CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 7 r/Nosleep HORROR Stories for that extra long scary story session

Episode Date: May 17, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "There's something wrong with my blood" Creepypasta►13:37 "I'm a HUNTER of the Paranormal. We dealt with the one who makes CURSED rules" Creepypasta►36:39 "I was part of an expedition to the South Pole. I was the only one to make it back" Creepypasta►1:21:21 "Today I traversed the depths of the Uncanny Valley. I barely got out alive" Creepypasta►1:41:33 "I Used to Believe We Were Alone in the Universe" Creepypasta►2:18:01 "My buddy insisted that I see this psychic, but I wish I never went" Creepypasta►2:29:22 "A Pile of Dirt" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...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-

I grew up in a small community in the south of Minnesota called St. Gaul. We were eight families, all loosely related. Uncalls and aunts from both sides of the family, along with grandparents and two outsider families, not directly related by blood. It was a remnant of the hippie era, and my mother grew up out there. It was originally meant to be some sort of farming commune for people who wanted to live on their own terms without going completely off the grid. It isn't like a religious gathering or a cult, as many believe. It was all about a different way of life and living closer to the earth. My mother left St. Gall for a few years to study sociology, and that's where she met my dad.

I was an accidental pregnancy, and my dad didn't want to stick around. My mother moved back to St. Goal and had me in the early 90s. I was born in the house I grew up in. life out in St. Gall wasn't as odd as one might think. I still went to school. I just had to take an earlier bus. We still went into town at least once a week, and I had many friends that I got really close to over the years. Still, there was always that air of being different around me. My mom explained that a lot of the parents of the kids at school didn't like the people from St. Gall,

because we were different, a bit odd. My mom was terrified of a lot of things, but mostly blood. That was her number one fear. And if I ever hurt myself, she would try cover it up as fast as possible. It was strange, because I saw kids skin their knees at school all the time without anyone freaking out. I never hurt myself like that, since my mom was adamant about me being needlessly careful. It came to the point where I sometimes had to wet. elbow knee guards to school, which landed me in plenty of trouble from bullies.

But my childhood came and went. Elementary school turned into middle school, which turned into high school. Things got rough then, fast. On the best days, I was a gall kid, but most of the time, they just called me Jesus freak, cultist, or even school shooter. I was branded an outsider without there ever really being a reason. I guess that's just what it's like being a teenager. I also refused to take the precautions my mother asked me to. I stopped wearing an elbow and knee guards the gym class.

Our teacher had a deal where kids could go to the gym instead of playing team sports, but I was tired of being separated. I'd compromise with my mom by wearing several layers of clothes, but I'd usually just wait for her to be out of sight before I took something off. If she ever knew I was pretty good at both soccer and basketball. basketball, she'd have a heart attack. It was during those few P.E. classes that I started noticing something was different about me.

Sure, we're all still growing up, but I was growing a bit different. I was almost completely hairless in comparison to the other boys, and my hair was growing lighter. I'd gone from brown hair to strawberry blonde in about two years. I would also start to notice a weird smell coming from the other boys. they really stank It took me several weeks to notice that they weren't actually the ones who were different I was

They smelled like people were supposed to smell But my sweat on the other hand Was sweeter Not necessarily in a good way But just weirdly sweet By comparison Not sugary But more like the smell of thick dairy

I hadn't thought about it I just figured that was the way sweat was supposed to smell. It wasn't. I made one friend in high school. Darren. Short guy, who dropped in and out of social clicks like it was his job. I talked to him about it and asked him to smell me. Weird, I know.

And he agreed that something was off. He convinced me to talk to the school nurse, thinking it might be something like diabetes. I was scared he'd tell someone about it, but he never did. good guy. I had a long chat with a school nurse, Anita. She was very reassuring.

Apparently, puberty can have all sorts of weird effects on the human body. A sweet smell coming from your sweat was hardly the worst she'd seen, or in this case smelled. It was weird, sure, but this was a weird time to be a human. Still, she decided to run a few blood tests just to make sure my iron levels and white blood cells were okay. As soon as she poked the needle through my arm, she recoiled and crinkled the nose. The syringe dropped to the floor, and I got up.

She got a tissue and started to blow her nose repeatedly, over and over. What the hell was that? she exclaimed. What did you... I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked at the drop of blood poking out my arm, and I didn't notice anything odd. I just put a band-aid on it while Anita tried to regain her composure. Come back, uh, come back tomorrow, she coughed. We'll talk more, okay?

But she was sick the next day. I felt uncomfortable with the whole thing, and I wanted to talk to my mom about it, but I also didn't want her to get worried. When you have someone in your life that is always on the breaking point, you make a habit out of stepping carefully. It took Nurse Anita the rest of the school week before she returned to a job. I was immediately summoned to the nurse's office.

She'd lost weight, a lot of it. She was drinking water from a large bottle when I got there, and she had dark markings around her eyes. She didn't seem well, but she lit up as she looked at me. Anita asked me for a new blood test, and I agreed. She lined up four syringes. Her hands were shaking, but she regained a focus once the needle got closer to my arm. Step by step, she filled the syringes, but she seemed to get more and more excited as she did.

I can swear she was sniffing at my neck. The whole thing was weird, and I left as soon as she gave me a band-aid. She promised to run some tests and let me know as soon as she was done, but she wanted me to return at least once a week for a check-up. Apparently, sweet-smelling sweat was a bigger deal than I'd anticipated. I asked her if I should see a doctor. her, but she just shook her head. As I left the nurse's office, I looked back. She was standing at the doorway, staring at me from across the hall. Her eyes never left mine.

She was staring at my neck, drinking from a water bottle. This time, I told my mom. I had no idea how much she would overreact. Instead of talking to Nurse Anita, she pulled me out of school the same day. She threw our entire lives into boxes, breaking at least half of our dinnerware in the process. In less than a weekend, she packed up everything and hired a truck. I barely had time to hug my grandparents goodbye before we were out of town. I was forced to switch phone number, and my mother swore that if I didn't remove my social media accounts,

she would smash every touchscreen we owned. I'd never seen her like that before. I was terrified. That's how we ended up. in Sabre, Michigan. Of course, my mom couldn't check on me all day long. I did get time to check in on my social media. Darren, still in disbelief about me leaving so soon,

told me things had gotten weird at school. Nurse Anita had started asking questions about where I'd moved, and when the principal couldn't reveal that information, she'd gotten aggressive. The police got involved, and it was revealed that she'd taken my blood samples home. Things got unclear at this point. But Darren, whose mom works at the sheriff's office, had spoken over dinner about nurse Anita apparently drinking blood straight from the syringes. But that wasn't all.

In the days that followed, she was taken into custody. She was doing some sort of hunger strike and couldn't even keep down water. She actually died from dehydration, right there in the county jail, surrounded by paramedics trying to understand why her body was actively resisting an IV. By now, my mom and I had settled in at a small three-bed apartment. I confronted her about Nurse Anita and what had happened. My mom finally opened up to me. You know what Capsaicin is? she asked. It is the thing in spicy food that makes your tongue and throat hurt.

It is a kind of self-defense thing that just... It's supposed to make us stay away. I'd heard about it, and I was aware of the concept. This thing that is supposed to make us stay away just makes it more enticing, she explained. People can get addicted to it. To many, it has the opposite of the intended effect. It became something to be desired instead of something that protects the plant. Do you understand what I'm telling you?

I sort of was. I didn't want to think I was, but I was. Our family is the... different, she told me. I was hoping this wouldn't happen to you, but it did, and we had to move. She really did try to bring me a normal life. She tried not to worry. But whatever is inside me was growing extremely potent.

I started to understand why our family had lived isolated and why she wanted me to be careful around the others. As a kid, it wasn't as dangerous, but as a teenager, it was stronger than ever. That's why even I was noticing my own smells. They'd gotten stronger. But, for years past, my mom got a job at a gas station, and I helped out as a farmhand and cherry picker. Things were going pretty well, all things considered. Until last year, I was picking up my mom from the night shift, early in the morning,

when a truck on the opposite lane ran a red light. We were hit. It wasn't a bad hit, but it was bad enough to send us into a spin and into a nearby ditch. Mom had been looking through a purse and smashed the head against the passenger window, and I headbashed the steering wheel. The passenger side of the rear half of the car was folded like origami. I barely even remember what happened next. I remember the truck driver coming to check on Mom, only to drag her out on the pavement.

I remember paramedics and a police car. I remember eyes looking at me, delirious and dark, open, bloody mouths, tendons snapping, a sweet, flowery smell, drowning out the gasoline pouring from the car. Red, I remember seeing a half-eaten face, slowly being torn apart. Eyes that used to comfort me, having lost their light, a slight-jawed nightmare, having clothes and limbs torn apart, and spayed on the concrete like a flattened toad. I don't remember much about getting away I was chased through a field of wheat

and I threw up in a water bucket next to a well I hid in a barn and cover myself in hay to dampen the smell of my blood I remember a flashlight passing over me as three people left desperately looking somewhere else bloody mouths still chewing pupils so large their eyes looked black they were barely even breathing their breaths so short I couldn't see their chest

chest move. I made it. I would never speak of this in person, as I don't want to risk anyone finding me. I've moved twice since that incident, and I'm starting to understand what I am. The problem is, I've started to get cataracts.

I know it is at an early stage, but it is definitely there, and it is progressing rapidly. I'm going to need surgery. Someone has to operate on me, and I just I fear I'll never wake up from that surgery I have no idea what to do

I can't live like this constantly fearing someone will get too close and catch a whiff of me no wonder my mom had to leave my dad no wonder she was always afraid you're all hunting me you just don't know it yet I've been an investigator and hunter

of the paranormal for longer than I care to remember studying law, protecting the innocent and destroying malicious entities are just a few of the job's many requirements. In my younger years, training day in and day out with my uncle, I thought that we were heroes and that I had the greatest job in the world. Now that is dead, along with most of my friends and family, I'm not so sure. The monotony of inless travel and cheap hotels,

the guilt of not being able to protect my loved ones when they needed me the most, the burden of saving others. It's more weight than I ever thought would rest in my shoulders. More weight than most men can bear to carry. But, enough about that. You don't need to hear some sob story. This isn't about me. This is about my latest adventure.

One I almost didn't come back from. A few months ago, while digging through various news articles and police reports for choice words like, bizarre and unexplainable. I came upon a tablet piece about a man, Jack, on a business trip. He apparently became hysterical and attacked his boss, Colter, in a hotel lobby. When asked why, he simply said that Room 371, the room Colter was assigned at the front desk, was no ordinary room, and anyone staying there was, quote, in grave danger. He said he was trying to protect his boss by explaining the situation while pulling him away and out of the hotel. Golter resisted and fell to the floor, breaking his arm.

He didn't press charges, but needless to say, their business trip and relationship was no more. Normally, I stay away from these kinds of things. More than not, they tend to be the product of nut cases. This one had all the markings of an overtired, overworked man on the verge of mental breakdown. Still, it piqued my interest. With no other pressing cases on the table, I decided to look into it, if for no other reason than to placate my curiosity. A quick bit of research revealed that the Carverne Wood Inn, the hotel where Jack and Calder

were staying, only had two floors with room numbers ranging from 101 to 256. There was not, nor had there ever been, a room 371. This wasn't enough to build a case, but it was strange nonetheless. I couldn't find any contact information for Jack, but I found an email for Colter and a site dedicated to networking for investors and business leaders. He responded, but only gave me a brief account to the incident, not wishing to discuss specifics. In his summary, however sparse, even he described being handed a key card for room 371 before

Jack grouted him. The plot was thickening. Next order of business was to call the hotel. I did this on three separate occasions, spread out across the week with three different aliases and spoke with three different staff members, ranging from entry level to management positions. In the hunting business, this is known as the rule of three. Provided you can sift through the BS and identify the potential truths within,

it allows for a higher chance of information retrieval without raising suspicion. It works even better if you can act and change your voice accordingly. Call number one was to the hotel manager. As I suspected, no matter how persistent I was, she would not comment on the matter. Call number two was made to low-level management in the form of Tammy, a shift supervisor.

She was working on the day in question, but I'd heard a lot about it from co-workers. She said Jack was a lunatic, kept screaming about a list of rules in his hotel room. I wanted to pry for more, but we were disconnected. I'm fairly certain I heard the manager come over and scold Tammy before the line went dead. Call number three was to the front desk. For this one, I decided on a back-ended approach. I would attempt to book the non-existent room 371 to see if the clerk would bring up the incident on his own.

Upon dialing, the voice that met my ear was steady and emotionless. Thank you for calling the Covenwood Inn. How may we be our service? Is it possible to book a specific room? Of course, sir, which room would you like to stay in? Room 371? One moment. There was the brief pause and a faint sound of tapping at a keyboard. Room 371 is available tonight and every night going forward.

when would you like to book your stay? Impossible. Did I call the right place? Was my information wrong? So, you're saying room 371, that's 3.71, is available? Yes, sir, tonight and every night. And this is the Covenwood Inn in Massachusetts? Indeed it is.

And your hotel only has two floors with room numbers 101 to 256, right? Correct, sir. then how is there a room 371? There was another pause. This one considerably longer than the previous. Thank you for calling the Covenwood Inn where we always hope you enjoy your stay. Goodbye.

Click. Well, I'll be damned. Despite my doubts, it looked like I'd found my case. I just needed to do a little more research before going out on a full-fledged hunt. Most entities travel. It's doubtful that this one struck once and then moved on. If I could find its signature and establish a pattern,

I could probably pick up its scent and predict its next attack. All I had to go off was Tammy's second and account of Jack screaming about a list of rules. That would have to be my starting point. And down the rabbit hole I went. Five days of non-stop research and I stumbled upon the mother load of paranormal activity. Dozens of accounts of mysterious survival. Guides left in apartments, hotels and workplaces. Strange sets of rules were the sizable

body count left in their wakes. My next move was clear. I had to call Al. Al was an old soul who'd been around the paranormal block more than a few times. His hunting days were behind him, but he was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge. If anyone could shed some light on these lists, it was him. Al's recognisable scruffy voice cut through the receiver just after one ring Henry, how the hell have you been? Glad to know you're still alive after all this time. Would it kill you to pick up the phone once in a while?

I know, Al, I'm sorry. Caught up in the big gig. You know how it is. How's your heart, still giving you trouble? Of course, of course. But you and I both know I've been through worse health and a few clogged arteries. To what do I owe this call anyway? I'm sure you didn't reach out to discuss my declining health.

I've uncovered something big, Al, and I need your help. Must be big if you're calling me instead of diving headfirst with no parachute like you usually do. Al was referring to a particular case we worked together years ago, his last one on the field. I was foolish and cocky. We followed a bad tip I received from a less than reputable source and found herself smacked up in the middle of a dense forest surrounded by a coven of Dreamwalk. Then nasty creatures with an appetite for children's nightmares, only attacking the waking under the light of a full moon, which just so happened to be the case on the night we went out there. It was a trap and we walked right into it.

