CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 7 SCARY r Nosleep Horror Stories to dip your mind into

Episode Date: April 26, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00​ "My Brother Disappeared into The Dark Web" Creepypasta►19:16​ "There is now an in-dream hotline you can call to escape nightmares" Creepypasta►29:50​ "I'm a small town cop, but I've got a big problem" Creepypasta►59:17​ "Itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the lonely man" Creepypasta►1:20:55​ "I was an Astronaut for the Air Force. In 1979 we went to rescue a S*viet Space Station" Creepypasta►2:02:29​ "I Live In The Country. My Neighbour's Dog Won't Stop Barking" Creepypasta►2:28:58​ "How to play 'The box game'" 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/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA 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-

When my brother Noel went missing last year, the police were of little help. They told us not to worry, that it was far more difficult to disappear than it was made a look on TV or in the movies. Most people turn up on their own after a while and their families find out, or pretend to find out, that the missing person's life was a little less respectable than they claimed, a little bit darker and more mysterious. Some people lived two lives and nobody knows it but them. I did my own research and found out this much was true.

According to statistics, the chance of abduction by a stranger was less probable than being struck by lightning. You are much more likely to be kidnapped by someone you knew, and far more likely to still not be kidnapped at all. But, despite their vague assurances and unfound assumptions, Noel never did come back. The weeks and months went by, and there was no word. It seemed like the police had given up or forgotten about him. Digging through his belongings, I tried desperately to find something that would give a clue to his whereabouts. His computer was the best bet, I figured, since it was where he spent the majority of his time. Nol had worked as a database specialist for a big company named Protein,

and despite the fact that he explained what he did to me a number of times, I never could properly figure it out. If people asked, I told them he was a computer. programmer, since that was at least something most people could understand. He was an expert at assembling and troubleshooting computers, since my dad had owned a PC repair business when we were kids, and Noel had taken quickly to technology as a child. He was building machines for my dad's customers in his spare time when he was still in his teens.

Later, he went to college for computer sciences and only became more proficient over the years. Lately, he'd been experimenting with app design in his spare time, and had gotten pretty good at it. He had told me he was working on one app in particular that was extremely different from anything else on the market. I had hoped the other programmer he had been working with would know something, but I tracked him down,

and that resulted in a dead end as well. Upon meeting the guy, I found he was a peculiar, dishevel-looking Satanist who refused to make eye contact with me and offered no useful information. He told me Noel had been, quote, of great help in his project, but said the rest was top secret. I went home defeated once again.

Noel's old computer was set up on my desk, so I turned it on and sat down, resolved to do some more digging. I logged into his email. Luckily Google had saved all his passwords, so I didn't need to figure them out through impossible guesswork. Searching through his old emails, I had found a lot of junk mail. There was correspondence with one. work and family and a few with friends, but nothing that would give any clue as to where he might be. If anything, they painted the picture of someone living an ordinary life, making plans for the future with no indication of wanting to disappear.

His phone had been left behind too, and I went through that as well, looking for anything strange that stood out. But there was nothing. I sat there at my desk with a mouse in my hand for days. and then weeks, looking for something, anything of use. I poured through stock files and JPEG and MP4s and MP3s, PDFs and every other damn file you can imagine, examining everything, desperately searching for some hint, some clue.

Everything turned out to be a dead end. Of course, I call the police frequently as well, but they were of no help and eventually went so far as they'd tell me to stop calling, saying they would update me if they could. found anything. I'd cursed them furiously and hung up, and that had been the end of that. I went back on his computer one night to dig through some more file folders and noticed something that my eyes had scanned over in the past. An icon in the sea of icons that lived in the busy and disorganized desktop. It looked a bit like a purple onion with a slice cut out of it.

I clicked on it. A dialogue box with a loading bar appeared briefly. Then a purple window opened up that looked like a web browser. I realized that was exactly what it was. Tor browser, it said at the top. I knew little about these things, but understood that this was an untraceable way to use the internet since it encrypted everything being done online. Thinking back, I remember Noel talking about using Tor.

He said it was much safer and couldn't be traced. But why would he care about being traced, I thought at the time. maybe there was a good reason after all suddenly my cell phone chimed and I went over to it quickly and looked at the message it was a URL another text came through this one was a type message from someone

enter the URL on tour another ding another message tell no one about this if you contact anybody I'm gone I'm your only chance at finding him I looked and Noel's computer That was when I noticed the little lenses at the top of his monitor that was the built-in webcam. The red light was on next to it,

indicating it was live. Someone was watching me, and they could see what I was doing on the computer as well. I was sure of it. After typing in the URL exactly as instructed, the screen turned in for a login for a website of some kind. I received another text. Password is his favorite movie.

You have two minutes. I didn't need two minutes for that at least, since I knew it was Fight Club, as it had been since the movie had been released. My hands was shaking as I typed the password into the box. I was beginning to feel very concerned, but also a bit hopeful at this sudden turn of events. A chat window opened up

and a message promptly appeared from someone named Shadow Cat. You're his brother, I take it. I typed back a response quickly, afraid of losing whoever this was. It felt like they could disappear at any second back into the ether, and I would never find them again. Yes. Do you know where he is? Yes. I was a little confused as to why my name was appearing in the chat window as Mark, since that wasn't my name, and I had never entered any identifiers. Was that an alias that Noel used online, I wondered?

Is he okay? I took a deep breath waiting for the answer. More or less. What do you want? You'll find out soon. Another message came through, showing another URL. Keep chat open, create a new window and go to the URL. Okay.

I typed in the URL and found myself at another website. It was a bit like eBay, except instead of selling old records and jewelry, people were selling guns, explosives, drugs and so on. on. What the hell is this? Never mind your questions for now. Do what I say or he dies. Suddenly, an image appeared, replacing the chat window. It showed my brother, Noel, chained to a wall in a stress position. He was blindfolded and gagged, but I could hear his muffled screams for help. My hands were shaking nearly uncontrollably now, and I had to type and re-type my reply several times before it made any sense.

How do I know you'll give him back? Trust me or don't, the choice is yours. If you refuse, he dies. If you do what I say, I will give him back to you unharmed. It seemed there was no other option. I felt trapped and hopeless, depressed in the horrible situation I had found myself in. If I called the police, he would see me do it on the webcam. If I said no, he'll kill Noel.

You have ten seconds to decide. A countdown began in chat. 10, 9, 8, 7, 7, 6, 5, 4. Okay. Good, here is a shopping list. Get everything on it. A long list of items was including next, and my eyes widened further as I read through it.

What the hell is all this for? What are you planning to do? The chat window. close suddenly. I was left alone in my living room, my heart beating fast and hard in my chest. Only the other website remain now, the one with the black market guns and explosives and everything else illegal that you could have delivered to your doorstep. I debate at calling the police again, telling them these new developments, or even going to the police station. But what if the kidnapper found out? He obviously had ways to spy on me. Probably, you'll probably say I'm in

an idiot for what I did next, but I really wanted to get my brother back. So, I filled in the online shopping cart with a request illicit items and entered my credit card information, cringing as I hit enter. I guessed I would have to cancel my credit card, since I didn't trust the vendors one bit, but at least that part was done. The package arrived in the mail surprisingly quickly. As soon as I'd brought it inside, I got another text message. It invited me to another chat on tour, where I was given a physical address. They said to meet them with a package, and they would give me back my brother. I was to tell no one where I was going.

It was dark by the time I arrived at the old warehouse in the industrial section of town. The place was abandoned, and there was no lights to illuminate the parking lot as I pulled in. My trunk had some cargo in it, and would surely get me a couple decades in prison, if not more. terrified I sat in my car still gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands despite the car being turned off I had no idea what was going to happen next my cell phone chimed and I nearly jumped out of my skin

it was a text message come inside to the east door I did a bit of quick geography to determine which way I was facing and decided that was the door I was looking at right in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car. I popped the trunk and grabbed the double bag I'd brought with the illicit items packed inside.

The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I made my way across the parking lot. My hands shook as I reached out and grasped over the doorknob, turned it and went into the dark, cavernous space inside the warehouse. As difficult as it was the sea outside, it was even darker in there.

Taking a few more frightened steps forward, I found my eyes did not adjust to the darkness. The door clang shut behind me and I jumped, feeling my heart skip a beat. Hello? My voice echoed back at me. Did you bring everything? I jumped, startled when I heard the voice. It was raspy and made the hair stand up on the back of my neck of the sound of it, like fingernails across a chalkboard. Yes?

Good, bring it this way. Terrified, I stepped forward into the pitch blackness, unsure if I would run into something. I moved slowly and deliberately, hoping not to hurt myself. He's got it for us, he has it all, yes. Suddenly, I realised there was not just one voice speaking, but many. They were all around me, surrounding me in the darkness.

I felt their movements in the air around me and heard sounds like the wind blowing through a thunderstall. storm. Poisons, acids, knives, explosions, boomed a voice from the corner. Guns and bullets, snake venom. I had them moving closer now, inching towards me. The voices were my ear as I backed away. Where is my brother? Showing to me or you get nothing. I was terrified, but determined to get no all back, come hell or high water. Or maybe we'll keep you as well, little brother. Maybe someone will want you back badly enough to bring us more offerings, more dark treasures. I could feel them very close now, could hear their breathing and feel their proximity to me,

causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. My mind raised, desperate to think of what I could do to get out. These creatures, these demons, whatever they were, had no intention of letting me leave. I had a sudden brainstorm. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. quickly I hit the button for the flashlight function If there was anything these creatures would be affected by I guessed by their choice of habitat

It would be light These are demons born of darkness My lizard brain whispered They are not accustomed to anything but blackness The white light cut through the darkness like a knife I heard screams and saw a brief haze of smoke appear Around the edges of the light I caught glimpses of vague forms

and humanoid shapes. They recoiled from the light, and I felt and heard them moving towards me from behind. Spinning, I cast a light just in time to see one of the demons nearly face to face with me. His form was massive like a bear, huge fangs, and long, sharp talons raised in the air,

ready to slip my throat. His red flesh bubbled and burst open. He evaporated into a misty haze when the light hit him, screaming in a deafening baritone. Realising that the light, had power to destroy them now, or at least send them back to hell where they came from. I spun around and around with the light, ready to incinerate them all. I saw some bat-like thing flying away, and hid in the girders and beams above.

I saw something at the other end of the huge space, and I show my light at that direction. It was no. He was shackled to the wall on the far side of the warehouse. He was gagged and blindfolded, unmoving. I saw dark shadows around him, moving quickly. and I realized it was more of the demons guarding him. Running over towards him, I heard the sounds of more of them chasing after me, racing like monkeys across the steel beams above, matching my speed.

I blasted the demons with the bright light from my phone as I got closer to him. Their shadow skin began to sizzle and burst into flame, and they howled like bansches and moved away. There was no key for the chains holding him, but I was prepared. I grabbed the bolt cutters from my bag, and last second impulse by from my trip to the warehouse. store. Part of me was worried that the people I was dealing with would not let him free willingly. I had wanted any advantage I could get. The bolt cutters went through the chains within effort,

and the one holding his wrist snapped with a satisfying noise and his arm fell down limply to his side. Before I could think too much about what that meant, I spun around to the sudden sound of movement behind me. I screamed as the claws of something terrible raked across my back. The demon disappeared back to the shadows above us, leaping into the air like a bat, and I saw flapping wings as it went back up to the rafters. I pulled the blindfold and gag from Noel's face, and saw he was barely conscious. It felt terrible to do, but I slacked him hard across the face to try and get him to wake up. He groaned and stirred, but didn't open his eyes. I felt a sudden pain in my neck suddenly, like knives there, and I spun around quickly again to try and catch it in the light.

There was a hint of smoke as my flashlight caught the edge of it, but it was too fast and quickly disappeared again. I was suddenly feeling frantic and terrified for my life. They were becoming more bold. My hand stung after the next hard slapped in Noel's face, but it accomplished what I needed. He woke up and spit blood from his mouth. Oh, what the hell?

No, wake up. You need to hold this light, move it around, keep them away. It took him a few seconds to understand. hand, but I thrust the phone into his hand anyway, and began to work on the other chain holding his right wrist. His eyes were wired with fear, and his gaze darted around the room as it continued working on the chains. The one holding his other wrist snapped with an effort, and I got down on the floor to work on the shackles attached to his ankles. He was moving the flashlight around frantically, but it seemed to be working. Warm blood trickled down my neck in my back from my injuries,

and I felt it turned cold in my skin. How the hell did you wind up here? I asked once he was finally freed from the chains. That damn programmer, he summoned those things from hell. What? How? Never mind, just let's get out of here. I took the flashlight back from him and used it as a weapon, shining at every direction,

and often just in time as I saw the demons scatter from the light, like cockroaches, each time I swung it around. Once we reached the door, I threw it open to reveal the parking lot, and we ran from there as fast as we could back to the car. We'd escaped. Or so we thought. I wish I could say that everything is better now,

that we fled from the demons in that warehouse and never saw them again. But those unnatural creatures knew no boundaries. They were not inclined to stay contained within the walls of their warehouse. And they were not pleased that we'd escaped with their treasures, which I promptly dumped off of the police station, anonymously of course. Although I got my brother back, neither one of us will ever feel safe again.

The lights in my home stand all hours of the day and night now. Noal is the same way. I sleep during the day and surround myself with lights at night, terrified until the sun comes up. What am I afraid of, you ask? A blackout, a blown fuse, a burnt out light bulb. And they happen more and more lately. Always I see them in the shadows Waiting, watching, patient

For their chance For the darkness to fall The business card left in my mailbox was unassuming A simple white font affixed to a black background But its claim was bold There is now an in-dream hotline you can call to escape nightmares Simply find a red rotary phone in your dreamscape Dislocated from the receiver

and choose a number to be connected. A good night's sleep is just around the corner. Enjoy your rest. It had all the makings of a half-hearted prank from my friend, Josh. After all, he was the only person I had told about my recent night terrors. But stooping that low, just for a cheap laugh, he knew my nightmares were deeply personal, all involving my deceased father.

Would he really go that far? Though Josh was a funny guy, he could be sent to me. when the time called for it. I wondered if this was less a prank and more an offering of relief during a tough time. His way of telling me there would eventually be a way out,

a light at the end of the tunnel. I took comfort in this, opting not to reach out in case he decided to go back on it and laugh in my face. However caring the man could be, he detested heart-to-heart moments. Thanks, Josh, I guess I

needed this. With a slight smile, I placed the kind my pocket and went about my day, grateful for the gesture. Unfortunately, it would not be enough to keep my demons at bay. Later that night, while resting, I was blindsided by memories of my father. Completely out of my control, a horrific scene came into focus, replaying the events of his death. I had no choice but to endure the torment and watch the events unfold in my mind, just as they had so many times before.

I was a child and we were swimming at our favourite spot on the outskirts of town. We often played a game to see who could hold their breath underwater the longest. On my father's last dip beneath the waves, he never came up for air. His body was never found. Being young and naive, I was convinced a creature dragged him to the depths of the ocean. As an adult, I now know this monster was a riptide, pulling him out to uncharted waters, undercurrents in the area were fierce, eventually leading local authorities

to close off the beach altogether. The search party never stood a chance of finding him. I violently thrashed about as the horrible images recurred, but soon found solace in the form of sleep. Like the many nights that came before it, this solace would be short-lived. I watched from the shadows

as my dad tucked in my younger self and read a louder bedtime story. This moment was always so peaceful, a calm before the storm. I briefly basked in the ambient nostalgia before remembering the events that would inevitably come next. That's when the panic set in. After the story concluded, my father transformed into something horrific. Below his waist was now a grouping of slimy tentacles,

wetting the floor as he slid across it. Above his collar were the grotesque features of a monstrous head, an amphibious amalgamation of loose appendages, sharp teeth and gills protruding from his neck. His mouth opened at an unnatural angle, wide enough for it to devour my younger self-hole. He then turned his attention to me. This was my cue to run.

Racing through the house to escape the creature's clutches, I felt something full from my shirt pocket. It was the in-dream hotline business card. I picked it up and looked it over. despite the fragile nature of visual stimuli in dreams, the card was identical to its real counterpart. No matter how many times I read the text, none of the characters were fuzzy, jumbled or rearranged.

A thunderous growl crept up behind me. I sprinted to the living room. That's where I saw it, right where my family's landline usually sat. A red rotary phone. In this moment, a compulsion washed over me. Despite the service being a complete fabrication, I was compelled to give it a try, if for no other reason than to see what would happen when I did. Perhaps my sleeping mind would

fill in the blanks and wake me up from the nightmare. I picked the phone from the receiver and held it to my ear. There was a harrowing silence. Going over the card again, I realized it was time to pick a number. It seemed there were only five viable choices, number six. Six through zero had been scuffed away, along with the pound and star keys. When placing my finger in these holes, the wheel wouldn't budge. I instead decided to choose number one. The wheel turned, and my ear was met with a male voice. Thank you for calling the In-dream hotline for escaping nightmares.

How can we be of service? It worked. My brain was playing along. Um, hello, yes. I need to escape this nightmare, please, quickly. Certainly, I'll be happy to assist you with this. Please hold while I look up your situation. The sound of grinding teeth echoed in the distance

as the creature slid from room to room searching for me. Oh boy, child of trauma mixed with a phobia of sea monsters. That does not sound like fun. Luckily, this is an issue we are equipped to deal with. We have three options. Transport, reconfigure and vanquish. which would you like? The monster had now honed into my position,

slithering towards me as my eyes widened in terror. Ah, vanquish, get rid of this thing. Okay, one moment. I watched in horror as the creature closed the gap between us in a matter of seconds. It looks like your account is new. You don't have the options to reconfigure or vanquish yet. All we can do is transport. Shall I initiate this option for you?

