CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 7 SCARY Reddit Horror Stories to sooth your dark dreams

Episode Date: April 12, 2021

LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...​iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...​CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00​ "I worked in a Lab with all-blind scientists" Creepypasta►15:32​ "I got accepted to work overnight. The instructions were disturbing" Creepypasta►43:22​ "If you find a show called 'Chubby's Show' on an unused station, DO NOT watch it" Creepypasta►1:22:14​ "The GPS Game - A Step by Step Guide" Creepypasta►1:33:02​ "It's not always the house that's haunted" Creepypasta►1:48:55​ "I Went to a Flat Earth Convention" Creepypasta►2:09:19​ "Why I M*rdered my Best Friend" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►https://twitter.com/ishi_maya​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-

This weekend I'm from waked I'm all moose I'm new as I'm not on think Oh, that dossier that morning off must be all mooh

as I'm not on think. Oh, van't after the tournoe I'm a moose if I'm a moose if I'm not

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macshot liquid. Fooding supplement forcry-per -cry-per-per-li- I got my PhD from the Stockholm Royal Institute of Technology and finished my postdoctoral work at the University of Bern in Switzerland in 2015. I won't go into detail, but my work centered around electromagnetic disruption and practical electromedomedical application. Chances are that if you check Google Scholar for these keywords, my name will pop up as a co-author and at least one of the five results. However, in early December of 2016, I was in an accident.

I was staying overnight for a conference in Copenhagen, where a colleague of mine had rented a large apartment. However, due to an electrical error, there was heat buildup in the main pipe heater, causing a steam explosion. I was sleeping pretty much wall to wall with it. My face and shoulders took the main brunt of the boiling water, steam and pressure. The last thing I remember seeing, was a bright light, followed by a sudden and complete dark.

I had to go through evisceration and a nucleation of both eyes. I lost eight teeth on the right side of my face and most of my nose. At least 20% of the fat on my right arm was burned off. The reconstructive surgery of my face took a team of surgeons 18 hours. This was followed by months of just trying to survive, moving back in with my family and going through cosmetic surgery, mainly for my face. To this day, I still have no idea what was said at the conference. After a few years, I was fitted for double-eye prosthetics.

It took a total of three months before I was even given the option to start therapy. I'm not going to lie. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. Most people who are legally blind can still perceive some kind of light, but complete blindness, about 7% of us, is one step further. One day I could be suicidal and the next day I was determined to learn braille

Because of the damage to my eyelids The surgeons opted to connect new tear ducks to my nose So crying just made my nose runny Three years later I was in a much better state of mind Although sudden blindness isn't something You really adapt to I was doing better

I still wasn't ready to go out of my own But with a friend or family member Just to help me along I could go pretty far. I also learned to appreciate all those weird accessibility options that come with most computers. You have no idea. In autumn of 2019,

I was contacted by a man who told me he represented a group associated with renewable energy research. Living in Sweden, renewable energy is a big deal, and it is something I've personally been interested in. In fact, it was going to be the subject to my next article. just before the accident. The man offered me a job. He told me that he worked at a lab with disabled scientists

and that my expertise was in high demand. The pay was more than generous, and as a benefit package, I would be given a personal assistant. Pay for an off-site two-bedroom apartment was also part of the benefits. I agreed to have an interview. The man who was going to interview me

was clearly from another country, but he was ready to fly out to meet me, at short notice. He came to visit the very next day. We had a private conversation at my parents' house. He asked a lot of questions about my work, and I could hear him tapping away at a touchscreen. We discussed some of the details,

but there was one thing he consciously seemed to avoid, where the main lab was located. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it, but he promised that I would be given a private flight wherever I wanted during downtime off-site. There would be four weeks of work on-site, living in the apartments outside the main lab, followed by two weeks off-site,

kind of like paid vacation. I would be in rotating shifts with one morning, midday, evening and night shift. The weirdest thing was revealed, just as I was about to accept the offer. Every single scientist in the main lab was completely blind. I accepted the offer.

The next week I was picked up by the same man. Let's call him Samuel and taken to a private flight. I still had no idea where we were going, but other passengers were speaking in an Asian language, Indonesian, I think. On the flight, I was introduced my personal assistant, Mila. I think she was Australian. Mila was a darling.

She knew exactly what to say, and when to help me. But most importantly, she knew when to give me space. It was as if she could read discomfort on my face, albeit reconstructed face, and just acted on it immediately. She must have had a lot of experience working with the visually impaired.

My first few days were mostly orientation and introductions. I would be working with a team of two other scientists and seven assistants, to each one general. Apparently, our personal assistants would not be available while in the lab, but they would be on call as soon as we went off-site. They would also be helping us with cooking, cleaning,

whatever we needed. It was a big operation, a total of 40 people just in the main building, all completely blind. At least 100 others. With the pay we were getting and the benefits, this was a very expensive project. We're talking millions, possibly tens of millions.

my team would be working with material research. As Samuel explained, they were developing a new kind of material as part of renewable energy tech. They weren't completely clear on the possible end result, but the metal we would be testing was told to be unique, extremely valuable and uncomfortably bright. Apparently, it could cause blindness during prolonged exposure, which was the main reason they put together a team of blind scientists. during my first day at the facility

I was given plenty of time to adapt the other members of my team were just as new as I was but we were giving radio instructions how to move through the various corridors there was a decontamination room without protective suits and we were told to follow guiding pipes along the walls on the left were cold pipes

and the right were warm three pipes on each side leading to a total of six rooms The pipes had square, circle and triangle engravings, making it easier for us to find our main room. We were team warm triangle. The work itself wasn't that bad, mostly just repetitive. The test object was isolated in a separate room,

but we could check it through samples, material exposures and readings. We were all given separate work stations and hearing equipment, so we could isolate the sounds of our specific assistance, and just to make sure our computer equipment didn't read over one another. We had buttons on our headsets to adjust who could listen in and to mute certain sounds. It took a lot of time to adapt. There were at least 50 codes to memorize.

I got to know my assistants fairly well. There was Aaron, an American, and Holger, and Norwegian. They were both older than me, and both had masses degrees. They were quick to follow directions, and equally quick to offer suggestions. I could tell they were having some authority issues, but they didn't make it a problem, and the first three week-long shifts were fine.

We went from midday to evening to night. The night shift was, of course, the toughest. By now, I was getting to know the place and routine. I had noticed a few things during my testing, but also just from the context of what was being talked about in the facility. The seventh assistant would come down, with lunches for us, and we ate in a small common room, warm circle, where we would talk more freely about what we'd learned. We never changed from warm triangle as our main room, even when we changed

shifts. The whole setup was weird. The material was extremely reflective. From the way it was tested, it seemed rectangular in shape and thin. My colleagues talked about it possibly being similar to a pane of glass. The material had several strange properties. It would absorb light but dissipate it almost instantly It would to some degree Also absorb electric energy Low-level radiation and radio waves

I'd never seen anything like it If you pardon the expression By chance we also discovered a peculiar feature The object By now called the pain Briefly absorbed sound waves And would reflect it back after a few seconds like a delayed echo but slightly distorted,

kind of like it had been run through an underwater filter bouncing between sheets of metal. If I said, hello, I would hear a clear, but lower. Hello, right back after about eight seconds. This being despite me, standing no less than ten feet away from the object. It made no sense. Once during the night shift, Hulga fell ill. It wasn't bad, just a light case of pneumonia, but the company had a zero-tolerance policy for sickness in the workplace.

He got the week off at his apartment and I had to work with one less assistant. It delayed my progress somewhat, but Aaron was eager to make up for the lost time. Too eager, it turns out. On the second to last day of the night shift, Aaron accidentally caused a power outage. We were pressure testing the object when Aaron slipped and not. knocked over some volatile materials at another workstation. Nothing happened, explosion-wise, but the entire room went into immediate lockdown

and the power was shut off. The door shut and locked from the outside. I didn't notice the lights go out, but I could feel the room quickly grown cold. It occurred to me that the object was probably absorbing the warmth, and there was no climate control to compensate anymore. Then, something will. it happened.

We were all sitting quietly, our headsets being turned off, and waiting for the power to come back on. That's when I heard something. Hello. It was the same, off-putting, distorted voice

that I thought was a delayed echo. When my colleagues, Gertrude, responded with a, Hello? Right back. I heard four quick footsteps like the start of a drum roll, and something slamming into the glass separating us from the object.

Something squishy. Hello. Now we stayed quiet. The footsteps came in quick burst, pacing back and forth, looking for a weakness in the glass. We usually use small airlocks to put in samples the test. We had two airlocks, and the leftmost one of these was attacked. I could hear something rattling the airlock, trying to rip it loose. Hello.

I could hear the grinding sound of metal being bent. I pressed myself against the wall, holding my breath. The power came back with a vengeance. My headphones were full of people screaming. Evacuation protocol initiated. Proceed to. Get out. Get the hell out. Warm triangle.

Respond immediately. I repeat... Half voices were in a foreign language. We ran for the door. I didn't need to follow the pipes to get back to the decontamination room. but only then did I notice that we were one person short. We'd lost Gertrude. Once outside, we were separated and isolated,

standing outside in freezing temperatures and was stripped naked. Several people, all screaming in a foreign language, lifted my arms and legs and checked me from my feet all the way to my hair. I was forced into a plastic tent where they shaved my head, forced my mouth open and checked my teeth. My ears were cleaned. with some sort of antiseptic, and my eye prosthetics were discarded completely. It was quick, violent and terrifying.

I was locked inside my apartment for the rest of the night. Mila came around to help me, but she told me she was instructed not to talk about my work under any circumstances. That's when I first suspected that my apartment was bugged. I spent a week in that apartment with daily checkups. I felt fine, but... the entire ordeal was stressing me out. Having my head shaved was uncomfortable,

and I was scared they might find something they wouldn't like. After that one week, I was suddenly told that it was necessary to terminate my position. I didn't recognise the voice of the man telling me this. I was given four months of full pay, an apology, an undisclosure agreement, and an immediate flight back home. Mela was holding back tears,

trying to help me pack. She seems frightened. I've been home ever since, but I come to you to share my story. I've been doing my best to stay financially independent, but life hasn't been treating me well. I'm still having stress reactions, and there has been a recent development that I don't know how to deal with. Last night, as I was brushing my teeth, the power went out. I could hear the air conditioning and dryer suddenly could. quiet, the entire room felt colder, except for the bathroom mirror, which radiated a slight heat.

I stretched my hand out to touch it. This might be hard to understand for someone who doesn't think about their sense of touch too often, but I've touched that mirror every night for years and end by now. I know exactly where my hand was in the space of the room, and there was no mirror where my hand was. Still, I touched it Every part of my finger touched something extruding from the mirror's surface Something with rounded edges Then

It made a sound Hello I was a fool to think that this job was just a job Everything from the advertisement to going and actually applying was way too trivial and inviting I'm trying to tell myself that I'm going to be okay

but I just don't know. I have some time before it happens, so I'll try to explain how screwed I am. In light of the pandemic that's been around for more than a year at this point, I owe extremely tied to money. Having moved out of my parents' house right before Corona started shutting down businesses and any possible sources of income for me was bad enough, but being a college student on top of that was absolutely not helping my case.