We managed to kick and claw our way out, but just barely. Al took up most of the onslaught. I carried him out to the main road where we were picked up by a passenger truck and brought to the hospital. The physical damage was healed, but Al was never the same after that. He never said as much, but I swear he blamed me for what happened. Even if he didn't, I did. I can't ever forgive myself for that one. There are these strange survivor guides being left in random locations across the country,

and they're wrecking up quite the body count. I don't know if it's... Al interjected with a heavy sigh. I know exactly what you're talking about. You should probably swing by my place to talk more about it. Ow, you're across the border, over 300 miles from where I'm... Click. Damn it.

Al was a stubborn man, and a lonely one at that. He probably just wanted a visit, and I couldn't really blame him. After all, I was the reason he turned into an old hermit in the first place. Whether it was the guilt over breaking his spirit years ago, or my lack of options, I made that drive and cross state lines. on my way to see Al. If anything, it would at least be good for him. It was just how I remembered it.

A perfect little cottage tucked away in the middle of nowhere, far away from the outside world. Not the house you would expect a hunter to live in. But that's how Al liked it. Small and quaint. I think it reminded him of his late wife, Ellie. She used to talk about a dream home like this one. If memory serves.

Al rushed out to greet me. There you are, old friend. Get over here. He pulled me in for a bear hug. I reciprocated, happy to see him in person for a change. All right, Henry, let's go in and talk shop. We dislocated, and Al brought me inside where I sat on the sofa. He brought me over a TV dinner, a common meal in our trade,

and a beer before sitting down in the chair opposite me. Okay, Al, what do you know? This is big. You were right about that. But... He threw me a concerned look, indicating I might not like what he had to say. Come on, Al. I drove hundreds of miles to hear this.

It better be good. Define good. Out with it, Al. Good news is... I know what we're dealing with. I swear, the man dragged out simple responses just to keep me from leaving too soon. soon. That, or he enjoyed dangling fresh meat over my head just to watch me swipe at it and miss. Probably a little of both. And the bad news?

The truth is, I've been tracking this thing for years. You're not going to be able to catch it, kid. Its course is completely random. By the time the headline shows up, she's already moved on to another town with no trail of breadcrumbs to follow. She? Yes. She, could be a he, but you and I know males are pretty rare. It's a witch henry, a powerful one at that. Al went on to explain that the list of rules were agreements between the witch and a victim's. Contracts that needed no signatures to be legally binding. Once the rules are read and comprehended by the victim, the agreement takes effect.

If one or more rules are broken, a supernatural calamity will before the victim, usually resulting in their death, and which time part of the life force is absorbed by the witch. With each soul piece she takes, she becomes more powerful. Why do folks break the rules in the first place? It's all part of the design. Most of the rules are simple spell traps dependent on time triggers. To most, is nonsense.

Even I, with my vast knowledge of the paranormal, would be hard-pressed to not use the bathroom after 11.22 p.m., Just because of a list I found on a motel dresser. How do you know all of this, Al? I learned most of it from a man who stayed in an Airbnb near Cape Cod. He found a list and broke each and every rule, but still managed to make it out of their life. He even gave me the damn thing.

What? You mean you have it right now? You've been holding out to me this whole time? Al walked over to his desk, opened up a drawer, and pulled out a sheet of paper. He then walked over to me and tossed it on my lap. It won't do you much good. I've examined it more times than I can count. It was beautiful in a morbid sort of way.

I'd been studying the case for so long. It felt amazing to have a piece of the story in my hands. A physical piece of evidence I could inspect with my own eyes. Feels different from normal paper, wouldn't you say, Al? It's papyrus. I imagine the other lists I made from it too. necessary for the spell. I turned it over and noticed the dark splotch near one of the bottom corners.

Owl, what's this? A stain, I guess. Probably wine spilled from the last guy who had it. That wasn't wine. I was sure of it. I raced over to Al's bookshelf and grabbed a copy of the demonic dealings by Jack Grovewood and began flipping through the pages. Al, what do we know about which deals?

Aside from these ones, the verbal contracts between a witch and a human. One wish granted in exchange for a piece of their soul. Why? What are you getting at? I found the page I wanted and scoured the text until I came upon an image. Aha! I held at the picture of two hands dripping red over a chalice. And how the deal sealed, Al? With blood from both parties.

We know all of this, Henry. This is different. she doesn't need permission and there's no wish granted. You break a rule and you're toast. That's it. Clearly, this type of contract doesn't need blood from the victim, but whatever still needs the witch's blood to bind the soul piece to her when it's done? I held up the list and pointed to the dark spot.

Al thought it over for a moment before it all sank in. You genius, are you saying we have the witch's blood right here? That's exactly what I'm saying, Al. But what does that matter? We can't cast a summoning spell without fresh blood, no older than two months. I received this ages ago. I know, but there's no statute of limitations on blood packs.

That's how ghosts are able to make deals with demons, witches and the like. If we create our own list with identical ink and paper and smear some of this blood onto it, you should work the same and buy the witch to the deal. When we break the rules, she'll have to show up to collect. Then, well, we kill her. Owl shot me a dirty luck Are you insane

Another one of Henry's misguided tightrope walks Glad I'm alive to see this one We don't know the conditions of the spell There could be more to it than this You want to risk it backfiring or worse It actually working and us getting ourselves killed By the most powerful witch we've ever gone up against As the words rolled off his tongue

I sensed the excitement in his voice He was dying to work in another case after being on hunter's leave for all these years. Al, are you in or not? He turned his head for a moment, and then turned back to meet my gaze. You bet I am. Another week of research from gathering materials later,

we had what we needed. Witch-killing instruments, stakes soaked in the Dead Sea and welding torches, and a new list of rules uniquely equipped for Al's cottage. Number one, all lights off by 10.41pm. Number two, leave the bedroom door closed at all times. Number three, do not step outside after sunset.

Number four, if anyone knocks on the front door at 3.45pm, do not answer it. Number five, if your television is on, do not tune it to Channel 9. After spreading a sample of blood from the previous list on the back corner, we got to work, breaking as many rules. as we could 12 hours passed we had all the lights on open the bathroom door

tune the TV to Channel 9 which was just plain static and walked outside after sunset then we waited for the inevitable knock at the door it never came we waited and waited and waited

sitting on the sofa with stakes and torches in hand but there was no activity none whatsoever Even without the knocking, something should have happened. We had broken four of the five rules. At two in the morning, Al turned to me and shook his head. Looks like he was a bust, kid.

Just as I was about to swallow my failure and admit defeat, a gust of wind pushed a front door open and a clean-cuped man in his 50s. Gray hair, grey mustache, waltzed in with a smile on his face. It looked as though it was a male witch after all Hello boys looking for me Alan and I raced over and pushed our stakes through him There was no effect We then held our torches up and attempted to burn his skin

Again, no reaction This was not good With a flick of his wrist The man was able to swing us through the air And pin us against the opposite walls fire an unseen force. No spell recited. Just pure, powerful magic. Is that any way to treat a guest? He tried to break free, but it was no use. I didn't have to show up, you know. Using my blood was a good idea, but your list was voided the moment the ink touched the page. Without my handwriting,

the things useless. He cackled as we squirmed. I just couldn't resist seeing this for myself, two humans meddling in my affairs, attempting to draw me as of hiding, whatever did you think you would accomplish? He shut the door behind him, walked over, and sat down on the sofa where we had previously been seated. And the stakes and fire? What a great laugh that was. You know, as a powerful witch, I can ward myself from just about anything, with enough soul shards, you can pretty much render yourself invincible. And I have plenty to spare. What do you want? I screamed out, impatient as ever. Al looked at me, wide-eyed, almost as if to say, what the hell do you think you're doing? Punishment, of course. You may not have broken the rules

of one of my actual contracts, but that doesn't mean I can't doll out some just desserts. Just then, there was a knock at the door. What's this? The witch said in a delighted tone. It looks as though we have more guests. Please come in. The door swung open and two figures walked in. Two figures, I recognised.

It was none other than my uncle and Al's wife. They walked over to us and the witch released his hold on us. Aren't you happy to see your loved ones back from the dead? Without warning, their forms. changed. Their fingernails changed the claws, they bent and curved towards the carpet. Their mouths opened at unnatural angles, revealing rows of sharp teeth that protruded outward. Finally, their eyes met at the center of their heads, creating a single pool of yellow light swirling into itself, a life all its own.

Then, they attacked. Al-and-I jumped and darted around the room, but it was no use. They were too fast, and their arms too much. long. No matter what we did, they kept pulling on us and tearing away at our flesh, bit by bit. Before long, we're both being tightly squeezed in their arms, our pain cries echoing through the house. Oh, what's wrong? Don't you humans live for tender embraces? It doesn't get any more loving than this. Just as our spines were about to break, Al did the unthinkable. Wait, I want to make a deal. All at once, the

creatures loosen their grip, and the witch spoke, just as surprised as I was. Oh, now that's something I didn't expect. Tell me, Al, what did you have in mind? A piece of your soul for your safety? Sorry, but that just ain't worth it. I'd rather see you bleed. Al looked over at me, a single droplet rolled down his cheek. Let the kid go. You can take me now. The whole damn soul. It's yours. The creature's vanished and the witch's face lit up. Al, what are you doing? You can't... The witch put his fingers together and my mouth is clamped shut.

Sorry, kid, I'm getting too old for this. I'm tired. My wife's gone. My daughter's gone. You're the only family I have left. The witch chimed in. You have yourself a deal. Al looked over to me one last time with a smile.

At this point, My face was soaked in tears. I never blamed you. I may not be your dad, but I would have been so proud to call you my son. And with that, they disappeared, and I never saw them again. I fell to the floor, breathless.

It was over. There was nothing I could do. Somehow, some way, that witch will die. I will bleed his corpse, rip apart the flesh, bury the bones and salt the earth if I have to. And I'll tell you what. I'm going to say Val while I'm at it.

Whatever it takes, mark my words. Growing up, I was always drawn to adrenaline, extremity and testing my limits. I started out doing relatively common stuff, bungee jumping, parachuting, mountain climbing. But like a junkie needing a greater high, I always wanted something more. I gathered a group of like-minded friends through my adventuring. There were five of us. Two girls named Kate and Lennar, two guys named David and Jake, and me, Adam.

Together, we moved onto more dangerous activities. Base jumping, cave diving, things like that. Three years ago, we had what we thought was a great idea. We would ski to the South Pole. It didn't take long for us to agree in this trip. Only Lennar was against it, not liking the remoteness of the continent, but it didn't take much for us to persuade her. Soon we're all planning, saving up money and researching.

On November 6th, we stepped off a hired plane at Hercules' inlet, a bay in the southwest of Antarctica, and the beginning point of our 50-day ski trek. Waiting for us was our guide, leaf-steak. Dinson. Jake had picked Leif personally. He'd been recommended by one of Jake's traveller friends, who had also hired the Norwegian as a guide on an Antarctica trip. He struck me as a gruff, silent man. Hey there, Jake called out as we approached him, hauling our packs and skis behind us. You must be Leaf, right?

Yes, he answered curtly. His voice was heavily accented. And you are Jake? the very same, my friend smiled. He was a likable and friendly guy, in stark contrast to Leif's disconnected manner. We made our introductions, and our guide immediately got down to business. There are a few basic rules you need to follow in order to stay safe.

Obey my commands at all times. Do not wander off from the party. Do not walk away from camp. Will we get a handbook? Katie laughed. She was the choker of our group. Leif looked at her, icily. No, no handbook.

You remember or you don't go at all. Kate stopped laughing quick. After Leif had finished this briefing, we set out at last. I can't even begin to describe the scenery. Nothing I've ever seen quite compares to it. Flat, endless ice sheets, spreading out as far as the eye could see, like a sea of snow. It was undeniably beautiful. It also pressed home the reality that we were alone out here.

No humans for possibly hundreds of miles. If anything were to go wrong on this trip, it could be deadly. I loved every second of it. As we skied northeast, I strayed out a line and fell beside David. He was the most likely thief among our group, quiet and reserved, at least until he got to know people. So, when are you going to ask? leaf out, I grinned at him.

Shut the hell up, Adam, he laughed back at me. I will say, though, that the way he shut up Katie was glorious. Wish more people could do that. Katie shot us a withering glare from in front of us. We both giggled. Not like there's many coffee shops out here anyway, I sighed. Your date will have to wait some time, it seems. After some hours of travelling northeast,

Leaf's voice carried over to us from the front of the column. We stop here for now, unpack your tents. As we took off our skis and began setting up camp, I wondered over to Lena. So, how do you like it so far? I said. It's beautiful here, I'll give you that, Lena answered. But like I said before, it's so barren, so massive. I can't help but feel small and meaningless, like a fly in the wall. I'm sure you'll be fine, I said, putting a hand on a shoulder.

in a month we'll reach the few mountains. That should break the monotony a bit. Lina was about to answer, but then stopped, squinting over my shoulder at something in the distance. What's that, Adam? I turned, looking out over the expense of snow. What? I can't see any... I finally noticed what she was pointing out. Far away on the horizon, something was sticking out of the ice, grey and unmoving.

It was too far away to tell what it could possibly be. I called over to our guide. Hey, leaf, you got a second. He came over to us, his bearded face down, as always. Yes, what is it, Adam? Any idea what that is? I said, pointing to the faraway object. He stroked his beard in thought.

I do not know, he finally said. Rocks, perhaps. It's roughly in the way we're going, Jake said, walking over from his pack. He smiled, winningly. Maybe we could check it out tomorrow. What do you think, Leif, up for an adventure? Leif seemed uncomfortable with a suggestion. I don't know if that's a good idea.

We need to keep up a good pace. Jake's right. It's roughly in the way we're going anyway, said Lerna. Come on, it may be something interesting. Leif sighed. Fine, tomorrow. Probably just rocks, I would say. My first night in Antarctica was sobering.

Even in my tent, dressed up warmly and in a special sleeping bag, I could feel the cold. Thankfully, after some time, my breath warmed up the tent, and I fell into a deep sleep. Eight hours later, leave workers to break camp and set out again. As I was eating a small breakfast of freeze-dried cheese and chocolate, I saw Katie looking at the grey objects on the horizon. She looked strangely confused. What's up, Katie? I asked, walking over. Sloat well. Those things, weren't they to the north when we set up camp?