The Eldridge version of my father swung his tentacles over me, narrowly missing my head as I cowered in fear. Fine, transport! Do it now! One transport coming right up. All at once, the sound of grinding teeth stopped. The moisture on the floor evaporated. The creature was frozen in place. A statue of pure dread. It then vanished before my very eyes.

Transport successful. Thank you for calling the in-dream hotline. enjoy your rest. It worked. I couldn't believe it. It's difficult to explain, but I felt alleviated. A wave of relief so strong it allowed me to breathe again. Catharsis filled the air as I walked through the dream version of my childhood home,

free of the guilt I had harbored for so many years. My nightmare was finally over. I slept through the night and awoke fully refreshed, knowing that somehow I had come to terms with my father's death, albeit through strange means. Sunlight poured into the room as a bird outside sang a beautiful melody, the smell of home-cooked food wafting through my apartment. But I lived alone. Upon venturing out to the kitchen to identify the source of the aroma,

I was taken aback by what I saw. It was my dad, cooking a seafood feast fit for a fast. family of 12. Hey there, Sport. How is your nap? My mouth hit the floor. Dad, but, he smiled. What's wrong, sport? He looked like he's seen a ghost. Dumbstruck and frightened. I ran to my bedroom and locked the door. This was not my father. It couldn't be. He was swept out to see. No one could have survived out there. It wasn't possible. My phone buzzed, interrupting my panic. a private number. I hesitantly answered.

Hello, this is the Endream Hotline for escaping nightmares. We don't usually make calls outside of the dream void, but we notice that your recent transport order has gone awry. We are here to help. What, Josh? Is that you? What's going on? Is this some sort of sick joke?

Transports can be unpredictable. We apologise for the inconvenience. If you upgrade to one of our premium packages, we can aid in the removal of your nightmare. We accept all major credit cards. Did my ears deceive me? Was the in-dream hotline? Real?

The silver package is our cheapest upgrade, allowing you to reconfigure your nightmare, but there is no guarantee the results will be any better. We suggest purchasing our gold package, an option which lets you vanquish the nightmare once and for all. A stream of seawater entered the room as a familiar tentacle snuck beneath the top. door frame.

Lunch is ready, sport. I hope you're hungry. I know I am. I handed over my credit card information without so much as a second thought. I'll take the goal package, please. Brilliant. Please hold.

The sound of tapping at a keyboard filled my ear as my father began banging at the door. Your transaction is in transit. It'll take five to seven business days to process, at which time your nightmare will be vanquished. Five to seven days?

Were they serious? I have to wait how long? What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Thank you for calling the in-dream hotline for escaping nightmares. We sincerely hope you live long enough to continue doing business with us. The operator paused before offering a final sentiment. This time, the friendly facade was over. Their voice now stern and serious with what felt like a tinge of malevolence.

Good luck. I always had dreams of being a big city cop. Growing up and watching shows like Forensic Files and NYPD Blue inspired me. I dreamed of becoming a hero who fought crime to protect people. But I guess fate had other ideas. Rather than patrolling the streets of Brooklyn or Chicago, as a man wound up in a small town in the rural Midwest, nothing but dirt, tumbleweeds and flat land as far as the eye can see.

Some comedian once made a joke about his time living out here, saying he could sit on his porch and watch his dog run around for three. three whole days. His name escapes me now, but that joke is surprisingly accurate. Because of everything that has happened recently, I won't be giving the name of this town. There's a lot I still don't understand about what happened, but I know my superiors would not be happy if I went blabbing around and spreading rumours. Posting this at all is probably a bad idea, but at this point, I don't know what else to do. After landing the job out here, it quickly became apparent that there wasn't much action, and that was the norm.

But that all changed about a week ago. A fellow officer, I called Doug and I were on our usual patrol route. This normally consisted of us cruising around town and the rural surrounding roads and occasionally breaking up a high school party. Not exactly the hotbed of criminal activity I had sort of hoped for. Doug is a senior officer, been working for the same pre-year. succinct out here for nearly 30 years. He's a laid-back type, cordial, and doesn't seem in much of a hurry to do anything, except on the rare occasion of something happening. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, and Doug was retelling the incident of him facing off with a hungry cougar

while trying to help an injured camper. That was a normal evening for us, and I very much enjoyed listening to him recount tales of his pantheon of stories. Doug pulled the cruiser around a bend and what is essentially the most remote patch of our jurisdiction. It's a small valley with multiple foothills, but no one ever really goes out there. As soon as we ran in the corner though, we saw something we didn't expect. There was a Jeep parked on the shoulder right in front of the hill with a driver's side door propped open. Our headlights beamed over the vehicle, but I saw nobody inside.

What the hell is this? Doug asked, pulling our car over and. the adjacent shoulder. The two of us stepped out and approached the desolate vehicle. The lights were off, but it appeared it had only been there a short time. It was weird that

whoever drove it there hadn't even bothered to shut the door though. Doug and I approached, with him taking the lead and approaching the derelict vehicle. He called out to the missing driver, but got no response. He kept his hand on his holster and crept

closer as I watched his back. There was no indication anyone was out there aside from the jeep, but I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. Something wasn't right. I truly hoped we weren't about to stumble upon someone's suicide, but that was the vibe I initially got. Doug reached the side of the Jeep and briefly peered inside. As soon as he saw what was in there, he recoiled back, drawing his revolver and motioning for me to move away. He ordered me to call him back up. looking more frantic than I'd ever seen him.

Tell him to send everything, Doug ordered, his gaze glancing around the vicinity with a sudden frenzy. I did as he requested and radio dispatch, still not understanding what exactly it was that he saw. The dispatch operator confirmed the request, telling me that two other units and an ambulance were on the way. Freeze, Doug suddenly shouted. I looked up to see him shining his flashlight out in front of the Jeep.

There was a man there, dressed in a dark hoodie in jeans. He was holding something in his hand, but from my vantage point, I couldn't tell what it was. Johnny, Johnny's that you? Doug asked, seeming to recognise him. The man then lifted his head, and I recognised him. A local teenager, a native guy with a bit of a chequered history. We've caught him for Andre's drinking and smoking pot on a few occasions, but never anything severe. Johnny's eyes were vacant, almost sorrowful. He stared back at Doug and swallowed hard.

I have to do it, Johnny replied. Doug shook his head, almost silently begging him not to try anything radical. Johnny, just put it down. We can talk, figure this out. Johnny paused the moment, then shook his head. He inspected the item in his hand, and I realized, It was a walkie-talkie. I didn't understand what was happening, but I kept my pistol locked on him.

There's no time. I'm sorry. Johnny lifted his arm. Bang! The ambulance arrived unseen a few minutes later, picking up Johnny and rushing him to the town's only hospital. Doug had shot him in the left shoulder, causing him to drop his item.

He was thankfully alive and stable, but unfortunately, Doug doesn't carry the standard knife, millimeter, instead patrolling around with his 44 magnum. That one bullet did some rather severe damage, and I still didn't understand why any of it was necessary. Doug ordered all of us away from the scene, refusing to allow anyone near the Jeep or even telling us what he found inside. Several hours later, a special unit from a larger neighbouring precinct arrived.

Things finally started coming together after that. Johnny's Jeep was loaded with nearly 30 pounds. of pyrotechnic flash powder, the stuff used in fireworks. He'd crammed it into nearly two dozen small cylinders and wrapped them tightly with two propane tanks and a walkie-talkie. It was a bomb,

a rather large one, which he had rigged to the other walkie-talkie to allow for remote detonation. Johnny's father owned a fireworks chain, and, after scaring his warehouse, we found that's where Johnny had acquired his supplies. Johnny was a rebellious teenager, but I never would have

thought him a terrorist. The bomb squad managed to successfully dismantle his device without incident, but the whole scenario didn't make much sense. Johnny was unconscious for days afterwards, and the 44 round that it hit him turned out to have caused more damage than initially thought. Doctor said he would survive, but would face extensive recovery. Doug took the incident harder than any of us, but since our suspect was unconscious,

the only thing we could do to learn more was return to the scene of the crime. The jeep had been removed by then, so myself, Doug, and two other officers traced his route on foot. There was a small valley which led to a few rocky foothills, but no indication of a possible target. No one lives in that area, nor anywhere close really. That was partially relieving, as we were afraid Johnny was intending to hurt a lot of people. But that didn't seem to be the case. After only a few minutes of following the small ravine, we found some. something. An hour opening was carved into the side of one of the hills, looking as though it was an old

mining tunnel entrance. Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn't just a cave-in. It actually appeared as though a large stone slab sealed the entrance. It was one solid piece, and not just rubble. I found that quite curious, but didn't exactly know what to make of it. The town has dozens of old mines from the early gold rush days, but they've all been shut down for decades now. Furthermore, we haven't been able to find any evidence of a mine ever existing in that particular spot. I got this odd feeling as we approached it, like a heavy static electricity in the air. The hairs on my arms and head seemed to stand, and I noticed it on the others as well. Normally, this can be a very worrying sign and can sometimes indicate that lightning is about to strike.

The sky was clear though And that didn't seem likely Something about it was oddly unnerving in a way I don't know how to fully articulate We lingered there for a few minutes But didn't find much of interest there or anywhere else We left shortly after and took the short trail back to our vehicles I don't know whether it was just my nerves mounting

But I felt incredibly nervous on my way back It felt like we were being watched Johnny thankfully woke up two days later and Doug and I returned to the hospital to question him he was still quite out of it likely a reaction to his medication and condition his father was there and at first he denied us permission to interview his son until Johnny himself insisted upon speaking to us

both his father and us were quite taken aback by that request but we're all too happy to oblige why is my jeep Johnny asked as Doug and I entered the room. Impound, Bomb Squad dismantled it. Doug replied, matter-of-factly.

He sat in a chair opposing Johnny, who appeared quite distressed by the admission. We have to go back out there. There's not much time. Johnny then tried moving upward, but cringed as pain shot through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and reluctantly sat back down, breaths falling frantic from his lips.

You're not going anywhere, Johnny. Not until you're not. tell us what you were doing. You could be in a lot of trouble here. What were you doing with all those explosives? The tunnel, he replied with that moment's hesitation, making no effort to downplay his intent. We have to destroy it. Doug shot me a confused glance and I posed a question. That mind shaft, is that what you mean? Johnny shook his head. It's not a mind shaft. Johnny's eyes were almost frantic then and his breathing almost turned into hyperfifference. ventilations. You've been out there, right? You saw it? He asked. We found it, Johnny. It's already

sealed. Johnny then vehemently shook his head. It won't stay that way. It opens every couple of days. Doug and I exchanged another perturbed glance. I'm sure he wanted to write off Johnny as some sort of eccentric, but there was an obvious, desperate pleading in his voice that made me take pause. Please, Johnny begged. eyes starting to water. Why, Johnny? I asked, leaning in. What's in there? Doug seemed annoyed. I was even engaging his delusion. But Johnny was clearly petrified by something, and I wanted to know what it was. I don't know. Something horrible. I've seen people post

about them online. We have to destroy it. We didn't get much more out of them than that. He just kept begging us to finish what he wasn't ever. able to do. He also said something about how things will come out, which made my skin crawl. I didn't understand how a normal kid like Johnny had suddenly turned so obsessed with detonating an old tunnel, but I couldn't deny the odd feeling it gave me, and the pleading desperation in his voice. Doug and I left, realizing he wasn't going to tell us much more than that. After a bit of math, I realised that if what Johnny said was true, then the mind shaft was set to open the following morning around 3am.

Doug believed it was a load of hogwash, but I felt the least I could do was investigate Johnny's claims. It didn't seem possible, I know, and Doug told me I was being thrown for a loop, but I felt like there was something more to it. Johnny was a troubled kid, as I mentioned, but he didn't seem like a liar. So, myself and two other officers, Hastings and Gunnison, returned to the scene of the incident.

Doug elected to stay behind, convinced there was nothing of interest out there. It probably had something to do with the fact that we had to be out there by 3 a.m. as well, and Doug was not in any way a morning person. According to Johnny, 3 a.m. the following day was when the tunnel was set to open once again, whatever that meant. I thought that whatever this was, there would be a logical explanation to it. I met Hastings and Gunnersen out there just before 3 a.m. the following morning. Both of them only seemed slightly awake and also slightly remorseful over their decision to meet me.

A thick fog lingered over the foothills, sprinkling a chilly dew over the environment. I tucked my coat up around my neck, trying to ignore the chills rolling down my spine. The three of us sat around sipping coffee for about hard to. an hour until 3 a.m. rolled around. Suddenly, an odd, abrasive noise permeated the dark atmosphere. It sounded like heavy rock scraping against rock, a loud, oppressive grinding that made me clenched my teeth. It sounded like it was coming from the ravine up ahead,

and it made the cold air dip a few more degrees. Hastings and Gunnison clearly seemed unnerved by it as well. Gunnison wondered out loud if it was a rock slide, but I wasn't so sure the explanation was that simple. The three of us crept our way around the gully. It seemed like the fog was getting thicker the further we went. It got so bad that visibility was soon limited to maybe 20 yards. Something's not right.

Hastings spoke what I was also feeling. There was an odd quality to the fog, like some ill-defined heaviness that lingered within it. It didn't feel natural. Despite the red flags, I foolishly insisted we continue onward. We were only about 50 yards from the tunnel entrance, and I needed to see it again. Something incredibly strange to happen then, what I can only describe as a sudden head rush then struck me, like my brain had been jump-started into overdrive.

My vision began to alter. In a way, I don't even fully know how to explain. It was like my perception just suddenly shifted. Little traces traitors trailed off the rocks around me, and the ground appeared like it was breathing in and out. I'm pretty vanilla when it comes to drug usage, and although I've never taken them personally, it almost felt like what I was experiencing was similar to accounts of psalocybin mushroom

and LSD trips of red online. Out of nowhere, Hastings suddenly began to giggle. Both Gunnison and I looked back to him in confusion. His eyes were darting around like flies, and he had this almost manic smile on his face. The hell is so funny. Gunnison's eyes were wider sources when he asked it, and I could tell he was feeling it too. I feel weird. What did you put in that coffee? Hastings asked.

Neal as to say, I hadn't put anything in the coffee, especially not hallucinogenic drugs. There was something in the air itself that was messing with our minds. I then just decided to go all out and make a mad dash towards the tunnel. The feeling got worse the closer I got. The world degraded to have. foreign slurry in my eyes, and the rocky ground became as turbulent as an unruly sea. I could barely keep myself upright, and barely even decipher what was around me. Then, by some miracle, I saw it. The tunnel emerged from the dense fog, but this time the entrance was open.

From behind me, I heard Hastings giggle erupt into a bellow of laughter, like a mad scientist bringing Frankenstein back to life. Goneson then screamed, and I just booked it. I took one last glance at the tunnel as I fled, and I swear there was something in there looking back at me, something I don't even know how to begin describing, something that just shouldn't exist. I ran like never before my life,

suddenly consumed by the fear I felt. Both Gunnison and Hastings were no longer where I'd last seen them. From further, within the canopy of fog, I heard Hastings continue to cackle like a madman, but I never caught sight of him. The crippling mental haste seemed to alleviate the further I got from the tunnel, and by the time I reached the vehicles,

I felt completely coherent once more. Gunnison was standing there, panting with quivering hands. Where's Hasting? I asked as I joined him. Gunnison looked back to me in terror. He followed after you. From behind us, I saw the fog slow, drifting outwards, as if it was some singular entity drifting in the wind. I no longer heard Hastings laughter, and I knew if we didn't leave then, then we wouldn't at all.

Gunnison and I fled, leaving Hastings behind. I called Doug on the way home, trying to convey everything that had just happened. I don't know how much he understood from my frantic rant mixed with his sudden awakening, but he seemed to understand that Hastings was in trouble. He and I rendezvoused at the station about 20 minutes later and I reiterated what had happened. Doug didn't seem to know what to make of my story, but he did understand that Hastings was missing.

He rallied everyone in the police force to go back and search, albeit Gunnison who vehemently refused to go back. He and Doug got into a heated argument about it and Gunnison tossed his badge into the dirt, claiming no job was worth going back there before storming off. I'll admit, I was absolutely terrified of going back, but I knew we had to help Hastings. It was my fault he was out there to begin with, and I had to do my part. It turns out it may have been too late, as by the time Doug and I returned with reinforcements, we found no trace of him.

The fog was gone by that point too, and the tunnel sealed back up just as it was the first time we'd found it. Doug began to amass a search team and ordered me to go home, get some rest and decompressed from the situation. My girlfriend, Samantha, could see that something had happened, but I didn't tell her about it. I think the adrenaline had finally worn off, and I felt a severe drowsiness setting in. Last thing I remember was slumping on the couch of our apartment, only to be awakened several hours later by Samantha, shaking me vigorously. Mark, something's happening, wake up, I feel really weird. As my eyes sprung open, I saw the room distort around me, similar to how it had previously. That a nerving mental haze was back, and that could only mean one thing.