For the longest time, after leaving California, I lived in one of those $15 a night, ran down motels while attending ACU, and life was undeniably a struggle. Cheap housing was fine. I could tolerate the dank and stained mattresses provided in the rooms. Granted, I had been smart enough to take some washable sheets and comforters, as well as for breeze from home. I probably wash those daily because of how hot it get in those old, barely ventilated rooms. The real problem came from the crime.

In the city of Tempe, Arizona, there were almost 1,000 cases of burglary in the year of 2019 alone. Now granted, at that time, that stat didn't scare me, because I thought I'd be living in the dorms on campus. So, me being a high school senior thought nothing of it. But, here I am. Four nights before I ended up in my current situation, there was a case of breaking and entering reported from the floor under mine. Someone was apparently abducted and had literally taken everything. The only items that remained were their toothbrush, still neatly placed by the sink of the small bathroom attached to the main room,

and the key to the room, which had the name of the person staying there scribbled onto the paper tab. Even their bed sheets were taken, strangely enough. Maybe criminals need hostages and clean sheets. Needless to say, that was enough motivation for me to start making some better financial decisions. I went through four job interviews over the course of the next three days. I was turned down by all four.

They said I liked intuition. Yesterday morning, however, I came across a neatly organized advertisement online from a company by the name of Maud. The bold punt stood out from my computer screen, detailing. No experience required. Great pay. Call for interview. From the other advertisements I was looking at,

I chose to pursue this one. I felt almost as if it was calling to me, or maybe it was beckoning my bank account. I called, there and then, and after a few rings of the dial tone, the sound of a young woman came through. Hello there, are you calling about the job advertisements we put out recently? She asked, gingerly.

Oh, hey, um, yeah, actually, I am. I would, um, like to schedule an interview for later today. I stumbled with my words. At times, I find it hard to talk to people, and the quarantine was not helping me be any less socially awkward. Is that all right? I asked cautiously.

Oh, eager are we now? That's no problem. Can I have your name? It's for filing purposes. She responded, clicking keys on a keyboard. She responded quickly. It somehow made my brain tick. but I ignored it

as best as I could Yeah, it'll be Jason, Brody Fabulous I could practically feel the woman smirking at me The rest of the phone call was somewhat uneventful I was told the job was hosted in a town Somewhere far from Tempe

For your own safety I won't tell you which town I was told I could show up to their facility Around 8pm This left me the rest of the day to contemplate my decision. I had somehow just then realized I didn't even ask what I would be doing

at the job. I didn't ask for the girl's name either. Come to think of it, I have never heard of a company by the name of Maud, owning such a big plot of land out where they were located. What did Maud even stand for? At that point,

I couldn't really care less. I had dollar signs waving in my face, so I hastily went for it. Too bad, so sad, I thought, as I went to prepare for later. I gathered the best clothes I could, and took the evening bus to stop relatively close to the property. Their facility was sizable, reminiscent of an office building, situated out, away from everything. It was essentially a desert out here, even though the more urban areas

were probably 45 minutes away. Still, there were some buildings scattered out along the road. Mordes, however, was strangely pronounced. Compared to the other dusty buildings, this one looked weirdly clean and pristine in the evening sun. As I got to the front entrance of the building, I was greeted with a reception area. The walls were painted in a bright and reflective shade of white, with black trim which met a marvellous red carpet and black and white patterns etched into it. It reminded me of a casino show floor. In the most empty and spacious room with some white leather couches, some pillars spread equally across the expanse of the room. some pillars spread equally across the expanse of the room and houseplants in the corners.

A young, blonde girl worked the front desk. Mr Brody, I presume, called the girl. Yeah, I'm here. You must be who I spoke with earlier, I responded, do my best not to stutter. Although the girl's facial features were hidden by a blue surgical mask, she seemed pleasant. Her name played Fred, Anna. Not even a last name. All right, if you walk down the hall over there, it'll be the first room to the right.

She pointed a finger to a hallway to the right of me. Much thanks, I replied. By her voice, I assume she was probably in her early twenties, probably working some lame job to gather money, similar to how I was. Inside of the room was a wooden desk and some chairs. The decorative pattern of the lobby seemed to flow into the office rooms as well. On the desk laid a piece of paper and an envelope. Cautiously, I took up the paper.

It read, moored. Insert the address here. Room 2. Good evening, Jason. It is truly unfortunate that I couldn't see you in person before you start. As you should know by now, you'll be working overnight in our facility as an overnight guard. As mentioned in the advertisement, the pay should be satisfactory. You will receive $1,500.

as US per working night. If you couldn't tell by my phrasing, you have already been hired. You will start tonight. Your job is quite easy as long as you follow the company rules. The envelope next to this page should contain said rules.

Failure to comply may lead to unforeseen consequences for you, so be sure to work diligently. Your uniform can be found on the chair behind you in the corner. You will find your post for tonight using the map of the building provided on the back of this page.

Be at your post by 11.30pm tonight. You may spend the time leading up to your shift in any way you'd like. Do not go down the stairs. Aaron, I laughed at the last comment. Way to be ominous, I thought. It was about 8pm then, so I decided to get some rest in before my shift. I slept in the chair where I had originally picked up my uniform. The pay was enough to cover my two weeks.

in a matter of weeks. No way I was turning back. My alarm rang at 11.20pm. I shot up, put on my uniform, and followed the detailed fire escape route map of the building to my post. Aaron had kindly used the red market to guide me through the hallways.

I arrived at my post by 11.26pm just in time for me to take a quick glance of the rules. I figured that since I've been hired on the spot, I was in no rush to fret over these. The paper contained a list of 14 rules. The first rules were modest. Rule 1.

From a time period of 11.30pm to the end of your shift at 6am, you must walk the ground floor's perimeter twice. You may choose the intervals at which these patrols happen. Easy. Rule 2. From a time period of 2 a.m. to 3.33am. You must take a patrol of the second floor, walk in the perimeter

of Isis as a patrol. Hardly specific. Rule 3. You'll be tasked with observing the CCTV cameras stationed around the building. If you observe anything you would consider

abnormal, please use the phone in your room to contact the front desk. They will know what to do. Connection, hashtag 999. I sighed. It's whatever I thought.

Must be some new guy hazing ritual. Reminds me of when my old burger joint used to decorate for Halloween. Oddly spooky. I laughed internally. Maybe they're just reusing some old supplies from Halloween. It is March, though. I shrugged it off.

Taking a look at my watch, it was now 1130. I was officially on the clock. Looking up, I observed the room I'd been stationed in. In contrast with the other rooms on the first floor, the red carpet that had been present throughout the greater part of the building did not go past the doorframe. Rather, this room had a bleak grey carpet, a colour reminiscent of wet concrete. The walls of this room were a faded white, numerous maroon stains laid in contrast from the colour of the wall, some long stains even followed onto the ceiling.

Exactly across from the metal door was an industrial metal table. On the table sat 12 monitors, stacked four by three. Next of the pile laid a beige office phone. in the corner of the room to my right were four blue lockers. In the other corner of the room there was a small yellow bin with something black inside of it. Classy. Flipping around, I decided to go out for my first patrol right off the bat. I took the envelope with the rules and kept reading.

Rule 4 Put your own safety. Before aces in your room for a patrol, look through all of the camera feeds, then refer to Rule 3 Well damn I found it almost comical that this company was talking about my

safety after all aren't I supposed to be the most dangerous thing in the building I'm pretty sure I saw a baton in the bin I didn't grab it though I found it funny how I kept messing up legitimately comical Rule 5 While on patrol

You might encounter rooms where the doors are open and people are seemingly moving inside, but the lights inside the room are turned off. Do not enter these rooms. Do not shine your flashlight in these rooms. They don't like light. I stopped, dead in my tracks, almost falling over with how hard I planted my feet into the ground.

I read the rule two more times, thinking I'd misinterpreted it or something. I started to feel the creeping sensation of fear into my body. logically this had to be a prank had to I had too many thoughts to betray onto this note

but I kept reading Rule 6 If you are on patrol And you encounter one of these rooms And something seems to be exited in the room Do not look at it If you must stare at the ground And walk backwards until you can turn around

And get back to your room quickly Refer to Rule 3 Before finishing that round of patrol Rule 7 If you are in your room and you hear scratching at your door almost as if a pet were beckoning to be let in Do not open the door If the scratches intensify

You must ignore them Do not attempt to look out the small window in the door It is best if you keep your back to the door Rule 8 If you notice that one of the cameras in your room has gone black Or has started to show static You must take the baton that was provided to you and smash the screen of the monitor.

It can get in otherwise. Try to smash only the screen. The top of the monitor frame is labeled accordingly to where the camera was displaying. You must avoid that area whenever patrolling. Rule 9. If you sense something is following you, run into your room.

Chances are it can't get past the door. Rule 10. If something manages to break into your room, remain completely and unlawful. utterly still wherever you are and drop whatever you are doing. Do not open your eyes. It will try to coerce you. Rule 11.

At no point before 6 a.m. should you consider leaving the premises of the building. You are locked in for your safety. I sharply inhaled upon the realization that I was locked in. This was undeniably the fastest my heart has ever beat. I was practically gagging on my own tongue. I wanted to say something to calm myself down, but couldn't find the words. I managed to get a hold of myself soon after.

Until the ground floor's lights shut off. I was surrounded by darkness. I stumbled back towards a few steps to find the wall of the hallway. I was utterly blinded by the darkness. I fumbled with the utility belt in my uniform, trying to find which small pocket house the flashlight. I got a hold of it after a moment. Switched it on, and all I could think to do was look around me. Wide-eyed, I turned several 360s before considering taking a step forward to trudge onward.

The light must be on a timer, I thought. Shining my light onto my black analog watch, the time read 1140pm. This is absolutely terrible. As subtle as a mouse, I crept onward. In a foot race, an ant probably could have beat me. to the end of the hallway. I hadn't realised it before, but this building was quite expansive.

In each hallway, there seemed to be doorways to at least 25 rooms total, and the hallways were probably 150 feet long each. The building was laid out like a grid, with hallways connecting at certain intervals every now and again, making it easy to navigate, since they were all right angles. Having not encountered anything

for the first ten minutes of creeping, I quicken my pace to a slow walk. Surprisingly, I made a complete perimeter of the ground floor in about 45 minutes, while not having seen anything. Perhaps it's because I didn't dare make a sound or look at anything but the hallway in front of me, but I made it back to my room safe. I peered around my room. Nothing seemed to be hiding inside.

Stepping in, I closed the door behind me. My watch read 12.45. A.m. Suddenly, the office phone at the table blared its ringtone. Almost stumbling over from a heart attack, I inched closer to the phone. I put my hand on the handle and held the speaker to my ear. The voice of a man came through. Hello, how are you? asked the man in a deep and slow voice.

Um, it's good. Who are you? "'Ignore my question,' the man continued. "'What do you believe in?' Static from the phone erupted briefly. "'Wait, I... "'uh, what do you mean?' "'I was sufficiently flustered.