She answered. I froze, trying to remember. I think so, yeah, why. They're to the east now, Katie said. I paused, confused. Are you sure you didn't get turned around? round? No, no, I checked my compass. It's definitely to the east. I frowned again. I guess we misremembered then. We were all tired after all. Yeah, it must have been that, Katie said, absently,

her mind elsewhere. I wonder what those things are anyway. Guess we'll find out soon enough. After eating and packing up, we put on our skis and set out, heading towards us strange things on the horizon. Leif seemed slightly troubled, and I wondered if he too had misremembered the direction they were in. As we got closer, we can make out what the things were, a circle of massive rectangular stones standing on their side. They reminded me instantly of Stonehenge. Approaching them, David fell beside Leaf. I thought Antarctica never had an indigenous population, he said, who could have made something like this? Our guide appeared perplexed.

I'll be honest with you. I do not know. I've never seen anything quite like this before. I thought you'd been to these parts of the continent before, said Lennar. I have, but I did not encounter this. It is irregular. We should take a closer look. Katie, grinned back at a guide.

Good to see you've warmed up to our little adventure leaf. We approached the circle cautiously. up close we could see that the stones had once had carvings of some sort on them, although they had long been destroyed by time and wind. In the centre of the circle was a low, square slab of stone. Four grooves frowned from its centre to each corner. What the hell? whispered Lennar.

How did this even get here? Aliens, smiled Katie. Isn't that always the answer? I walked over to the central stone. It was dark, about knee height, and feature-loat. For some reason, it made me feel uneasy, although I couldn't pinpoint why. I touched it, hesitantly. It was completely smooth, unlike the rest of the circle.

We should continue, we've called out. We have a timetable to fulfill. We can write down the coordinates, and once we return, tell someone who will know what to do with this discovery. Slowly, my group pooled back together, and we set out again. The expanse stretched out around. completely featureless, and I was glad we had an experienced guide like leaf. Every so often he would take out a compass

and check our heading, making slight adjustments every time. I slept better on a second stop, knowing that the cold would get better eventually. I talked with Lennar before I went to bed, and she confessed that the stone circle had made a feel uneasy as well. It shouldn't be here, she said firmly. This place hasn't had any native people.

Ever. It's only scientists and tourists. And why would they possibly make something like this? Maybe Katie's right, I smiled. Aliens. Lennar groaned theatrically. You're all underestimating how important this discovery could be. Maybe we've accidentally stumbled upon proof that the history of this continent was completely different.

I hope not. I don't want my name and a history bug being my legacy. We both laughed, the unease of the situation, relenting somewhat. When I woke, I could tell something was wrong. I could hear hushed voices talking outside my tent. I climbed outside, rubbing my gritty eyes. Leif, Lena, David, Katie and Jake stood in a huddle in the middle of our campsite. They were talking quietly and casting furtive glances to the west.

I looked over to where they were looking. On the horizon, far away, I could see a familiar circle of great. raised stones. A chill ran down my spine. I walked over to my friends. How is this possible? I asked incredulously. Those things should be to the south of us. They shouldn't even be close enough for us to see them. We've silenced me with a gesture. We have been talking about it, Adam. The only logical explanation is that this is a second circle. It is strange, to say the least. I've never heard of a stone circle in Antarctica, let alone to.

Do we go investigate it? Ask Lennar. No, replied Leif resolutely. Yesterday's detour already put us off our timetable. We must press on. I will write down these coordinates and we will pass them on to the experts later. We packed up and set off. A strange hush had fallen on our group.

The second circle had affected us strangely. I could tell the others were disconcerted by them now. Not just me and Lennar. During the day's hike, I only talked once with Katie. I was hoping her joking attitude would help me relax. So, uh, aliens, huh? I said, skiing next to her. That a professional opinion?

She grinned at me, but I could tell she was troubled. It's obvious, isn't it? She answered jokingly, what else could it be? Maybe leave put him there to scare us, I suggested. did you see him looking at them? He was confused too, Katie said, suddenly serious. And he's been through here before. How come he didn't see it?

Maybe it was snowed under, I suggested. I've read that the landscape can change a lot here. Our conversation trailed off, and we remained silent till we broke camp again. Before I went to bed, I noticed David scanning the horizon. It was a clear day, and we could see miles away. What are you looking at? I asked, walking over to him. Snow and ice. I'm making sure there's no bloody stone circles around here. David replied.

I laughed, but he didn't join in. I went to bed, once again feeling uneasy. A commotion in the camp awoke me suddenly. I tore out of my tent, not even getting out of my sleeping gear. David was shouting, cursing. What's happening? What's happening? what's going on? I yelled. David stood at the edge of our camp,

gesticulating wildly at the western horizon. My heart missed a beat as I saw what he was cursing at. A circle of grey rocks. My friends came out of their tents, confused and sleepy. Their confusion quickly turned to an uncertain fear. How is this possible? Lennar asked.

I don't know, answered Leif. Even he seemed troubled and he kept checking his compass as if confirming over and over that the rocks were indeed in that direction. I was about to suggest we go investigate, but David cut me off. Where's Katie? We stood in silence for a second, turning, looking around. Leave ran over to Katie's tent and unsipped it. It was empty. Not even a sleeping bag remained.

Our group fell silent for a second. no one knew what to say, what to do. Leif broke the silence. There are footprints here. Looking closer, I saw he was right. Booted footprints were impressed in the snow, going from the tent entrance, around it and away from the camp. We followed after them.

Soon, Lennar threw her hands up in frustration. What the hell? she exclaimed. What the hell is going on? Peering past her, I could see what had angered her. The footprints stopped. Suddenly and without warning. It was as if Katie had suddenly flown straight up into the air.

We gathered around the place they ended. Jake cleared his throat. Leif, he began. What's the plan man? What's our next move? Leif was silent for a second, staring at the abruptly ending footprints. Then he looked at Jake. We have to search for her.

She has to be here somewhere. We will spread out into a line and... He trailed off and something on the ground caught his eye. I looked down. Our movement had upset the snow, showing ice beneath. It was oddly clear, almost like frozen glass. Through it, we could see something red, a piece of fabric, frozen deep beneath the surface. Leaf cleared his throat audibly.

Clear the snow below us. We set to work, moving the snow with our gloved hands. Soon we could see what lay below. Jake cursed savagely and Leaf crossed himself. My breath stopped short as I realized what I was seeing. Frozen solid in the ice below, lying in a bag as if she was still asleep, was Katie.

Sat down in the snow. Her breath coming up in panic gasps. David and Jake stood paralysed. staring at Katie's frozen form. I grabbed our guide by the shoulders, turning him to face me. What the hell, Leif, I shouted. How did this happen? What the hell is going on? Leif looked at me, his face like carving a rock.

But I could see a gleam of fear in his eyes. I don't know, he replied, one was whispering. But we must return. We have to get out of here. What, and leave Katie behind, said David incredulously. you can't be serious. There is nothing we can do for her. She is dead. We have no big axes to dig her out.

And even if we did, what would we do then? Leif was somehow remaining calm. We need to return. Whatever is happening out here, we must escape it. We must go back to Hercules' inlet. What is happening here? yelled Jake, his anger flaring up. Who?

What did that to Katie? We've looked at him. I do not know, he said. finally. I am as scared as you, Jake, but if we wish to survive, you have to listen to me. We have to turn back. Now. The shocked silence fell on our group. Slowly we picked ourselves off and headed back to camp. David stayed the longest, looking down at Katie's frozen form through the ice.

I put my arm around him and led him away. As we packed up and prepared to leave, my eyes kept returning to that damstone circle. It seemed even closer than before, mocking us, threatening us. We set out in mournful silence. The weather, fair for the last three days, was taking a turn for the worse. Snow and wind began gaining its strength. Finally, Leif stopped the group. We must set up camp before the conditions worsen, he announced.

We set about the task. As we worked, Leif kept talking. We have to maintain watch in the night. I'll begin, and after an hour and a half, I will wake up Jake and so on. This way, we will not be vulnerable while the others sleep. What are we guarding against, said David, his voice low. I thought this place was abandoned. Antarctica has never been truly settled, no, we've replied.

Only scientists and tourists came here, I believe. During World War II, the Germans briefly established a base on the coast, but that is all. I couldn't help but notice he cleverly evaded David's question. We erected our tents in dejected silence, everyone occupied with their own morbid imaginations and fears. As I settled into rest, I could hear Leaf's footsteps outside the tent as he paced back and forth, keeping watch.

My guard duty was not up for another three hours. I lay, thinking about Katie, forever where we had found her, frozen in the ground. I couldn't get a face out of my mind. At least she had done. died in asleep. Eventually, I fell into a slumber from pure exhaustion. I woke some time later. I could tell it had been far longer than three hours. I was feeling far too rested for it to have

been such a short time. Climbing out of the tent, I saw Leif. He was sitting in the center of the camp with his back to me and his hood up. Leaf, everything all right, I said. No answer. My heart began beating harder. Leave, I called out again, praying for an answer. He remained silent. Slowly, I walked over to his sitting form. He didn't move an inch.

I put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. The others ran out of the tents as my scream tore them from their slumber. They found me, standing above what I had thought was our guide. Except, it wasn't. It was Leaf's clothes, filled with snow and shaped into the outline of a man. From the hood, a smooth globe of packed snow and ice stared outwards. Damn it, damn it, oh damn it!

shouted Lennar, turning away from the figure. David was staring at it, completely motionless. It was Jake who woke us from a horrified trance. Guys, look. We stared at where he was pointing. of course a stone circle this time to the east david ran to the edge of the camp and screamed towards it what do you want he yelled what do you want from us i rushed over to him lena behind me we put our hands around him and gently led him back to the camp we have to keep moving jake said firmly assuming command through force of will hircley's inlet is only two days away we can't stay here What difference does it make? Mumbled David.

We have to keep moving, repeated Jake, his voice firm. We won't achieve anything by staying here. We broke camp and set out. David was visibly lagging behind us, his eyes blank. He was in shock. I took turns with Lennar, the two of us making sure that he kept moving and trying to take his mind off the situation with conversation. While Lennar was in the back of our group with him,

I went next to Jake. David's falling apart, man, I whispered to him. I don't know how long he'll hold it together or what we'll do if he collapses. Jake looked at me. I could see the resolve in his eyes, so barely holding him together. In that brief moment, I truly admired his willpower. It's two days to Hercules' inlet, he said. If we just keep moving, we'll make it there.

David will keep it together. you'll have to. And, if he doesn't, we'll think of something. No one gets left behind. Jake turned and pressed onwards. Our conversation clearly had an end. We pushed on. The loathsome stone circle had now abandoned all rules of logic and space.

It moved seemingly randomly, always on the horizon, but never shifting in a way consistent with our movement. I grew to hate the sight of it. Somehow, I had no doubt it was connected to everything that had happened to our group. By the time we stopped to make camp, David had recovered somewhat. He was still distant and brooding, but I hoped he would be all right for the time being. We quickly agreed there was no point in standing guard over the camp. Whatever happened to leave, it had happened while he was on watch,

and he hadn't even managed to raise the alarm. We had a strange, naive sense of security. while staying in our tents, like children hiding under their blankets at night. Even so, falling asleep was hard. The ever-present terror and foreboding, the fear have been taken next. It was ours until exhaustion finally put me to sleep. Dreamed that night. A horrible nightmare.

Someone was opening my tent. I lay in terror, holding my breath. The zipper went down. A grasping hand grabbed my legs and pulled. me, kicking and screaming into the snow outside. A dark, hooded figure stood over me. He reached out with gloved hands, going for my neck. I flailed wildly about, searching for a weapon.

My hand tightened around my skein stick, lying in the snow. I lashed forward, driving it like a spear into the figure's throat. Blood spouted out. It gurgled horribly. I woke. I could immediately tell something had happened in the night. Lennar was crying outside, low, heaving sobs. Jake was comforting her.

Silently, dejectedly, I climbed out. David? Jake nodded grimly. Gone from his tent. Footprints? Yes. Where do they lead? Instead of answering, Jake pointed, gesturing behind me.

I knew what I would see, but cursed loudly any. Anyway, when I saw the damstone circle in the distance behind me. He was a lot closer than before, about a mile away. We should go check it, Jake said. Although I could tell he didn't expect to find anything good. He may still be alive. We didn't break camp before setting out. I think there was a slight hope shared among us that if we hurried, we would find David,

that he would somehow be alive. As we approached the circle, We could see something who was lying on the central slab. I gestured to Jake and Leonard to wait. Stay here, I'll check it out. They didn't argue. I walked into the circle cautiously and approached the central slab. I almost vomited when I saw what was on it.

David, covered in blood. It was running away through the four grooves on it, a frozen trickle leading to the four corners of the stone on which he lay. His throat was speared through by a ski stick. My ski stick. I wretched, gasping for air. I couldn't have done this. I'd been sleeping.

Had I? Was it a dream? Was I sleeping? I stumbled back to the others. Lennar saw my expression, and her face fell. David, is he? Dead, I said, hoarsely. I wish we had mourned our dead friend like people should, but no tears would come, no deep sorrow, only an emptiness inside our souls.

I think that we were all too numb, too shocked to process the situation enough for an actual reaction. Some leftover survival instincts or self-preservation force kept us moving. We packed up our tents and left. It was some four hours into the journey when Jake stopped us. Guys, look, what is that? We turned, half expecting to see another stone circle. Instead, we saw a small, square building rising from the snow. It seemed uncannily out of place in the frozen expanse,

like it had been dropped here by accident. Do you... Do you think we should go check it out? whispered Lennar. It's not a stone circle. That's got to mean something, said Jake. We should have a look at least. "'What do you think it could be?' I asked.

Jake shrugged. "'Science-based, maybe? "'There might be people there. "'Maybe they can help us. "'Maybe they know what's happening out here. "'We set out towards the building. "'The closer we got, the clearer it became "'that it hadn't been used in a long time.

"'The cement walls were smooth and half snowed under. "'I'd iron door hung on the hinges, rusted and ajar. "'I guess Leif was right when he told us about the Germans,' said Lennar. pointing at the door. Impressed on it in fading paint was a large black swastika above the words an anirbra. I whistled under my breath.

So what is this, secret Nazi base? I thought they only had a small one on the coast, said Jake. Doesn't seem like it, I answered. Do you think we should go inside? We were quiet for a few seconds, weighing eruptions. Lennar finally answered. Yes, maybe you can find out of it. some answers down there or a weapon or something helpful.

The door swung open with a resounding creek and we crept slowly inside into the dark and the cold. The passage led downwards, seemingly cut into the ice itself. We found the first body in minutes. It had been preserved by the cold. A young man dressed in a dark military uniform. He gripped a pistol in his hand and a bullet wound marked on the side of his his head. Next to it laid a battery-powered light, which Jake picked up and tested.

Somehow, it still worked, casting a slim, flickering ray of sickly yellow light through the tunnel. More bodies lying everywhere, all of them gripping guns with bullet wounds through their heads. I shivered. What the hell happened here? Jake swallowed audibly. I don't know. Looks like some sort of mass suicide. We continued down the passage, doors leading off to the sides from it, opening up into rooms filled with antiquated machinery and workstations. There were also several libraries, much to our surprise. At the end of the corridor was a large iron door, much heavier than the others. We stopped in front of it for a second, apprehensive and fearful.