She and I got a dog, Max, as our perceptions continued to disintegrate and fled. Max was going ballistic all the way out to the car, switching from snarling like it had gone rabid to whining pit of fide. It was dark again, and from all around us, I heard laughter and cries from the other residents in our complex. I wanted to help them, but in the moment, I only cared about getting Samantha and Max to safety. By the time we reached Samantha's car, there were screams echoing out from within the complex. Other residents were fleeing as well, but many were still inside. By the time we hit the main street, the town's tornadoes siren had become blaring in the distance.

Samantha asked me what the hell was going on, but I didn't even know how to respond. I dialed Doug and he instructed me to meet him at the station with a trembling urgency in his voice. We got there only a few minutes later and I taught Samantha to take the car and Max and get to safety. She had tears in her eyes and asked me what was going on, but I didn't have time to tell her then. I just told her I loved her and I'd call her as soon as I could. she agreed and I watched the drive off as I returned to the moment at hand. Doug rallied every officer at our precinct, which was only nine of us because the town is so small

and sent them back to the apartments. Only Hastings was missing, but the rest arrived shortly after we did. Doug had said that dispatch had been flooded with 911 calls from multiple residents of the complex. I felt the horrific guilt of the situation sinked deep into my skull, causing my mind to throb. Everything in my mind and gut was screaming for me

to get as far away from the place as possible. But I couldn't. I couldn't just abandon everyone who lived there. After all, whatever was happening there who was happening because of me. That thing had come back for me. Several people were in the parking lot as we arrived. They appeared delirious and confused,

with most of them in the pajamas, as if they'd had to leave very cold. quickly. Doug ordered all of them away from the building as we began to conduct interviews and ask if anyone was injured. I spoke with an elderly lady, Martha, who had lived in the unit below Samantha and mine ever since we've moved in. She was all but petrified and clutched the palmerian tightly in her hands. Her nose was bleeding, but thankfully she didn't appear too badly injured. I spoke with her as she held a rag to her nose, tears falling faster from her ice with every word.

She told me she had suddenly been awakened by a strange feeling. She felt woozy, and, since she's diabetic, she thought perhaps her insulin levels were low. She then saw her husband, sitting in the bedroom closet and giggling. She stumbled towards him, calling out and expressing her fears that she may be having a medical emergency. Without warning, she said that her husband, Frank, suddenly lashed out and slapped her across the face. he then returned to the closet holding his knees and giggling Martha fled after that and that decision probably saved the life

she began sobbing saying that Frank had never done anything like that and she was worried he might be sick I conversed with Frank myself dozens of times and he never would have struck me as the type to abuse his wife she told me he was still inside and begged me to go check on him Doug got on his speaker and instructed everyone to leave the complex immediately. We were worried that the building may have sprung a gas leak, which could have possibly explained Martha and the other residents' symptoms,

but it was clearly far beyond that. Not a single person came outside. There's only maybe 50 residents in our entire complex, and most of them were already outside, although we estimated that at least a dozen were still within. Two of our officers approached one of the entrances as the remainder of us covered them. I watched their steps grow more hobbled and awkward the closer they got until one of them actually fell over entirely, propping himself up with his arm.

He then heaved and vomited on the concrete and turned back as the other tried to pull him back to his feet. The two of them managed to get back to the rest of us, brandishing looks of terror reminiscent to the other residents. No one went near the building after that. And no one else came out. It was just a stalemate that went on long into the night. Doug kept on the intercom, periodically instructing people to evacuate. But no one ever did. The other residents were ferried away from the scene,

and many of them being forced to abandon loved ones still inside. Every now and then, we'd hear laughter, screaming, or other less definable sounds reverberate from inside the building. We got glimpses of silhouettes within, but never anything entirely clear. No one really understood what was going on, but after the first officer's experiences and the other residence's testimonies,

no one wanted to risk going in there. The sun finally rose the following day, and the real bizarre situation took on an entirely new perspective. It had been hours since anything was heard from within the building, but something became clear as the smouldering sun beamed down upon it. The building itself was different Some spots looked almost melted While others seemed to have elongated and grown taller or wider

It's like the building itself was suffering from the odd haze That it afflicted myself and the other residents Not long after the sun had risen An entourage of black suburban suddenly rolled up to the scene Followed soon after by a swat truck Like some cliche entourage A group of men in black suits exited the truck and approached Doug.

They spent a minute or two conversing before Doug looked back at the rest of us. Much to my surprise and relief, we were then told we could leave and the men in black would handle the situation. By that point, I'd been up for nearly 24 hours and wanted nothing more than to just sleep. I probably should have asked a few more questions before leaving,

but I was barely awake enough to even remain standing by that point. I assumed this guys were CIA or from some other secret. government agency. That was about a week ago now. That's about where we stand. I haven't been able to return back to my apartment since, and have since been told by Doug that I likely never will. They're considering that entire property and the 11 individuals still inside to be already lost. Doug hasn't told me much more than that, and I don't even know if they've told him the full extent of what's happening. Clearly, whatever is in that building is significantly above our jurisdiction.

The ravine with the tunnel is now under the supervision of the unnamed government agents. I never would have imagined myself at the epicenter of something like this. I guess in some cruel twist of irony, I finally got the large-scale case I always wanted, but I never could have envisioned it being like this. Whatever it was, there was in that tunnel, and is now in that building. It's way beyond us. I want to think there's some logical explanation to the... this, like some gas leak in the mine

caused me to hallucinate and then somehow spread to our apartment complex. I'd be a fool to believe that after everything that's happened though. Whatever happened to me and the others, it wasn't in any way natural. It was like that thing invaded my mind

and proximity to it, strengthen the strange psychic aura it possesses. Whatever power it has even seemed to distort the building itself. I never got a good look at it. But what kind of thing would warp your mind simply by being near it? Just as Johnny had said, I've managed to find a few stories online of people finding these tunnels.

I don't know how much I read was fiction, but no one seems to have an explanation for them. People just apparently seem to stumble across them one day, oftentimes in places they'd never been before. If anyone listening has a possible explanation for all of this, then please feel free to comment. I'm at a loss to explain this, and I'll admit I've never been much of a believer in the whole supernatural stuff. Nothing I found online seems to explain what this thing is, natural or otherwise. Hastings is still missing, and last I heard, those people are still locked inside that building. Whatever the truth is, I just hope that no more of those tunnels are out there. God knows what kind of things may come out of them.

For the longest time, all I could think about was how lonely I am. Every morning started with the soft rumbles of whatever audiobook I decided to put on to help me sleep. My job, being work from home, ensured that I could work from bed if I was ever tired. Even though I knew it was terrible for my back, I made that luxury, the status quo. I barely ever got up. I didn't eat much, and, on a long enough time scale, showers became a distant memory. For the longest time, all I could think about was how lonely I was. But I don't anymore.

Now all I think about are the spiders. They say that Jesus' biggest miracle was having 12 close friends in his 30s. Even though I was 29, the sentiment echoed through my head on a regular basis. In an effort to pay rent after a round of layoffs at the bar where I worked, I picked up a job managing the social media presence for a big clothing brand. You've probably wore them at some point of your life, and chances are that the Instagram and Facebook posts that I curated for them have slid across your newsfeeds once or twice over the past year.

You probably didn't think about those posts too hard. Neither did I. I stayed in touch with some of my old co-workers from the Pavok Lounge. For a couple of weeks, we had a lively group chat where we reminisced about how trashy the lounge was. I wasn't a bartender at the cobweb covered dive bar anymore, but at a topwob, I was a bar least, I had a group of digital friends that I could reminisce about the good old times with. For a while, we even talked about all getting together and opening our own bar.

But as time went on, and the stories ran out, we all realized that Pavok Bar was the only thing we had in common. By the time the lounge closed down, the chat was completely dead, as was my social life. My new bosses were happy with the work I was doing on the Instagram captions, but they wanted more interactions with the customers of their product. I thought that having a quota of how many comments I had to respond to a day would make me less lonely, but it did the exact opposite. Have you ever read the comment section on a random clothing brand's photo? No normal human being feels like they have something to say about genes in a public forum. The vast majority of the people I interacted with on the brand profiles had the social skills of frented insects. Every day, I would crawl through the webs of the internet

and talked to the husks of humanity that just reminded me how far divided I was from real life. Every second that I spent scrolling on my phone dragged on into endlessness, yet the weeks passed in the snap of a finger. My life had become one long, lonely stay in bed with occasional bathroom breaks. But then an investigative journalist crew

snapped me out of my depressive spiral. The role of slave-wage labour in modern consumerism it isn't exactly a secret. The expensive minerals in our smartphones don't just happily pop out of the ground on their own. The suicide nets set up around the third world factories aren't there for aesthetic purposes. Cheap clothing brands are an outlandish luxury

to the people who weave them. People know these things, but they shrug them off with a, that sucks, but what can you do? The excuse works, but it's a lot harder to shrug off when you're watching hidden camera footage from the sweatshops. The fact that the expose about the factory was dropped during a boiling hot summer

added an extra glint of relatability to the footage. After the videos went viral, my bosses scrambled to put together a response regarding the allegations. Within a couple of hours, there was a black and white statement on all of our social media pages promising to do better, and I was given a two-week paid vacation while the corporate spin doctor stabilised the situation. I spent the first week of my vacation sweating in bed. on a never-ending catatonic scroll through the interwebs.

My entire newsfeed was filled up with automated car factory content that the algorithm presumed I liked. I didn't. I just hoped that somewhere along those videos of many armed spider god machines I would find some semblance of social interaction, a live concert, a birthday party, anything. Instead, I scrolled across an advertisement.

A dinky facsimile of a rainforest. limp finds hanging from jagged plastic rocks, tufts of mist flown down from a fluorescent lit ceiling. Maserick's butterfly garden. But it wasn't the garden that caught my attention. It was the address. Butterflies lived where the Pavok lounge once stood. As I lay on that gross mattress,

I decided it was time to get up. The rest of the world was moving on. I figured I would go check out the incessant march of time. The afternoon sun scorched everything in its path, and I was drenched in a new layer of sweat within minutes. But there was a cool melancholy stirring in my veins. Even though I was going to see some dingy butterfly garden,

I was taking the same commute that I would take back when I was working at the Pavok Lounge. The subway wind ruffled my hair as I rode down the escalator. The tram was just as packed and sweaty as it had been the previous summers. I could recognise the mundane bits of a happier life I had once lived. When I got to the butterfly garden, I recognised another part of my old life. All the decor from the Pavok Lounge was gone. Where neon lights and graffiti once loomed, there were conservative light fixtures and pixelated pictures of exotic butterflies.

The crisp sound of classic rock that would bounce through the underground halls of the bar were now replaced with soulless meditation music that would fit right into a three-hour YouTube playlist. But as I walked towards the ticket stand, I could recognize a familiar hulking face. Amel! When I entered, his shaved head was bowed in complete concentration, trying to understand something on his tiny phone. Yet, as he heard his name, Amil looked up.

For a split second, there wasn't a hint of recognition in those dark eyes. But finally, Amil saw. smiled, his chip-tooth smile. Hey you, he said. You're one of the bartenders who used to work here, right? On some nights, back when the only bugs at the Pavarck lounge were the flies in the men's bathroom and the hungry spiders that crawled across the ceiling, I would stick around for drinks after my shift ended.

A good chunk of those nights was spent hanging out with a meal, the mammoth Moravian bouncer, and chatting about life. I distinctly remembered how the man could freely transition between headings, and putting the groom of a drunken stag party to excitedly talking about the puppy he had at home. For a second, I was hurt he didn't remember my name, but

I was just happy to be talking to a familiar face. How's he doing these days? I asked. Mentioning the dog made the mountain of muscle melt. Ah, she's grown, more of a horse than a pooch now. Starting to

think that maybe I'll leave this whole security life behind me and just go live with her in the countryside. He shifted around on his tiny chair that he was sitting on. The amount of tattoos that a meal had on his neck seemed wildly inappropriate for a butterfly garden. So you work... Uh, security here. Ah, yeah, definitely calmer out here than in the bar scene, but the bosses needed someone to take care of the crazes.

The flimsy chair creaked as he leaned over to me. There's some loony guys out there. Don't look any different than a regular customer. But as soon as I let them into the garden, they just start smushing the butterflies. Jesus, I said, remembering how swiftly a meal would choke out dudes who got too groping on the dance floor. Yep, recession brings out the worst in everyone, he said, cracking his swollen knuckles. What have you been up to these days? I run the social media accounts for a clothing brand, about as entertaining as a Monday night at the lounge.

Social media, the meal let out of a frustrated grunt. I don't get it I got one of those Facebook accounts to look up tips on how to train Zoe But he said my phone is filled up with weird factory videos Weird factory videos I asked Breathlessly reaching for my phone

Excited that our eerie news feeds Were tying us together I have those two I have no idea what Excuse me sir Me and my son have been waiting in line for at least five minutes The sharp-faced woman standing behind me Had a haircut

But her firmly put her into stereotype territory She looked like the type type of person who enjoys talking to managers. I want to see the butterflies, mommy. I want to see the butterflies. A snop face gobbling yelled as he held a hand. Would you two gentlemen mind having your personal conversation and your own time? The Karen hissed. Emil smiled and motioned me towards the butterfly garden entrance.

Ex-perfect employee discount. Enjoy. Don't smush any of the butterflies. And let's grab a beer sometime soon, Jake. My name is not Jake. but the free entry and promise of future social contact inlaid to be enough to let the wrong name slip by. I made my way past the corridor filled with dry academic descriptions of the butterflies I was about to see and entered the garden. The news feed advertisement didn't do Messier Egg's Butterfly Garden any justice. Sure, the plastic stones looked as fake as one would expect and the few bits of natural foliage were in desperate need of a gardener.

But the garden itself was an oasis of calm in a place. sweaty world. A cool mist flowed down from the ceiling that made me completely forget about the heat of the summer. The artificial waterfall intermixed with the droning meditation music that played off the loudspeakers saturated the garden with a legitimate feeling of peace. Bright-colored butterflies drifted through the underground room without a care in the world as I started to fantasize about a blossoming social life. A meal and me would eventually go grab a beer. He'd stopped calling me Jake. We'd become real friends.

and he would introduce me to his own social circle. A bright future tugged at my imagination. The bratty kid that the Karen had brought in kept on yelling stuff about the butterflies, but his shrieks dissipated into the cosmic calm radiating from the garden. A gentle bug adorned in regal purple landed on my wrist. The legs of the butterfly gently crests my skin as it explored my body. I found myself thinking about how butterflies taste with their feet.

I wondered how I tasted I wondered what the alien creature thought of me, what it thought of our interaction, what it thought of humans in general. But then, as the fragile bugs sucked in my moist skin, I felt another set of insect feet to my body.

I moved down gently from my neck to my shoulder. By the time its hairy appendages caught my attention, the creature was crawling down my arm, eight skinny legs and eight black eyes. The thick bellied arachnid was creeping towards the unsuspecting butterfly on my wrist.

I tensed up and reminded myself that grown men don't scream in butterfly gardens and tried to casually brush the spider off to the floor. The creature clung to my body with an imperceptible tightness, and as soon as my hand passed over it, there was an octet of black marble staring daggers into my soul. I didn't want to move. I didn't want it on my hand. We were at an impasse.

I tried to brush the spider off again. but before I even raised my hand, the creature retaliated. Hairy fangs pinched my skin with the intensity of a branding iron. Ah, I yelled. My reflexes kicked in. A sharp slap cut across the meditative mood of the garden. The regal butterfly fled frantically from my wrist towards the fluorescent lights above. Mommy, mommy, that man killed a butterfly.

A scream came from behind me. The contents of the butterfly sack were... oozing beneath my palm. It wasn't a butterfly, it was a... You're sick. Why would you kill an innocent butterfly? Why would you come here and murder those beautiful creatures in front of my child? The Karen screamed in a shrill voice.

You should be ashamed to yourself. Freaks like you should be locked up. Security! Before I'd explain that I held no hatred towards butterflies, the door to the garden burst open, and a raging bull of a man approached me. Did you smush a butterfly, Jake? Emil screamed with the type of fury in his eyes

that I thought it was just. reserved solely for the people who vomit on the bar. Yes, he did. Throw him out. Call the cops. He's a butterfly-killing psychopath. The Karen screamed almost joyfully. What did I tell you about smushing the butterflies, Jake? My name's not... Emilio ended any chance for me to explain myself when his thick school connected to my fragile nose. We were not going to be grabbing a beer any time soon. I bought some frozen peas to ease the pain that was burning in my nose and arm. I also grabbed some rice and a

of chicken fillets in the hopes of treating myself to a home-cooked dinner. But, by the time I got home, any aspirations of having a nice evening had become a pipe dream. The taste that my own blood wouldn't leave my mouth, regardless of how much Listerine I washed through it. Each breath that I took through my nose sent echoes of the head put down my neck and the spider bite on my arm had swallowed to the size of a ping-pong ball. Instead of cooking, I ate a couple handfuls of stale chips and laid down in my sweat-drenched bed. The melting pack of peas I draped over my face eased the pain in my crooked nose,

but it amplified my misery. I was friendless and bloated and resigned to breathe from my mouth while everyone was enjoying their summer. The sun had barely set, but sleep came easy. I convinced myself I could turn my life around as soon as I woke up.

I didn't. Everything around me filled it itself through a fever dream. I couldn't tell whether I was awake, asleep, or a mixture of the two, but I was confined to my bed by gentle, it irresistible force. Just as I was trying to make sense of the reality I was in, a group of short silhouettes manifested itself around my bed. At first, they observed me, giggling like children.

