure immediately all around me. I struggled to move even a centimetre. Each breath I took waged me harder into the rock wall.

I was unable to move. Dad struggled just as much, taking extreme effort to move mere centimetres. I couldn't press on any further. I felt stuck. Dad? I cried out, feeling tears bubbling my eyes. I can't move. I'm struggling back here too, bud.

I think it may be too narrow for us to go any further, Dad said, somehow remaining calm. Dad started crawling backwards, pulling in my leg, trying to loosen me up. I wasn't budging. I began to wail, hearing my screams echo around me,

frantically kicking and squirming, trying to get out. Dad tried to calm me down, telling me to relax. But while I could think about was being trapped down here for so long, unable to be freed by help, and that this cave would be my final resting place, a tomb to be sealed in. After what felt like time ceasing to move, unable to move from the rocks which surrounded me, Dad decided he needed to go get help. Slowly he backed his way up, leaving me alone in the cavern.

I tried to remain as calm as I could, struggling to gain a ninja or so back out the way I came. My body was going numb. All I could think about was dying in this cold, where rescuers wouldn't be able to reach my body. I figured it would be a few hours before Dad would get out of the cave, get help, then bring them where I was. My head felt heavy, like I clanked it hard against the floor. The fluid inside my skull was sloshing around.

Your mind starts playing tricks on you down here. There are no sounds. Your chest breathing sounds like an explosion. With each deep breath I could feel myself Wetched harder I tried to rest But my mind kept racing back

To images of rats Brewing themselves into me Knowering away at my face While I'm trapped Unable to fight back Every so often I'd hear a little scurring sound Or the sound of water

Somewhere far off ahead of me What lay before me As far as my light would go It was more darkness A cold breeze would be bellow into me, giving me some sense of relief that the outside world couldn't be that far away. I heard them coming after some time. It must have been hours since I last saw Dad.

I heard clanging like equipment rattling along the walls of the cave, echoing down into my chamber. I cried out, banging my helmet against the wall. The clanging grew louder. Then I heard their voices. There was a woman. She was calling my name, followed by the voices. of other men. I cried out to them, begging for help. I felt something wrap around my ankles tight, then a cranking sound began. The pressure on my numb legs felt fierce as the cranking continued.

Slowly I inched backwards out of the cavern, my body dragging against the rocks. I felt like a cork being pulled from a wine bottle. With the final pop, I was able to move more freely as I was freed. I wept the entire way back out. My worst fears had come to escape. I couldn't wait to see Dad. I stuck with a guide the entire way out. Her name was Rachel, and she seemed like an experienced rescuer. Focused, I was intent of escaping from this nightmare cave.

As we navigated out of the cave, mostly backwards, I could start feeling a stronger breeze coming. Soon the light of day began to pierce through. Not much light left. It was nearly dusk. We had spent the majority of the cave. As I emerged from the cave, I called out to dad. There were responder cars everywhere, bright lights and their alarms blaring. A lone ambulance was parked after the side.

I felt my heart sink as I saw a man on the gurney. I raced over, my legs feeling like jelly. I was covered in mud and filth as I crashed into the paramedics. dad lay in the gurney. He was bruised and cut badly. Long ashes ran down his chest and face, like he'd been clawed by a bear. His left eye was gouged out. I wept as they lifted him into the van. I sat in the back with him while they pumped him with IVs. Blood seeped from his lips with each movement. Unable to speak, he weakly reached into his pocket. Drembling, he brought his hand to mine, his eye beginning to close.

His palm outstretched, revealing a dirty, sharp, sharp, sharp, with dark, with dark, stains on it. I grabbed the tooth from Dad's cold hand, as the heart rate monitor flatlined. I lost my Dad that day. All I have left of him is a tooth from some creature that I believed killed him. The tooth is nothing like I've seen before. It curves like a dagger, just as sharp with ridges along the lens. I can only imagine hundreds of the dad, sinking into the cave.