Lena broke our reverie. Oh, to hell with it, she said, leaning forward and pulling on the door, He budged open with a loud screech. Jake shined the light into the room beyond. We squinted into the dark, looking upon a massive chamber, tens of meters wide and deep. My heart dropped when I saw what it contained. Is... is that what I think it is? asked Jake hoarsely. I nodded grimly.

Before us, dominating the centre of the room. lay a massive circle of grey stones. We stared in mute terror and disbelief at the massive construction. Well, damn, what's it, Jake. This thing's painted on the ground, Lennon said. Looking down, I could see she was right. The circumference of the stone circle was drawn on the floor with dark paint. Within, it was filled with stars, suns, and strange geometric shapes

that made my head spin just from looking at them. Peering into the center of the circle, I could see that there was a body on the central slab. The dead man was sitting cross-legged, frozen in his final, fatal position. Looking closer, I noticed he didn't have a gunshot wound like the rest of the others. A piece of paper, folded and yellowed with age,

lay before him. Guys, come have a look. This one left a note. My friends joined me. Lennar took the paper tentatively and opened it, careful not to damage the ancient page. I can translate this. You know German? asked Jake, surprised. Lennar looked at him, slightly amused, even in such a place as this.

How long have you known me, Jake? Seven, eight years? She looked back down onto the paper. It's very confused. The poor man was probably already half mad when he wrote it. Does it say anything about what happened here? I asked, my breath making clouds of steam in the cold air. Yes, it, it seems they were sent from Germany to carry out some sort of...

Experiment, ritual? It's unclear. The end and the other is a weird pseudo-scientific group, sometimes dabbling in the occult. This sounds like something they would do. What kind of ritual? I asked, a shiver running down my spine. He doesn't say. All he knows is they needed these stones

And a place where no man has ever lived The stones were ancient Found in some old warlord's grave in Europe The Germans didn't even know exactly how old they were Or who made them And the deaths? Does he say anything about them? Yes After the ritual was complete

Strange death started to plague the base They couldn't escape Germany was being beaten And no one answered their calls for help rather than be taken by whatever they had called into being they decided to end things themselves and this guy what happened to him he didn't kill himself

he says he was the one who carried out a sacrifice on the central slab and he wants to know what he has brought into this world he says he won't end himself until it comes for him we stood in silence digesting this cryptic information I couldn't help but think about the man fate. He hadn't ended himself, and he hadn't been killed, despite being the one actually carrying out the ritual. It was the cold or the hunger that did him in. We shouldn't stay here,

we have to keep moving, and we'll never reach Hercules' inlet, said Jake finally. We nodded in agreement. Quickly, we returned through the passage. First Jake, then I passed through the door. Lennar was following. She never made it out. The door swung close behind me with sudden, brutal force. I jumped and Jake cursed. Lennar, get me out of here. Lennar screamed from the other side, terror twisting in her voice.

Get me out! I grabbed the door, pulling at it with all my might, but I struggled in vain. It wouldn't move. Jake joined in, groaning and panting. Lennar was beating on the door in panic, screaming and crying in fear. We pulled and pulled at the door,

but it wouldn't move an inch. Get me out, get me out, get me! Suddenly, her voice cut off. The hammering on the door abruptly stopped. There was silence. No, Jake screamed. He tore at the door desperately, but still it wouldn't open. Lennar? I said, my voice quivering.

There was no reply. She's... She's gone, whispered Jake. It's taken her too. Help me get this damn door open, man, I swore desperately. Together we pulled again and again, but the door simply wouldn't budge. After half an hour, we collapsed into the snow, exhausted and defeated. I don't know how long we lay there.

Our minds stretched to the limits and finally had enough. This time, though, the tears came freely. After some time I picked myself up. The hollow, empty feeling of shock, had returned. We keep moving. We can't stop now, I said. Jake nodded, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. We will make it, Jake. We will. My own voice sounded hollow, a mockery.

Jake didn't notice. We slung our packs and continued north. The following day is a blur in my memory. Grief, shock and exhaustion had taken its toll on us. We were moving from muscle memory alone. When we stopped and set up camp, we remained silent. What was there left to say? Even if we got out of there alive, could we really live unlike before?

Through some mute communication, we decided to sleep in one tent. It gave us more of that naive sense of security, even though it had not protected David, or anyone else for that matter. When we awoke, we breathed a silent sigh of relief. We were both alive, both present, both lucid, or at least as much as we could be given the circumstances. Once again, we shouldered our packs and set out in silence. The circle was on our left now, unmoving and sinister.

I kept glancing over at it, almost expecting it to move closer to us. Jake seemed to be pointedly ignoring it. refusing to even look in its direction. After several miles, he spoke up. The first time I'd heard his voice in hours. Do you know what's the first thing I'll do once I get out of here? What? I said, confused as to where he might be leading with this. I have no idea.

Go to Stonehenge. I stared at him, incredulously. Why? Why the hell of all places? Would you go to goddamn Stonehenge? Jake grinned To take a massive dump on the stones there Was silent for a second Then I started to laugh A hysterical, insane laugh

The type of laugh Only someone on the brink of death Pushed beyond his limits can have Jake joined in as we skied forward You can count me in on that one man Yeah, revenge is but Suddenly there was a sickening, tictonic crack from beneath us

The earth shook and we swayed to keep our balance. The ground fell away. We had been travelling over a hollow on the ice, and without warning, he gave way. We fell downwards, only a few metres, but the skis affixed to our legs made our landing clumsy. As Jake hit the ground, he led out a scream of pain. The air was knocked out of me as I hit the ground.

I gasped my lungs burning. I called over to where Jake lay. Are you all right? No, he said through clenched teeth. His face twisted in pain. I think I broke my goddamn ankle, Adam. My heart dropped, but I forced myself to my legs. Come up, I'll help you.

Jake leaned heavily on me, and I slowly raised him to his feet. The second he put weight on his ankle, he almost collapsed again. It's definitely broken. Damn it, Adam, it's broken. Let's get out of this whole, first, I said, forcing myself to remain calm. We had to take this one step at a time. Thankfully, the sides of the hole we had fallen into were sloped, making a crude causeway for us. Slowly, painstakingly, I helped Jake get out of the hollow. Every step, he would wince

and gasp in pain. Once we're on the surface again, Jake sat down onto the snow. What do we do now? He said, I can't walk, I can't ski. I didn't know. Let's, let's just stay here for now. Rest your leg. Maybe he's just sprained, and we can continue later. Sounds good, answered Jake, but I could hear it in his voice. We both knew his ankle was broken.

No amount of rest would help him. While Jake rested, I took a ski pole. It had been lenders and broke it in half. I got a length of route from our supplies and approached Jake. What's that? he asked. "'Splint,' I answered. "'He smiled thinly. "'I didn't know you're a certified field medic.

"'I'm not, but if it helps you walk, it's worth it.' "'I tied the makeshift splint to his leg. "'Jake hissed in pain when I tightened the rope. "'All right, doctor. Let's see how well this works.' "'Sweighing and grimacing, he raised himself upright. "'He took several steps. "'I could tell he was still in pain. We pushed on.

Once again, I came to admire Jake's will power. Even in horrible agony, and at the end of his sanity, he didn't give up. But it quickly became clear we wouldn't make it anywhere like this. It took us two hours to go a mile. At the end of it, Jake collapsed into the snow. I returned, kneeling beside him. You need to rest, I said. We'll move on later.

I'm no use to you, Jake whispered. I'm just slowing you down. We'll never make it with my pace. Don't talk like that, I said, anxious for my friend to not lose hope. It's true, Adam, he answered, looking up at me. I'm just dead weight now, and whatever's hunting for us, that damn circle. He won't let us leave, will it? It's been playing with us all this time.

He laughed, but it was an empty, morbid sound. for all we know it's been leading us in circles anyway oh the irony circles just rest Jake I said you'll feel better afterwards

I swear he was silent for a second I I think I know what it wants what I asked dreading the answer what are you talking about the circle Adam

the man we found on the altar he made a sacrifice to it and it didn't kill him. If you make an offering to it, it may not take you. What offering? What do you... I drilled off, realizing what he meant. My heart stopped in terror.

No, you can't be serious. Just think about it. I'm useless to you. I'm just slowing you down. And if this thing feels like it's not going to get what it wants, it'll just kill both of us. My blood ran cold at my friend's words. I can't do this.

You know I can't do this. we don't even know if it works like that. Jake looked over my shoulder and laughed grimly. I think we do. I think it just sent us a message. I looked up and stared in shock. Somehow, even though we hadn't moved, we were now sitting inside a circle of grey stones.

Looking back down, I realised that Jake was actually sitting with his back against the horrible altar itself. Jake, I... Please, let this be my last sacrifice, and last act of friendship. Let my death have some meaning at least. Rimmising, he pushed himself upright,

using the altar as support. Stretching his arm out, he placed his ski stick into my cold hands. I... I won't do it, I said, my voice quaking. Jake looked me in the eyes, silently, and my heart broke. You have to. Slowly, he lay down on the altar, folding his arms on his chest.

Tell everyone what happened here, Adam. Tell them not to follow in our footsteps. This thing, he won't stop. He will always want more. We can't allow that. You have to get out of fear to stop that from happening. He closed his eyes. I approached him from the side, tears welling up unbidden.

In nerblous hands, I raised the stick. above my head, as the cold grey stones watched on. In silence. Sometimes the past comes calling when you don't expect it. A picture, a mention of a name, even a small memento can bring memories rushing back like a joint popping back into place. It feels like something returning to where it belongs

after you've forgotten what it was like to have it there. But its return to its natural state feels strange somehow. That is how I felt. when I received the phone call just yesterday as I drove back to my old home in northern Pennsylvania. When my phone started ringing, I jumped with a surprise. I had been zoning out from driving back and forth, up and down, on the endless hills of this forever road.

Besides, no one ever called me. I picked my phone from the seat next to me. The caller ID took me by surprise. No data. Wasn't the point of this thing to tell me who was calling, so I would know a scammer from a friend who just got my number? Shake in my head, I answered the phone. I could use the company. Even if it was a robot, trying to tell me my car warranty was about to expire.

Hello? I asked. Hello, came the reply. Is this Jeremy? The voice sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place it. Definitely, not a robocall. But there was too much distortion to fully make it out. Yes, this is him. Who am I speaking to?

Come on, I thought for sure you'd remember me, intoned the warped, crackly voice sadly. I sat for a second in silence, racking my brain to find a place for that voice. Was it my friend Peter's father? I'd only spoken to him once, and didn't see any reason for him to be calling me. Perhaps Dr. John, my family doctor as a child.

It was my birthday after all. Then it hit me. I smacked myself on the forehead for not thinking of it sooner. Oh, Mr. Johnson from the Ferguson Call Center. How could I forget? I hadn't worked at that place in over a decade. I'd hardly even thought about it since I went to college for a real job. Sure, I'd had fun times there,

but it was just one of those summer jobs that you leave behind and forget about once it's over. Yeah, I knew you'd remember us, Jeremy. The voice became jovial and warm as it had always been. Listen, I heard that the grapevine you're coming back to town to see some old friends for your birthday. Is that right? Yeah, I'm driving back now. She'll be there in a few hours if these hills ever end, I laughed. It was good to hear a familiar voice.

It's my niece's birthday as well. We figured this year we'd celebrate together. Capital, son, just capital. You should drop by to visit us at the old brick and mortar. There'll be plenty of people happy to see you. His expectant pause only lasted a second before my acquiescence comes. Sure, I'll drop by, see how the old place is doing. Place is still standing, son.

And... The distortion ramped up, rendering all but the barest tone of his voice audible. What was that? Sorry, the call is acting up. His voice came slightly more into focus, and I thought he said... Oh, never mind. See you when you get here. Don't think I'll be allowed to tell you anyway. Bye.

See you then. And I hung up. The rest of the drive went a little quicker, knowing that I had some old friends to see. When I finally arrived at my parents' house, they and the rest of the family were ecstatic to see me. I was kept too busy from work most of the time to visit, and I'll admit,

I hadn't been the best at keeping in contact. The event was catered, and the hours passed by quickly, until I suddenly remember the call from Mr. Johnson. Hey, Ma, I'm going to visit some friends at Ferguson's. Guess they heard I was coming to town. I gave my mother a hug. She replied, bemusedly.

I haven't heard of that old place since you left for college. They must not be doing so well. That or the fact I never go out that way. It's rather out the way. Her brow wrinkled in thought for a second. I don't know how they might have heard you were coming to town. I don't think I've ever met them From the great fine I guess

Hard to tell with Mr Johnson Bye mom, love you The drive to the building was a strange one Things look so different And yet the same More houses but not many A few missing Now vacant lots for sale

Like teeth that had fallen out And were waiting expectantly to be replaced The road still had many of the same old pottles I swear I could remember to the letter It felt different though As a somewhat successful doctor To be driving this old road I'd last been on as a destitute teenager

I had taken the job to save a college As my parents didn't have enough to help me on my way That was why I'd taken a job so distant Even with a bike It had been a long journey When I pulled into the parking lot I was shocked The building was nothing like I remembered

Sure it still had red bricks and large old-fashioned windows, but the similarities ended there. Ivy climbed up the edges of the building up to the roof, and the wall was filled with holes. I looked through the shattered windows into the dingy rooms beyond, and barely repressed a shiver. What the hell happened here? They must have moved sights. Maybe that's what he was trying to tell me when the core quality dropped. I combed through my recent cause to ask him what this was all about.

But with all the calls, with well-wishes and birthday messages, I couldn't find which one was his. I shook my head and put my phone back in my pocket. He'd call when it got closer to closing time, and then I'd be out of here. It looked like I had some time to kill. You've seen better days, haven't you, old friend? I spoke to the crooked sign for Ferguson's, as if it could reply. There was no one around to hear me, and why not?

the building had been a good place for a teenager looking anywhere he could for money. It made it possible to move on to better things. So, when I'd indulge my imagination a little? I paced around the parking lot aimlessly, kicking my heels on the asphalt with every step, waiting for the call that would tell me where to go from here. It didn't come, and I found myself facing back towards the doors of the derelict old building. I've had a strange tug into me and slowly fill me until I felt I was about to burst. Fine, I'll go inside, just one last time, I huffed at the building.

It might have been morbid curiosity, but it beat standing around here. I'd explored plenty of ruined old buildings in my time, like the old school in the neighbouring township, rotting but unburied. I stepped inside those open doors, and was a me. immediately beset by the musty smells of mold and mildew. I gagged and pulled my shirt off my nose, which somewhat helped. The pictures hanging in the entryway had fallen down, and lay leaning back against the wall or face down on the floor.