But soon, they broke into song. Itty-bitsy spider crawled down the lonely man Crawled from his head and bit him on the hand The itsy-bitsy spider was smushed under his skin The mother might be dead but long with her kin The figures let loose another round of giggles They sounded like kindergartners But as the feature sharpened under the moonlight

All thoughts of humanity left my hands head. Their bodies were short and stubby. The bodies of children, but their heads were covered with thick bristles of hair and fangs. Mucous dripped from their mouths as the shapeless eyes grew closer. From a fit of laughter, one of the uracnoid figures launched its fangs at my swelling arm. I woke up. The packet of peas in my forehead had grown damp and warm. The hot summer night had coated my entire body in a slick layer of sweat, yet as disoriented as I was, as bewildering as my dream was, the bloated spider bite gripped my attention with sobering fear. Even in the dim light of the moon, I could tell that the skin of my arm had turned a dark red.

The swelling had grown. A baseball-sized growth hung from my forearm like a paralyzed baby limb. I felt my way towards my night lamp. The mass of flesh throbbed with each beat in my racing heart. I sat up on my bed, looking for a phone, trying to figure out. whether I was calling an ambulance or an Uber. Yet, as I shifted around, the fleshy ball pulsated. Something beneath it was moving. Something beneath my skin was squirming, trying to get out. In a mystified curiosity, I touched the solem bite.

It burst forth, a wave of blackness that squirmed its way across my body. I was covered in spiders. They were crawling towards my mouth. I sprung up to my feet and said, swung my panicked arms around, trying to get all the spiders off me. They fell to the floor in heavy clumps of writhing life, but for each fistful of spiders I swept off me, there was at least one that held firm to my skin.

The survivors on my sweeps bit, and they bit hard. It was as if I was being pelted with buckshots at a distance. My sweaty body exploded in a hot burst of clustered pain. The spiders made their way to my head. They crawled across my bruised face, gnawing down to my flesh for every bit of resistance I attempted. As I screamed, a wave of a thin-legged life made its weight on my throat, biting along the way. I ran into my shower and grabbed a bottle of Listerine.

I drank a good half of the bottle before the stinging pain in my neck eased. The current of rigid water from the showerhead washed out the eight-legged horrors that were crawling all over my body. My feet stood in a pool of pink, the dead spiders had clogged the drain. There was no one that I could tell about the terrible experience that I had just gone through. There was no one that I could share my horrible life with. Even past the freezing water, my body still pulsed with hot foreign bites. The growth of my arm that had just given birth to a thousand spiders was now just a flap of skin, impotently dripping pus and blood into my shower.

But the new bites were starting to balloon up into nests of life. I... Wet. I stood in the shower, rocking a listering buzz, and wet. And, from the back of my head, as if in response to my tears, I heard the spider children of my dream continue their chant. Itsy-bitsy spiders coming from the wound, down the scared man's body and all across the room, the itsy-bitsy-bitsy spiders won't go anywhere, crawling in his mouth.

and through his body hair. As the melody creaked across my mind, a wave of new discomfort traveled through my body. The bloated spider bite erupted in an itchiness so demanding that I fell out of the shower trying to attend to it. My nose met the bathroom floor with a blood cushion crack, but within seconds, the burning of my skin overpowered any other perception of pain. I slammed my swollen back against the wall and rubbed as hard as I could.

I needed to scratch the itch A twinge of relief crawled down my spine But the rest of my body still burned With unimaginable discomfort It just wouldn't stop The bites kept on bloating up The inside of my throat was roaring with the need to be scratched I was trapped in an unimaginable wave of discomfort and horror

My back grew wet Blood and pus And in that blood and pus tiny spiders I slid off the wall into the hallway I desperately rubbed my naked spider-covered body

against the carpet but the searing itches persisted the bites the pain the sheer suddenness of my suffering my body transcended the moment and entered a universe

purely built on misery any hint of a personal past before the spiders or hope of a future when my skin wasn't burning in a thick incomprehensible wave of torment As all-consuming as the pain was, however,

In the back of my burning skull, A faint echo of a nursery rhyme took hold. A thousand spider children spoke to me, With laughter in their voice. Itty-bits don't want you to be scared. Don't be a selfish, sally, your body can be shed. Itty-bitsy-bitty spiders crawling through your skin. With itty-bitty spiders, you won't be alone again.

It took me until sunrise to figure out that the spiders would only bite me if I tried to fight them off. Once that horrible eternity of pain started to fade away, I crawled over to my bed, wrapped my bloody body in sweaty blankets, and fell asleep. It's a record-breaking summer day, but the soft silk of the webs keep me cool. People are out there, having picnics, hanging out at water parks, eating fancy vegan ice cream in cheap cafes, and for the longest time, that would have bothered me. I would have laid in bed, letting myself get consumed by thoughts of a life I wasn't living. But I don't anymore.

Now, all I think about are the spiders. They crawl around my body and live their little insect lives. They breed and weave, and when I'm feeling hungry, they crawl into my mouth. It's not optimal I'd rather be out in the city meeting new friends Forging new relationships Falling in love

But if I ever think about getting up They start biting I couldn't go through that pain again Without losing what little sanity I have It's not optimal It sucks But what can you do At least there's a self-aligning to it all

For the longest time All I could think about was how lonely I was. But I don't anymore. Now I'm not alone. Now. I'm covered. In spiders?

It has been 42 years since these events happened, and I really don't care what the government is going to do if I spill the beans. Sure, I signed that non-disclosure agreement and was sworn into secrecy all those decades ago. But, I don't give a damn. I'm 83 years old, and have lived a wonderful, life. So, come and get me. I'm ready to meet my maker. With that said, I really doubt it that

the Pentagon is going to send a kill team to eliminate an old man who can barely walk a few feet without his cane. Now, I could begin from the top when I started my Air Force career, but all of that is just useless detail. I will, however, give you a quick rundown of my life in the Air Force astronaut course before the important events of 79. After eight years of service in the branch, I joined the top secret unit of the Air Force in 1971. I graduated his training program in 1972 and was sent on my first space mission in 74 after spending a year and a half doing office work and writing research papers for the Air Force's orbital warfare research team. My flight history is not really impressive compared to the other Air Force astronauts,

but I guess you wouldn't really know that. It's not like you have the flight manifest to my peers to compare with. My service history prior to 1979 was Blue Gemini 26 and 74, Blue Apollo 6 and 75, Blue Gemini 31 in 76 and Blue Apollo 11 in 78. The Blue Gemini missions were essentially boring orbital peacekeeping missions, with us eyeing our Soviet counterparts while they did the same to us. The Blue Apollo missions on the other hand were the exciting ones. These were the missions we astronauts sought for,

and I was lucky enough to take part in two of them. The idea of building a moon base always had a certain kind of appeal that attracted us. Yes, that's right. A moon base on the far side of the moon may sound like science fiction to you. But I can tell you now that back in the 70s, we were launching two missions a year to make it happen. Too bad all our hard work went to waste after the incident of 85. But that's not the story I wanted to talk. about. No matter how bad the 85 incident was, I wasn't there, and I did not experience its horrors

firsthand. It's not my story to tell. However, the one I did witness was equally terrible and horrifying. I still wake up with nightmares of it, and it was my inability to cut away from these horrors that ultimately ended my career in the Air Force. You see, in 1978, after finishing Blue Apollo 11, I was assigned to the latest program of the Air Force's roster, the Orbital Space Barracks, or OSB. Essentially, the plan was to create an orbital base that would hold six personnel, four of which will be space-trained special forces operators from the Army's Ranger Regiment. These Rangers will be trained to conduct spaceboarding operations and zero-gravity combat in closer quarter environments,

with the overall goal of learning how to storm the Soviet Space Station and secure it within minutes. In an actual operation, we Air Force astronauts would operate the base and maneuver it to intercept the target space station. Then, depending on the situation, we would either hard dock with it, or maneuver close enough for the Rangers to don their spacesuits, conduct a spacewalk, and use their specialized equipment in order to forcibly enter the station. Selected as one out of two astronauts the first work in the station, I became the mission's orbital base pilot, and was subordinate to Major Howard MacArthur, the mission commander.

Joining us were Captain Jonathan Rogers, the Rangers commander, Master Sergeant Gerald Newman, specialist Ryan Camberlane and specialist Andrew Reynolds. On 1979, all six of us lifted off from Midway launch base in a crew X20 dinosaur and began our journey to the orbital station, which was nicknamed Phoenix. The base itself was fairly big

and was made out of two Saturn V third stage boosters that were docked in well. welded together. However, after the first week, I wished it was bigger. Despite looking large from the outside, the inside was a different story. A lot of the space was taken up by maneuvering propellant, which took up 40% of the station. That left us with 60% of space left, with 30% of which used for space, leaving the remaining 30 for habitation. I'm going to tell you now, it wasn't enough. Now, the Air Force did say that they did their studies and it told them that the space left was more than enough for six humans to live in for six months. However, with the Rangers always

training and the US Air Force personnel zooming about in order to maintain the station, we often intersected one another and interrupted each other's work. It took us a month before we finally got a schedule that allowed the least amount of interruptions. After the third month, with a standard routine made and inter-service friendships created, life in the station was good. But one day, we got a transmission that would bring us into a mission that we trained for, but never expected to actually do. Pomach, pommach! The caller was garbled, but the one word was clear.

Having studied Russian, I knew that it was a cry for help. As part of our mission, the station regularly monitored Soviet space communications. Because of this, part of my schedule was to spend three hours in the communication station listening to Soviet chatter. Switching through the various known Soviet frequencies, I recorded everything that I heard before filing them and making use of our latest communication encryption system to transmit the info down to Vanneberg Air Force Base. On that day, I just switched our radios to tune into 1-21.75 megahertz. A frequency we knew that was used by the Soviet orbital piloted station 10, often referred to as Alma's 10. Stunned by what I heard, I quickly called Howard and gestured him to put on his headset to listen to what I was picking up.

Just as he did so, the same cry for help repeated. Pomosh, pomop! The last call was cut off, and, after waiting for ten minutes, no new transmission came. We better contact Van derbyrk and inform them on. of this was Howard's only remark, and before long, we got a reply from them. Information received, Phoenix, continued to monitor the Soviet frequency and update us of any new developments. So, we did. But there was nothing new to report. After an hour with nothing new happening, it ended up that it was Fendonberg that was going to update us. Phoenix, this is Fandembourg,

do you copy? Van denberg, this is Phoenix. We copy. Howard replied. Phoenix, it seems we have a request from the Soviet ambassador in Washington, who passed on a message from their Ministry of Defense. Apparently, at exactly 1021 GMT plus 3, the Soviet Space Force received a distress call from their Alma's 10th space station. This is the same transmission you intercepted.

The reason for the distress call is unclear, and they were unable to get any relevant information from the operator's panicked cries. At 1023, all communications from Alma's 1010 was. lost, and the Soviets were unable to get vital signs from any of the six-member crew or telemetry from the station. Because of this, they feared the worst. Due to the direness of the situation, and because there are no nearby Soviet spacecraft to aid Almaz 10, the Soviets are requesting our assistance. They are aware we have a spacecraft in an orbit close to that of Alma's 10, and that's you. Because of that, they are requesting that you rendezvous with the station

and conduct a visual inspection. If you can, they want you to dock and assist their cosmonauts in peril. Damn, I said under my breath. They probably concluded that we have boarding equipment here. They are also reminding us of the rescue agreement in the outer space treaty and they trust that we abide by it

and they mean every part of it. They specifically emphasise the part where we rescue their personnel and that we return every part of their space vehicle. We ran this through with a Pentagon and they agreed that we should assist the Soviets and rescue their cosmonauts. They also informed us that no

attempt to steal Soviet technology or equipment should be made or else risk back fire. So, take nothing but pictures. Because of these sudden events, a plan for the operation is currently being drawn up and we will brief you about it within half an hour. Over.

Roger that, Vandenberg. We are aware of the situation and would go into high alert. Over. Howard replied. side, shaking his head. Risk backfire, huh? He muttered, turning towards me. The ambassador probably hinted that they knew we have nukes in some of our stations up here, and threatened to reveal it to the UN if we don't abide by their request.

Well, those nukes are only there because the Reds did it first. I had pointed out to him, which we still failed to confirm, Howard reminded me. Aside from Soviet transmissions, mentioning their nukes in space, we are yet to have physical evidence of them existing. The Soviets, on the other hand, probably have photos of our nukes, especially after a careless installation of them in Freedom Station. They probably been holding back this information until the right moment, which seems to be now. I nodded my head.

He was probably right. But after a few seconds, I started wondering about the whole situation. It's strange, isn't it? I asked him. What strange? Howard replied. the Soviets blackmailing us. I think that is a pretty common occurrence.

No, not that, I scoffed. I mean, the request for help. The Reds must be really desperate if they're asking us to help them. Howard just rogued. Maybe, he said. Then again, maybe they just care a lot for their cosmonauts. I just hope that, if something like that happens to us, the Air Force would show the same care in their hearts, which I doubt.

With that, he might have. his leave, floating away to inform the ranges of the situation. We worked fast, so that within three hours after the briefing, we were approaching Alma's 10 and preparing the dock with it. Alma's 10 was a big station. Do you know Mer? Well, imagine that, but two times bigger. Built as a modular type station, Alma's 10 had various sections popping out in all directions,

making the whole place look like an orbiting housepipe system. The station also had various docking ports used for a large variety of rules, from crew entry to resupply operations. The docking port connected to the main command module was our target entry point. As the station's pilot, it was my job to perform the docking maneuver, which I did from a canopy located near the main docking port. This was a delicate task, and one wrong move could end up with us slamming into the Almers 10, which in turn would result to damage equipment, concisions and a large number of hole breaches and leaks in the station's body. Because of this, I had to be very careful.

Luckily for everyone, I'd spent countless hours in the simulator back on earth, practicing for this very moment. In addition to that, I'd two successful live docking actions over the past three months. It was safe to say that I was no rocky, but there was no excuse for me to be careless, since anything could go wrong during these manoeuvres. Carefully controlling the stick with my gloved hand, I leaned a bit forward to conduct a visual check on how close we were.

In doing so, I accidentally bumped my helmet and the aluminum silicate glass pane of the canopy. I muttered a curse at this, feeling a bit stupid. Working in our spacesuits was hard, especially when you had to do a delicate task as docking. The suits, large, bulky and cumbersome, was not exactly something you wanted on when you needed to do fine control movements.

However, protocol was protocol, and we had to have them on. When the procedure for docking where the Soviet space station was planned out, the authors had it in the minds that we would be facing a hostile target, one that would be firing guns or missiles at us. In that scenario,

a single hit would rip a hole in the phoenix and decompressed the air out of the station. If that happened, then it meant death for anyone who wasn't suited up, Thus, it was necessary to have everyone on board wearing their suits. Of course, given the actual situation we had at the time, our target station was not supposed to be hostile. But headquarters feared that the Soviets had an onboard artificial intelligence on their station, which would automatically lock on and engage spacecraft that it did not identify as friendly.

With the Soviets having lost telemetry with the station, it was unknown if this system was still active. so as a precaution we were required to have our spacesuits on as we got closer to Alma's 10 however it became evidently clear that the station's defence system was no longer on mine then again I'm not even sure if the station even had an artificial intelligence handling its defenses although I can't be sure they never really declassify this stuff you know

happy with the knowledge that no one was going to shoot at us I continued my work and got the phoenix docking port aligned with that of Alma's 10. Keeping it aligned on the right target, I brought the docking port closer and closer until the gentle sound of metal bumping echoed along the hole. Achieving a soft dock, I then flipped a switch to allow the mechanical clamps to grasp the Soviet station's port. Getting all green lights, I informed Howard that we got a good hard dock and was beginning the pressurization of the hallway that connected the two ports. Once this was done, the Rangers would begin their task

of entering Alma's 10 and assist the Soviet cosmonauts on the other side. Joining the Ranger team at the hatch of our docking port, I monitor the pressure levels of the hallway as the Rangers prepared themselves and check their gear. Going through their own intricate set-of-checklist, they checked and double-checked everything, from suit systems to weapons. Yes, I know what you're thinking. This was supposed to be an aid and rescue mission, so why they need for weapons? Why, for safety, of course.

It is true that we were here to help the Reds, but help them against what? For all we know, there could be a crazed cosmonaut on the other side, voting around and killing his crewmates because he could not stand another day in the cramped station. That was a possibility, and headquarters knew that. So, in order to protect ourselves over such a possibility, the Rangers would go in with weapons armed. In fact, even we astronauts were ordered to carry our guns, just in case we needed to use them.

Only when it was confirmed that the situation was safe, would we and the Rangers put our safeties on and stow away their weapons? Hey, Jonathan said, his voice blaring in my earpiece as he used the local comms network. You checked your weapon yet? Turning to him, I noticed that he was done going through his checks and was now facing me and gesturing to the hostel on my suit's belt. I glanced at him before shaking my head. Yeah, I told him, just before I went to dock the station.

All right, he said, but be sure to check it again. You'll be amazed how many times weapons fail when you need them the most, so it won't hurt checking them as many times as possible. Not in my thanks, I carefully took up my pistol from its holster and did the necessary checks. The gyrojet pistol was the standard arm for Air Force astronauts, with a Mark I 51 caliber pistol being the only one commonly given to us during missions. Firing a rocket propelled bullet at 1,250 fission, It was essentially the premier firearm used in space.