"'What, like, religion? I'm atheist.' There was a brief pause. "'What is your name?' asked the man. "'He's only cold and lifeless now. There was no inflection left in his voice. His breaths were shallow, like his diaphragm, could no longer push enough air out of his mouth. Uh, Jason.

The man's voice became distorted, past what I could... Past what I could ever possibly try to describe. It was similar to someone choking or gargling on some thick liquid. It hurt my heart to hear somehow, but it was talking to me through the distortion. I didn't know what it was. was saying. The phone line cut.

It was eerily silent around me now, and then it dinged on me. I whipped the envelope out and scanned the rules for anything mentioning a phone. I read. Rule 13. If the phone in your station begins to ring, you must answer it. Answer any questions it may ask. If it hangs up before you do, resume duties. If it asks for your name, do not answer.

hang up and resume duties. My heart dropped. I really had nothing running through my head right at the moment, other than dread. From the silence came a knock at the room's door. I flipped around instantly to face it. Before taking a step forward, I looked at the paper with rules again. Rule 14. If there is knocking coming from the door to your room,

it is most likely the result of not following one of the previously mentioned rules. refer to Rule 7 If the handle to the door begins the jiggle, refer to Rule 10 I looked up to the door the handle to the door had silently been turning and I had not noticed

I gasped and dropped the envelope somewhere on the ground from surprise I instantly shut my eyes and crouched down trying to find it by feeling the ground I heard the door start to creak open his metal hinges squeaking planting both hands on the carpet I prepared for what was about to unfold

what I felt at first was a strange aura it became seemingly colder inside the room but my body remained warm strange sensations coated my arms and legs the kind where it tingles and you'd expect to find a spider crawling on you but there's nothing there my head felt unfathomably hot

compared to the other part to my body That's when it spoke Its voice was reminiscent of that of the thing that spoke to me on the phone However, it was not gargling It had the same vocal tone as the thing on the phone But this time it spoke with an inflection And an accent It sounded human

Hey, it's okay Open your eyes and come with me He repeated that phrase several times And then almost as if it were perplexed by why I wasn't responding It started speaking again this time in German And then in what I assumed to be Russian And then in an Asian language I did not recognise And then it went silent

But the feeling in my body was still present Along with the intense cramping of my muscles I did not dare open my eyes I remained in my crowd's position for what seemed like an eternity. When the sensations in my body subsided, I finally mustered up the courage to open my eyes. There was no monster from anything I could see. The door remained wide open. The light that illuminated my small room of salvation spilled into the hallway outside.

I shut up and closed the door as quickly and quietly as I could, somehow thinking that it might still be outside somewhere. I don't remember exactly how I felt, but deprived of oxygen from forgetting to breathe is somewhat accurate. I was sweating profusely and trying to get a hold in my breath. My watch read 102 a.m. Spotting the envelope on the ground, I bent over and went to review the rules. Glancing over the ones I've already read, I recalled the cameras. Looking on the table, I began to switch on the monitors one by one with a small, unoffer.

button next to the label of where the camera was shooting. All camera feeds displayed seemingly still images of the long dark hallways, except for one, which displayed one room in a hallway with the lights on inside. I figured this must have been the camera shooting footage of my hallway, and that illuminated room was the one I was in. The label of the monitor read, Hallway 4. Correlating that to the map Aaron had given me, it seems I was mistaken. I was in hallway three.

Seeming as none of the rules I had read so far mentioned the lights being on, I looked down to the phone to call the front desk. Before picking up the receiver, I hesitated. Almost as if the monster from earlier would start asking questions again. But I dialed nine three times, and the dial tone began to sound. After three tones, the voice of a young man came through. Hello, front desk representative speaking. He spoke with a distinct southern accent.

Hey, there's a... Well, in hallway number four, there's a room with a light on. I responded, trying to keep it together. Almost snotterly, the man retorted. Is that truly abnormal? There are consequences for calling this line without a reason. I did not enjoy his tone. You listen to me.

I've seen my fair share of damn it normal tonight. Don't you try to tell me. He gave in after my one sentence verbal assault. We'll send someone over. However, I don't think that Southern Ass ever sent anyone. I never saw anyone walk through the hallway for the next 20 minutes. I guess I'll figure it out myself, I thought. Before leaving the room, I remembered to grab the baton that sat in the bin in the corner of the room.

Before opening the door, I peered out, looking left and right as if I were crossing a street. and I headed over to Hallway 4. Nothing seemed out of place though. No doors were open and the lights remained off. I guess I made it this far, might as well do my second patrol. Through the rest of my patrol, I encountered two other rooms described by Rule 5.

I heeded the warning of the rule and simply walked past the room without investigating inside. Those rooms were truly strange though. Walking past the room, it sounded similar to the inside of a populated mall or train station, where there was a lot of bustling. I took a quick glance inside one of these rooms as I passed it in the hallway. Through the darkness, I could see movement, but I could not relate it to anything I could comprehend.

It had the form of a black mass swirling around. Moving on, I found a flight upstairs, figuring I'd do an extra good job and continue onward. Moving on, I walked down a flight of stairs, figuring I'd do an extra good job and continue onward. Everything seemed darker down there, but it was reminiscent of a copy of the ground floor from what I could remember. My feet made a small squishing sound while walking. The floor seemed to be slightly flooded by a thin layer of water. I felt like I had a bad night blindness down there.

My flashlight seemed to be losing power as well, or something to that extent, because the beam dimmed the further I walked. It smelled of old, rotting wood and rusty metal. It was also quite humid like an indoor swimming pool. I felt some of the water from the ground soaked my running shoes. My hands were starting to get clammy and the air seemed to get heavier with each step, compressing my chest, making it harder to breathe. I looked at my watch.

It seemed to have stopped working as well. The time remained frozen at 107 a.m. But I knew it was way later than that, though. I stopped where I was and leaned against one of the hallway's walls. Pulling out the envelope, I gazed upon the rules. Rule 12 was quite vague. Rule 12. You are always being deceived. Remember. This left me quite confused.

I flipped over the rules paper. Written in a pronounced, bold font, sat Rule 15. Rule 15. Do not go down the stairs. A basement floor does not exist on this building. Upon descending the stairs, your safety cannot be guaranteed. In fact, our company does not know exactly what happens upon descending the stairs. We only know the result. Thus, we do not yet understand how to effectively combat this. You have a limited amount of time to pray to your deity of choice, because you have just entered the portal to the fourth circle of hell. signed, moored. I felt my legs give out a little.

I looked into the darkness ahead of me, behind me and all around me. I yelled from fear and backtracked as fast as I could. I jumped up three stairs at a time and hauled absolute ass back to my room. I ripped the lockers in the corner of the room from the wall and barricaded the door. I already tried redarling the phone.

No one picked up. I don't know what's approaching me. but I can feel it. It's different than the creature which knocked on the door. My body is in pain, aching and writhing, burning. I can sense it and it can sense me. It's coming to take me. I can see it in my head, dark and disfigured, eyeless, pale, soulless and satanic.

I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I don't understand why I'm here. I don't understand why this is happening to me Please, whoever may be reading my warning If you ever agree to a job That seems too good to be true It is

I didn't sleep much as a kid Some nights I was watching TV Others I was kept awake by creeks and moans Usually I'd be to bed by 11, sometimes 12 For my young age The latest I'd ever reach was one I don't remember most of it, just a near black room and blue light from the television. So, I was up one night.

I was seven, sick with strip throat. I always seemed to catch it. About an hour or two before, I'd vomited everything up and found myself ill in bed. The TV volume was low, the mumblings of late-night kids' shows chattering like ghosts. Mom left the puke pan on the floor beneath my bed, Just in case. When I was done throwing up, I'd stare into my reflection. Pale, glassy and shaded and blue.

I wasn't disappointed to miss school. Overjoyed, if anything. Every day I went in and was almost silent. I'd talk here and there. I'd do my work as lazy as possible. I'd come home and draw what Clone Wars was playing, and then I'd try to forget everything I've been taught. On conference night, my teacher pointed out a few failed assignments from math.

I told my parents I was hypothesizing like we learned in science. The burn of my vomit still hung in my throat. Eyes were dry, arms and legs heavy. The blankets no longer warm enough. Something in the basement was working. A machine, maybe the furnace. It conjured up images of giant metal teeth. My sick form on a conveyor belt rolling in the,

to them as they smashed together. Red eyes like fire alarms flashed inside the head of the thing and it gnashed its fangs again. The black tore me out of my vision. The show had ended, the next one waiting to come on. First commercials. The room lit up again. I watched the ceiling fan do nothing for a while

and considered what I'd do tomorrow. I had a few ideas for comics, a couple thoughts on characters. I wondered what it was like to write. No pictures, just the words. I blinked and the fan hadn't moved an inch. I shivered. The commercials were still going. I picked up the remote, squinting at the TV.

Too many churning ideas twisting around my head like stars, and I only had so much money to waste in the toy store. I figured I'd flip channels, maybe bore myself into sleep. Up came the menu. I checked to the right to see. if any channels will be showing something good in the near future. Nothing. King of the Hill was going.

Dad said not to watch that. Infomercials, talk shows and reruns on different channels. The kid shows were all running out. I went as far left as I could to check if anything good was playing in the moment. Nothing. I shut my eyes, relaxed

and let the remote land at my side. It was either, up all night, or try and sleep, only to be up all night. I shut my eyes tighter, fingers curling at my sides. In my head, I reimagined Star Wars characters, tarting guns and firing lasers, calling for one another over the flames and the smoke. A clone trooper, I named Jigsaw, stood against the Sith Lord in an all-black armour, face-covered. They threw their hands aside, and drew a red lightsaber.

I was still busy, thinking of a name for him. I picked up the remote again, opened my eyes. I held down the button and watched the channels fly upward, disappearing into the infinite abyss. I squinted and let my tongue lull, the stations all scrolling faster. I was deep in the TV's ocean. Shows tilted with numbers and dashes as if there might be alien broadcasts. I imagined Jigsaw again, him surrounded by other clones, reading a scanner, picking up an enemy Transmission. Words.

I had accidentally gone a few channels down, so I scored back up. Sitting in between the empty stations was a show. Chubby's show, it said. Not one I've ever heard of. Head-cocked, I stared at the blue rectangle on the menu. Something about it fixated me. Recurrent thoughts circled my mind again. The playground, the classroom. school bells ringing, the cafeteria.

The blanket couldn't keep me warm anymore. The memory shone like gems beneath sand. The ocean was dark, but they sparkled anyway. I glanced up, once higher into the abyss. There was sharks circling over my head. I'd seen this show before somewhere, but I had no memory of what it was about, or why it made me remember other things.

I blinked once or twice. Then I read the show's description. Me, Chubby, Fatso, Bam Bam and Boomer. The greatest teacher for the greatest generation. I blinked again, rereading the words. My mind ran circles around itself, whispers of a time not too distant spinning around my head. The playground was in the fog.

The kids were laughing in the classroom, then the school bells rang. He froze in the cafeteria. It towered over even the prince of, tall, blackened. That was when it stopped. My heart pounded my sternum, gut seizing up with twisting pain.