For some reason, they reminded me of the patrons of a bar near closing time, and I juggled to myself. I wonder whether they didn't take these things with them to the new site, I muttered to myself. They would have been worth some money, so it could be that the call centre wasn't in business at all, new sight or no. Maybe Mr Johnson was trying to tell me his home address

where he'd invited some of royal co-workers. In the midst of these wanderings, I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. I was brought back with a crunch under my foot. I looked down before I thought I might not want to see what I'd stepped on. It was a decomposing rat, near to finishing his journey back to the earth.

I stepped off of it and felt some bile rise for a second before settling back down. As I turned my thoughts away from tiny broken bones and what liquids must now be in my shoe. I wiped my shoe on a nearby patch of moss and moved on. I gazed into the rooms I passed curiously. One room looked like a miniature nature habitat, moss growing on the floors amid pieces of ceiling tiles and broken glass. Another room was piled with teetering stacks of tables and chairs. as if someone had just left him there and never come back. I was surprised that there was no graffiti in this place.

Most places that were abandoned attracted teenagers who like to leave their mark, which usually included triple sixes and swear words. This place just looked forgotten, like a bird in a quiet room, lying cold and undisturbed on the floor of its cage. I sidestepped some holes in the floor and came to the next room. It held a strange beauty.

It had beams of sunlight shining in from the broken windows, with birds fluttering about to somewhere above the ceiling tiles. This had been Dave Johnson's office. I had come here often to chat with him about particularly difficult customers, or just to shoot the breeze during my breaks. He always seemed to have time, even for a whiny teenager. I smiled wistfully and moved on. A sudden distant clatter startled me,

and I froze in place. Was somebody in here? Some small-time gangster selling drugs, a squatter? A shudder passed through me. If there's one thing I'd learned during urban exploration is to steer clear of any people you might encounter in one of these places. You never know what kind of person you're going to run into. So why take that chance?

I should have left right then. But it was quiet. Maybe it was a bird that had knocked a knick-knack off of someone's desk. After a minute of silence, I assumed it was just, just that and moved on down the hallway. Wait, I did hear something, but I couldn't make it out. It was too high-pitched for speech. But could it be music?

It was coming from the direction of the meeting room, and I felt it drawing me forward. I hardly glanced at the rooms I passed anymore, only glancing away from those double doors at the end of the hall to watch for nails and broken glass. The sound became clearer and clearer. It was definitely music, maybe from a music box, playing a familiar melody I couldn't place. I had to get closer. I pushed open one of the heavy wooden doors and nearly had my heart stop when I saw a person shape in the corner. I jerked my hand off the door and the door closed with a thump, which I immediately regretted.

I didn't think they'd seen me. They hadn't even turned around when the door squeaked open. Maybe I was just overreacting, seeing human shapes just because I was expecting to. I eased the door open a crack and could tell immediately that it wasn't a person at all. It was a large mannequin standing next to the counter, facing away from me. I breathed to sigh for relief. Manikins weren't my favourite thing, but it was a far cry from the man with a knife waiting to stab me. The music played on, still muffled.

by the thick door, and I pushed open the door to hear it fully. My focus lapsed off the music by what I saw in front of me. The conference table sat in its all place, but it wasn't what I was looking at. Rather, I was looking at what was in the chairs. Every chair but two had a fully clothed mannequin sitting in it. I felt my stomach drop, somehow sickened. As I walked around the table with morbid curiosity, swelling in me, I saw

that every one of the mannequins had been arranged looking at each other. The stiff hands on pens and paper before them, or raising up as if making a point. The one at the end of the table, a darker-skinned one, looked caught in the middle of straightening a stack of yellowed

papers. I felt like I walked into a scene frozen in time. What kind of sicko would go through this much work in an abandoned building to simulate an office meeting? The one in the corner was even putting a tea bag in a cup of tea for goodness sake. Still, a strange sense of deja vu crept into me at the surreal sight. Those clothes looked somehow familiar.

The purple Christmas sweater on the black-haired one on the far side. A green thread-best sweater vest of the tall one with a brown hair. The navy business suit on the figure at the end of the table with a rotary phone off its hook. I was taken aback by the realization that came rushing in. They looked just like my old co-workers, caught in the middle of a meeting, with only me unaccounted for. This had to be some kind of prank put on by my old co-workers, at least I hoped. No, it was impossible that any of them had set it up. But what are the chances that some mischievous teens had come in here with a bunch of mannequins

and not only dressed them in the right clothes, but placed them on the right places at the table? I shook my head to dispel the images of monkeys typing on typewriters and took a closer look. One loop around the lot of them, then two. On every pass, I noticed more details, a pair of dangling earrings, cat hair and a sweater, fresh coffee in every cup. This was getting ridiculous. Why go into this level of detail? I poked one of the mannequins in the shoulder.

Honestly, the unsettling presence of the mannequins would have been enough to put me on edge. There is something unnatural about things that look like people, almost perfect but for missing breath. I hated it. I called out suddenly, a loud noise to flush out any people dressed as mannequins, to physically startle them enough to see if they jump. Nothing. The quiet was really getting to me. Guys, if you're going to surprise me, just get it over already.

Still, nothing. I eyed the walls and ceiling for any hidden cameras, but came up dry. What the hell was going on? Any prankster worth his stuff would have leapt out by now, not keeping me waiting for so long. The music entered my awareness once more. I'd stopped noticing it, but the music had kept playing this whole time, just on the edge of my awareness. And, I recognised it.

A tinkling rendition of Happy birthday to you, jingled menacingly through the open door into the next room. Was that where they were all hiding, jocling to themselves at their prank? It was the only rational explanation. Anything else I gult,

suddenly aware of my dry mouth. I tiptoed past the mannequins at the long table towards the open door of the break room. I could see nothing through the open door. It was on the far side of the break room. I needed to cross that threshold to solve the mystery. When I finally could bring myself to do it,

I locked into the room and saw a simple music box, sitting comfortably next to a chocolate cake with a large lit candle. The song played to a close, and it was quiet once more. I stared at it. it and then laughed my heart out. All that for this. No jumping out to scare my skin off. No laughter at my expense. No revealing the hidden cameras. My heart rate began to slow and I called out, Thank you, you, you're sick freaks. Now where are you hiding? As soon as the words left my lips, there was another loud crash behind me and I joked around, still reacting with the adrenaline

left in my system. Every mannequin in that room was now looking in my direction, all facing fully towards me. And they were now stiffly holding different poses. Many crumbled into themselves in a paroxysm of mirth, fists in the middle of striking their legs or the table. There was no way someone had rearranged all of those mannequins so quickly. It was impossible. The one with a sweater vest had its head thrown back in the attitude of uprored.

roar as laughter, just like Andy. Its mouth was now stretched wide open to unleash its silent laugh. Goosepumps erupted all over my skin, and that's when I knew it. My co-workers had been right here the whole time. The uncanny valley had stretched too far, and I had had enough of it. My knees trembled like they were about to buckle, but my legs were moving almost before I thought of running. I clipped the standing mannequin who'd been making tea as I ran past and nearly fell over. The thing was frighteningly solid, much more than a stall mannequin. These things were definitely

something else. As I heave aside the double doors from the conference room, I can hear something I can't explain. A rapid noise, off-tempo sound reminiscent of a thousand fingers drumming started up on every service around me. As I ran, more frantic than ever, the whole building building began quivering intensely. A ceiling tile, then two more, were shaken down to the floor. I ran down the hallway, just barely missing the holes in the floor with my feet. There are more of them now, in the floor, in the walls, and through each I could see blank eyes pressed against the cracks, watching me. I was having trouble keeping balance with how violently the building was vibrating. The gaze of those creatures from all those holes was filling me

with a strange dread. I didn't know what they were watching me for. Were they simply interested? Or were they about to break through the walls and floor? Did they want to keep me here? I tripped headlong as I passed the hole at ankle level. My hand stretched out to catch myself, collided with a glass exit door and shattered it.

I didn't feel a thing. I was back on my feet in a second. I couldn't see whether it was an arm that sprung from the hole or a painting of the floor. I was too filled with a dread of. and pain to care. I hurriedly fumbled my keys from my pocket, started the car and took off,

not looking back. I've been blindly driving through the night, back south to my apartment. Though the world around me no longer shakes, I still find myself trembling. I got a call while flying blindly down the dark road from an unknown number. I didn't answer it.

Upon stopping just now at a 24-hour gas station to fill up my empty tank, I finally opened my voice. smell to listen to the message. I heard the sounds of a room full of uproarous laughter distorted as before, but the words came through clearly with none of the previous warmth.

Why don't you drop in again sometime, Jeremy? We miss you already. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a last of the storm pelted rain down on the roof of my apartment. My dog, ducks, an incredibly dopey but lovable German shepherd, was desperate to go outside to attend to his business. He'd been afraid of the thunder and didn't like getting wet,

so coaxing him out of his hiding spot in the closet took several treats and the gentle promise of a nice walk in the cool dark night. We're the luck that said he didn't quite believe the storm was done. He came out of the closet and let me put the leash on him. A moment later we walked down the apartment steps and headed towards the woods where Doug's love to walk. As Ducks sniffed at everything in sight, I stared down into my phone, checking Twitter for the latest nonsense and controversy. I wasn't paying much attention to Ducks, as he typically led to where he wanted to go.

I'd occasionally lock up to get a handle and where we were. However, this time, it was this low, guttural growl, coming from him, which got my attention. Hearing him growl while playing around with a tennis ball, I knew the difference between his playful. in the moment growl, and this one certainly wasn't it. This one came from the primal, undomesticated DNA of the wolf still deep in his genes. Before I could say a word, Ducks took off running into the woods. The sudden pull knocked my phone out of my hand, and I had no choice but to allow him to drag me where he wanted, even as I protested and yelled.

Dux was undoubtedly onto a scent, and he wasn't going to let it go until he found what he was looking for. As he pulled me deeper into the wet and cold woods, I tried to assert myself as the dominant one, but Ducks didn't care. He was like trying to hold back a force of nature like the storm which had only just passed. Ducks paused for a moment to put his head on the ground and then was off again. His tail went stiff and stood straight in the air. He led me to the middle of a small patch of open space, surrounded by trees, and raised his head up to

the top of a particular tree. He growled and barked and jumped against the trunk of the tree, as if he was trying to knock it over in a fury. I took hold of his collar extra tight and pulled him away from the tree, scolding him for his behavior. He was a sad attempt to rein him in. For the first time since he was a puppy, he bared his teeth at me in defiance and uttered a guttural rumble of a growl as if to warn me to back off. And also, for the first time, for the first time since owning ducks. I felt afraid of him. I didn't know what was up with him. Did the storm drive him crazy or something? What the hell was going on? Once he realized I wouldn't be pulling on the leash anymore, he went back to barking and attacking

the tree trunk. I stood there like an idiot, defeated and feeling scared of my dog who cowed away from bicycles, baby strollers and balloons. Here he was snarling and battling with a random tree in the woods. To this day, I cannot describe the sound I heard that came from the tree branches. It was something between a screech and a chitter. Just as quickly as ducks was this brave and unstoppable kujo-like mad dog. All the aggression left him. He turned back into the closet, carrying dope he was. Except this time, his ears were down and his tail was tucked between his legs. He cried out pathetically and urinated before running back to me and getting as close as he could to me for protection. When I looked into the tree, all I saw were dozens upon dozens of little

red glowing orbs, and then they started to buzz like cicadas in the deep summer heat. Those red orbs shook, and I realized they were coming down the tree. Fleeing in a panic, duck sprinted ahead of me, showing me the quickest. and save his way out of the woods. I only had the dim light of the overhead lights near the apartment to guide me. Ducks use those animal instincts to get us out of their fast.

The sound of those creatures followed close behind with an ever-increasingly loud hum. I reached the edge of the forest having to dodge ducks constantly as I walked as he kept weaving between my legs again. As we reached the parking lot of the apartments, I gave one peek back into the woods

to see the red oar, had conglomerated into a large mass, fluid in its movement as it hovered over the houses ahead. From where I stood, it looked like an opening in the clouds, revealing a patch of obscure space, sprayed with thousands of pulsating red stars. Then I noticed other similar patches forming mid-air in the distance. The overwhelming humming, combined with the roaring sky, stripped ducks of all his will to move further. I pulled on the leash to no avail. He glued himself to the ground, his claws stabbing deep into the muddy surface. I had no other choice than to pick him up in my arms, carrying him like a baby down the path to my apartment building.

As the noise emitted by the strange floating body continued, it soon got the attention of the people living in the apartment block near the woods. The streets began to fill with people. I shouted for them to get back into the homes, but it was. futile. They stared in awe at the manifestation above, and then the buzzing cloud came down, collapsing over the gawking people. The gaping mouths ingested the soup of dark matter and red dots while their bodies ended in the state of a violent convulsion. Men, women, and even children in pajamas kicked their legs in agonized pain. Their heads crashed into the ground roughly, over and over again, as if shattering their schools would ease their suffering.

The sound of the torment joined in with the abyssal hum of those red-eyed creatures. There was nothing I could do for them. And, with ducks in my arms, I'd no other choice but to escape from the madness into my own apartment. I ran between many cars, checking behind me to see that nothing was coming for us. My limbs were aching by the time I got to the back door of my building. Ducks was not a puppy anymore, and I was not in my best shape. The second, his paws, touched the floor inside the apartment. apartment, ducks launched towards the sofa, sinking deep beneath it and the wall.

I crashed onto the couch to catch my breath. It felt as if I'd run a marathon. My lungs burned. My throat felt dry. I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about what happened to those people. Whatever was happening, I imagined it expanding beyond the confines of my apartment complex. I needed to call the police. I reached into my pocket and felt nothing but a lot of it.

empty. I'd forgotten I dropped my phone. There wasn't a landline in my apartment either. Who uses landlines these days? There wasn't anything else I could do except approach the window with caution. I didn't expect to see my neighbours across the street returning to their houses while the orbs hummed away towards the forest. They walked towards their doors as if nothing happened. My next thought was to call my friend who lived in one of those houses. Again, I reached inside my pocket and shouted in anger that my phone was gone. At that moment, someone knocked on my door, and ducks growled from behind the sofa. My first instinct was to follow my dog's lead and hide away behind the sofa.

Another knock. Ducks whined and slid deeper into the shadow. Sweat gathered on my brow. Knock, knock, knock. It wasn't a particularly aggressive sound, but I used to. just witnessed the entire neighbourhood feasting on a swarm of glowing insects. Some paranoia seemed to be an appropriate reaction. Hiding behind the couch wouldn't solve any problems though.

Another knock. I stepped toward the door and squeezed one eye against the peephole. On my front porch stood Sally, my next door neighbor. Just a few moments ago, she'd been out there in the street next to the others, her face covered in tiny crawling bodies that squeezed into her open mouth, her nostrils, her ears. Now, she looked like nothing had happened at all. Just a friendly old woman with dark grey hair and a bright smile. She raised her hand and knocked again.