It gave us the same power normal firearms gave, without the annoying recoil. In zero gravity, that means a lot, since recoil can fling a person from one side of the room to the other. The Rangers carried a similar weapon, the Mark I gyrojet carbine, which was essentially the same mechanism, but were the stock in better sights. Once all the checks were done, and that hallway was confirmed to be fully pressurized and without leaks, Howard came to join us and see the rangers off. Opening the hatch, Captain Jonathan and his team were just about to float across the hallway when a loud and eerie bang reverberated from the other end of the Soviet station's hatch.

Thud, thud, thud, thud. Did you guys hear that? Specialist Adrian said. He was at the head of the group assigned a take point and was about to head for the hatch when the knocking started. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. There it came again, this time louder, faster. It sounded frantic and desperate.

Damn, specialist Andrew cursed, those must be the cosmonauts, they must be knocking for help. But why? Adrian asked. Sergeant Gerald, who'd been silently contemplating and listening as the knocking happened, was the next to speak up to voices' opinions. Maybe they're running out of oxygen in there. A silence met the statement,

as everyone in the room felt a sense of dread, them. The very idea of running out of oxygen in space was in chills to any space various bones. To try and breathe and breathe only for nothing to fill your lungs. Thinking it now still makes me choke up. It's a terrible way to go, and the whole ordeal was something like torture. Suddenly another batch of knocking came, this time even louder and numerous than the earlier ones. Thud-thut-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. Unlike Before, however, the banging didn't stop. It continued and continued, no ceasing and only increasing.

It started to sound like more than one person was knocking now. Now, at that moment in time, I really believed Gerard's conclusion was right, since it made a lot of sense. A micrometeroid must have punctured the station's hull and drastically depressurized the cabins. They would explain what the distress call hours earlier was frantic and why it was suddenly cut off. However, thinking about it decades later, it should have been obvious to me that it didn't make total sense.

If they were indeed running out of oxygen, then how come someone was knocking on the hatch right now, many hours after the distress call was made? Sure, maybe some of them managed to down their spacesuits and hold out for a couple of hours. But then, that opens up another question. Why did the station go silent? If a cosmonaut or a group of them did indeed manage to survive the same. station's loss of oxygen, then how come none of them bothered to contact their ground stations? It didn't make sense. But back then, during the moment, that was none of our concern. We were more worried about the lives of those on the other side, and we wanted to save them.

Adrenaline and our own fear blinded us. A sense of urgency now filled us, and thinking that the cosmonauts were indeed choking on their final gasps of air, we decided to quickly open the hatch and help them. Get that hatch open, Jonathan ordered his team. Adrian, Gerald, you do get the hatch and open it. Pull whoever's on the other side and get them some air to breathe. Andrew, you stay here with us. You and me are going to cover them,

just in case those Ruskis are playing us and do something funny. Move. I remember thinking how foolish he was for saying that. Cover them? Against what? Of course, I did not bother asking him that right in his face. But it seemed really an unethical. necessary. I guess you could never just get rid of that soldier's instinct. In the end, it turned

out his instinct was right. Quickly flinging themselves across the hallway, Adrian and Gerald reoriented themselves so that their boots made contact with the hatch and absorbed their forward movement. Their impact made a loud thump on the hatch, which seemed to attract the attention of those on the other side as the banging continued to increase. I started feeling uneasy about this. The knocking was very eerie and having its sound vibrate across the talking fort made me feel unnerved. There was just something about it that was scaring me. Maybe my mind was imagining myself in that situation. Maybe it was a thought that someone was dying there so close to rescue.

I did not know what it was at the time. So I never realized that it was actually my flight or fight senses warning me of the imminent danger. Wasting no time, Adrian is. immediately grabbed the lever for the hatch and used all his strength to pull down the tight mechanism. Once it opened, however, the sight I saw was not what I expected. What I expected were thankful cosmonauts rushing in and grasping sweet breaths of air. What I saw was the face of terror rushing in to spread its vile darkness. Hollow, empty eye sockets, wide, open mouths that clearly indicated a broken jaw, torn and tattered jumpsuits,

rotting flesh that exposed muscles and bone, and a thick black liquid oozing out of every orifice and opening in their bodies. That was what the cosmonauts looked like. That was what was left of the cosmonauts. At first, I thought there were corpses. Dead, lifeless corpses. Well, they were indeed dead. Lifeless, though? I am not sure I could say that. The first one lunged through the hatch, just as it was opening and barely. one-third done. Its hands, or muscle-wrapped skeleton that resembled a hand, darted towards Adrian and quickly caught his leg. There was no saving him as he was pulled towards this creature,

as more hand-like appendages grabbed a hold of him and pulled him inside their Soviet station. What the hell is that thing? Damn it, get it off of me! Captain, he's pulling me in! Came Adrian's cry on the local comms network. I remember seeing his helmet bump onto the barely open hatch, as his screams of panic and cries for help continue to echo in our comms. Hold on, kid, I got you, Geroot said, as I watched them make a grab for the Ranger. However, the pull by these creatures was too strong and quick, and Adrian disappeared into the darkness of the other side before Geroot could do anything. Damn, I can't see an air, continued Adrian's calls.

I can't switch my light. Damn, it's too dark. I think there are more of them. Damn it. I could tell that Gerold was contemplating and rescuing his teammate as he seemed like he was orienting himself to slip inside but before any attempts to go in for a rescue could be done and lunging hand made him think twice

surprising him the hand made a grab for his arm causing him to react and back away following his survival instincts Gerald uses legs to kick the nearby wall and fling himself back towards where we were taking his carbine he then aimed towards the creature that tried to grab him By then, the creature was using its hands a scoop up air and swim his way towards Gerald.

Bits of flesh and muscle were flung off as it did this, as a trail of black liquid marked this path as it moved. Being careful not to hit anything important, since the gyrojet's bullets could easily penetrate the station's hull, Gerold fired two shots. Both rocket-power bullets were true to the mark and hit the creature's forehead. But it did nothing but leave a large gaping hole that revealed brain matter. I stared at this hole as I felt fear fill my body. It just survived the 51 caliber bullet to the forehead, something that should not have been possible. These bullets were able to penetrate body armor and spaceship hulls, yet the creature went on,

unfazed by the gaping hole on its forehead. Whatever this thing was, it was not something that mere bullets could stop. But I did not stop us from trying. Watching the creature approach and seeing the danger opposed the Newman, Jonathan immediately ordered Andrew to cover the sergeant's retreat as he lifted his own carbine and opened fire. Taking precise shots, the two of them fired and fired. The sound of the rocket-powered bullets whizzing through the hallway,

echoing through the module. Each hit met its mark, taking chunks away from the creature's head. However, it did nothing to stop it. On it went, swimming its way through the air, dead set in getting to Newman. Luckily for the sergeant, the kinetic force of the bullets was enough to slow the creature down,

giving him enough time to reach our side. Getting close, Andrew grabbed Newman by the arm and pulled him in. Falling back, the two were covered by Jonathan as the officer continued to fire the creature. Once again, it slowed it down. By then, the thing had no more head, with only a disgusting writ mess left between its shoulders.

A trail of flesh, bone, muscles, brain matter and a black liquid floated behind it, a testament to the range's accuracy. Too bad it did nothing to stop the thing. Close the hatch, Jonathan said, as he reversed and tapped me on the shoulder. This brought me back to reality as I realized that my fear had gotten to me and left me frozen. The sight of these horrible creatures and the sound of agents continued struggling in the comms had essentially paralyzed my mind and left me as nothing but a frighten. an unlocker. Cursing myself for my uselessness, I grabbed the handle of the latch and pulled onto it to close the entrance to the hallway.

Pulling the lever, I locked its mechanism, which was confirmed by four firm clicks. But just as the hatch locked, the sound of a loud bump echoed from the other side. Thud, thud, thud, thud, the creature was there, and it was knocking on our hatch. mustering all my courage, I placed my head on a small window of the hatch and peered out. What I saw was the creature's tattered neck, black liquid oozing out of the tunnel that was supposed to be the esophagus. Puking it out, the liquid floated freely in the air of the hallway. Staring, I noticed that it was some sort of thick dark vile that looked more like jelly when up close. It floated carelessly and without reason, before clumping up together.

as if each drop had a mind of its own, the liquid did its best to squirm and make its way towards me. Choosing me as a target, the liquid swam towards my direction, only stopping when it splattered itself on the aluminumosilicate material of the window. Backing up, I shook my head and stared at the now-covered window. What the hell? I sighed under my breath, unable to process what I just saw. However, there was no time to think, as the silence was broken by the sound of Jonathan contacting Adrian through the comms. Adrian, this is Jonathan, can you hear me? There was no reply. I repeat, Adrian, this is Jonathan, can you hear me?

Only static replied to him. And for a moment, I thought the Ranger was a goner. What a terrible way to go. To be killed by those creatures. I can only imagine what horrible things they did to him before he was. he finally succumbed to their assaults and died. Adrian, the Ranger officer repeated.

This is Jonathan. Are you there? Damn it. The whisper-like curse came through the comms, and suddenly hope filled us all. The sound of heavy breathing then followed, as more curses bombarded our comms. We weren't sure what was happening to Adrian there on the other side, but at least we knew that he was still alive.

Damn, Captain, he made. managed to say, still breathing heavily, but sounding much calmer than earlier. Captain, I need help here. Adrian, Jonathan shouted, relieved that he had not lost the Ranger yet. Give me a quick sit, Red Ranger. Just hold on there, all right. We'll get you out of there in no time. Then, floating towards one section of our station's wall, he stared at the stolen Alma's 10 blueprints we had on board for the Rangers training. I'm not really sure where I am now, sir, Adrian said.

the fear evident in his voice. I think I might be in the main lab, but I'm not sure. I got lost and disoriented when I tried escaping those... those things. I'm mostly all right, though, sir. No damage on my suit. All right, that's good, Adrian.

Just hold up in a corner and stay there. We're going in there to get you out. As he spoke, Jonathan studied the map. He was probably formulating a quick plan. Okay, sir, but get here quick. Adrian said I don't know how long I can Damn, they're here

Adrian just stay calm We'll get to you Jonathan told him Before turning towards Howard He was busy communicating to Vanenberg The events that just transpired Using a secure comms network Used by us officers

He began telling us his concerns Howard, we need to rescue the kid The lab is only three modules away From where we're docked If we go in there now We might just be able to save him Before he gets overwhelmed I'm sorry Jonathan

I don't think we can do that. I just got off with headquarters, and they were ordering us to just undock and get away from here. Howard replied. Undalk? Jonathan said with anger. Are they aware that we have a man left behind there? Yes, Captain.

They're quite aware that specialist Chamberlain is still in there, but they have considered the situation, and they do not believe that one man is worth risking the whole team or of this valuable station. One man? Jonathan hissed. He is not just one man. I'll never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy.

That's the Ranger Creed. So, we're going to go in there and rescue him. Do you think that's a good idea, Captain? Howard asked. How about those creatures? How do you plan on dealing with them as you rescue your fellow Ranger? Clearly our bullets don't work. You would know.

You shudder them yourself. We'll find a way. We Rangers always do. Jonathan said firmly. As the two were arguing, I could hear the frantic and desperate it calls of Jonathan on the other frequency. I knew those two were hearing the same thing,

and I always liked to believe that this brought more urgency to Jonathan's side and guilt to Howard's. They were all over me, Captain, Adrian shouted. I can't fire for them. Damn, my bullets aren't stopping them at all. There was a pause, and all I could hear was his heavy breathing. Damn it, I think one of the bullets is stuck in the chamber. The bullet must have been a dud.

Damn it, damn it, they're closing in. The sounds of a hard struggle could then be heard, as Adrian's cries continued. They got me. Captain, help. They got me. Where are you? I can't get them off. Damn it. Damn it. They're tearing open my suit. They're shredding into pieces. By now, Jonathan had given up an argument with Howard and returned his focus on his stranded ranger. Adrian, we're on our way. Just hang on. Jonathan said, ignoring Howard. Gerald, Andrews, we're going to pick up Adrian. The moment I open this hatch, I want you to shoot up the thing that's been hanging on a door, you got it?

They gave simultaneous, yes, sir, as they followed their orders. Floating towards the hatch, Jonathan placed his hands on the lever, ready to unlock it. But before I could do it, I made a sudden and quick decision. Knowing what awaited us if the hatch was opened, I did what I thought and still believe is right. With one flip of the switch, the clamps holding Phoenix with Alma's 10 immediately let go. As I pulled on the stick to push our station away, a whooshing sound. could then be heard in the other side of the hatch

as the press-rise section was suddenly forced to vent out the air, then there was silence. The steady thud the reverberator from the hatch had stopped. What have you done? Jonathan asked me, rage more intense than anything I'd seen before or would ever see again, ringing

in his voice. I don't know, we would have died. The creature was still on the other side, and we wouldn't have been able to stop it. I tried to stammer the right words, but I could not. I knew that I saved our lives by doing that, but I also knew that it may have condemned someone to their death, or a fate worse than death.

Jonathan stared at me and seemed ready to kill me, if it weren't for the sound of Adrian's voice, interrupting the anger he was feeling. Captain, what just happened? He asked. One moment and those things were all over me, and the next thing I know they were being sucked out of the module we were in. I would have been forced out too if I didn't grab onto one of the handles just in time.

"'Adrian,' Jonathan called, "'relief in his voice. "'To be honest, I was relieved too. "'He was alive. "'I didn't kill a man. "'What's your situation? Are you all right?' "'I could be better, sir, but I'm mostly okay. "'I'm any of the tear they made with some duct tape

"'and suit pressure is starting to normalise. "'It's a good thing they've made these things standard issue,' "'Aidrian said with a chuckle. "'Anyway, sir, when are you guys going to pick—' Oh, no. Ah, damn it, damn it. Adrian, what's wrong? There's something in my suit, sir.

Damn it, I can feel it inside my suit. Some kind of slimy goo. Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it. I don't know what it's doing, but I can feel it moving inside. Damn, Jonathan cursed, turning towards me. Dock this station, back on the Elmer's. I stared at him. There was no way I was going to do that.

I realized what Adrian was talking about. It was the black liquid. I did not know much about the black liquid And I still don't know much about it But what I did know was that it was alive and deadly I can't do that I simply told him Trying to hide the guilt I was feeling

It was then I realised That I didn't save Adrian from death after all The black liquid is clearly still in the station And we're risking infecting ourselves if we go back there I felt cold and heartless saying that And yes the guilt got to me but I was trying to keep us all alive. Damn it, Jonathan cursed.

It's trying to get in me, cried out Adrian. Damn, I can feel it slipping in. Captain, it's going in everywhere. Some of it's crawling up my neck. Damn it, I can see it now. It's moving into my mouth. Gaggin sounds then feel the comms as Adrian struggled to breathe.

I can only imagine how terrible the experience was for him. Just then, Jonathan did something I did not expect. He raised his carbine and pointed it at me. Dock this station now, or I'll blow your head off. Whoa, I said, shocked and frightened. Okay, Captain, let's try to calm down. Think about what you're doing. No, he said firmly.

There won't be anything calm until we have Adrian back on board, so dock this station now. Captain, you'll be arrested if you don't stop now, I reminded him. I'll be arrested when we get back on earth, but at least I've saved one of my men, so dock us now. Staring at him, before glancing at his carbine, I knew that I had no other choice.

Reluctantly, I turned toward my console. I felt angry, though. This man was going to get us all killed, and he didn't realize it. In the background, the sound of Adrian's struggling could still be heard. Doc us quickly, we don't have time to spare, he told me, before changing frequencies to talk to Adrian. Just hang on in there, kid. be that whatever he had to say was cut off by three spurt of rockets firing. Confused, I turned towards him, only to move back in surprise.

His helmet was covered in blood. I cursed, before noticing that Gerald and Andrew were in a similar situation, helmet visors covered in blood. Right in front of me with three floating dead bodies, and behind them was Howard, gun-drawn, and face expressionless. In the urgency of the situation, he'd slipped behind them and resorted to the quickest method at dealing with a mutiny. Damn idiot, he muttered. Should have just listened to me and followed orders.

This is going to be one hell of a mission report we'll have to file later. Did you really have to shoot Gerald and Andrew too? I asked. Howard shrugged. It was necessary. They would have retaliated so they could avenge Jonathan and save Adrian. He should have just followed orders instead of throwing a dead. tantrum, then maybe he would still be alive, instead of dying a disgraceful death. I didn't say anything.

I didn't know what to say. Instead, I just stared. While in the background, the muffled voice of Adrian still blared in the comms network. Captain, are you there? He said. But there was no reply. Jonathan and his team were dead. And Howard had no plans of talking to the man he planned on leaving behind.

Captain, I don't know what's happening, but I feel strange. I don't feel all right. I feel... I feel hungry. The next couple of minutes was filled with the sounds of Adrian growling, before being cut off by the sound of rushing air. My assumption is that he took off his helmet. Why he did that, I don't know.