I vowed never to go back to that cave. But here I am, one year later. The tooth is in my pocket, where it has been since the day Dad died. I am standing in front of the cave once again, not having been in one since my last trip here. There are old ropes and signs barring people from going in, sighting the same, deathly risks ahead. I'm ready to go in, ready to never leave again, ready to find whatever the hell killed my father.

The festival season is aangbroke, and that beteked, modder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On the look to a water-dict tent, a comfortable luch bed, oh so, and lupart print regalearze. Miao! Now, Kivitkim's not. him no more to make him just like that

Oh, he's just a lotter Oh yeah Mauder Drogoblev' Find what you need to On amazon.com. I found this journal in the bedroom of the house I just moved into

The homeowners had taken some furniture with them But not everything The kitchen is intact There are some books on a shelf in the living room I have seen a grey stray cat around the house The bedroom even still has a bed in it. I understood immediately why they didn't take it. It smells awful. On it lay these pages. The doctor said I should write down my thoughts. I'm not sure how this is supposed to help me,

but at this point I'm pretty much willing to give anything a try. What makes it more difficult for me is that she didn't give clear instructions. I've never done this before. Like I've never had a diary before. She said I could write down anything I wanted to. thoughts, even poems, as if I would be one to write poems. but she said, just to get started, try to get into it,

that there's not really a wrong way to do this. We'll see. Not much else has helped yet, so I might as well. I have enough time either way. I've been on sickly for work for weeks now. I doubt they'll put up with this for much longer, and I hardly ever sleep through the night.

Maybe I should have been on sickly for weeks now. Maybe I should have been on sick for weeks now. include some context for future me, who might pick this up 20 years from now or so. To be honest, it's hard to imagine that there will be a future where I might even want to look back at this time. But the doctor said it was important to keep a hopeful perspective. And God, do I want to try? So, I think I've been seeing this doctor for about two months now. The problem has been going on for much longer. It was just when I couldn't bear it any more that I was finally ready to get help. To be honest, I just kind of hoped that she would tell me that none of this was real.

And even if I have a hard time believing that myself, maybe she would just give me a few pills and I'd get better. But it doesn't seem to be that way. She wants to know why I'm experiencing this. And damn, so do I. But I think our ideas of possible reasons are very different. She keeps bringing up my parents, my loneliness, fears. But I swear, I was fine before this started.

I had a nice childhood. I know I'm lucky that my parents left this house when they decided to move to Spain to spend their older years in a warm climate. It was a great time sharing this house with roommates during our college years. I loved it. But college is over.

My friends have moved out and the building doesn't feel like home anymore. I swear, I never had problems living here in the past. As a child, I knew there was nothing in the closet or under my bed. As a teenager, I was never worried. when my parents stayed out late and I was alone. And as a college student,

I was just thankful to have a home in rent-free. I think I first started noticing something at the end of last year, when it started getting colder outside. At first, I suspected rodents had come in to flee the cold. Maybe they were in the walls,

causing the scratching that I was hearing during some nights. So, problem solve a brain that I have, I got some traps, and set them up in the pantry, my bedroom, even the attic. everywhere but, but,

no matter of, nothing ever got caught. maybe the mice out here in the country too smart to fall for my peanut butter lies, I thought and because I had been

feeling that this house was too big for me alone anyway, I decided to give myself an early Christmas present and got myself two cats from the shelter in December.

Still thinking of rodents, it was the logical next step, right? I named them Rue and Rory. It hurts a bit Rue Rue went missing

after the new year some point during I never found her I don't know what happened to her but after she was gone I never let Rory outside again I became a bit of an overly worried cat parent probably

but I think she's adjusted to having a territory limited to this fairly big house and even though I never regretted getting the cats they changed nothing about the noises. If anything, those grew more frequent. I never found a pattern, neither for the noises, nor for any of the other things. I really don't know if writing all this down was a good idea. I'm starting to feel bad thinking about this so much. After all these months, I'm worried I might be going insane after all. The noises always came at night. The cats didn't seem interested in them. I'd expected them to be keen.

curious, maybe sniffing the walls, whatever cats do when they want to find their prey. But the opposite seemed to be the case. The cats had started to sleep in my bed, but when the noises started, they left the room. By then, I thought I didn't hear only scratching anymore. Was that a clicking sound? A faint knocking? Could that still be rodents? Were they damaging some kind of wood structures inside the wall? Looking back, I can't pinpoint when exactly it happened. It must have been gradually that I became obsessed about this. I started to stay awake purposefully to not miss any noises. I wanted to solve this mystery. Sometimes I startled myself by rustling my own bedsheets.