My bladder needed to loose itself. I clicked select to watch the show. The TV went dark. I gasped, jolting forward. I put my hands behind me and craed my neck out. The power had gone out, I figured, or something weird had happened with the wires. Like Spire,

the thoughts crawled up my back, bit my flesh, and left it burning. The back of my neck was hot and prickly, throat dry with puk. The air still smelled sickly sweet like illness, the humidifier hummed in the corner. It was a virus. Dad had told me about them how I should be careful about what I clicked on the internet so that I don't infect the computer with one. I pressed the remote to try turn the TV on, and it didn't work. I was seconds away from shouting for Mom or Dad

when I pressed on the button three more times and it turned on by itself. The circus music started. The bedroom was glowing blue again. Drum beats and whistles chined. A title appearing in big yellow and red letters. Chubby Show, it read. I felt nailed to the bed.

It began to introduce the cast. Fat So, The screen displayed. A ragged cat, orange fur missing in places and dirty marks all over the costume. He swung around a giant hammer, grin stretched onto his costume face. There were kids running from him in every direction. That's so, the TV narrated. I crawled backwards.

All the kids were screaming. One of them off screen was crying. My head banged against the wall. Bam, bam! shared the TV. A pig appeared on screen. Mud spots covered his face, tears in his costume's fabric.

He was in a parking lot chasing down a group of kids. They checked over the shoulder and sprinted. One of them screamed, barely audible. Jason! They looked ahead of them as if checking off screen. Jason! It was boom as time to shine.

The elephant held the trigger on a power drill, raising it over his head inside a wooden room. room. A kid, strapped to the table, pounded their fists on the sides, and screamed at the ceiling, thrashing. Jason, Jason! No, not Jason. Grayson. Grayson. Me? Chubby made his appearance. He brandished another giant hammer, posing with pride. I trembled and my voice shook, and I screamed into the night. Mom, Dad! The TV was louder now. Chubby, it exclaimed.

I shook beneath the blankets. Mom! Chubby was on their heels after the mob of kids. They were all running towards the screen like they might escape the dog. Dad? They reached the screen,

pounding from the other side. The old box TV shook in its place and rattled with thuds. Grayson, Grayson! All the kids were screaming. Turn off the table. TV. Turn off the TV. It was like waking up again. I sat forward and leaned in to listen. Grayson, turn off the TV. Grayson, can you hear us? You have to turn the TV off. I blinked a few times.

Chobby was closing the gap, nearly to the kids. Grayson, Grayson! My lip quivered. Chobby was only a few feet away. I pointed the remote and clicked. The TV paused. Seconds from death, the kids were frozen, with their eyes wide open, hands stuck to the screen, fists pounding against the glass. Chubby stood no more than two feet behind, hammer raised, inches from swinging. If he brought it down over the heads, it would have smashed like a pumpkin, spilling guts and spraying bits of skull. My breath was still catching up.

My heart raised inside my chest. The remote was sweaty and warm between my fingertips. The bedroom was the coldest it had been since the night started. Mom! I hollered. Dad! I threw the blanket off me and sprung my feet over the edge. They carried me across the carpet, still wet and puk-scented, and left me at the edge of the door. I banged on it stupidly, tearing it open and switching on the lights.

Mom? I tried. Dad! There they were. Motionless. The blanket was no longer on them. Their eyes were wide open, glued to the ceiling, arms spayed out to their sides, legs straight, laying on opposite sides of the bed. They looked almost dead. Mom, Dad?

I dashed towards them. I grabbed Mom by the side and tried to shake her awake, screaming into her ear. Mom, Mom! Mom! Mom! The body was limp to every touch. She wasn't cold like she was dead She hardly breathed Yet a chest caved in every now and then I jumped over her and dove for my dad

Dad He wasn't any better I pulled his hair He hated when I did that He anged his ears and slapped him on the cheek And shook him by the shoulders While I knelt on his chest And all I felt was his stomach

Driving down And all I felt was his stomach Diving down diving down, diving up. They were sleeping, and I froze on my knees, staring into the cold eyes of a man half alive, breathing, heart beating, pulse flowing, but no thoughts.

The tears bit at my eyes like hissing cats. I shooed them away and fell into my dad's chest. Dad, I whimpered. And the noise came back. vague yet I heard it I was still lost in Dad's chest but my eyes were open like the devil's whispers

Grayson Grayson The voices were echoing from the bedroom again Grayson I lifted my head up rubbing my eyes with a forearm This wasn't over yet I jumped off the bed and ran

I tore into the bedroom and stopped in front of the TV The children were back on the screen. They were pounding the glass. The big metal box was rattling on its stand, shaking so hard it almost fell off. Grayson! Their eyes were lit up like street lamps. They pounded their hands harder against the window.

Grayson, can you hear us? Are you there? I trembled. Hello? I shouted. Grayson, lock all your doors. My chest ached. "'Lock all your doors, Grayson. There!' The TV went dark again.

White lines of static bloomed, zipping, up and down, humming. My hand was stuck over my heart, feeling its beat. It seemed to speak in Moss Code. "'You heard them, Grayson. Go lock your doors. Go lock your doors, Grayson. There, there, there!' The TV turned back on. Boomer was sitting in a chair. The room was red, made of the same materials you might find on a playground. The sofa appeared like a giant lion.

Boomer's couch was just big and yellow, like a slide. He was reading a book the size of a newspaper, a bright red hardcover. What the kids need to learn, the front cover read. Boomer was silent. So was the room. The TV produced nothing but a low drone, the occasional hum or toot of Boomer mumbling to himself. The camera recording had a mishap. The screen was like.

out of focus for a moment. Then there were footsteps. Fatso the cat rushed in. It jumped up and down and danced around Boomer's chair and glee. Boomer, boomer, boomer, guess what? What, Fatso, what is it? I'm trying to read. Vatso started stomping his feet, as if he was doing the party dance.

He tapped his toes quicker and quicker and quicker like a football player, turning towards me. Boomer, Boomer, look! Fatso pointed off the screen, staring directly at me. Boomer's gaze turned my way. My heart fell dead inside me. We got one, said Fatso.

Boomer and Fatso started chuckling all giddy. I screamed and covered myself with a blanket. I started shaking my legs and my head and my mouth got dry as my eyes spilt tears. I peaked over the edge of the blanket, thinking they were crawling out of the television, but they hadn't. Fatto and Boomer were running. They were racing through the house, around all the childish things like slides and monkey bars.

They dashed opposite of spiral stairs and stopped at the end of a long hallway, pounding on the door. Doot, do, do, do. Bam answered the door. The big oint into the faces of Fatso and Boomer. Bam, bam, bam, bam, cried Boomer. They turned and pointed at me again.

I froze with my eyes hanging above the blanket. We got one, they said in unison. With a break in all the noise, the three animals froze in the hallway. I thought the show had stopped, but the TV still honed, just barely, even though the animals were unblinking. They stared a while longer, grinning.

Then a door creaked open. Chubby the dog stepped out. Blood smeared on his costume, dirt and grime clouding up his white and black fur. He stared with huge, costumed eyes, cold and black. The show seemed to stop again. Then it came back on. The four of the animals were running. They were out of the house now, jetting off into a parking lot.

Waiting at the edge for them, parked at an angle, was a shiny red car, round and stubby. Small enough you could fit another in the same stall. It was like blinking back to life. My heart was screaming now, echoes in my bloodstream rushing to my brain. Everything was suddenly cold and achy, and I thought my head might explode. I remembered what the kids were saying. Grayson, they cried.

Grayson, go lock your doors. Go lock your doors. They're... They're... Coming. In a tide of chills, I rushed out of the room. I always kept my window locked. I ran into my parents' bedroom. The windows were clear.

I raced back out into my playroom, almost stepping on the toys. I locked that window. I checked every window in the kitchen twice and cleared the sliding back door. I got to the front door and bowled into the basement, locking the glass door downstairs. I paused, breathing. The swings in the backyard were moving in the wind. The knife. I remembered my dad's kitchen cleaver.

He always buried it deepest in the drawer, so nobody would get hurt with it. Well, someone was going to have to get hurt now. I turned, staring into the blackened basement. I swallowed and chewed on my lip. Then I gassed it for the stairs. I went up them, rounded a corner, and rushed into the kitchen. The drawer was across from me around the island. I zipped past it, tore it open, and started rummaging.

Long blades, short blades, all of them big enough to kill. None as deadly as the thing that shined beneath. It was huge, silvery and perfect for chopping a hand off. Take up someone's head if you knew how to use it right. I was mesmerized. Something occurred to me. People were going to get hurt tonight. Bad things were going to happen to someone.

I suddenly felt very dangerous, picking up the cleaver and twisting it in my hand. It was almost elegant. I raced back towards my bedroom. The house was dark and still. Every footstep and breath echoed. Other than panels of moonlight on the walls, I couldn't see a thing. I rushed inside my bedroom, panting and slammed the door behind me. With a quick hand, I turned and locked the knob,

glancing around in every direction for the TV room. It was laying on the floor inches from the pew pan. I grabbed for it and aimed it at the TV. I hank the shade shut and turn the volume down. The camera's quality had dropped. Everything was glitchy and distorted. In darker frames, a car moved under street lamps, skipping its blinker and flying through all the stops.

There were green rectangular signs indicating the streets. I couldn't read their names. Chubby and friends were swinging the rounds in glee, Fatso at the wheel. They started singing and clapping. Street lights started passing quicker and they nearly hit a mailbox. While their ties screeched and their engine squealed,

I took a moment to head for the window, pulling the curtain aside and checking out of it. Down left, nobody, down right, not a soul. The street was empty, all but the lights. I could tell where the car was There were two lanes A right turn on each side The glow of the streetlights was distant now

But present They run Newman Road No more than a left turn And 100 metres from my house I made sure the shades were closed all the way I ran everything through my head again Every lock was shut The cleaver was in my hand

The remote on the bed Triple checking now I reviewed the house once more. Bedroom shades, windows and doors were all locked. I have the cleaver and the remote. They'll be here soon. Seconds later, I watched the car on the screen turn and slow to a halt. Outside, tire squealed.

The animals danced and sang no longer. I could hear them outside. I picked the remote up, muting the TV entirely. My breath whisked in and out one more time. The camera hovered above the car a while longer. The animals were going around back to the trunk, hoisting it open. From the angle, I couldn't see what they were doing. Then they began to pull things out.

For that so, the giant hammer would do. He held it over his shoulders and stood like a soldier. Bam Bam picked the Tommy gun out, loading up a magazine. He racked the gun and checked the sights. Boomer ripped a knife from the trunk, holding the blade up to the moon, He let it dance through the air, light bouncing off its edges, for chubby, the axe. He held it tight and stood deathly still. When everyone was ready, Bam Bam slam the trunk.

I heard it from outside, staring into the curtains. Then the footsteps began, just little scrapes on the concrete. They started for the front door. The camera didn't follow them at first. they went off-screen and disappeared. Then it moved to the front door from the perspective of the peephole. I froze now, sat on the edge of the bed and paled.