And I don't ever plan on knowing. We spent the next hour cleaning up the mess and debriefing Vandenberg of the situation. As we did so, I could still see the eerie sight of Alma's 10 through the various canopies, and I swear that I saw some of those creatures floating and drifting in space. Once everything was clear and all the information we needed was gathered, we were ordered to conduct an orbital maneuver to a lower parking orbit. The Soviets, we were told, had been informed of what had happened

and will be taking over recovery operations. Why they wanted to recover the station, I didn't know, but I was glad that we were finally getting away from it. The next day we were ordered back to Earth, and the moment we landed at Vandenberg, we were immediately quarantined and interrogated for every bit of information we knew. We cooperated, of course, and after two weeks, we were cleared off. After such an intense encounter, it was decided that we should remain grounded for a couple of months.

To be honest, I was glad. for this. For 13 months I was assigned to light duty conducting research and paperwork. I never saw Howard again after that, but I heard he was immediately sent back up after three months of rest. After my time of light duty, I was ordered to have a psych evaluation. Apparently they needed a good pilot for a planned 1980 mission to Mars, but after my experience the last time I went up there, It's no shock to say that I failed. I was still too traumatized, and they concluded that a six-month voyage in a spaceship was no place for a man like me. Sick of recess duty, and with no future prospects of going up, not that I would have wanted to.

I finally decided to quit the Air Force. The next few years were tough, but I did my best to hide my fears and guilt from my friends and family. Nightmares always plagued me, and regret would suddenly hit me in unexpected times. The events of 1979 at Alma's 10 would never leave my memory. I know that I will continuously be plagued by terror, brought on by its horrors and the regret I feel because of my decisions. However, I do hope that by putting this out there, the weight I feel will be lessened. to Adrian If you're still up there

I'm sorry for leaving you behind Okay, what the heck is that shrieking sound My girlfriend was only Maudly frustrated from the background noise I had looked at her with concern As there was not much that I could do To stop the frightful wailing coming from the backyard

Sorry my love I told her through the phone Glancing up to my bedroom window across the room It's the neighbour's dog. There must be a rabbit or something in the yard. I'm sure it's nothing. Well, it's kind of annoying to me. All I can hear is that static shrieking

through the phone. It's driving me crazy. Now, forgive me if I make it sound like my girlfriend in any way dislikes dogs. That is not the case. She absolutely adores all animals, especially dogs. My neighbor's pet was simply growling

in such a fairer way that it could hardly be called to dogs barking. It sounded more akin to a wild animal fighting tooth and nails to save its life. The first night that I heard the howling outside my bedroom window, I'd originally assumed that a wild coyote had gotten a hold of the neighbor's pet. However, the sound did not cease like they should have. Hours had passed further into the night, and the dog continued to wail. This continued every night for nearly a week.

The timing in which the animal would begin its horrendous screaming was not consistent, nor was the duration in which said screaming had lasted. I had contemplated speaking to the neighbour's son about their pet dog, but due to my poor social skills, I decided against it. Maybe I'll talk to my dad or one of the neighbours about it tomorrow morning and tried to get some answers, I thought out loud. You should, because I don't want to hear it every night we call, she stated with such a tone in a voice,

that I got the impression the whole situation was my fault. Whether or not she intended to make me feel that way, she would never tell me. However, it was likely she was not impressed with me ignoring the barking as a whole, rather than simply speaking to the neighbour about the animal's noise. The next morning, over an unhealthy breakfast of pancakes drowned in maple syrup, I had asked my father if he had heard the barking through the recent evenings. He confirmed that he had indeed heard the noise and that he had planned on asking the neighbours to keep their pets inside during the night.

It was clear to me that he had not slept as well as he had in the nights before. My father's eyes were sunken slightly and barely visible dark circles had formed around them. His face seemed to be longer and more susceptible to frowning than his normal cheery visage, through which he was likely due to the fact that his eyes were so tired looking. That damned dog, he muttered before finishing his coffee and placing his mug into the sink. My father worked long days as a factory. manager. He often had spent his spare time with the building itself to ensure the success of his employees, and more importantly, the future of his job. He had left that morning around eight,

and likely wouldn't be home until eight or shortly after that night. His sleep schedule through the night where the dog screeching was more apparent was nearly non-existent. He had tasked me with the house chores through the days whilst he was away. once such chore was to visit the neighbour, and, yes, you guessed it, politely asked them to keep their pets inside, or at the very least quiet through the night, as he was unsure when he would be able to ask in person. I bid him farewell on his day, and finished all the other household chores I had been tasked with for the day before noon hour. After baking some homemade sweets and preparing dinner,

I had thrown together a dessert package for the neighbours, hoping that this would lessen the blow of my complaint. I rehearsed what I had prepared to say while I walked down the driveway and the five-minute dirt road to my neighbour's residence. The Whitmer's were always kind people from when I'd remembered them. Mrs. Whitmer had passed away,

too young as my father would say. Much like my mother, Mrs. Wormer, had left to go for a morning jog and had disappeared not five minutes from her own home. The difference between the two was that her body was found near the edge of the dense forest by authorities nearly four days later and less than half a mile from her own front door. The official cause of death was a bear attack

as the body was so horribly mangled and torn apart. Those five and a half long years without his wife had mentally destroyed Mr. Whitmer. He had become a hollow, cranky, old shell of the former man he was. Mr. and Mrs. Whitmer had always loved to be outside, with a vast array of pets, but in the years following Mrs. Whitmer's death, Mr. Whitmer was rarely seen outside.

The one memory that stuck with me about Mrs. Whitmer was the one of her telling me various tales of her husband's sweet tooth as she bakes me cookies the evening that my father had led the search party for my mother on the day she went missing. She had passed a year after my mother, nearly to the day. I knocked on Mr. Whitmer's door, silently praying that the tray of Sweetheatmer's door,

that the tray of sweets at the very least would be enough to brighten his mood. After nearly two minutes, I had reached my hand out to knock again, but jumped back when I heard the lock violently turn and the door was pulled open. Hmm? What's this?

He asked with a clear expression of confusion on his face. The old man was considerably more frail than the last time I'd seen him. His face riddled with wrinkles, his hair thin and grey. He was slouching toward the open door with his arm holding the door open in such a manner that it appeared that he was using the door to hold himself up.

I was afraid he would fall over at any moment. Uh, hi, hello, Mr Whitmer. I started out while trying desperately to remember the speech I had planned out. I was doing some bacon for my dad and, uh, thought you might want a tray of some home-baked sweets and stuff. I awkwardly smiled while holding the tray out for him to take. A warm smile, slowly crossed his face as he held at one hand to decline my offer. No, no, it's quite thoughtful, son.

But I haven't been able to eat anything like that in years. My sugar's too high, see, he explained. Oh, I, uh, I'm sorry, Mr. Whitmer. I didn't realize, I stammered, feeling my own embarrassment becoming clear of my face. Before I could say anything else, Mr. Whitmer gazed out his front door and towards my house. Your new pup must be driving your father bonkers. He's awful loud, ain't he? Huh?

Oh, uh, we don't have a new pup, Mr Whitmer. I felt chills run down my spine. The gravity of the situation hadn't fully sunken in yet, but it was startling nonetheless. That's why I came. I thought that maybe... Maybe it was your dog. I trailed off.

He slowly adjusted his... gaze to mine. I think in that moment both the old man and I had realised the same thing. I apologised to my neighbour for interrupting his day, to which he dismissed and welcomed me over any time. Before you go, he started as I half turned away from his door. You'd best stay inside after dark. Don't let you par out if you can help it, son. His face was pale, filled with fear, though he had obviously been trying to hide it. Clearly, this man had known more than he was willing to let on. I nodded and began towards my house.

That evening was not unlike most evenings for me. I made and ate dinner alone, prepared a plate for my father's return and hand-washed the dishes that I had dirted. I then made myself comfortable on the living-room couch after popping in an old shark movie from the 70s into the DVD player. I wanted to be close to the front door to greet my father upon his return, hence why I chose to reside. temporarily within the closest room to the front entrance. After a particular scene when the antagonist shark of the film jumped scared an old fishing boat, my father had unlocked the front door loudly.

The creaky metal lock snapping open lined up nearly perfectly with a jump scare and I nearly fell off the couch due to the startling sound my father made. My father entered the house, closing the door behind him as I regained my composure. I must have done a poor job of hard. hiding my temporary fright, as he asked if I was all right as soon as he saw me. I then explained the scare he gave me, to which we had a good laugh together. He then took up his shoes, warmed his dinner, and joined me for the film's finale.

Having seen the movie so often, my father had quoted nearly every memorable line left in the film when we remarked on the film's greatness as the credits began to roll. My father had begun to feast while they searched through our films for another. the classic to play. I looked back to my father as soon as I heard the faint squealing sounds coming from outside. He sat a few feet behind me in his lazy boy armchair, chewing slowly and quietly as he listened. Mr. Whitmer, I started, but my father only nodded as he finished chewing and finished my sentence for me. He doesn't have a dog. I dropped by his place on my way home. I waited for my father to continue. I waited for my father to express how

proud he was of me for making our neighbour sweet. I waited for my father to express his theories as to what he believed the barking to be. I don't want you going outside for a while, not if you can help it. I'm going to take some time off and we're going to take a vacation soon. I looked to him with concern. He was raising more questions than he was answering, and I knew that if I was to pry, then he would only become stressed. My father rarely stresses, but when he does, he typically,

would not calm down for a few hours. I would not want him to lose any extra sleep over stress, as he was likely only getting the bare minimum amount of sleep anyway. My father and I indulged in my homemade sweets, while trying to ignore the screaming animal outside. I had prayed that the sound would eventually fade into the background noise, but I could never get used to the whaling, no matter how hard I tried. My father had ended up going to bed shortly after 10 o'clock that evening.

I had decided to text my girlfriend while I finished watching an 80s science fiction robot movie to try and distract myself from the blood-curdling howling coming from my backyard. I did not want to tell my girlfriend about how the screeching had not stopped since our last phone call due to the lack of answers I possessed as to what was creating the screeching.

I was concerned that she would grow to worry for me. Ever figure out why your neighbor's dog keeps barking every night? beside a text was a little yellow ponder emoji. You know, the one with a little index finger and thumbs stroking the chin of the circular head? That's the one. No, not yet. It's probably just some wild animal, scaring it. Or maybe it's the mating call of a fox or a coyote.

I messaged the back and used the same thinking emoji she had sent me. Now feeling stressed about the mysterious and every so constant animal howling outside, I decided that I would partake in potato chip eating to cure my anxious thoughts. I may have developed a bad habit of stress-eating junk food the night my mother went missing. Now I'm by no means of peace. I'm quite thin as I rarely eat such foods to begin with. However, when I do, I eat a lot at once. I stood up off the couch and paused the film with a television remote.

With the soundtrack of the movie now on pause, it was at this point that I had suddenly realized the terror sounds from the outside were no longer present. In fact, nearly every sound was gone. I was so quiet that I was positive I could hear the blood rushing from my ears. I heard my heart racing, throbbing in my chest. My slow and shallow breaths came out like blaring bomb sirens when compared to the stillness in that moment. I think it stopped. I texted my girlfriend, after a long moment of standing still.

I took one step towards the kitchen and froze when I heard a loud crashing sound coming from the basement. I jumped as I heard what sounded like several glass panes smashing to a million pieces on the downstairs floor. My father had likely heard the loud crash too, as he was out of his room and down the stairs, leading to the second floor in a matter of seconds. His double-bowed shotgun held firmly in his hand. his knuckles white as he clutched the gun and with a satisfying click he opened the gun and popped two ammunition shells for the barrel and popped the shotgun closed

I stood motionless frozen staring deep into my father's eyes I was searching for comfort for anything that would calm me down anything to tell me that we would be okay and safe I never found what I was looking for

The hell was that, my father whispered under his breath as he stared behind me and towards the basement door. He kept his ears alert and listened for any further sounds, and he kept the shotgun loaded and firmly in his grasp. I didn't reply to him. I simply stood still. After another minute or two of us locked in the situation, tied like puppets by the strings of fear, my father slowly loosened his grip on the gun and brought it down to his side in one. hand. It must be a squirrel, or...

Just as quickly as my father had started speaking, he was cut off by the horrible wailing again. The wailing was much louder now. The sound was not coming from outside. This time, the sound was coming from the basement, right below us. The window panes on the front door began to rattle, and pictures were violently shaken off the walls. I dropped my phone and brought up my hands to cover my ears.

I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes. but no matter how hard I tried I was unable to prevent the sounds from reaching my ears my palms grew sweaty and wet no not sweat it was blood my ears bled and rang my head pounded my vision blurred

the whole world began to rapidly spin around me at some point my father grabbed my arm and led me outside in a panic he led me directly to the deep blue pickup truck that he drove and I climbed into the passenger seat while he went around to the driver's side and pulled himself inside. He gently tossed the shotgun to the backseat and gripped the steering wheel. After a moment of us catching our breaths, he looked at me and analyzed my wounds.

He too had a small trickle of blood originating from his ears. Are you hurt? He asked me, breathlessly. No, I'm fine, I stammered out. What was that thing? I asked. Well, I shook and tell you. It ain't no bear, he stated while he looked around for his keys.

After a long moment and his single deep inhale, followed by him, blowing out all the air in his lungs aggressively through his mouth, he stated. They're inside, as calmly as he could. I knew what that meant. We were trapped until one of us had decided to leave the temporary safety of the vehicle and head into the monster's new lair to retrieve our salvation. I'm faster than you are, I began. No, he said calmly, yet firmly.

I can fire the gun, you've shown me before. I said no, my father yelled, his emotions taking control over him. I've lost your mother to that thing, and I ain't losing you to it. It was apparent that he had instantly regretted saying what he had said, as he was likely trying to hide this from me for some time. I wondered if Mr. Whitmer had known about the creature as well. I waited a long while. before I asked what had been in my mind.

Lost mum... To what, Dad? He was silently sobbing for what felt like an eternity before he wiped his eyes and looked over to me. The night that we lost her, he began slowly, seemingly second-guessing on whether or not he should tell me. I led that search party through the woods,

and eventually the sun began to set. We were going to pack it in for the night and look again come morning. However, there was a shriek, a small whimper, a cry of some sort, off in the distance. So, a few of us went, flashlights drawn, and we take a look. Well, we turn a few trees and we get to where it came from, but they're in anything there. We look round and around, but still nothing. Then one of the guys gets a bright idea to look up.

I tell you, son, I prayed more in those five minutes than I have my whole life. He paused for about a minute, his gaze fixed to the front door of the house, still wide open with the living room's orange light spilling just outside the front door. The whaling had stopped again, which to me was not any more relief than if it had kept going. He stroked his scruffy chin before continuing. Up in that tree, there was something big. Looked to be like a really muscular badger, or maybe a wolverine or some sort of small dog. but the thing that glowed from the flashlight's beam It was your mother's favourite necklace

He was just there dangling out of its mouth That thing was staring at us with his lifeless eyes Just pure black eyes He let out its cry The same one we've been hearing Just a single yelp And it hopped off through the trees That one was the baby

Because something real big Much bigger than it was following We ran like hell out of there. We never found nothing again. Went looking the next day. Didn't even find the necklace. If my father had told me this tale any other night, I would have thought he was drunk

the night he went searching for my mother all those years ago. However, given the current situation, I believed him. Of course, the police didn't believe us. They thought we had encountered a raccoon in the trees or something else small, I suppose. As I got to my father, something caught my eye. Right outside his driver's side window, there were two yellow circles simply hovering. I shifted my gaze and peered out his window as he kept talking.

I didn't pick up on what he was saying. I only focused on the figure outside his window. I realized too late that the yellow warps were actually the moon's reflection on the shiny black eyes of the creature. The being smashed his head through the window with ease, its massive, hulking, cano-like head over my father's lap in front of his face. Both my father and I had jumped from terror. The creature began violently shaking his massive head back and forth,

opening and closing its more. Its teeth were a deep yellow and looked more like shark's teeth. They were thick, triangular and serrated, and the beast had countless rows of this teeth in its snout. Its fur was thick, jet black, with matted patches of red. Blood formed around the top and bottom of the creature's head from where it had cut itself on the broken glass,

yet it seemed to be in no pain as it continues to shake its fierce head, snarling and biting the air. Its eyes looked fake. They were bulging orbs of shiny blackness, almost like that of a stuffed teddy bear's eyes. Between my screaming and my father's kicking and pounding on the beast head,

he yelled for me to fire the gun into the creature's face. I spun around and tried to reach for the gun the backseat. My fingertips managed to graze the gun's handle as a wet, warm splash of liquid drenched my face, accompanied by a sickening, wet, squishing sound. My father screamed and wiped my eyes and spat out the copper-tasting fluid. With an extreme deep crunching, more of my father's pained hollering and blood flying everywhere. The beast had borne my father out the truck door window by his left arm and off into the night. Within seconds, I was alone. shaking in shock and in silence.

I sobbed before slowly turning around and again reaching for the shotgun. I had not entirely processed what had happened in those short few moments, as when I had retrieved the firearm, I aimed it out the window that the monster dragged my father out of and whimpered about how I didn't want to shoot my dad

and how the beast was moving too much to get a shot. A series of quiet and fast knocking in my window jolted me back to reality as I spun around not sure what to expect. Mr. Whitmer stood outside my door, face full of confusion. Sonny, are you all right? What is your par? He asked in his tired voice. I only screamed something about a diewolf going rogue, which, of course, had confused him even more so. Through my panicked attempts to warn the old man, he'd eventually understood the important part of my message and turned to go back to

towards his house. The poor old man had made it three steps from a window before the canine creature had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and proceeded to mourn the man. He didn't even scream while the attack happened, either because the attack startled him so bad that his heart gave out, or because the animal had attacked his head and neck area to begin with and had killed him instantly.