Yes, I managed to say. It's just me, she answered. Just wanted to check in on you. Didn't see you with the others. Everything all right. I kept you some if you need them. What? I said, my mind racing. I said, I'm worried. Can you just open the door?

I took a step back and froze. My eyes flickered toward the carrying form of the German Shepherd peeking out from beyond the sofa. The thoughts of ducks charging at Sally quickly left my brain. Hiding wasn't an option either. The blood was rushing to my brain. My heart was pumping so damn hard I heard it in my ears. Knock, knock. knock.

Stop with a done knocking, I thought in my panic. I gazed through the peephole again. Just Sally. Just my old neighbour. Thin, with a bent back and a head smaller than mine. Was there really anything to be afraid of? I fumbled for the knob, latched the chain on the door, and cracked it open slightly. Sorry, just a bit under the weather, I said.

I didn't know what to do. Should I have told her what I saw? Should I have played dumb? I stumbled over my words as I searched for the appropriate response. I... I... um... I just fell asleep, so I'm just a little... I'm okay, though. I'm fine. Oh, her eyes widened.

Oh, you were sleeping? But tonight was... You missed her... Don't worry. She rummaged through a bulky, hand-knitted jacket. Don't worry. I didn't see you, so I kept some. You're fine.

You're going to be fine. A shaking fingers pulled out a tiny jam jar, and she wanted to hand it to me. Not wishing to stir up any trouble, I unlatched the chain, and my hands reflexively accepted the little container. I lifted the glass up to my eyes. It vibrated in my hands.

There was that sound again. That sound from earlier. Finger now scratching against the inside of a cough. in, the screeching tires of a distant truck as the driver loses control. A giant buzzing fly, being slowly squeezed until its kite in a shell cracks. Red squirming lights danced within the seawed prison. Their bodies angrily bounced back and forth as they tried to escape. In shock, I let loose, and the jar shattered on the floor underneath.

What the hell? I threw myself backwards as the lights rose up into the air, swarming in the form of a tiny tornado. What the hell's going on? The insects slowly dispersed one by one. They vanished towards the forest. Sally looked at me with wide eyes. Her hand squeezed against her mouth. Oh God, she took in a deep breath.

Oh God, how many did you have last time? How much did you forget? She tried to take a step towards me, but before she could get anywhere close, I slammed the door shut in her face. Behind me, Ducks was going crazy. One second he was racing towards the door with his teeth paired. The next, he was carrying in the corner, shaking and whimpering.

Wait, wait, Sally kept hammering against the door. It's not too late. Maybe we can find some if we're going to the woods right now. Please, they'll be back next month. You'll be okay, I promise. My legs turned to jelly beneath me. I stumbled back to the couch and sat down in a daze. Sally continued beating against my front door, but the sound faded into my periphery as the world washed away into a quiet whistling sound flying past my ears.

My stomach twisted violently. A moment of clarity sent me struggling to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach spilled violently from my mouth. Ducks's wet nose pressed behind my ear, followed by a sloppy wet kiss against the side of the neck. He whined next to me. His claw tips tapped against the tile as he tried to get my attention. I imagined he was trying to encourage me to hide, telling me there was still time to pretend this was all in our heads. How was my dog the only thing making sense at that moment?

I pulled myself unsteadly to my feet and dug in my cabinet for something to settle my stomach. I needed to have my wits about me. Thankfully, there was a bottle of pepto sitting front and centre. I've been getting sick a lot lately. headaches, stomach aches, fatigue. At one point I thought I contracted COVID. My tests came back negative,

so I assumed it was just a regular flu or sinuses. Just waited out, get some exercise, we'll bounce back in no time. That's what the doctor's told me at least. The bottle tumbled from my hand before I could wrap my fingers around the child's safety lid. It had been months now since I've been getting sick, hadn't it?

It always seemed to happen on nights like these where rain and lightning battered the earth and when ducks cowered in fear inside the closet usually I took into my bed with the covers pulled tightly over my head as I tried to fight nausea this happened monthly Sally had mentioned something about it returning monthly I should have asked them more questions I needed to know what was happening before I could give it more thought the assault on my front door had abruptly stopped and the sound of a shattering window in my house made me jump to my feet.

I made my way back into the living room and glanced down at the shattered glass on the floor. Ice-cold fear ran like water through my veins. Ducks growled from behind me as the front door opened and a shaking hand reached up to fiddle with a chain of my door. I sucked in a trembling breath and tugged the door inward against the arm. Someone on the other side cried out in pain. Behind me, ducks led out a furious bark And I heard his nails clicking against the ground

As he ran into the kitchen behind me A person screamed in terror and pain It was at this moment I realised I was under siege The enemy, my neighbours Under the influence of an alien bug Were coming at me from all sides All I had against them was a set of kitchen knives

And my normally dossol dog Who survival instincts kicked in under pressure pressure. I was thankful for ducks at that moment. Everyone warned me against having such a large dog in my apartment, but there was a special bond between ducks and me as soon as we laid eyes upon each other. I chose him as much as he chose me. My neighbors wanted me. Ducks was caught up in something that wasn't his fault. At least he'd survive. Before I could doubt my decision, I let go of the door and charged back into the kitchen to find good. Ducks had his teeth sunk deep into the arm of a neighbor I'd seen a couple of times from down the block.

He was a shirtless, tall, old man who wore pajama buttons as if he'd been relaxing at home before all this craziness started. Ducks shook his head in a savage fury, mulling the man's arm and forcing him to cry out in sheer anguish. Behind the man, I saw the top of a ladder leading into the window of the apartment. Stepping around Ducks and the man, I reached the window in time to see someone else climbing up the window. Below, the whole neighbourhood seemed to be out in force in the siege. More people gathered around the bottom of the ladder, waiting their turn to climb in. A brief peek of the front door showed many people were waiting to make the climb up the stairs

through the front door. My only saving grace was the bottleneck the stairs and the entrance course for them. Only one or two people could get into the stairwell at the same time. Running on pure adrenaline and survival instinct, I shoved the ladder away from the wind window. The man on the ladder shouted as he fell backward along with the ladder back to the ground. Without taking care of for the moment, I had to deal with a man inside the house. The closest item to me I could use as a weapon was my microwave. I implugged it from the outlet and picked it up over my head. The bald man was on the floor, pleading for ducks to release him to no success.

I dropped the microwave down on his skull and heard the plate inside shatter. The bald man cried out once more. The part of me that still had some sort of attachment to humanity felt terrible about my actions. However, the instinctual part of me, which wanted me to survive at all costs, didn't give a single damn about this man's life. I picked up the microwave again and slammed it on his skull harder than I did before. This time, his cry was cut off, and he didn't stir anymore. Doc seemed satisfied and released a man's mangled, bloodied arm from his mouth.

He leaked the blood from his face. We were no longer a man and dog. We were primitives, battling against an invading force. Whether there were aliens, monsters, or men, we weren't about to go down without a fight. The sound of the front door splintering caught our attention, and we ran back to find it shaking in its frame. With the blood and adrenaline running through my brain,

I realized I needed to barricade the front door. The heaviest items I had in my house with my couches, my television stand, and the refrigerator. As I got to work shoving those toward the front door, ducks stayed near the door, barking aggressively and snarling. I pushed the love seat to the door and yelled for ducks to get out of the way. That pause doomed me. I felt something crash against the back of my head,

and I immediately saw stars. A stinging pain ripped at the top of my school, and a splattering of fireworks exploded behind my ears. I immediately dropped the floor The echoes of ducks's barks Were the last thing I heard Before I blacked out When consciousness returned to me

By the time my vision cleared Something was being tugged over my head And tightened around my neck Several sets of hands gripped each arm And wrenched me up from the floor Someone shook me forward and told me to watch my step Behind me I heard someone crying out in agony again and the sound of ducks mawling someone knew.

The thought of it brought a smile to my lips, but it was immediately shot down as a search of pain ripped across my head. I heard the door shut behind me and paused bashing wildly against the other side. As they pushed me down the stairs, I fought and struggled as well as I could against the group holding me tight.

The strength seeped out of me as exhaustion overcame me. I'd lost. Ducks was gone now. trapped inside the apartment. I should have realised they'd had more ladders. They'd probably come inside the house through the bedroom while I was handling the bald man in the kitchen. With the chaos going out outside,

the banging on the door and docks mooring the screaming bold man, I probably didn't hear the window shattering. When I pushed the couch to the door, they snuck up behind me and knocked me out. At least, that's what I think happened. They could have easily climbed in through the balcony. Either way, I was their prisoner now. Lost in those thoughts, I came back to reality when a hand reached up to brush my cheek through whatever they'd put over me.

Don't worry. It was Sally's voice, sweet and matronly. We're just trying to help. After that, I felt the prick of a needle going into my skin, and a moment or two later, I was dizzy. Blackness swelled behind my eyes like the leaf. legions of those red insect drones. I gave in to the darkness once more. Foggy consciousness broke through periodically.

I was vaguely aware of a bumpy ride and a cold metal floor underneath me. I woke now and again and had dreams of swarming red orbs, impossibly tall trees and rents in the clouds allowing me glimpses of terrible, unspeakable things. Wretched, half-glimped creatures who shrieked and buzzed. Ducks was barking for them. furiously at them. I had no idea how long it went on. The shot wore off as we neared the end of the ride. I heard the road turned to gravel for a bit.

Then something quieter, softer. We ground to a halt, and I smelled damp earth and pine sap. Can you take this hood off, Sally? What the hell's going on? Where are we? What about ducks? I said with alarm. I was still groggy and felt there was no way in hell I could get to my feet. I couldn't see, but if I could, I was sure things would be swirlier than a kid's giant lollipop. I heard Sal's soft voice whisper in my ear. All in good time, we are here to help. All will be revealed. Help?

I half barked, half coughed. The chemical, or whatever the hell they used on me, were still making my mind feel like it was buzzing. Who the hell are you helping here, Sally? I felt that stroke again on the hood. gentle and reassuring, like a mother's touch, before she drowns a child in the bathtub. I'm going to give you a minute or two to get your bearings, and then I will show you where we are. I have a little water to soothe your throat as well. The chemicals they give us can be a tad harsh on delicate tissues, Sal said.

That they give you? Yes, and just who? I broke into a coffin fit and felt a cold water bottle pressed onto my hand. And just who the hell are they? We don't have a name for them. They are ennominate, but we do know they are here to help. Help make a new home for their kind, our kind, in this world. We are now them, and we are the second wave that has arrived here.

We have combined through the phenomenon you observed in the forest and on our street. You said second wave? What was the first? I asked. Sally gently removed the hood, static crackling in my hair. My vision swam for a bit, then calmed. Sally's face came slowly into focus. Her eyes were glowing the exact shade of red as the insects ducks and I encountered in the forest.

The wrinkled skin around her eyes was a bruised variant of the same colour. I felt a wave of nausea rise and subside. Sally was between me and the van doors and was backed by two large men. There was no way out but through, I recalled someone saying at some point about doing something unpleasant. I thought of ducks,

terrified and alone in my apartment. My best friend, ducks. I screamed and charged at her and the men, but they quickly picked me up and threw me deeper into the van the way a kid would toss a doll. I landed on my ass on the hard metal floor of the truck,

denting the aluminium. Let's not have any more of that, she said. It's unseemly. Get lost, Sally, I spat. It was the best thing I could muster at the time. Sally tilted ahead a bit. Her red eyes blinked. In any case, as I said, we are the second wave. Those who undergo the transformation needed a little softening up, so to speak. We needed to make sure our vessels were able to receive our gift. I shifted to a more comfortable, less agonising position on the cold and dented metal floor. Gift? That's rich, Sally. You're talking about colonising Earth.

You'll see. All will be revealed. We are here to help. Yeah, help yourself. More or less, yes. So, what was the first wave? Just how did you soften us up? I asked. A nuclear arms race, she said. I felt a shiver, course through me. You were going to destroy us all to prepare us? Not exactly.

We needed certain conditions to be met upon the planets before colonization. The nuclear fallout spread across the planet from all tests and detonations was needed to prepare your genes and immune systems for the entry of the larvaling stars. Those red orbs that you observed, if you'd gotten your dosage as intended, you'd have known all this. You'd have remembered.

You'd have been a part of us? Of course, we shall remedy this immediately. We've caught up to the swarm again. We shall take you whole. Sally stepped out of the van. Two men entered the inside of the truck and dragged me out into the night. We were near the woods again, just like how the apartment buildings were near the woods. There was a dampness floating in the air, giving me the impression that it had recently rained here.

I thought I'd heard thunder in the distance earth. earlier, but I wasn't sure if it was real or if I'd taken too many hits to the head in such a short time. The men marched me forward deeper into the woods. Sadly marched the head of us, leading the way. Sadly, I was done and resigned to whatever fate awaited me and the rest of humanity at this point. I'd thought them as much as I could already.

I'd been hit in the head, drugged and exhaustion had taken hold. There was nothing I could do anymore. tried to run, but I wouldn't have gotten far from them. I allowed them to lead me to my fate. Stop, Sally commanded. She stood beneath a tree and stared upward into it. The red orbs lit the tree like Christmas lights. They chittered and hung their song of violation. They battle him of conquest. Sally relished in it. I wanted nothing more than to throw a rocket ahead or something to ruin the moment. Unfortunately, it weren't any sizable stones to throw near us. Sally raised her arms and opened her mouth toward the sky like she was trying to catch a snowflake. From her throat,

the same chittering hum came. It was a sound no human could have made on purpose. Her mouth opened wider than it was possible for a person, until I heard a jaw pop as it dislocated. The sound was sickening enough to make me want to vomit again. If I hadn't arrived, it was. already puked back at home. Dozens of the red orbs seemed to respond to Sally's chittering command and floated down from the tree's leaves. Sally held out a palm, and the creature swarmed Sally's hand like bees on a hive. She turned back to me with glowing red eyes, lighting up a long grey hair. The two men kicked out the backs of my knees, forcing me to kneel on the ground.

Sally came over to me, mouth still opened wide like an eternal scream. She extended her hand out before me. and chittered once more, before I heard the sound of a gunshot tear through the chitters. Lit by the red glow of the swarming alien insects, a dark black hole appeared in the middle of Sally's forehead. A stream of blood flowed down the middle of her face

and dropped off the top of a lip to the forest floor, and then she collapsed into a heap in front of me. Two more gunshots rang out, and the two men holding me fell over as well. A moment later, humanoid figures emerge from the woods carrying rifles, dressed in all black to blend in with the night.

They move forward with trained precision aiming their weapons in my direction. While this happened, I saw other people emerge from the woods and torrents of fire lit the night along of the forest. Men with flame furrows obliterated the alien swarm in the trees. The chitters and homes

were replaced with what must have been the sounds of their collective screams. The men with the rifles approached to the caution. I didn't know what else to do except put my hands into the air to show that I wasn't armed. Did any of those creatures get into you?