I turned and looked at the floor at the spot where the vomit had been cleaned off. All I found was the pute pan. And, staring into it, ghostly white and totally silent, was a boy my age who thought he'd known everything. No, he didn't. I swallowed in my reflection. The front doorbell rang.

My head shot up. In the TV screen, a grainy image produced itself. Poor costume beasts standing on my front porch. They held their weapons at the sides, as if the job were no more casual than a package delivery. Boomer stepped back a foot or two, having rang the bell, waiting. They didn't blink any of them, nor did they breathe. I tried to imagine what was inside them, beneath their costumes.

Flesh. Couldn't be, I thought. The demons stood waiting on the porch. They held their many sclares at the door and managed to maintain stillness. Without a breath or seemingly even the thought they carried on waiting. A minute had passed, and then another. That was when they walked. Without a word, Chubby was the first to turn his shoulder,

and then Bam Bam, then Fatso, then Boomer. The four of them all faced the lawn, descended the steps of the porch, and started off down the lawn. Their car was off in the distance away, waiting for them in silence. They went around the corner, in front of my garage store.

I figured they'd stepped ahead enough to where I could see them again. My grip on the cleaver loosened, sweat cooling on its handle. My breaths came more shallow. Chubby and friends seemed to be leaving. I sighed. My shoulders sloped down.

I shut my eyes and leaned my head back, feeling the whole room spin around me. Where thoughts of Star Wars characters and homemade comics once roamed, now a thousand nightmares seemed to plague me. I rested my head against the wall and check the TV. Chubby and friends were gone. Then I squinted. Their car was still there.

Empty. Nobody was walking out towards. it. My eyes shot wide open. My head flipped on itself. No. They weren't leaving. Of course they weren't going to. They were probably marching around in circles outside, looking for an entrance.

Grayson, Grayson, Grayson, lock all of your doors. Lock all over your windows. The kids were screaming to me still. But every window was locked and every door. Unless Chubby and friends thought about busting in, they had no entry. Crash. I jumped and screamed.

Something had shattered. I powered off the TV. The room fell back into darkness. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited, breathing. Softly, from somewhere beneath the house, there were quiet footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. Little clicks, ones that danced through the air. From the basement,

they'd shattered the downstairs glass. I heard the door to the stairs open. They stepped up them, maintaining silence. All I heard was my own breath and the crunch of carpet. Not a voice dared to speak. Nothing was breathing but me. I saw them again. They're breathless, motionless chest, standing unblinking on the porch.

They stared with black eyes and held their weapons patiently. They were nearly up the stairs now. Their feet scraped the floor and weapons dragged slowly. I heard the sound of the axe grinding against tile. That was when I jumped in the closet. I shut both doors, left the crack, and pushed myself as far back as I could go, covering myself with stacked bins of Legos in front of me.

The footsteps were approaching now. From down the hallway, the axe cut through the carpet. A shuddery breath escaped like a butterfly. I caught it in the air and crushed it in my hand. Grayson, don't make it. a sound, those kids seemed to whisper. There was something comforting about the closet, like thousands of children's hands patting me on the back, embracing me and whispering into my ear.

It's going to be all right, they said. Well, I wasn't an idiot at age seven. I knew that's what they said to one another. Now, they were no better than ghosts. I leaned farther back into the darkness, gripping the cleaver harder. The house was still so down quiet. The axe dragged along the floor. They were nearly to the bedroom now.

Their footsteps rumbled the house, the wall seeming to fall over in my head. I wondered if the roof could sustain itself with a weight of the demons. The floor shook again. Feet away, still feet, inches. They stopped. There wasn't a sound anymore, just the noise of the machine in the basement. The one with a giant metal teeth and the alarm red eyes, a conveyor belt carrying me into its moors.

Sweat broke on my forehead. I clenched my jaws together and tried to keep them shut. Opening them meant screaming. In the closet, my breath began to quicken. It huffed in and out like steam loosed from a kettle. I bit down on my teeth harder and grunted. Grayson, Grayson, don't make a sound. Just breathe, just breathe.

You have a knife, you have a knife, you have a knife. I whimpered again, shaking in my skin. A minute had passed, nearly two, and no noise from outside the door, just the ghost in my head and the teeth in the basement. Grayson, don't you make a sound, don't you? Thud, like someone stamping their foot, hard. Thud, against the ground. The noise seemed to be coming in quicker succession, faster, as if a bull was slamming on its hooves, or an elephant.

Then it stopped. The room fell silent. The only thing in the house breathing was me. Every breath made my head get hot and cold, when my mind couldn't decide between staying awake or passing out. Then, the TV turned on. The footage was grainy, the hooves stamping closer. In shades of grey, a costumed elephant charged down the hallway on the screen and...

"'Greson!' The door shattered off its hinges. I was still in the back of the closet, screaming. The TV flip channels in a screen of static. "'Greson! Grayson! Grayson! The kids again. "'Greson, you have to kill them!' My heart thudded.

Boomer looked straight toward me with wild eyes. "'Kill them!' I narrowed my eyes. Boomer held the knife over his head. I sprang up and swung the cleaver. It caught him in the gut and Boomer doubled over. The kids on the TV were all slapping and panned in the screen. The box rattled again.

There were shapes rushing into the doorway. Vatso, bam bam, chubby. Vato came first. He swung the hammer and missed. I caught his arm with a cleaver and dug low, hacking at a leg. Vatso's head reared back and he screamed. I ripped him with a cleaver and he fell and stood in the doorway. Bam Bam and Chubby squeezed in at the same time.

I swung for Bam Bam and he dodged it. Chubby grabbed me by the arm and tightened his grip on my wrist. I screamed again. Mom, Dad! A cleaver fell from my hand. There were tears welling in my eyes. Chubby yanked me towards him. He gripped me by the wrist.

His fingers were harder than metal. But he wasn't a robot. Some sick pulse flowed throughout his skin. He craned his face down to meet mine. Eyes inches from one another. Chubby held me close and tried to brush the tears from my cheeks. He soothed me in a voice falsely calm. Oh, Grayson, relax.

You're going to learn so much. He leaned back a bit. Bam Bam standing up his shoulder. He raised the tummy gun. You're one of the luckiest kids alive. Everything spiraled through my mind again. the playground, my parents, the comics in my room. Jigsaw was my favourite clone I'd ever made.

He would play dead, then come back alive to win a fight. Grayson, Grayson! The kids were still screaming. My heart beat in my chest. Run, run away! Run away, I thought. I narrowed my eyes, slammed my foot down. He caught chubby's toes and he flinched back.

I shook his grip off. On the floor was the cleaver. The gun went. went off. I zipped out of his way and hacked his neck with a cleaver. He caught him in the throat and he bled black. Bam-Bum gurgled, flopping to the ground. Chubby was across the room for me now, bent forward like a wrestler, waiting to strike. He started to circle around towards me. I went the opposite way, like we stood in a ring. Chubby inch forward a bit, taunting me. There's no use, Grayson, he said. You know we never really die, right? He laughed again. We'll always be around to find you again. The kids on the screen had fallen silent,

but the TV still rattled every few seconds. I could hear their voices echoing. Run! I did. I tucked backwards out of the room. Chobby's feet pounded the floor behind me. I ended the lock on the front door and tried to rush out of it. Wait for me, Chubby hollered.

Don't go so soon. Chobby nearly grabbed. me. He moaned swinging the axe. He buried itself on the wall and I was on the porch. With quick feet, I ran across the lawn. The neighbour's house wasn't far. I was past the fence and on the grass, padding up their driveway. The concrete was cold beneath bare feet, scratchy and painful. Mr. Harkins? I cried out. Mr. Harkins! Their front door sung open. I turned around. Chubby was in the lawn, dragging his axe through the grass. with me, staring with eyes that hadn't changed all night.

Still, they read differently. Fear. Mr. Harkins stepped out on his front porch. He had a gun in hand, the other holding a phone up to his ear. The old man pointed the gun at me and gasped. Grayson? He's right there, Mr. Harkins. He's right there. He's on my lawn. Mr. Hagen started shooting, rounds cracked in the night.

He wasn't a good shot for his age. Chubby charged across the lawn like a soldier and threw the axe behind him, landing it in the grass. Mr. Harking stepped down his porch and peppered Chubby's car with bullets. The gun went empty. Harkins cursed and let the pistol fall to his side.

He took the phone from his ear and screamed across the street at Chubby. He was hopping into the car, spinning the keys in the ignition and slamming hard on the gas. I hope you rot in hell, Harkins hollered. I'll see you there and I won't miss this time.

Chubby hit the end of the street, hardly waiting at the stop sign. Seconds later, he was gassing it to the right, disappearing behind the row of houses. His engine roared, but the night was otherwise silent. Moments later, he was all quiet, except for the sound of Harkins and I breathing. He turned around, standing in the drive a few feet ahead. Phone and pistol lowered at his sides. He must have heard everything, I figured. Harkins was always up late in the night, polishing weapons or watching movies.

He never admitted it, but it was better than lamenting over his wife. The man's stonehard eyes seemed to crack a little. He frowned beneath a handlebar mustache. My throat fell apart. I whimpered and something bit in my eyes. The police had already been on their way. Harkins had called them long before. He'd figured it was just some bad fight my family had gotten into.

and he was just a lonely odd man caught in the crossfire. It's a damn good thing I live next door to a paranoid, to a night owl. Might have been dead otherwise. I'm 22 now. I don't think a lot about the incident, but I know it's why I can't sleep at night. It's the reason I don't leave the TV on anymore. No, I don't think about it.

There's nothing for the police to find when I got there. My parents were wide awake, although they couldn't remember a lot. They knew all the important details. They told the cops I've been home all along. As for the bodies, they weren't there anymore. No blood, no weapons, no sign of entry beside the shattered basement door, and the axe in the lawn. There was no proof the gang had ever showed up.

No proof other than my word and Mr. Harkins. When I tried to show one of the officers the channel I'd clicked on, it was gone. a place with the boxer said unused station in all caps he drew the back of his pen pale then he glanced my way and nodded his head

for days the police checked up on the house again and again to see if they could find any evidence there were no fingerprints no tufts of fur nothing better than the tears in the carpet and the cracks in the tile the axe under further inspection had no fingerprints either they found the bullet holes in the ground from the gunfire

but they didn't find any bullets. Chubby and friends had never existed. The cops had closed the case and labelled it an accident. Nobody in town believed them. Nobody, but my parents. Definitely not Mr. Harkins. I used to go over to his place a lot

after the whole thing had ended. Usually he made me a cup of coffee, the older I got. We'd sit in his dusty old living room and talk for a while. I tried to ignore the towels draped over picture frames here and there. There were only two, but I noticed them. It's like trying to leave a body in your house and expect it won't stink. Everything smells worse when he's your dead wife.

Mr. Harkins would do a lot of the talking. Give me wisdom, encourage me not to waste my life. Try to teach me what a man was like. He said he liked my dad. He just thought he wasn't good at that. He said, he thought I was... scared, like most kids are, but more than usual. Harkins would lean back in his chair, sip his mug and stare at me all the while.