It viciously tore at the man and shook him around as though his corpse was a new chew toy for an over-excited dog. An arm had flown off and cracked my window, before leaving a thick streak of blood from the large crack towards the ground. I nearly threw up when I saw the cryptid hold the body in its mouth, stand on its hind legs, place its front paws on the torso of the old man's body, and separate the body in half from the waist. I closed my eyes and listened to the horrible sound of the man, being reduced to ribbons, only feet away from me. The sound of police sirens and the multicolored flashing lights had been enough to persuade the creature, into hiding. I watched as it growled its deep growl and turned a full 180 degrees and sprinted into the dense forest behind my house. I sat there and sobbed, waiting for the officers to collect me.

By the time a kind ambulance driver and a young police officer had arrived at the truck door, I was dry heaving and on the verge of hyperventilating. There was no physical trauma done to me, so I sat in the back of the ambulance with one of the young police officers. and a blanket around me. She explained to me how there was a call from the neighbour's house as the man who placed the call was worried from all the commotion outside. God bless you, Mr. Whitmer, I thought to myself. I then explained to the young woman

how the dog-like creature had used it screaming to try and deafen my father and I about how the animal had broken into the house and about how it dragged my father away and lastly about the death of Mr. Whitmer. The remains of Mr. Whitmer had only been several long strips of flesh and clothes in a small puddle of blood

with the odd bone fragment. His whole right arm was later recovered just under my father's pickup truck on the passenger side. While the officers drew their weapons and examined the surrounding area, I kept insisting to the woman that it was a dog that lived in the trees

with rows and rows of teeth with a horrible screaming and with lifeless cold black eyes. They recorded the entire incident as a bear attack, of course, story a shock-induced trauma. They found my father, still breathing, however, unconscious in the backyard, near the tree line.

His whole left arm from about the shoulder down was severely shredded. He and I were rushed to the hospital in the ambulance, and he underwent immediate surgery on his arm. They could only do so much in terms of nerve repair. However, he was able to keep his arm. He would go through several long months of therapy to regain near. complete control over his arm and all his fingers. He cannot extend his finger in full,

nor can he touch the palm of his hand with his fingertips. However, he has gotten used to using his hand quite well. He is still considerably weaker with that arm than the other, though he was always more dominant in his right arm anyway. As for me, I have received extensive therapy for my daily nightmares. I've had the odd case of that creature returning me in a state of sleep paralysis, which is a horror story on its own. The truly haunting part is that

I haven't heard any sound since the attack about a year ago. The haunting part is knowing that the creature is out there and still alive. The haunting part is finding out that these creatures will go into hiding for 50 weeks out of the year and they come out for two.

The haunting part is hearing the screaming coming from the forest last night, accompanied by another much louder, screaming. I'm much closer screaming. I know a game. It's a fun game, yes it is.

But I need a playing buddy for it. Will you be my buddy, my friend? That sounds nice. A friend. My game is awesome and every way imaginable. And if we win, we can get fortunes you can't even imagine in your wildest dreams. Are you in? Yes, of course you are.

Everyone who's heard about it is in. The game even has a fun name. The box game. Lovely, right? And it's in your own house, so you won't even have to travel. It's kind of a mix-up of mostly hide-and-seek and tag. I already found a seeker, so don't worry, my friend. You will be on my team.

Great, right? You need a few things before you start the game. You will need a cardboard box for every room in your house. As eyes doesn't matter, but someone will need different. colors. So I brought you some paint. It's in the attic with some boxes. I saw you already have enough, so don't worry about that. You need to paint one blue, one red, one green and one white. You don't need to paint the other boxes. You also need a candle, preferably red, but black is also good enough. Never a white candle, because then I won't be able to play with you. And the seeker wins. You don't want him to win. Trust me. You also need to do some things before the game. This is nothing major.

Just a few things you'll have to prepare so we can start smoothly. I even made a list of them for you. Number one. This is the most important thing. Consider it a rule even. So please listen to me. You cannot eat anything with salt in it from the moment you have read this letter. If you do, he wins, even if the game hasn't started yet.

and he will come collect his price. Number two. Now, on to the fun stuff. I always love this part. You first have to paint the boxes. Like I said, one needs to be blue, one red, one green and one white. I also brought you some black paint. You can doodle on them with that.

But not too much. They need to mostly remain the colour you painted them. You can't doodle on the boxes that you haven't painted. Those are mine. and I would like to also decorate mine myself. Number three, every room needs a box in it, but you can't place them randomly. The blue box needs to be in your bedroom,

the red box in your kitchen, the green box in your living room, and the white box in your bathroom. You can place the other boxes randomly in the other rooms, but be sure to place one in each room, even your storage room, attic, basement, and even your garden. Otherwise, it counts as cheating. Number four, last but not least, you have to sign this paper with a drop of your blood.

I'll help remind you of this if you haven't done it before 11am. Well, now you're all set to start the game. It's going to be really exciting, but don't worry. As long as you don't forget to take a box of matches with you and light your candle before the game begins, we'll be fine. There are a few rules for during the game too. So make sure you remember them tonight Because that's when the game starts They are really important

You surely don't want to break any You do not want to be a cheater Number one Be ready at 1130pm All of the lights have to be turned off And the boxes have to be in the rooms I know the game starts at midnight and ends at 6am But the seeker likes to arrive early

so I'm warning you in advance otherwise he follows the rules to the letter so you have nothing to worry about number two keep a box of matches on you and light the candle at exactly 11.30pm the candle has to be on for the whole game

number three the candle will glow really bright for a moment when he arrives and you will hear the sound of bells that is when the game has started number four At this same moment, the boxes will have moved. Don't worry, this is normal, but they do have their own rules. I'll come back to that in a moment.

Number five. Now, rule 5, 6 and 13 will be the most important rules for the night. First of all, when the boxes have rearranged themselves, you will have to start moving from room to room. I will follow you and help, but you are ultimately the one who chooses which room we will go. The order is completely up to you, and you may even choose a room choice if you want, but you will have to have been in all rooms and your garden before 6 a.m. Number 6. Once you're in a room, you have to stay in there for 5 to 10 minutes, depending on the box.

Cardboard boxes have assignments in them, which you'll have to complete in the given time. Those however are the easy ones. I'll come back to what you have to do with the coloured boxes later. Number 7 The seeker can't get you while you're in a room within the given time limit But when your time is up He can come get us He can also come get us while we're in the hallways

Number 8 This is not so much a rule as it is a helpful note The boxes change rooms every time you leave a room You could get only cardboard boxes the whole game You cannot however get the same coloured box more than twice. You will also at least encounter coloured boxes two times and, at max, encounter them six times.

Number nine. You cannot go out of your house or garden. You cannot leave the game until it is over. Number ten. Now you will surely have questions about the coloured boxes. I'll start with a green one, because that's the easiest box. This one is about your family, friends and colleagues. Nothing too close or personal.

It'll ask you a, would you rather question, and you will have to choose. Whichever you choose will happen, so don't make hasty decisions. Number 11. The red one is slightly trickier. It'll ask you a dare, which is different for every room. It will go against your heart's choice, but if you don't follow it, you'll be stuck in the room until he gets you. Number 12. The blue box is really vague.

You will get a question about dreams, work, love. You will have to answer truthfully, and whatever you answer will forever be lost to you. I know it is harsh, but you'll have to get through this. I know you are able to. Yes, the blue box sounds difficult, but the white box is by far the worst, even if it does not sound like it. The rule of the white box is simple. You must never open it, under any circumstance.

It is, however, far from easy. You will be tempted and lured by the seeker. The white box is the only box he has any influence over. And those are the rules. Phew, that was a lot to write down. But at least you were prepared for tonight. Light a candle, paint your boxes, and get ready, because tonight is going to be awesome.

Yeah, I had a good laugh before throwing the red letter into the paper trash bin as any same person would. I would regret it later. I checked my security camera for the front porch, set myself a cup of coffee, sat down and began reading my newspaper. The kids in my neighbourhood sure are pranksters. Some bits of the letter played in my mind, and I decided to check the time. 10.58 a.m.

I rolled my eyes. Sure, I'll humour myself and wait for the clock to strike 11 a.m. 10.59. As if anything would happen. What the? Don't forget. The words were written in shadows on my table, and I looked around to find what could have caused them.

When I looked back, they were gone. I was way too into that story now, and my mind was playing trick. on me. I think I'll stop reading so many horror stories. I ate my toast and made myself another cup of coffee. It's Sunday so I won't have to hurry with anything. I read the news my phone and when I finished my second coffee I started to do the dishes. My dishwasher won't be arriving until at least tomorrow so I'll just have to do it myself. While I was doing the dishes I saw some weird cracks in the tiles above the kitchen counter.

I looked closer and started noticing a pattern. Come play, friend. Okay, now I was definitely creeped out. I did not have any logical explanation. I took the thin paper from the bin, but I still believe that it couldn't be true what the paper said. My friend apparently noticed my hesitation. I felt a stabbing pain in my arm, which lasted for almost a minute.

I held my arm in pain, forgetting to a moment. forgetting to even look what was causing it. I finally felt the pain died down to a dull burning. Then I felt something trickled down my arm and then drop under the paper I was holding. I finally looked. My arm was bleeding. At least that was the first thing I noticed.

I then saw the markings. They looked like words. Wait, they were words. The rest were incoherent scribbles like someone had been trying to write something but suddenly lost the ability to do so. It almost looked like a struggle, which fascinated me more than that there was something carved in my arm.

Oh well, could have been a shock, I guess. Hey friend, have you decided to stop stalling and start playing? A jove your voice broke me out of my stupor. I looked around, but there was nobody there. What? I asked if you were done stalling. The voice sounded like it was right next to me, but I didn't see anyone. This was the final drop for me. Who the hell are you?

Wait, better question. What the hell do you want? I like your words, my man. The voice quipped, but this is rather urgent. You have to sign the letter first. Just place a drop of a blood on it, and we can talk. And why should I trust a random voice in the sky? Well, if you want the seeker to come get you, then I would gladly let him.

The prospect of another voice to come join, one that could most likely cause me the same destruction this voice has done, did not sit well with me. So I got my arm and pressed it against the paper. The distorted words appeared in my blood at the bottom of the letter. Great, now that that's out of the way. I suddenly felt a rough hand on my shoulder, but the voice was still invisible. Much better, I heard him murmur. Now, like I said in my letter, he spoke in a louder voice.

You must first go get a candle. I will start painting in the meantime. Wait, I called out as I heard the voice walk away. Wait, what exactly are you? You aren't human, that much is obvious. The invisible thing, whatever it was, had stopped walking, and I could feel its eyes on me. That boy is something. something I neither can nor want to answer. I can, however, tell you this. I felt to lean over to me.

His breath was right in my face. You just entered again with beings. Your eyes won't ever be able to comprehend. The trip to the store was short, and the only thing I got was the candle. I was tempted for a moment to get a white one, just to mess with a being, but I quickly threw away that thought. I already experienced what would happen if I didn't follow the wrong. rules, so I just did what I was told. What I saw when I got home, however, was not something I suspected. A floating paintbrush. It was doodling on some of the cardboard boxes, creating all sorts of weird symbols and scribbles.

They almost look like some sort of language. I place my red candle on the kitchen table and sat down on a chair. What are you drawing? I decided to stray to bask. Glad you asked See, these thingies here are mine My pet, my house And this here is

No, what is all the writing about? Oh, that Just some phrases in my own language Nothing to worry about I could almost see it's grin He was obviously withholding some information from me But I decided not to press I just sat down in one of the chairs

opposite the floating brush And started painting one of the boxes blue At least it had been nice enough to set the different paints, brushes and boxes of my table, so I could start immediately. It was eerily silent while we painted, so I decided to try and make some conversation. So, um, do you play this game often? I straighter basked it. The doodling stopped for a moment, then continued onward. No, I normally don't get to play, it answered a bit sullen.

But this time is different. Now I have a buddy, and we will win for sure. I could feel its grin directed at me. A shiver went down my spine. Oh, well, that's great, I guess. I decided to try get some more answers from him. That seeker guy, what is he like, either some ways to trick him or stall him or deceive him?

The being burst out laughing. I thought you were never going to ask, he'd hiccooked. Then it turns serious once again. There are some ways to trick him. He can't stand the candle, for example. Keep it in between his position and yours, if you know the general area of where he is, and he will not be able to find you.

On the other hand, he can track you if you have any salt on you or have eaten it, so that's what the rule is for. He will also try to get you to break the rules. He will try to trick you in every way possible, so be prepared. If you break even one of the rules, you will be in grave danger. If you break Rule 13, he will win immediately, and your soul will be his.

I continued painting while listening to him. Those rules are really important. One last question. I remembered the peculiar Rule 13. Why must I never open the white box once the game has started? What will be inside of it? I can't say what is inside of it, or we have already lost, but I can tell you that it is not worth opening it,

and unleashing him upon us. Just try to forget it, and you will be safe for the night. Great, again, no straight answer. I knew better than to try peeking in it tonight. But damn, the temptation was so big. While I continued painting, I thought about what it had said. so the candle was like a barrier for the seeker. That's good to know.

That way, I'll be up to keep him from getting to me. But the invisible thing here at my table was withholding something from me. The salt. There's something not quite right about what he said. He seemed kind of nervous about it. Maybe the salt can be used against himself. It was evening before I even knew it. I ate a quick dinner, which didn't taste too good because of the lack of salt in it.

After that, I placed the boxes in the rooms. He placed the uncoloured ones in the attic, basement, garden and storage room, and I placed the colour ones in the bedroom, kitchen, living room and bathroom. While I placed my boxes in the assigned rooms, I also looked up what kind of being my playing buddy could be. But, from what I could find, I think it's some kind of ghost, or at least something close to that. It doesn't fit the exact description,

but in the limited time I had, I couldn't find anything else that fit his characteristics. I suddenly heard a hiss come from the hallway. I walked out the kitchen I was in and saw a couple of boxes floating in front of the living room. What's wrong? I asked. That stupid flower over there. I hate brim roses, so get that out of the house.

No, it was a present from my mother. I got it yesterday from her. Do you want me to help you, or do you want to play alone? It asked, mockingly. Fine. I sighed. I'll set it on the front porch. Better?

I picked the vase up and walked to my front door, which I opened. I set the vase down in front of it and closed the door again. Much better, it answered and walked into the room. We prepared the rooms and garden and then went to the living room. I sat down on the couch and watched some TV while the being was doodling on some piece of paper. At 11.30 p.m., the being stopped doodling. It's time, was all it said. I nodded, turned off the TV and stood up.

Let's get this show on the road, I responded. I got my red candle and placed a box of matches in one of my pockets of my jeans after I lit the candle. I felt the being walked over to me and then stand next to me. It was at that moment that I realised I didn't even know its name, if it even had one. Do you have a name? I decided to ask, bluntly. Well, of course, it's a bit long, so I'll just give you the name my friends normally call me. Dolor. Well, nice to meet you, Dolor, I said, a bit mockingly.

Dolor snorted, but didn't say anything else. We sat in silence for about 15 minutes, before the candle suddenly lit up really bright, so bright I had to shield my eyes with my hands. I had been anxious of what was coming all day, but a sudden calm swept over me for a second before the anxiety returned tenfold. My last spark of hope for all of this to be some kind of sick joke was extinguished.

The room was dark again and my eyes needed to adjust for a moment. Dolor spoke up. He starts as far away from us as possible, so he will be somewhere in the garden. But first, let's see what boxes appeared here. Indeed, I almost forgot. We were in a room, so the box here was also switched.

I walked to the table in front of the TV on which I'd placed the green box. A cardboard one had taken its place. Come on, open it, Dolor encouraged me. If you keep waiting, he'll find us for sure. I looked at the weird symbols on it and shivered. Something about the box was off, and I could feel it radiating from it. it. Still, knowing every second whatever being was in my garden was getting closer, I opened

the box. Inside were a dye and a piece of paper. I held the paper close to my candle, but not too close, and started reading. Roll the dice and get your prize. If you roll a one, you lose. Dola will decide what you'll have to do. Two, still not good, but hey, no one is perfect. You will have to wait here for five minutes. Three. At least he's getting somewhere. You will have to wait eight minutes. Four.

Wow, that's pretty good. You will have to wait ten minutes now. Five. Great. That's a really high number. You will get to pick what kind of box will be the next room you want to visit. Six. You win.

Congrats. You can ask Dola one question and he will have to answer honestly. It can't be about the white box though. Good luck to you. and Dolor, may the best player win. Oh, a game where you play against me! How exciting, Dolor crowed. I was a bit confused.

Why did I have to wait longer if I got a higher number? Other than that, the prizes got better every time I went up a number. There was something wrong here, however. I did not want to ask Dolor. He's been pretty suspicious from the beginning, so I don't think he'll give me a completely honest answer. I picked up the dye and looked at it closely, but I couldn't see anything unusual about it. Still, I wanted to be sure the game wasn't rigged.

Do you mind if I throw it a few times before we start? I would like to know if this thing isn't rigged. Sure, go ahead, he giggled. But remember, the more time you waste, the closer he can get. I'd give that candle between you and the door if I were you. He giggled again and got seated on the couch. At least there was an imprint on the couch, so I think he sat down there. I threw the die a few times, and it seemed to act normal.