More than once I tried recording them, but I think my phone can't handle them. When I showed the recording to the doctor the other day, she only said, All I can hear is your breathing. I searched the whole house. for mice excrement, anything. I went from basement to attic and back for nothing. It was almost ridiculous. Even if they weren't causing the noises,

shouldn't this house have at least one or two mice? But it seems my parents had always taken perfect care of the place. I found nothing. At that point, the light had not started flickering yet. During one of our first sessions, when I was trying to describe what was going on, the doctor asked me whether I had considered to move out of the house if I felt so uncomfortable there. Uncomfortable. Ha, I wish it was just that. But in the beginning, she couldn't yet have known just how bad it was. Her question wasn't helpful. Of course, I thought about moving.

Aside from the fact that I would be sad giving up the house I grew up in, and that I would miss it. By now, I'm ready to just get the hell out of there. I think I might be better off, never solving this mystery. But even if I wasn't sure, I'll lose my job soon, I absolutely can't afford moving. I'm not sure how long I can even afford to keep paying these dumb sessions. I'm not making that much money. I don't really have any savings.

I don't know how to get all my stuff to a new place. I wouldn't want to leave Rory behind either. finding a cat-friendly apartment that also happens to be affordable for me seems like a dream from another a waking dream though I don't remember when I last slept through a whole night

right now I can see the first traces of light from dawn the sun will rise soon I've made it through another night this one was relatively calm after looking through the house I don't think any more items are missing The light only came on

Around 3am After that A bit of scratching Whatever is in there Why hasn't it Long scratched its way out of the wall There can't be much left to scratch on in there But

Even though the light of day promises me a break From all these things I can't explain I can't relax A weird presence has moved into this house with me The air feels heavier and harder to breathe I think Rory is feeling it too. She's been meowing to be let outside a lot more, and even though I had sworn to myself, I wouldn't. Maybe I should. If one of us can manage to get away from this house, maybe I shouldn't

stop her. As for myself, even though it's been feeling worse and worse in here, I somehow feel tied to this place. I just know I won't get away, even if I try. I'm not sure how to explain this, and every time I can see the doubt and her eyes. she doesn't believe me, for her, I'm just another patient and I want to be. I hope I'm wrong. But paper can't judge, so I will write freely.

The pressure that resides in these walls now feels sentient. It's like it's watching me during the day, almost like it's looking forward to keeping me up at a night. It's like the thing that scratches of my bedroom wall at night is floating through the air at day. And I don't know how dangerous it is and how much you can interact with the house, with me.

Shortly after New Year's, a kitchen knife went missing. I know for sure, because it was my favourite knife, sharp enough to glide through meat like it's nothing. I've basically emptied all kitchen cabinets looking for it and found items I don't remember owning. but the knife stayed gone. I wanted to believe it was impossible. Maybe I'd thrown it out into the trash accidentally, but deep inside I knew that was nonsense. I'd always been extra careful with it, watching it immediately after each use and placing it back where it belonged, where now there was an empty slot in the knife block. No matter how much I'd like that knife, I couldn't come to terms with it being gone, but the next thing that went missing was for

through. And that was the last sign that whatever was going on was nothing good. I didn't want to at first. I walked around outside in a radius of miles probably, looking for her. Even looking in ditches and under bushes in case some bigger animal had gotten her. But there was no trace. I tried to tell myself that this doesn't have to mean she was dead. Maybe she had run away. That's what I wanted to believe. But why would she? She had always