Then he leaned forward again, steam blowing out of the cop. There are sick people in this world. Your, uh, father wouldn't like me using these words. He sniffled. There are some real sick assholes out there, kid. He restated. Harkin stared into his coffee mug, watching the steam, boil out of it. Then he took a slower sip, leaning his head back and wiping his lip.

He stared back at me, eyes getting thin, growing grey, and he pursed his lips together, watching the floor. He seemed as if he'd fallen down, woken up somewhere in the past. They'll use you, he told me. The kids are the easiest to take. He frowned and swallowed. They can scream, but they can't throw a punch. Harkins lifted his gaze again, eyes towards me. Then he threw his head back and took another sip of coffee, gulping it down. Have you heard of the GPS game? Before you type it into Google, let me save you the trouble.

You're not going to find much. If it's not on the internet, I must be full of crap, right? You can believe what you want. The fact of the matter is, very few people know about this urban legend and even fewer have attempted to play, let alone followed it through to the end. You might have guessed it, but I am one of those people. I'll spare you the details of how I became acquainted by the game. That's a long, mostly uninteresting tale that I'll say for another time.

What I'm here to divulge to you is everything I've learned while playing. Everything you need to know to stay safe should you choose to play yourself. I'll touch on why I'm revealing this later. For now, let's discuss gameplay. The game consists of typing a seemingly random sequence of characters into the search bar of any GPS system or app, and following the path that is generated. This is known as the Master Code. Unfortunately, it's constantly changing, never staying the same for more than a few days at a time. It is something to do with the Earth's rotation, as well as its position in orbit around the Sun.

A lot of complex measurements are needed to determine the code string of values at any given time That's why you have but two options at your disposal Contact a spotter Accessable by a specific dark web market They can access measurements needed And output a list of possible code variations But it'll cost you an arm and a leg

Contact me I'm no spotter But I've played the game enough to know what I'm doing I've discovered the code time and time again without any help and I won't charge you a dime. After retrieving the code and officially beginning your expedition, it's important to stay in it for the long haul. No matter how many turns you take,

nothing out of the ordinary will happen during the trip itself. This is why a lot of first timers get bored and call it quits halfway through, sick of driving aimlessly down random roads. As is consistent with a legend, it's about the destination, not the journey. The GPS game is supposed to lead you to the secret town of battered grove. Therein lies the reason for all of this.

Exploration in uncharted territory, the discovery of a non-existent place. Though the route is always changing, drive time usually remains the same. It should take you anywhere from five to six hours to complete the trip depending on traffic. Keep an eye out for these landmarks, so as to be completely certain you've arrived. Hank's Supernova Diner, a need to read that boldly proclaims that it's open 25 hours a day. Hex Works, a fatigue that specializes in vintage curiosities. Grovewood & Co. A souvenir shop. For some reason, I couldn't seem to find this building during my last visit.

Garrett's Locker, a death metal venue. The Grove Wood Inn. A hotel with a haunted past. or so I've been told. As exciting as it will be to explore this new place, you mustn't get carried away. Forces beyond your comprehension are at work, offering you a glimpse into a world you were never meant to see.

One false move could shatter this cosmic window, disrupting the delicate balance between worlds, effectively catapulting you into a fathomless void of non-existence from which you may never return. That might sound dramatic, but it really is that serious. I urge you to take the following advice to prevent irreparable damage to yourself

or reality as we know it. Do not get out of your car while in town. Your presence will disturb the residents, the nearest of which will walk up to you and bash your brains in with brute force. When chasing an outsider such as yourself, a resident possesses reservoirs of unnatural strength, agility and endurance.

After ensuring that your heart is stopped, the resident will resume their daily routine as if nothing happened. Do not film or take pictures of the town. Don't even take a selfie in the car. If you have a dash cam, get rid of it. There can be no record of your visit whatsoever. If you fail to do this, something will happen to you. Not right away. It could be a couple of days or even a week after you return home,

but rest assured it will happen A GPS gamer I knew by the name of Tom made the mistake of taking a short phone video while of his drive-thru town for his personal records I can only guess that someone or something abducted him

and retrieved the footage we usually touch base at least once every few weeks to discuss our findings it's now been over two years since we last spoke speaking of phones let's talk electronics

Most of us rely on our day-to-day travels, but this is the only place you absolutely cannot. Don't trust a single one of your gadgets. For instance, if the GPS is still going once you've hit town, it will have you driving around in circles, eventually leading you into the unsavory depths of the town, where you'll inevitably run out of gas. After that, it's game over.

If you called someone while in battered grove, there is a hundred percent chance that they'll pick up. Only, it won't be them. Their voice indiction will sound identical to their real-life counterpart, but don't be fooled. It's a trick of the town, fighting for you to stay so it can eat you alive. If you do stay on the line,

the person on the other end will become hysterical. What they say is different for everyone, but their words will cut deep and they will somehow convince you to get out of your car. We all know what happens after that. The town learns. Every time you visit, it'll throw a new curveball at you, hoping you'll exit your vehicle for one reason or another.

I thought I'd seen everything, but on my last playthrough, I received an amber alert on my phone. The plate number matched the truck in front of me, and I could clearly see a young girl in the backseat, clawing at the window. She looked directly at her. at me, tears running down her face, begging me to save her. I followed the truck for a good 10 mile before coming to my senses and getting the hell out of dodge. It's best to spread your visits out with long rest periods in between.

The more often you visit, the harder it is to get out. The town hates repeat visitors. Oh yeah, the book. This doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, be cautious. A book called Sleep Tactics Exercises for a mind at rest will appear in your car on certain trips

It can show up in your glove box The floor by the gas pedal Or even jammed in the crevice between the hood and windshield Most of the time It just appears on the passenger seat No matter where it is You can't give in to the distraction You will become strangely tempted

To stop the car and open the book up To view its contents Do not read the book If you do, you will hopelessly be engrossed and fall under its spell. As you devout the pages, you will become wary to the point of collapse, cast into a dark slumber. Depending on where you left off in the book, you'll either remain asleep indefinitely or exit yourself. In the latter scenario, your astral form will be adrift in battered grove eternally, with no means of communicating with the outside world, or returning to your physical body,

though this has only happened a handful of times if the book happens to be transpersonal travel a guide to the unknown consciousness turn around you have to leave at once trust me so why am I telling you all of this well I'm here right now

stranded and battered grove I tried leaving by normal means but the town is getting crafty the roads that usually lead home rearranged themselves all are taking me back to this godforsaken place. Remember what I said about spreading out your trips? Well, I got cocky. I went from a few visits a year to six or seven to eventually coming out in monthly.

It's an addiction, one that I clearly don't have the discipline to manage. I've officially hit Rock Bottom, sitting here in my car completely out of gas, just waiting for the inevitable. This is where you come in. I will reveal the current master code. I don't know if it's still active, but this is my only hope. Please help me, I beg of you. Even as I type this out to my phone, I'm in danger. The town knows I'm stranded and is doing everything it can to swallow me whole.

Every few minutes, I'm receiving calls from unknown numbers and getting pop-opads for the local gas stations that are, in walking distance from your current location. I'm wise to the charade, but I know it is only a matter of time before the town falls me into thinking I can escape by leaving the comfort of my vehicle.

Given the town's strange nature, I can't be certain that this message will reach anyone, at least not in the way I intend it to. Wherever my story does end up upon hitting the send button, I hope someone will give the game a try. Bring friends.

Make a road trip out of it. Have some fun. If you end up finding me, that's all the better. Even if you don't believe a word of this. What do you have to lose? Take the code and go now. I'm running out of time. Hold his tongue tonight.

The nail has to go in clean. You understand? Some people think that a ghost is the spirit of someone who has died. Others think it's an echo of some past life or powerful event. And there are plenty, of course, who think they are nothing at all. I don't know that any of this is exactly right,

or as it may seem, exactly wrong. Ghosts are more than just echoes. They can actually think and feel and act according to some internal drive I don't claim to understand. Those drives, and much of their overall nature, is so alien that I often feel like I'm trying to grab smoke

or estimate a void when I turn my mind, mind are trying to guess why they do what they do. And what do ghosts do? Well, often they seem much like an echo, a mindless repeating sound wave that slowly fades as it travels through the rigours of time and space. They frequently seem bound into actions or messages or other loops, but given the inconsistency of this trait and the lack of comprehension to their true goals in nature, who can really say for sure? What is easier to say? is that every ghost is bound. I can't speak as to other kinds of spirits

or whatever else might lurk in the darker corners of the world, but every ghost is tied to something by an ethereal leash that prescribes the limits of their travels and, consequently, the sphere of their influence. The common cliché, of course, is a haunted house. And, as with many things, a cliche is a cliche for a reason. Houses are very common tether for a ghost,

You could get two dozen people to tell you BS about why that is the case, psychic energy, past drama, unfinished business. None of them no, but it's easier to sell you something if they speak with confidence, right? The key is that ghosts, all ghosts in my experience, are tethered to something. A part of a house, a piece of land, a key, or a toy, or a bag of chips, they always have an anchor in the real world, or maybe just the ones we can notice to. Maybe there are billions of ghosts floating around that we can't perceive at all,

all of them just wishing to be imprisoned so someone can see them watching or hear them scream. One other thing that I can say with some confidence after doing this for over 20 years is this. Ghosts cannot haunt or inhabit the living. Forget what you may have seen on cheesy movies or bad documentaries. There is some kind of natural spiritual resistance perhaps, or ghosts just like the ability to do it. And note that I'm saying ghosts. I make no claim as to what other entities can or cannot do.

But wait, you may be thinking, what about all those stories of ghosts following a family when they move away? My response is this. Most likely, they inadvertently carried the tether with them when they moved. Ghosts can be strangely clever, or at least it is easy to perceive their actions as such. In either case, it is not uncommon for the tether to be an object that is either intrinsic to the location or highly prized by an individual. This occurs to a degree that is grossly statistically significant, suggesting that the tether is selected rather than randomly assigned or happened upon,

and that the choice is based, at least on part, in maintaining the potency of and the audience for the haunting itself. I've never seen a roll of toilet paper become haunted, for instance, or a chip-pocket. bag for that matter. That was my attempt at absurdist humour. Instead, ghosts tend to be tethered to things that will last and be around people. I think they not only want to be seen, they need to be. Based on research that was done in the early part of the last century, when tethers are removed from their natural environment and totally isolated for an extended period of time, the ghost bound to it fades away. Whether this means it is truly gone

or just likes the ability to haunt anymore, I couldn't say. But the salient point here is this. If the tether is removed, so is the ghost. The husband was sweaty and nervous as he glanced between his wife and me.

Mr. Berganton, I... This all sounds good. Great, I mean. Raking a hand through his greasy hair, he looked down at the picnic table we were sitting at. This... This thing is going to kill us if we don't get rid of it.

It was bad enough when he was moving things and making noises, but when it had attacked our little girl... He shook his head as he went on with a shuddering breath. I thought she was going to die that night, that we all were. The wife broke in. Are you sure it's not a demon? Something worse than a ghost? I gave the woman a thin smile.