One of the men pointing the rifles at me asked. I had trouble finding my words as I had never had a gun pointed directly into my face. I stuttered a no and the men helped me to my feet. Didn't think so, said the soldier who'd asked me the question and led me away.

As he did, his companions fired another round into the heads of Sally. and the two men who'd been assisting her. Who the hell are you guys? I asked the man as he escorted me through the woods. You have watched the movie Men in Black? He asked. I nodded.

That's us, minus the suits and ties. I shook my head from side to side and just accepted this as truth. I allowed him to drag me out of the war zone the area had become. We walked through those woods. I saw more and more soldiers with flamefarers incinerate.

the woods. The swall cried out, feeling my ears with their terrible sound. It wasn't into the soldier delivering me to a van on the outskirts of the woods, but the sound stopped once I got inside. This is where I leave you. They're going to make sure you aren't infected and give you a ride home to your dog. Safe travels. You gave those bugger's hell, kid. The soldier said, and marched back toward the woods. I had so many questions, but I couldn't handle much more. Inside the van, a doctor in a hazmat suit ran some sort of scanner over my body and deemed me alien parasite free. Once they finished, they removed their gear, and it was a woman who introduced itself to me as Dr. Orchid. Are you feeling alright beside the craziness that happened to you tonight?

She asked. I'm... I'm just tired, and I want to get back home to my dog, I answered. With a chuckle, she said. your apartment complex is in lockdown right now we've got a clean-up crew vacating your neighbours so they'll be okay for tonight we're going to put you up in a pet-friendly hotel

Dr. Orgood replied Ducks is okay? I asked immediately sitting up with second wind Yeah he is He's at the hotel already waiting for you Dr. Orquard answered We left the woods almost immediately And drove back toward my town

Dr. Orgard filled the time Talking about the Marvel superhero movies she's watched and she thinks Star Wars needs to let go of the past so they can move on with the franchise. I sat there, staring at her, and wondering how this woman, who was knowledge of parasitic alien swarms, talked about such mundane subjects. I thought about asking for more information about what was happening, but then decided against it. She acted as if nothing happened,

so I assumed it was best to pretend I was getting an Uber ride home from a very talkative driver. When we arrived at the hotel, I could see Ducks inside the lobby. He made his bed on one of the sofas. Get some rest tonight. We'll see you tomorrow morning. And please, don't try to leave in the middle of the night or something like that. We've got the place and watch. Dr. Rogg had said, putting back on her professional voice.

I told her I'd probably need a wake-up call after tonight and went into the hotel. Dougs jumped out of the couch and ran toward me. He howled with excitement and happiness. Wherever had gotten him had washed off all the blood and gave him a proper grooming. I dropped to my knees and ducks showered me with kisses. I cried with happiness, knowing that everything with him was okay. Excuse me, sir, said the hotel clerk as he hovered over me. I'm sorry, I said and stood from the floor.

You're in room 1002 tonight. It's right down at the end of the hallway. If you're feeling hungry, please help yourself to anything in the cafeteria down the other end of the hall that way. Or if your companion needs to use the facilities, you can take him outside the side door near your room. The clerk explained and handed me the room key.

Ducks and I immediately went into the room and shut the door behind us. I locked the deadbolt in, yanked off my clothes, and fell into a deep sleep with ducks cuddled up next to me. I have no recollection of these events at all. The last thing I can recall from my own memory is the thunderstorm mentioned in the opening paragraph above. Otherwise, I feel as if I returned to consciousness only minutes ago. All the information I've given I found on handwritten pieces of paper with a hotel's logo on top.

The handwriting was mine. I read over what happened above and didn't know what to make of it. It seems as if I decided to write a paper. a movie or something. I took the pages to read them over clearer when I had the time I wasn't feeling as if my brain was made out of bread pudding and apple sauce. When I went to the hotel clerk, he told me I'd been in the hotel for several days after some people from my apartment complex had helped me check into the hotel.

I asked him why they did that, and he had no answer, as he hadn't been the person who checked me into the hotel at the time. From his expression, I could tell it was probably a weird question for someone to ask why I was there. They don't care why you're there. They only care that you pay and get out on time. Ducks and I took an Uber home with a driver, who didn't mind a dog in the car?

While the driver drove us and bet Ducks as much as he could, and checked on my phone and noticed that all my apps and loggings weren't saved. I spent a bunch of time logging back into my social media and spent the whole ride checking in on what I'd missed in the world. I hadn't missed much apparently. When I arrived home, the door was open, and everything was in place like I'd left it. There was a note on the table from the apartment complex manager, saying that the gas leak was taken care of, and they appreciated the time I gave them to fix it.

They said they hoped I enjoyed my stay at the hotel they'd booked for me. Feeling sore from sleeping in a random hotel bed for days, I decided I needed to get a good nap in before I went about my time. day again. Doug seemed a little nervous. He sniffed around a lot and appeared on edge. He sniffed around the closet and doors until he seemed to calm down again. He jumped into bed with me and soon fell into sleep. Finding that I couldn't fall asleep in the middle of the day, I pulled out the papers I'd skimmed earlier and read through what I'd written. I'm not the kind of person who writes for fun or makes of stories, but nothing else explains how I ended up in that hotel room, aside from

the note left to me by the apartment manager. Has anyone else encountered these red orbs in the night sky? That afternoon, the downtown traffic splashed through rain puddles on the street, spreading me as I rushed toward the psychic studio on Main Street and Bloom. The psychic shop blazed on the corner in neon glory, illuminating the street in incompatible shades of red. Bells chimed as I entered. Inside, sequined disco lights, the size of pumpkins, swung from the chip ceiling, emitting a pinkish glow into the closet-sized space.

To the right, a burgundy velvet curtain separated the waiting area from the psychic's chambers, clashing with a faded red shag carpet that looked like it had been stripped from the floors of a condemned motel, circa 1970. Oh, God, I thought, am I really doing this? A small voice interrupted my reverie. May I help you, sir? He said, his voice thick with an accent I couldn't trace. I smiled, buttoning my umbrella shut. I dried my hands on my coat and nodded.

Yeah, I said. I want to make an appointment with... I pulled out my phone, then scroll down to the contact that Josh had sent me when he insisted I come here. Ah, here it is. Esmeralda? I said, feeling awkward. I scanned the room for familiar faces, hoping not to find any, but I was the only customer.

I had never been to a psychic. I felt ridiculous, but Josh said I had to see this psychic because she wasn't, quote, just any psychic. The man nodded. Good, good, he said, a broad, eager smile spread across his face, revealing a missing front tooth. Plus, I admit, after hearing. Josh's story, I was curious about this place. And then, of course, today was the anniversary of... Esmeralda is very good, the man said, interrupting my thought.

He stood about as tall as my chest, barely tall enough to see over the cash register. His head bobbed around as he spoke. I nodded, but I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Yeah, that's what my buddy said. The man glanced at the clock. Esmeralda can see you in twenty minutes. I shrugged. Sure, why not?

Good, good, he smiled. After I paid, he gestured toward the empty burgundy chairs in the waiting area. Please, have a seat. As I searched the crowdless room, I couldn't help but wonder, if this lady is such a master, why doesn't she have more customers? You'd think she'd have a longer wait. list. After what seemed like an eternity, the burgundy curtain parted, and a short, poorly woman in a mid to late 50s appeared. She wore a long burgundy gown, and her hair was swept into

a messy chignon, secured to the top of her head with a pencil. Every finger on both hands glittered with jewels. She smiled when she saw me. You must be Nick, she said, her voice warm. Wait, I thought, I didn't tell anyone my name, did I? She motioned toward me. I followed her past the curtain, down the hall to a reading room, then gasped.

Wow, I thought, grimacing at the explosion of kitsch decor. It was an interior designer's nightmare. Red gypsy Tiffany lamps stood at the side table next to a splay deck of tarot cards, glittering candles and crystals. red-headed homo figurines and other knick-knacks. The room looked like a Christmas display gone awry, as though a drunk, angry reindeer had thrown up.

I sat at the large round table, where a candelabra stood in the centre, surrounded by smaller golden-red candles. Esmeralda took a seat across the table, and gazed at me, her blue eyes soft and maternal. Now, tell me what kind of reading you would like, she said.

She must have sensed this was all new to me, because she chuckled at my expression. Let me explain, she said. I do terror readings where I can read cards and tell you about a life problem, and I do palm readings, and I do medium readings, where I summon the deceased who speak through me. That's the simple answer. So, during medium readings, you can summon anyone? She nodded.

pretty much she said unless they don't want to talk that has happened but not often she studied my reaction then flashed a knowing smile this is the one you want isn't it she asked her voice gentle she paused shuffling a deck of cards then is your lost reasoned My stomach fluttered. Was it that obvious? It isn't that recent, I said, avoiding a gaze. She set aside the tarot guards she had been shuffling and reached for my hands, taking me by surprise. Her hands are warm and maternal. A strange energy coursed through my hands as she held them.

I want you to know that your mother is okay, she said. The threat of tears burned in my hands. my eyes, but I fought them back. I wasn't going to be that guy. Today is special, isn't it? She said. But she already seemed to know the answer. I nodded. Today is the first anniversary of a death, I said, looking down at the worn red carpet. She nodded, sympathetic. Here's what we'll do, Nick, she said. I light a candle and you close your eyes. I guide you through a meditation and then we ask your mother to join us

All you have to do is follow my instructions and tell me what images come up for you throughout the meditation Okay Okay But before we start There are three things you should know She said

One, always keep your eyes closed Unless I tell you otherwise Two, if you feel overwhelmed Tell me and we'll stop Three Three is the hardest, but you should know. What is it? Sometimes...

They change, she said. What do you mean? She shrugged. Just like we grow and change. Well, our deceased loved ones do too. Sometimes it isn't a dramatic change, but you should be prepared. The thought concerned me, but it didn't sound like I needed to worry too much. Did I?

Before I could think about it, she continued. She smiled. Ready? I nodded. Let's do this. Remember, she said. Keep your eyes closed. I didn't bother to ask why.

Just follow my voice. I settled into my seat. Close your eyes, she said. A voice gentle like the spring wind. I obeyed and I listened. A match sounded, and the scent of lavender filled the room. Light, invigorating, relaxing. A click sounded from across the table.

Then, a soundtrack played at a low volume. Ambient nature sounds, with rushing waterfalls and rhythmic chanting. It was just loud enough. Breathe in, she said, her voice slow and soft. And breathe out. I inhaled, then exhaled. Again, breathe in and out. I relaxed, melting into the sound of a voice.

Let the images come, she said. And they did. Imagine you are travelling through a tunnel, a long, dark tunnel, with a soft white light all the way down at the end. This tunnel is taking you back in time. My body relaxed, growing heavier with each breath. I breathed again. Deeper and deeper. I followed the tunnel toward the light, going back and farther back in time.

Then the house appeared. Where are you now, Nick? My parents' house, I said. I described their white stone house with ivory climbing up the walls and the greenhouse in the backyard. Tell me about the greenhouse. I described each image as it surfaced. It's all glass, filled with plants, and tons of ivy, and inside the greenhouse a shovel is propped against the wall.

I see it when I walk inside. Good Nick, she said, reassuring me. Now, what else? At first, it doesn't look like anyone is there, I said, seeing snapshots of that day again in my mind, stunned by the clarity of the images. The detail was so vivid, so crisp. Then I see my mom's purse on the ground, tipped over. with all the belongings spilling out.

I call her name, but nothing. Then... Then what, Nick? Then I hear someone groan from the back of the greenhouse, I said. I don't see anyone around, but... I hurried to all the sound, following it, calling for her. Mom! Mom!

But nothing. And what happened next? Then I find her in the back, curled up on the ground. She's clutching a chest but can't speak. I panic, breathless. I grab my phone and dial 9-1-1. Then what?

I can't keep her awake, my voice broke. I paused. I tried to. By the time the ambulance comes, I could have... No, Nick, Esmeralda said, reassuring me, before I had even finished my sentence. You couldn't have done more than you did. It was her time, you see. The hot sting of tears returned, but I fought them back.

and kept breathing. But she is with you, Nick, Esmeralda said, and she is here now. She says she wants to speak to you. Is that okay? I nodded. Okay, Nick,

Esmeralda said, keep your eyes closed as I perform this next step. I nodded again. Something rustled, then the scent of Jasmine wafted through the room. Esmeralda honed and chanted. I waited. Barbara May, she said, we ask you to join us, Barbara May. Your son, Nick, has asked you to join us today.

Speak through me, Barbara May, she said, conjuring a spirit like a magician. I listened, with my eyes shut. Never mind that I hadn't told her my mother's name, or even my name for that matter. At this point, I no longer cared. how she knew the thing she did. As I waited, the energy in the room shifted. A chill pierced the air. I shivered.

When Esmeralda spoke, I froze. Instinctively, I knew Esmeralda wasn't the one speaking anymore. Esmeralda was gone. Nick, the voice said. Her voice soft and careful, as though trying not to frighten me. I knew that voice. I'd always known. that voice. It was the first voice I had ever heard. A whirlwind of emotion tumbled through me.

Mom? I kept my eyes shut as Esmeralda had instructed. And I waited. It's me, Nick, she said. I wanted to open my eyes, but apart to me was too afraid of what I might see. Nick, she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. I've missed you, sweetheart. My eyes burned again, but I fought hard, holding back. Why did you leave, Mom? I asked, forcing back the emotion. She sighed. I didn't want to go, Nick. Believe me, I didn't.

Then why? I started, but I knew the question was of no use. Listen, she said, a boy sounding firmer, more insistent. I need to tell you something while. I'm here. What is it? She sighed again, as though contemplating whether to tell me something. As I waited, my heart fluttered in my chest. Honey? She said, sounding nervous. What is it? I asked. Something wrong? This is ridiculous, I thought. Why can't open my eyes? But I'd promised Esmeralda.

Nick, she said. I'm not happy here. Something in a voice. It didn't sound right. What do you mean? I asked. My anxiety growing. Something didn't feel right. I tried to ignore it.

This place, she said, the pitch of a voice rising. Oh, Nick, it's so dark. Her voice lowered, then deepened. It's so dark here, Nick. Chill swept over me. Goose pimples raised up my spine like electric tickles. This didn't sound like my mother anymore. This couldn't be my mother.

Then I remembered Esmeralda's warning. Sometimes they change. I've done a bad thing, she said. An ominous tone leaked from her voice, as though she was harboring a secret. What? What are you talking about, Mom? I asked, even though I wasn't sure that this was my mother. I've done a terrible thing, Nick, she continued, sounding agitated. What did you do, Mom? I asked, not wanting to know.

Just know that I did it out of love, she said. He had nothing left to live for. But I could hear the lie in her voice. I couldn't stand the loneliness, she said, her voice thick with desperation. I found a pickaxe and, no, I shouted, but she wouldn't stop. I had to, Nick, she said. I was so alone. What did you do, Mom?