before. The cat sisters She seemed to have a real bond. She seemed with me. No, there was something more behind this and I just felt it. That was the night that I first started scratching back. I was sitting on my bed facing the wall waiting without moving. But once the scratching started, I put my nails to the wallpaper

and started mimicking the noise. As if to confirm my suspicions, The scratching reacted to mine. It grew louder and more frantic, and when I increased my scratching too, the knocking came. It was a wild echo of increasingly loud noises. When I couldn't take it anymore, I started banging the walls in my fists. Leave me alone, I held. What do you want? I had not thought about what I was saying. Maybe if I had, I'd asked myself if I truly wanted an answer before spitting out such a question. All at once, the noise, My heart

It had been at once. I tried to keep my breathing as quiet as possible. Not trusting the silence, I slowly moved my ear to the wall To see if I could hear anything. The noise that spoke next sounded so close That I was half expecting to feel a matching warm breath against my ear. It was a woman's voice. So much calmer than I would have expected.

than I would have expected. She sounded matter of fact, she stated, you. Maybe I should have been brave enough then to ask the question that it's been burning my soul ever since then. But for months now, I haven't been able to confront whatever was inside the house directly again. And so, it stayed silent. Just the thought revolving in my head that I would now pin down on this paper. Why? Over the week's, I did try to talk to time to time. no matter how much my doctor tried to assure me that they could not possibly be anything sentient living in them.

I just had to try. But all my hellos, my who are yous, stayed unanswered. When the light started going on and off on their own during the night, I finally understood that whatever it was, it was trying to wear me down. It knew just fine that I was scared and that I didn't know how to deal with. with it. The scratching from the wall seemed to sound like it was inside my head, gnawing on my skull from the inside. I had panic attacks that left me soaked with sweat. The lights inside the bedroom went on, off,

on, off, then on for a few minutes, then off again. I fled from the bedroom to the living room, but there I realised that the lights were different from the scratching, that I had always been confined to my bedroom, but this was bigger. Each and every and every single bulb went on, The same moment. I stared, still not wanting to believe it. Into my eyes fell on a single candle on the living room table. The flame was burning. Then it blew off.

Burning again, off again. I broke down crying, until, after a few hours, it finally stayed dark. I could feel Rory snuggling up to me and on the sofa and held a warm, purring body, until the sun came up. I knew I knew. I didn't want to worry I didn't want to worry my parents, and I didn't want my my colleagues to get the idea that I wasn't right in the head until I was tired enough of it all to contact a

psychiatrist to my own. And even though I think she's a great doctor, deep inside, I feel like she won't be able to help me. I am still working with her, trying to follow all of her advice. otherwise, but none. But none of her suggestions to the reality I've been living in for all these months. Electricity problems,

exceptionally sneaky rodents, old pipes, stress making me forgetful and losing stuff. Sure, I know that's what I would tell someone else too if I heard a story like mine. But from the inside, all of this is too real. I think I could get used to the lights

accepting the heavy air is harder, feeling like I can never leave this house, is unsettling, but not a nightmare yet. The last thing that has been added is this smell. I can't say what it is, just that it's terrible. It seems to get stronger every day, but I still can't identify it. I don't think I've ever smelled something like this. I was playing around with the thought of finding the source, but I gave up on that. before I even got up from my bed. I knew that just like with the noises,

it would be for nothing. I wondered if this too would fade into something I could live with. It doesn't matter though, because no matter how I adapt, I will never be okay with this damn scratching. No matter how loud I blast music on headphones,

no matter what I stuff into my ears, nothing can overpower it. I feel like it's nesting in my boat, bones, even though, I want to scream at it, come out, but I know the reply without having to do it. It wants me to come in instead. I can't go anywhere anymore without feeling watched,

without feeling a weight on me. I know that all the hours of daylight are just their own kind of anticipation of the night. I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm as hollowed out on the inside as my wall should be. This life isn't worth of living Rory I will let her out now I can't keep a trap to near with me

no matter how her calming presence has helped me in the past she's sitting outside in the field that I can see from the living room window now it's a beautiful image that now grown cat in the early summer sun overlook in the field and the woods in the distance It's a world open to her now