I'm quite sure. I do not claim expertise in any of these matters because, by their very nature, a true expert cannot exist. But I know very well what I know and what I do not, and rest assured, your problem is a ghost haunting, nothing more or less. She swallowed and dropped a gaze, but pressed on. I'm not doubting your knowledge, it's just, it has gotten so violent. It bit me when we were pulling Maddie free that last night. My eyes narrowed slightly as I waited until she ventured at Timmy glance back up. Your resistance to the idea of this being just a ghost is born out of your ignorance, I'm afraid.

I've seen a ghost skin a man alive, burned down a house of the family trapped inside, and far worse things that I won't burden you with. But I assure you that a powerful ghost is capable of being very, very destructive. I turned back to the husband dismissively. Now, my team has investigated your house, determined that a powerful, malignant ghost is present, and identify the tether. That is why I am here, as my time is very limited and valuable. With your permission, my team will remove the tether, and consequently the ghost from your home this evening. In the morning, your family can return home and won't be troubled by this again.

The man was already nodding, a desperate sheen in his eyes. But again, the woman pushed away. into the deal-making. Excuse me, that sounds great, it does, but how much is this going to cost? I mean, if you all are so good at this and your time is so valuable or whatever, how are we going to be able to pay for it?

She withered slightly as I turned to her, but she didn't drop a gaze this time. My smile felt hard and brittle on my lips. It won't cost you a thing. We provide the service for free and receive our funding through other sources.

The hospital's began to beam, but the wife's brow was still furrowed with concern. Okay, well, I mean, not that we aren't grateful for the help, especially for free, but it just all sounds too good to be true. You flew all the way here, you've got three guys that have been staying at the house for a week with all the equipment, and you don't want us to pay anything. I sniffed as I slid out from the bench. If you don't want my help, that is your prerogative.

Thank you for your... The husband leapt up. No, no, we do. He shot a dark look back at his wife. We've just been through a lot, but we can't afford to move, and I can't carry my family back in that place until it's gone. Please, please help us. Jaw clenched, he turned to stare at the woman.

Isn't that right, Bonnie? Bunny frowned at my smirk, before giving a solemn nod. Yes, please help if you can. he keeps moving around. Jasper yanked Toby back down onto the table again before glaring at Josh. I thought you dosed them an hour ago. Josh held his hands out placatingly.

I did. Same dose as the last one. He pointed at the little boy laying on the table. Look at him, his outman, been out for half an hour. It's the occupants I'm telling you, and I can't dose them. Jasper muttered a curse as he shook his head. fine fine toby's comento's body lusged again and jasper laid on his chest as he pointed orcly towards the boy's feet brad strap his legs tighter before he breaks something do you have control of this situation jasper the man looked from brad to me the anger fading from his face only a little we do burkinson we do but this one is about full you know how they get when we crowd them in my honest opinion is that we pull a fresh one from the ranch and start over. I shook my head.

No, our client has asked for seven, and seven is what they will receive. You know the number affects the potency dramatically, and I'm not in the habit of breaking my word. I glanced over at Josh. Where is the tether? Looking startled,

he fumbled a small plastic bag out of his shirt pocket. Yes, uh, right here. He gave a small grin. It was a framing down. between the first and second floor, right at the heart of the house. This one's smart. Noting, I looked back at Toby.

He was small for a nine-year-old, but surprisingly healthy given the circumstances. It was to be expected, of course. The children at the ranch, the fresh ones, as Jasper called them, had to be fed and cared for as one might any child. But after the second or third tether was implanted, their need for sustenance declined. By five, they did little but sleep and dream With no need for the outside world And by seven

The child's body was marked by his journey from boy to bomb A coin laid sewn beneath the skin of his right thigh A bitter glass from a bar in poland jotted from his arm A razor blade nestled into the flesh of his calf While the filed off point of an old weather vein lay between the knuckles of his left hand A wood splinter behind his knee And another larger piece in the small

of his back. Just one more left. Do it now. Letting out and accepting grunt, Jasper waved Brad over. You heard him, bring it here. As Brad stepped forward, Jasper pride open Toby's mouth.

Eager to please, Brad already had the pliers at the ready. Jasper wasn't impressed or convinced. Hold his tongue tight. The nail has to go in clean. You understand? Would I offer? is a service

a weapon that cannot be easily traced or thwarted you know my reputation and the results speak for themselves chaos and destruction greater than any missile or assassin's bullet but without the risk of failure mitigation or retaliation the place you put this

it'll be poisoned the people there they were slowly rocked from the inside their minds their hearts In a week They'll forever change In a month Well, it'll be over in a month And then

What if they just leave You know, go somewhere else Because they're scared I stifle my irritation As I offered a smile A reasonable concern But unnecessary What we have prepared

It doesn't manifest as a traditional haunting These ghosts They are trapped somewhere They don't want to be with other similar entities they don't want to be around. They can't take out their frustration in the vessel physically. They need him alive and able to sustain them, and their overwhelming presence shuts down the body somewhat,

would possibly kill if the entities didn't sustain him in turn. The vessel is forever asleep, protected and tormented and punished by the things he now carries in his meat and bones. That's one of the reasons we predominantly use children. It's estimated the younger vessels can survive for upwards of 50 or 60, The ambassador seemed unconvinced, so I went on. The vessel comes in a container specifically designed to isolate him and the entities from the outside world. When you plant him where he is needed, all you need to do is remove the outer container and ensure he's left in a hidden place with at least slight airflow.

They do still need to breathe, if only a little. The man frowned. Yes, yes, we know well enough how to hide him. But you haven't answered my question. How is this different from a haunted house? Won't people just dismiss it or get scared and run away? I felt my smile hardening. I have a man who works with me,

names Jasper. He's been with me for years, rough around the edges, but professional, pragmatic, and not without moments of insight. I leaned across the polished desk towards the ambassador. Here's a saying, Why do ghosts do what they do?

Because they're damn insane. I lean back. I call it myasma, the observable phenomenon where ghosts, when forced into close proximity, become more potent and, well, more insane. If you want to apply such terms to these things, they lose individual will and personalities.

They devolve into a force more akin to radiation. It eats away the minds and the souls of the things. those within a certain radius, and it does so in a very insidious fashion. Not only were the afflicted not leave, they'll not want to leave. They'll keep drinking the poison until they can't take another drop. Crossing my legs, my smile was more earnest now. Parts another way, this is a bomb you don't come back from. The man was sweating now.

He'd already knew the truth, or I'd have never been retained. But like so many men, he wanted to talk, talk and be convinced, and show me how intelligent and powerful he was. And now, he sat here, out of stupid questions, and left with the reality of a world that was much deeper and darker than he could ever truly appreciate. I... I see, he swallowed. And the inner container. Um, we'll leave that on permanently, right? I glanced at my phone when it vibrated. The final payment had just gone through.

Nodding, I stood to leave. I would, yes. It offers no shielding from the things in there with him, but it does offer a great deal of acoustic buffer. The ambassador raised his eyebrow. Acoustic buffer? I started towards the door, but I stopped and looked back at him.

For the screams. He may be asleep, but our little Toby never stopped screaming. I live in a small rural town in southern Russia, and in the past year or so, a strange fervor has arisen here regarding the flat earth theory. For the uninitiated, it's basically a theory which states that the earth is a plane, or disk, as opposed to a sphere. Not a nonsense, of course, with so much of modern science disproving it, or so a third. thought, until just a couple of months ago when I was invited to one of these stupid conventions that have been popping up more and more frequently. Now, usually, I'd scoff at whoever would

even believe in this, much less have the audacity to think I'm mentally impaired enough to want to attend one of their cult gatherings. But this time, it was different. Anastasia, the girl who invited me was one of my closest friends, and someone whom I'm clicked with almost solemnly, because she was one of the few. rational people in this superstitious town. Heck, we were even in school science club together. One of our favorite pastimes used to be poking holes in the countless folklore we'd always heard growing up. Of course, I also had a crush on her, so forgive me for wanted to take a gander at this new obsession of hers. Hey, Alex, want to come with me to a flat earth convention tomorrow?

Recently, I've been attending, and it's been really eye-opening. My initial thought, thoughts were that she was being sarcastic. However, the enthused manner in which she asked and settled me. It wasn't enthusiastic in the sense that we're going to blow the whole lid on this stupid theory and make a laughing stock out of all these silly people. She really seemed to believe in it, so much so as the ones that wrote me in and share with me her experiences. Um, Anna, I know what you're thinking, but trust me, how long have you known me? You know I'd be the last person to buy into any of these kinds of things. Admittedly, her insistence had indeed piqued my interest,

and it didn't take much more convincing for me to tag along. So, the next day, I found myself at this so-called convention. It wasn't what I was expecting at all. It was held at a ramshackle cottage near the outskirts of town. There were no registration tables to indicate your interest or leave your contact information, no brochures or anything of that sort. The only thing to indicate that we hadn't stumbled upon an old abandoned house was a piece of paper stapled next to the main doorway stating

flat earth, a paracadania sect. It was all very sketchy. I raised an eyebrow at Anna and she just waved me ahead. The interiors of the cottage were actually much better kept than I had imagined. It wasn't modern or pristine by any means, but it was very tidy and surprisingly well. lit, with strong fluorescent lighting seemingly recently installed. Neatly stacked chairs lit at the perimeter of the room, and there were some stairs to the

next level in the corner of the room. It appeared that most of the walls had been torn down to accommodate the one piece of furniture which had caught my eye the moment I had stepped in. In the centre of the room was a massive mahogany table, upon which laid an equally massive map there was some kind of ellipse rather than a conventional rectangular-shaped map. inspection of the map revealed that it was probably some kind of world map, as there was tons of blue oceanic regions, but it wasn't of any world I was aware of. The centre of the map was just a black void, but there were four main islands of sorts, distributed roughly in the four main cardinal directions, as indicated by a drawing of a compass in the top right of the table. What was most intriguing was that bordering the map was what appeared to be an impossibly colossal mountain range,

circling the entire world. Let's it up. They've probably already started. You've got to see this. Anna snapped me out of my reverie, and together we went up the stairs to the next floor. The second level of the cottage was much closer to what I imagined

a cult to be like. There were no fluorescent lighting here. The whole floor was candlelit, with a sense of some kind of incense wafting through the air. At the far end of the room, hung up on the wall, was another weird circular map,

a blown up of one of the islands, the western one. However, this map wasn't just flat imprinted on paper. It seemed to be handcrafted out of wood, with certain sections higher than others, as if denoting hills and valleys. Candlelight bounce off the wood in unnatural ways. I could have sworn that the wood was producing its own ethereal glow. On the right side of the map,

there were approximately 10 deep spherical notches of around the size of marbles. Most of them were empty, save for two notches, which each had a small black marble in them. A congregation of people were seated on stalls, all facing the map, and they were all humming the same, monotonous low tone. They were all dressed normally,

wearing t-shirts and jeans and shorts, nothing out of the ordinary. The bald man, leading the congregation, stood out in front next to the map. Next to him stood someone I'd recognize, recognized, Dmitri, one of my neighbours and a well-known bully whom I went to school with. He stood with a bemused expression as the bald man whispered in his ear. The whole atmosphere was eerie to say the least, and my vital flight instinct took hold as the hairs of my arms raised and I gripped Anna's arm.