I asked, my heart raising and thumping like a juiced-up gymnast in my chest. What did you do? I didn't want to hurt. She tried to sound apologetic. Then her voice trailed off. My stomach churned. Esmeralda, I begged. I needed to come back now.

But nothing. Esmeralda, I shouted. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to open my eyes. What would I see if I did? But my mother. kept speaking Nick I have three warnings I must give before I leave she said sounding unfazed by my terror I don't want to know I pressed my hands against my

ears to tune her out but couldn't she spoke louder sounding more authoritative one she said the body is buried behind the garage look for the fresh man of dirt no I shouted sobbing imagining my poor father two she continued her voice unwavering and merciless. Don't climb on rooftops or you'll get hurt. Stop, I shouted. What was she talking about? And three, she said, ignoring my protests.

I'm sorry, Nick, but a much, much worse fate awaits you. That was it. I couldn't resist any longer. I had to look. Without a second thought, I opened my eyes. But I wasn't prepared for what I saw. standing in front of me, in all her dead glory, was my mother, but not the mother I had loved and remembered. This mother was grey-skinned and wild-eyed, her once blue eyes cold and steely,

her cheeks gaunt, her eyes sunken, her once silky-blonde hair was coiled into a nile grey mess. She stared at me, unblinking, like a grotesque statue. In her eyes, I saw the absence of everything that should have been in. in a mother's gaze. Esmeralda, I shouted. Come back, I want to end this now. But my mother kept talking as though she hadn't heard me.

I'm sorry it has to be this way for you, Nick. And how? I asked, not wanting to know, but needing to know. But with that, the room went dark and the candle flame blew out, as though extinguished by some phantom breath. A moment later, the light flits back on and Ismeralda stood in front of me, calm and serene,

as though she hadn't heard or seen a thing. What was that? I asked. What happened to my mother? Esmeralda shook her head. Sometimes... They change. As I drove home after the reading, I crept down the freeway at the speed of a geriatric heading to a bingo game after church. I was too afraid of what might happen.

The speed limit was sick. I drove 35. I ignored the many people who honked at me and gave me the finger. When I got home, I texted my dad, but never heard back. I was too afraid to go to his house, even though I wanted to. I tried to convince myself that my psychic reading had all been some elaborate mind trick or a prank. The next morning, I called Josh, but he didn't answer. minutes later I got a call from an unknown number

the deep voice of a stranger replied on the other end Nick May he asked yeah afraid I got some bad news what is your father Jerome May yes I said feeling sick with anticipation I'm afraid he's had an accident fell off the roof doing some home repairs

happened about an hour ago Wait, what? And who was buried in the garage, I wondered. What the hell? What happened? A neighbour reported a strange noise coming from your father's home, he said. Said you heard a man scream. After he called the station, we sent law enforcement to the scene.

When the officer alighted from the vehicle, he heard the voice of an older, unidentified male subject calling from a bush on the property. He headed toward the sound and found your father incapacitated. incapacitated? I asked, confused. Yeah, a broken arm. He said, I want to come down to the hospital for a visit. Is he going to survive? I asked. Probably.

As I dressed to go to the hospital, I flipped on the TV and listened to the news. A breaking news story interrupted the usual morning program. Breaking news, the news anchor said. This just in. Around 5 o'clock this afternoon, police responded to an announcement. The anonymous tip that a body had been buried in the backyard of her home in the Quiet Dover Hills neighborhood, located on the southeast corner of Hammond Street and Trinity Avenue. Once on scene, police discover the body of this 20-something male, buried in a shallow grave. When the picture appeared on the screen, I dropped my coffee.

Josh. The anchorman continued. This man has been identified as 25-year-old Joshua Williams. But I didn't hear the rest. I thought back to last night. Two, out of the three warnings, I'd already come true. I grew restless as I replayed my mother's words. A much, much worse fate awaits you.

Now, I can't help but wonder. What happens next? I pushed a sign deep into the ground and looked at the kids gathering up the street with thinly veiled satisfaction. Keep off the dirt. I'd seen the way their eyes gleamed when the truck had come to deliver it and decided on a preemptive strike.

A tall pile of fill dirt was irresistible for a small child and I needed as much of this dirt for my project as possible. Having it scattered all over the yard would make that difficult and I needed to post signs before the neighbourhood rowdies got any ideas. I went back inside then. not wanting to feel questions about my dirt. Sitting in my easy chair, pretending to watch TV, I could see them gathering around to look at the sign.

They hunkered over the handlebars of the tent speeds and looked dubiously at the sign I had stuck in the mountain of dirt in the front yard. The sign was pretty straightforward. But I wouldn't put it past these kids to find a loophole. They knew me as the cool neighbor, the single guy who gave up full-size candy bars on Halloween, and sometimes played baseball in the street with them, the guy who drank on his front porch,

and sometimes let them fish in my canal if it was okay with their parents. On some things, however, they knew that I was unbending, and that it wouldn't do to argue. They all looked up when I came out on the front porch to lean against the rail and look at them. If you're hoping to find a playing the dirt free card somewhere on top of that pile, it ain't happening.

Reggie looked up and his face was still, hopeful. Gee, Mr. McIntyre, that sure is a great-looking part of the dirt you have there. I nodded, keeping my face neutral as I tried not to smile. Sure is, and it's fulfilling gopher holes, so I'll likely need all of it. If there's any left, though, I'll be sure to let your kids know so you can trample it flat for me. They rode off down the road, sitting a little higher on their bikes as they realized there might still be hope. I shook my head as I watched them leave. I never knew anyone to get as excited about a pile of dirt as a bunch of kids. Something about all that fresh parody dirt just made them a little bit crazy. As I looked at the

six-foot mound of fine white dirt, I almost felt like jumping in myself. I went inside to finish my preparations, getting work clothes on and finding my gloves. I sat in the living room, pulling my boots on when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at the time. I glanced up. The afternoon shadows just started to lengthen and I saw a pair of small figures standing beside the road. I paused in mid-tie, looking up to see two small forms looking at the pile of dirt. It looked to be a couple of neighbourhood kids, maybe having one last look before going back. I shook my head. Kids were so predictable. I finished tying my boots and stepped out onto the front porch.

Looking is fine, but I don't want to see anyone in my... The road was empty. I looked up and down the road. The kids were already playing a game of touch football further down the cul-de-sac, and I picked up my shovel as I thought about how strange that had been. Those two must have been really booking it to make it back to their playmates that quickly. As I started scooping dirt, I thought longingly about having that kind of energy. It would make my job easier.

I spent the rest of the afternoon filling in gopher holes. It had been a particularly bad season for them, and the dirt was a band-aid solution at best. The gophers would continue to dig up my yard until I invested in the dog or something. I kept slinging dirt until the sun grew low in the sky, one angry chock actually coming up to growl at me before I threw a shovel full of dirt on him. When it became too dark to see, I thrust my shovel into the pile of dirt. dirt and shook the remaining dirt off myself. The kids were finishing up their football game, heading home as the streetlights came on.

They all looked longingly at the pile of dirt, but they knew better than to make a play for it while I was standing on my front porch. My cigarette winked on and off as I stood watching the sun go down, and I pitched the end into the dirt as I went inside. I was frying up some hamburgers when I heard the first tremor of laughter from the front yard. Over the sound of popping grease, I could hear the scuttling laughter of children as they played out front. I walked over to the living room window and looked out into the front yard. By the streetlights ghostly light, I could see them playing on the man of dirt I had out front. There were two of them, both dressed in dirty jeans and colourful shirts, and both having a ball as they capered on the dirt pile.

I was out the door in a matter of seconds, yelling before the door had come fully open. Hey, just what the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you read? Stay off the... The street lights were dim, but even I could see the absence of people in my yard. I walked over to the pile, looking around to see if anyone was hiding behind it. I saw pretty quickly that this wasn't going to be the case. The dirt pile was hardly three feet tall and a kid would have to get pretty low to hide behind it. I glanced up and down the street, but the only one was hardly three feet tall, and a kid would have to get pretty low to hide behind it. I glanced up and down the street, but the only

Anything moving of the road was an old chip bag pushed by the wind. I looked back at the pile, I was shocked to find that I didn't even see any footprints. The wide, low dirt pile still looked fairly pristine, other than shovel marks. I scratched my head, sure of what I'd seen, but I went back inside anyway. Maybe I'd just been working too hard today. I put my fries out of the oven just as they started to burn. I made two hamburgers and added them to the pile of french fries. I tipped a beer into a chill glass and brought them both to the table.

After an afternoon spent shoveling dirt, I was tired and ready for a bite, and as I lifted the first one from the plate, I heard my stomach grumble as the grease oozed off the meat. I had just taken the first bite, when I heard the metal clanging of my shovel falling over. I looked up to find those kids. playing in my dirt pile again. I came barreling out of the door,

my dinner cooling on my plate as I stormed to send these kids off. I was becoming frustrated. I'd made it pretty clear that I didn't want people on my dirt pile. I had been pretty nice about it, posting signs and asking the kids not to mess with it.

But it appeared that some of these kids just weren't getting it. If I needed to be a hard ass to keep these kids off my dirt, I suppose I will have to be a hard ass. I had barely gotten two words out of my mouth before I once again noticed the yard was empty

I was really getting tired of this I know what I saw and what I saw was the same pair of filthy kids on my pile of dirt no matter how many times I checked that yard however there was never any sign of trespassers the strangest part was the lack of footprints though the sand was fresh

maybe even a little damp when you got past the top layer. The kids had been jumping on the sand like a trampoline. There should have been footprints, handprints, something. They came back three more times that night, but the last is the only one that really stands out. That was the worst of their appearances. They appeared again as I was finishing my dishes, and again as I sat watching TV.

I came striding out to holler at them both times, but all I found was an empty. yard both times. This was ridiculous. What the hell was going on? I know what I saw, but they were always gone the instant I came outside. Nobody could move that fast, especially not a bunch of dirty kids. And what the hell were they doing out after dark? Most of the parents on this block didn't let their kids out after the streetlights came on. Something funny was going on here. The last time I saw them, that night at least, was just before bedtime. I had thought the pranks were over as the time slipped on.

It was 11 o'clock, and I was walking through the living room to get something to help me sleep. I was still a little on edge, and I thought that a nightcap might help me calm down a bit. I was coming out of the kitchen with my tumbler of whiskey, the curtains still open on the front yard, when I saw them there. My glass slipped out of my hands as the two kids stood, crouched on top of my pile of dirt. I was speechless for a moment as the angry fire built inside of me. I was furious. Who the hell did these kids think they were?

They came storming out in the middle of the night trying to mess with me. But why? I had made a very simple request. Why were these kids tormenting me? Because I wouldn't let them play in my pile of dirt. If I had stopped to quell my anger, I might have noticed that something wasn't right with these two. The night air was cool on my bare chest,

as I came shambling out of my house like an angry bull. Who the hell do you think you are? It's almost midnight. Get your asses over here right now. I'm going to call your parents and let them know what you've been up to. I've had a good mind to... They hadn't moved this time, though. They just stood and that man of dirt like two scronny scarecrows

glaring at me through the dirt caked over their faces. My God, had they been eating the dirt or something? I thought them filthy, but these kids were downright grimy. They didn't seem at all concerned with me, but I definitely had their full attention. I had come half into the yard when I saw their eyes. They both seemed to have a nasty case of red eye. They stared at me, their eyes seemed to glow somehow,

and I suddenly noticed that they cast no shadows in the dim street lights. They should have. The pile of dirt in my shovel cast a long entry in the failing light, but these two had nothing. I had stopped now, barely twenty feet from the pair, when the larger of the two took a step towards me. When his dirty sneaker gritted against the loose earth, the red piping looking faded beneath all the mud. I saw the earth drop over it like a hand. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but all that came out was wet soil.

Sand and mud bubbled out over his lips, and the dirt that had covered his foot began to slide up his leg as well. The other fell to his knees clutching his throat as he coughed up leaves and mud as well The sand slid over his hands and up his arms Even as the dirt bound the first boy to the pile by his knees They both struggled trying to free themselves from the prison of sand But their efforts were ultimately in vain The sand reclaimed them both in a sudden whoosh

In a blink they were both gone again I walked backward never taken my eyes off the pile until the door was closed between us. The next day, I set to work early. I wanted that pile of dirt out of my yard before nightfall. I worked diligently, filling in holes and putting the pile to good use. I used it to fill in a few of the potholes in front of my house even. I just wanted as much of it gone as I could manage.

I no longer cared how it happened. When the kids came by on the bikes, I told them to leave. I seemed disappointed, but I didn't want them anywhere near this dirt pile. I was filling in an exceptionally large gopher hole, and something caught my eye. I nearly turned back to the pile, when something pale and long made me take a second look. At first, I thought it might be a worm, but the more I looked, the more I thought I knew what it was. I bent down, the shovel hit in the ground woodenly, as I reached down to pick up what I hoped was a bleach piece of wood.

It wasn't, though. It was cold, malleable, if not unmovable, and crooked like a letter sea of pale, purpling flesh. The perfectly filthy nail was hardly visible at the tip of the small finger. I went back to the pile and saw the rest of the hand poking out from the bottom, minus the finger I had accidentally severed. The cops came when I called, and they brought dogs with them as well, and big white forensic vans.

They excavated the body of a 10-year-old from the bottom of the dirt pile, his face frozen in a look of terrified disbelief. He was dressed in very dirty, if not very familiar clothes, and his sneakers had the same filthy red piping that I had seen the night before. When they lifted him free, they found his other hand intertwined with something as he came free. So too did the other hand. The other boy had been about eight, and the two. who had died hand in hand. The police wanted to arrest me, really spring me in for questioning, but the forensic guys figured out pretty quickly

that these kids had been dead for at least a month. A quick search determined that they'd also been on the missing persons roster for about three weeks, and their parents had feared that they'd been abducted. They'd been playing near the sandpits before they had gone missing, and the coroner would later find dirt and mud in their lungs and mouths. He figured they'd been climbing. the big sand piles they have out there. Piles just waiting to be scooped into a truck and sold

as fill dirt. And one of them had been sucked down by a pocket of air or an empty spot in the pile. His brother had tried to help him and ended up getting pulled down as well. The two had suffocated as they tried to get out and had been picked up with the fill dirt as they trucked it to the company I'd bought it from. It happened sometimes, the coroner told me when I asked him about it a few weeks later. Kids never think about that kind of thing, but you just see a big pile of dirt and start climbing. I haven't seen the two since they took the bodies away, and the company I bought it from came and got the rest of the dirt after they gave me a full refund. I hope they find peace wherever they are now. I think from now on, I'll just hire someone to fill in the holes in my

yard. I don't ever want to see another pile of dirt for as long as I live.