Okay, I'm ready to start the game, I called out to Dolor. Great, was all the indication I got. From what I heard, he didn't sit up any straighter, or stood up and got over to the table. It almost seemed like he didn't care, or maybe even knew what was going to happen. I rolled the die a few times in my cupped hands, then through it. It bounced on the table, rolled, and ended up with five dots at the top.

A surprise sound came from Dolor, and I grinned. I had given the die a bit more of a spin than I did my previous throws, so most likely he'd been trying to influence the outcome. Well then, I guess I can pick the next box, I said casually. Dolor didn't make a sound. Let me see. You said the green box is the easiest? I think I'll pick that one.

I heard him sighed quietly, before saying in a cheerful voice, Good job, friend. Where do you want the box to be? Well, the kitchen is the closest room, so place it there. I heard a snap, and then, done. I could have chosen the cardboard box, but I knew I would also encounter at least two coloured ones. I definitely would not want to come across the blue one.

and I don't have enough information about the white one to really want to encounter it. It sounds like something is really wrong with it, and I do not want to know what that is. Come on, hurry, let's go to the kitchen. Dola was suddenly behind me and shoved me to the door in a horrid manner. What, why are you suddenly in such a hurry? I asked. His hands burned against the exposed skin of my left arm where he grabbed my wrist. The seeker and I are kind of sort of linked.

We can feel where each other is, at least the rough area. We can pinpoint the other's location to a five-meter radius. Great, and you didn't tell me that earlier. Why exactly? It wasn't important. It sounded more like a question than an answer. But come on, we have to hurry. He's pretty close, most likely in the storage room. That was right at the end of the hallway, near the stairs. Damn.

Is there no way to stop the link? I asked. There is one way to make it very difficult for him to find me. The candle has to be between him and me. But wait, I won't be able to sense him either if you do that. Too bad for you, I said, and walk towards the door with Dolor behind me. To the kitchen, quick, I'll follow close behind you. I kept the candle between me and the hallway.

I heard him run in front of me while I kept the candle between our location and the seekers. I saw a dim light glow from the end of the hall, but then I was in the kitchen, and the door slammed close. Place the candle in front of the door, that way he'll think we aren't here, and we'll go away in a few minutes. I did, as I was told,

and placed the candle in front of the door. The light shone in my arms, and I saw the angry red mark on my left wrist. I decided not to say anything about it, but more and more about Dolor seemed to be very wrong. Then I turned around and saw the green box placed on the kitchen table. I swallowed and hoped that the question would be as harmless as the game of the previous box. I grabbed the piece of paper from the box and sat down next to my candle.

Would you rather A, have your colleague Sam get an incurable illness which will make him die a horrible, long and painful death? Or B, have your Aunt Lily lose her unborn child. It is your choice. Yeah, not so harmless after all. Aunt Lily is one of my favourite aunts and really sweet. I know she and my uncle Philip have wanted a child for years. They were never able to have one before, but a few months ago she became pregnant.

By some miracle and they were overjoyed. It would crush her to lose the baby. Even though her and my uncle's relationship were sometimes a bit rocky, with her screaming in his face and the yelling back at her, they deserve the baby and seem to have left the fighting behind now. On the other hand, Sam is one of the people I dislike the most, maybe even hate a bit. He's insufferable and will do and say anything to make himself look good

and make others lose face. His behaviour is, however, by far not enough to make me want to have him die such a horrible death. He did some good things, like raising funds for charity and helping local small businesses. Take your time. need an answer immediately, but remember, you have ten minutes. I looked in Dola's direction, and what if I don't choose? Then they will both happen.

I don't have a shred of doubt that that would happen. He would definitely be able to do that. What should I do? In the end, my personal feelings won. I choose Sam to die. Snap. Then... Was that really all that difficult? Dolor asked mockingly. He was the bane of your existence. It's only natural you choose him. Still, such a choice is not up to me.

So, where do we go next? You'll see, was all I said. I did not want him to know and possibly influence the game. I was starting to trust Dolor less and less. We were walking down the hallway. I was planning to go to the bedroom, but then we ran at the corner. A bright light shone down.

I shielded my eyes and looked away. But then I heard Dolos scream in agony. I looked towards the direction his voice came from. And then I saw it. He was visible now. I saw the horns. I saw the tail. I saw the red skin.

Then he grabbed my arm and dragged me into the basement and slammed the door behind us. We both sat there, breathing heavily, while my mind tried to process what to do. Dolor was invisible again and was clearly not focusing on me at the moment so I school my expression into a confused one Dolor did not need to know than I knew What was that? I almost shouted That Dolor panted

Was the seeker Man that was way too close Yeah was all I said I was shivering a bit Not because of our encounter with the seeker But because of Dolores true form Dolor thankfully thought it was because of the seeker. Hey, we're safe here, so no worries.

There's no need to be afraid of the big old seeker here. Yeah, sure. Man, he was scary. I played long. That, he sure is, my friend. It's a good thing we could get to the basement in time. Here, place the candle on the door, and we will look at the box. I did, as I was told, then looked back at the box.

It was the red one. Ooh, the red one. How exciting, Dahlok crowed. He seemed to be enjoying himself way too much. And I was immediately on edge. And in the basement, too, that's always a fun one. I could practically see Dahlop bouncing in his place. Go on, open it.

The dare of the basement, it read. The basement is the closest you'll get to my home. It also has the deepest connection. You'll have to make that. connection even better. There's a bucket of red paint in this box, as well as a brush. The words you will need to write are, Dead or Me Inferno. Good luck. What does that sentence mean? I asked, knowing that it couldn't be anything good. Nothing important, was all Dolor said. I knew I couldn't escape the task, so I began to write.

The paint was a deep crimson colour and sparkled just a bit too bright to be paint. I wrote down the words but made sure to leave one spelling mistake Instead of Deido I wrote De Da It looked almost the same But Dolor still walked closer to me And I felt him lean over my shoulder

To look at the words more carefully Then he walked away again Clearly a bit confused about something Well with that Out of the way Let's go He seemed a bit unsure But he had made of his mind

And decided we need to needed to get going. I let him step in front of me and the candle. He's somewhere outside. We can go to the storage room and after that upstairs. I stepped in front of him again and we walked to the storage room. I saw something strange in the closet in the hallway. Dolor didn't seem to notice, so I swiftly took it from the closet and held it close to my candle, making it seem like I was staring at my candle. It was a wispy, glowing piece of paper. The title read, rules to escape the box game. As you've likely noticed by now, your friend, or Dola, as he likes to call himself, is not exactly human. I, the seeker,

am also not human. What you are participating in is a battle between heaven and hell, a battle for your very own soul. As you also have guessed by now, you are at the moment on hell's side. The demon is tricking you. If you try to escape with him now, you will die and he will take your soul. I have made you this set of rules so you can escape, but it's going to be difficult to get you out. Do as the rules say, and you should be able to come to me before your soul will be lost. Number one, Dolor must never find out that you know the truth.

He will try to take your soul and I will most likely not make it in time to save you from that horrible fate. Number two, the red candle will keep me away, while also making Dolor stronger. Do not set it near the door of the room you're in. Try to act as natural as possible and keep it away from the door. If you do not do this, then I won't be able to find you. Number three, I will get you immediately once you open the door, but only if you could keep the candle away from the door the entire time you're in that room.

The following rules will apply for you if you will. you are not able to keep the candle away from the door. Number one, there is one other way to escape. This, however, is much more difficult and dangerous. The most important thing is that Dolor does not find out that you know about the battle. He controls which boxes will appear and he will do everything in his power to make the white box not appear. This is extremely difficult for him. So he will not do this if he can avoid it.

but if he knows that you know you will leave him no other choice you'll be stuck until you hand over your soul to him number two the white box can only appear in certain rooms and will appear at least once during the game the rooms in which you can appear are the bedroom bathroom and the attic

nowhere else so try to get to these rooms as fast as possible every box you have to complete which is in the white box is one too many If you already completed all the coloured boxes, including the white one, then I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do for you anymore. Number three, this step is the most difficult. When you are in a room with a white box, you will have to open it. This may seem simple, but it is the hardest rule.

Dolor will try to stop you as soon as he knows what you are trying to do. He cannot kill you, nor will he be able to possess you. but only if you haven't completed the red box's task successfully. If you have, just pray it'll be a swift death. Number four, if you have not completed the red box, Dolor will not be able to kill you, but he'll still be able to harm you. You've most likely seen him do something to your house,

or even yourself, before you agreed to start the game. He will harm you again and use many illusions to trick you, but he cannot make you blind to the box. Just remember, whatever you have to go through to open the box is better than not opening it. If you go against Dolos rules, he will try to kill you or make you surrender your soul. If you go against any other rule, then the white box rule, he can kill you. Good luck. Great.

I only have to choose between going to heaven or going to hell. Easy choice, right? except I don't want to die I have a life here with amazing friends a fine job and a beautiful girlfriend so why would I give all of this up there has to be away for me to survive

right as I thought about the very few possibilities I had I walked into the storage room with Dolor he shut the door behind me before I could come up with a plan to go to the upper floor rooms first thankfully there was a cardboard box in this room

I think Dolor thought it to be suspicious to have three-coloured boxes one after the other in the rooms. Ah, a cardboard box, he exclaimed. Now that I knew about his secret, I could finally hear the tiny hint of a mocking tone in his voice. Well then, let's see what's inside, I replied, keeping my voice neutral. I don't want to be stuck in here any longer with that secret guy following us. I had to keep up the facade. He fell for it completely. Yeah, he's creepy.

You know, go on, open the box. I walked up to it, keeping the candle in my hand, and looked at it. I saw some drawings of food and gravestones on it. Great, I knew where this was going. Don't forget, place the candle in the front door, otherwise the seeker will find us. Damn, I placed the candle at the door and took the box there too. I opened the box and saw a piece of paper at the top. I grabbed that first.

and started reading. Welcome to Russian roulette, but Dolores style. Here are six different foods, some perfectly safe, and some poison with a deadly poison, which you can't smell, taste or see. Now, I know Russian roulette only has one bullet in it, but something like that would make this game way too easy. Don't worry, I didn't make it that hard. I ain't that cool, but I did make it a bit more difficult.

Half the foods are poisoned. You get to choose one food and have to eat it whole. Have fun. There are indeed six foods in the box. An apple, a pear, a peach, an orange, a banana, and last a couple of strawberries, or in the same plastic box. Strawberries are my favourite food. But a new dollar would most likely know that and poison them.

The banana also stood out since the other foods are round, so I didn't choose that one either. If I was corrected, then there would only be one last poison food. Then I remembered. The forbidden fruit in the Bible was an apple, so most likely that one was also poisoned. I hesitated a bit, but decided to go for the orange. I'll pick the orange, I said. Suit yourself, Dola answered indifferently.

I picked up the orange and started to eat it. After I ate it whole, Dolor clapped. Well done. At least he didn't pick any of the poison foods so we can continue playing, he said cheerfully. But I could hear the disappointment. I don't think killing me was the only thing the poison was supposed to do. I let Dolor scout for the Seeker again, who he found to be in the garden, and we went upstairs. My heart started to beat faster as we reached the top of the stairs.

Let's go to the bathroom first, I decided. Okay, great, but hurry up. The secret is coming. We hurried inside and shut the door. I placed the candle in front of it, knowing that if I didn't, Dolor will start to suspect me. Then I turned around.

There was the blue box. The box stood on the sink, which made it all the more creepy. My reflection looked at me in the mirror above the sink. The candle in the background made me appear as more of a shadow, a blank space. I didn't see one shadow, however. I saw two. The other shadow suddenly looked humanoid, but there were some big differences with mine.

I immediately knew it. To be Dolors. Yes, I always love that blue box, the shadow spoke. It's so... Interesting. I'd hoped we wouldn't encounter it, I mumbled. I'd hope that Dolor would have chosen the white box and I could have finished the game, then and there. But no, he had to do the blue box first.

He really thought I had no clue about the secret of the white box and no way of getting to know it. Come on, open it, I want to see what's inside. Dolor whined. Okay, stop whining. I looked at the box and gulped. I remember the rule. I will lose something. I opened the box

A little piece of paper sat neatly folded on the bottom With a red ribbon tied around it I untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper You know the rules so here is your question What is the one thing you would never want to lose I stared at the paper dumbfounded Wait what does it mean by that It could be anything

Dolosang An object you can't live without Maybe the ring your wife gave you on a dying bed, or something not material, a quality you were proud of that you couldn't bear to lose, kindness, supportiveness, whatever you want. I knew the answer to that question. I also knew that, if I didn't answer it correctly, then I would lose the game. I had to think of a way out of it.

The one thing I would not want to lose. Tick-tok, your time is starting to run out. Dolor grinned. If you don't answer in time, you will... Lose. The air started to grow colder with those words. I frantically racked my brain for a solution, but couldn't find any. I started panicking further, which, of course, didn't help me get my answer.

Ten, nine, eight, Dolor droned. My humanity! I finally sobbed. I couldn't bear to live without my humanity. There, that wasn't so difficult, right? I started to feel a strange sensation all over me. Then the panic started to ever weigh. The hate started to fade.

The sadness disappeared. In its place was a strange nothingness. A void. It didn't feel wrong or uncomfortable. It didn't feel comfortable either. Humanity, Dolor said. As you thought of it, is the ability to feel and decide what's right and wrong.

Morals, feelings. Those define human. from animals. That's what you, like many people, thought. Right? Wrong? Why can't I remember the definition of those words? But there is so much more potential, Dola went on. Humans are smart and wicked. Take away the morals, and they are finally complete. I saw Dola's shadow in the mirror, approaching me from behind. He laid his clawed hands my shoulders.

Rationality, making decisions without being biased by emotions. No human can truly reach this because they do not have emotions. They are biased. They make decisions to ensure the survival of their group of their loved ones, love and emotion. I nodded. What is saying sounds true, I thought. You will not have this problem.

You will be free. I felt nothing. I simply nodded. I have a question for you. Do you know of the seeker's rules? I just nodded again. It was no use lying. He would know and would kill me.

Dolos' form became darker and returned to how it looked before. Do you agree with them? He then asked, his voice sounding intrigued. No, I do not, was my honest answer. I elaborated. It does not seem fit for me to die. Therefore, I do not agree with the seeker's rules.

Do you think he's in his right, though? No, I do not. But he's an angel, as you most certainly know now. I do, however, think he does not possess the right to take my life. Dolor fell silent for a moment. Then he spoke up again. You know, he's the reason you're in this game. When a person is supposed to die, there are a few ways to judge them.

The angels get to choose, and he chose this as your trial. I simply nodded again. That would make sense. Would you want revenge? Make him pay for his choice. Revenge? Sounded nice. I felt something well up.

A need. A need for blood. Blood of the destroyer of my life. Revenge, I said with a wicked grin. Revenge does sound great. I knew I was biased now, but this kind of bias was good. That's what Dolo said. That's how it feels.

The nothingness is good, but this is great. We made our plan. The seeker has a weakness. He can't stand demon blood. As you know, there won't be difficult to get, but the hard part is getting close to. the seeker without raising suspicion. He knows I wouldn't let you go without intentions bad for him,

and he knows I would know if you tricked me. I would also not let you go then. So there is no way to get him to come to us without me getting taken by him, I asked. There is a way you can get close to him. You remember the white box. I nodded. You'll have to open it. I...

What? I asked. The nothingness returned. Is Dolor really this stupid? You do know I'll still be taken then, right? I asked him sarcastically. Not if everything goes according to plan, Dolor answered.

Seeing that I didn't understand, he started explaining. The only safe way for him to come is if you open the box. He will think that you followed his instructions, thus believing you to be on his side. If you throw some of the demons, blood on him at the exact moment he arrives, then he will have no way of defending. You'd win. Needless to say, we set that plan into action. We went to my bedroom and I even kept the candle from the door. Then I waited a few minutes before I opened the box. The effect was immediate.

The candle flickered, while the box started to glow as starry white. Then the seeker started to slowly rise from the box. He was big, way too big to fit through the box, but he did. I stared for a moment, dumbfounded to finally see him. But then Dolos screamed and my thoughts went back to reality. I grabbed the little bottle of Dolos' blood I had extracted and threw it all over the seeker. With a loud screech, he started to sink back into the box. I just stood next to the box, watching him scream in agony.

That's for getting me into this mess. So, I guess that means I'm going to hell, right? I turned towards Dolor, directing my questioning gaze towards him. I was a bit surprised when he started laughing. No, man, I told you, I had a way to get you out of this. The Blue Box was part of that. Having you lose your morals was the only way to make sure you would be able to do the next part. The next part?

Someone can be introduced to the game in two ways. As I said in my letter Anyone who knows of the game becomes part of the box game I had to introduce you via my letter That's how you got to know about it But humans can spread the news too If you tell someone about it

And it's rules That person becomes part of the game If someone learns about it They become part of the game I want to make a deal with you What is it As you know, the losers of the game belong to hell, to me. The more souls I have, the stronger I become.

I need souls, and to get them, they have to lose the game. That's why I kept you around. Why you're not in hell right now. I need someone to collect souls to play. For every soul you tell about the game, doesn't matter how. By a conversation, an article, or a post, you get to live another year. Do we have a deal? As you can see, I've made my choice.

I will live. Will you, though? Let's find out tonight, in your box game.