I wonder if she'll realise I won't be letting her back in She tried to come back But does she feel the truth Just like I do now The freedom outside She'll be her home now And I just hope she will be okay

At least one of us When I started writing this down I had not known yet But I think the plan was already growing inside of me And now it's blooming before my eyes I know what I see now. I see now. I will cancel the next doctor's appointment. I will call my parents one more time. I will get everything I need. And when night comes, I'll be ready. And I just hope that when it's over, it'll be over for good. I'm writing this as a final goodbye in case this will ever get found. From my last resting place, I'm writing this from inside the wall. I did it. I knew the walls weren't solid as the building plans claimed.

At least not this one. After I'd moved my bed away from the wall, I got to work of the hammer and actually broke through. The outer barrier was quite thin. After I'd made a tiny hole into the wall, it was easy to make it larger. I broke off more and more pieces of the wall and wallpaper. there was a hollow space in, deep enough for a person, for me to fit in. As soon as soon as the opening allowed it, I crawled inside. And as soon as my foot left the bedroom and all of me was inside the wall,

I could feel the heavy pressure lifting off my shoulders. I know that I am where I'm supposed to be. I can see the hole I made into the wall slowly closing. It doesn't scare me now, because I know that I'm doing the right thing. thing. This will end There's not much like, coming in from the closing wall anymore.

This will be it. I'm in the wall now. It's okay now. I'm here now. Reading this has disturbed me, but I mean it must have been a work of fiction, right? Or could it have been

the previous owner's kid actually going mad? Who knows? I didn't want to care at first. But you see, I've been curious all my life, so I at least wanted to look at the wall, that I had read so much about, and for that, I had to move the bed. First, my gaze fell upon the wall. It was intact. I hadn't been expecting anything else, had I? There was a dark shape on it, faint like a shadow, only noticeable when you were looking for it, just as I were. It could have been anything. I wanted to say it was nothing. But then I saw what was lying on the floor, previously under the bed.

What had come to light had been the source of the smell. The cat looked like it must have been dead for months. Despite its almost mummified state, I saw a certain similarity to the grey cat that is still wandering around outside. My brain was still trying to come up with an explanation when I saw the knife. Its edge looked sharp still, even though it was blemished with something dark, black, that could possibly have been blood once. poor cat.

I turned around, ran out of the house, threw up right then and there on the porch. I realized I was shaking. I never should have read that messed up journal, I thought. There could be a million explanations for the cat. Someone coming here after the house was empty and messing around, or maybe the author of that journal had really been going crazy and sliced the cat up.

No matter how bad that was, there was nothing supernatural about it. Right? But I couldn't get the writing out of my head, so the next thing I did was go through all the papers I'd gotten when buying the house. The author had been right about one thing. The walls should be solid. The rest couldn't be true though, right? How could I have found the journal on the bed then, right? Nothing like that was possible, right? I really don't know what made me decide to get the wall teared down.

I made sure it wasn't a load-bearer. wall and claimed that I wanted to reorganise the ground floor. Make the living room larger, pick another room as a bedroom. I don't think the construction work has really cared for all my explanations, and I admit that there were probably more of excuses for myself. Telling myself, I did still not believe the journal, telling myself that I wasn't scared. I was just doing some normal construction in the house I was moving into. Um, excuse me, the voice of one of the has startled me out of my thoughts. I caught myself praying that he wouldn't say what he was about to. But we've found something. You might want to see this. Actually, you might want to call 911.

The wall had been solid. There was no free space around the body they found. It looked like the person had just sat down, legs close to the body, and gotten surrounded by the wall. I shouldn't have looked, but curiosity, remember? The body was literally embedded It seemed like it seemed like it seemed like Being enveloped like this Protected from oxygen But the workers had only free the side of the face and one arm

Waiting for the police to decide what to do next I felt it looked like the guy was smiling I could see he had a pen in his hand I don't think I'll keep this house The festival's segoon is And that beteked And so, came Kim Toam to come

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