What happened next made me doubt everything I had ever known. As the humming petered off, Dmitri spoke. Okay, okay, so basically you're telling me, if I hold one of these black balls and touch the map, I'll travel to this different world with a giant tree and seven metres tall people who travel around in carts. The bald men was in phase by the sarcastic, incredulity in Dmitri's voice, simply gesturing for him to go ahead,

as if daring him to take up the challenge. With a snort, Dmitri's son. stepped forward and grabbed one of the black marbles out of a notch. Immediately, his disposition shifted from smug confidence to uncertainty, but pride must have driven him on as he steals his expression, gritted his teeth, and placed his finger on the map. A pulse rippled to the room. It's difficult to describe,

but the air itself seemed to ionise and turn red at the point of contact, and at once, all of my senses were a sense. assaulted, a sonic boom in my ears, a blinding red light, a metallic scent and taste, and this all-encompassing pressure squash my being. As soon as I was beginning to perceive the effects, though, they were gone, and I was just left with an odd sense of emptiness. Dmitri, on the other hand, had more than just the sense of it as he slumped into the arms of the bald man. Oh my God, Anna, they killed him. Anna was just grinning.

Don't worry, they didn't. He'll be back before you know it. Right on cue, Dmitri jerked awake. His eyes were wider sources and his jaw hung agape. The congregation suddenly burst into excited murmuring as the bald man led Dmitri gingerly to an available seat. After sitting him down, the bald man glanced at us. Ah, you must be a lexy,

Anastasia told us about you. You know, we have a saying here. The bigger the skeptic, the blinder, the believer. You are going to be in for an experience of a lifetime. Oh, my name is Igor, by the way. I'm the lead of this small branch of the Flat Other Society here. Come, come, make yourself comfortable. You seem to have witnessed one of our new members traveling.

Don't worry, it'll all make sense. The congregation began to scatter, and small groups started to mingle. with a couple of people approaching Dimitri, probing him on what he saw. Igor led Anna and I into a small adjacent room, a pantry of sorts with a table and a few chairs, and gave us some crackers and warm milk. Once we were settled, he started to expound on everything he believed about this whole theory. I learnt that what we commonly understand about the flat earth theory

is one big misconception. Igor says that they do not believe that the world we live in is flat earth, They know it is spherical. However, when they speak of Earth, they are not referring to our Earth. Rather, our Earth is simply one of the islands or continents in the massive world map on the first level. And that map is in fact a map projection of our four-dimensional universe onto a two-dimensional plane. And what they believe is that that four-dimensional universe is in fact flat and finite and bounded by the Grey Mountains as the two-dimensional plane. grey mountains as depicted.

Each island is a whole three-dimensional world in and of itself, and to cross the ocean, we can't just ride off into the sunset with a boat. We would require a fourth-dimensional vessel, what he calls a Kakaratna, the black marbles. He spoke more of their beliefs,

and also about how the wooden map artefacts that we saw was just one of three discovered in a Tibetan mine and somehow found its way to our town. It was all very overwhelming and frankly too much for me to take in all at once. Sensing my confusion, Igor offered instead to just show me. Needless to say, even with a skeptic in me, I was quite scared, seeing what had happened to Dimitri. Even if all the travelling and other stuff Igor mentioned was just some elaborate hoax, I had seen Dimitri collapse with my own eyes and there had to be some kind of real psychological effect

if nothing else. I'll go with him. We have two Kakrantas, right? Anna piped in. We've never travelled with more than one person at a time, though. We don't know what could happen. Igor contemplated momentarily, but I suppose,

what's the worst that could happen, right? And with that, we're in the back room with a wooden map. They'd replaced the black marble which Dimitri had taken. Igor had once again gathered the congregation of people, and this time I was the one up in front of the map with Anna. As the humming died off, Anna nodded to me, and together with hands linked, we each took one of the black marbles. A slight wave of nausea hit me, but was gone in an instant, replaced with an overwhelming calm and sense of tranquility and what I can only describe as knowledge.

At that moment, I felt like I suddenly understood everything. I could see the fabric of our universe and knew that what we usually see around us is just the very surface of reality, of existence. I looked across the room and simultaneously saw not just the congregation of people, but a vast number of otherworldly vistas all superimposed one on top of another.

Anna was beaming wildly, and she was glowing brilliantly as well. The red light seemingly searching out from the marble she held in her hand. Igor had called an assistant from the congregation, presumably to catch us when we fall. Wrapping our hands around our respective marble, we extended our index fingers and touched the map at the same time. This time, there was no burst of light. I was vaguely aware of my body collapsing into Igor, yet I was still stood upright.

My vision corrected, and all the multiple vistas resolved into one primarily reddish landscape, Anna and I found ourselves in the middle of a vast rolling plains of purplish vegetation and a red sky. We ran top of a hill, overlooking a wide valley, and some mountain ranges in the distance. Very far off in the distance was a tree of impossible size. It seemed to be beyond the horizon, yet the size of the trunk spanned, almost half the entire mountain range that we could see, and right below the clouds, poked out the lower branches of it, covered with bluish leaves. I could not fathom how much higher the tree could be above the clouds.

Down in the valley there were a bunch of bullet carts, some in disrepair and abandoned, others still attached to a pair of monstrous beasts resembling oxen. They were around four times the size of the bears we see from time to time outside our town, and the carts they were strapped to were similarly as huge, as if each cart could fit a small house. Laying around on the ground were humongous, humanoid figures, around two times the length of a car, seemingly content to just make a bed out of the lush purple flora.

Come on, let's take a closer look, Anna said as she grabbed my hand. I threw her a wary look. Don't worry, they can't see us. I've been near countless of times. As we headed down into the valley, Anna explained to me how time was different here and that usually a trip here lasts around an hour, though back in our world it would just be an instant. when that hour was up, as long as we were holding the black marble, we would automatically be sent back to our bodies. I clutched my marble tightly. Anna still had an otherworldly glow about her, not as incandescent as previously, but still an obvious bluish aura.

As we moved down, while we were making contact with the ground, there was a sense of lightness as if we were gliding rather than walking across the surface. In fact, we were actually intangible to some extent, our feet phasing through the vegetation, barely causing them to sway and shudder. Anna began to look increasingly puzzled. What's wrong? I inquired. This hasn't happened before, previously. I had always moved through this grass without touching it, but now look. Anna kicked her purple shrub. Her foot still did phase through it, but the shrub appeared to be pulled.

pulled along slightly by a foot as it was going through it, shuddering back into its original position once a foot completely lost contact with it. Being my first time here, I didn't know what was normal or not. Everything was already surreal to me, and I couldn't do much to assuage her fears. The feeling of lightness was slowly dissipated, and her feet was slowly, but surely, making contact with the plants around us. After close to an hour, we finally reached the bottom of the valley. Despite walking for such a long time, I was surprised that I only felt the mildest sense of fatigue.

We sidled closer to the nearest bullet cart and abandoned one with a broken wheel. It seemed to be much bigger up close. Just then, I felt a rumbling pass through me. Around half a kilometer away, one of a pair of oxen, appeared to be looking straight at us and bellowing. It appeared to be resting, with his legs folded beneath it.

There was no actual sound, but every time the creature puffed up its lungs and released the air, a deep vibration rippled forth. Um, are you sure they can't see us, Anna? I'm pretty sure that thing is looking right at us. I don't know, Alex, maybe it just senses something. I've been right up to their noses before. and they've never reacted to me.

I'm sure it's nothing. Let's go see what's in this cart. The abandoned cart was tilted backwards and slightly towards the side of the broken wheel. We climbed onto one of the spokes and carefully made away up the wheel and onto the edge of the cart. I realized when we reached the top

that the odd bellowing had ceased, replaced by an unnerving silence. I was helping Anna down into the cart when at that moment I threw a glance towards the oxen and my blood ran cold. Anna, stop, look, we need to go, now! I shouted in panic as I tugged violently on her arm, arresting her descent. Now, not only were both the oxen standing on all fours and staring at us,

two humanoid figures had gotten off the floor and onto their feet, towering over everything in the vicinity, and they too were looking right at us. Anna grabbed my arm with both of hers and clambered up the cart. The cart started shaking as the humanoid and oxen made the way over to us, each of their footfall causing a mini-earthquake. None of them seemed in any rust to reach us, but due to their sheer size, they were closing the distance rapidly.

Quickly, but with measured steps, we made our way down the broken wheel. When we reached the terra firmer, the oxen were already just 50 or so meters away. Immediately, I grabbed down his hand and broke into a wild sprint across the plains, away from the monstrous creatures. Suddenly, Anna came to an abrupt stop. What are you doing? We need to go. No, Alex, my marble. Just then, I remembered.

While I had simply put my black marble into the pockets of my pants to free up my hands, Anna had set her marble on the ground before climbing up the wheel, as she was wearing jeans with fake pockets. In our mad rush, Anna had begun to collect a marble. She sprinted back to the base. of the cart. Anna, turn back, there's no time. One of the oxen had already reached the base of the cart, and it was at that moment that the marble started emitting a bright blue light, attracting his attention. Anna was still a distance away when the animal, in his curiosity,

prided the marble with its hoof. Anna screamed. The sound had barely reached me when all of a sudden I felt myself being sucked up into the air. my vision blurring, and before I knew it, I was staring straight at the face of Igor. Since that day, two months ago, Anna has not stirred. I was distraught at having lost one of my best friends, and begged Eagle many times since then to send me back so that I can try find her and bring her back. Igor, too, was shaken by that experience, and as seconds turned to minutes, and into days, the Flat Earth Society disbanded, and even,

Igor, in his guilt, stashed away the wooden map, intent on never letting anyone travel again. I have been at Anna's bedside every day at the hospital, waiting and hoping even for just a flitter of an eyelid. Yet, it was nothing at all. At least, until this morning. Anna had suddenly opened her eyes as her heart rate plummeted to a steady 10 beats per minute, and she had turned to me, opening her mouth as if to see. speak, but all that came out was not any sound that could be heard, but a deep, guitaral reverberation that struck me to my core. I left the room to immediately record this and post it online. It is my greatest hope that this can find someone who has heard of this

artefact, or has some information on this other world. If there are suddenly an increase in fervent believers in the flatter theory in your community, please let me know. and help me. Bring Anna back. I murdered Aaron Harper, my closest friend. I stabbed him right in the heart. Look, I know how it sounds, okay. You probably think I'm some unstable lunatic.

I'm not. I'm really not. I bet you would have done the exact same thing in my situation. I don't have much time, so I'll just start at the beginning. It'll probably make the most sense that way. Winter break had just started And I was bored out to my mind I don't really have any major hobbies

In college had taken up so much of my time anyway So it didn't really matter But now that I had three weeks of free time I had nothing to do So I had reluctant to resign myself To spending it sleeping And maybe binge watching a couple of shows on Netflix When out of the blue

My phone began to ring When I fished it out of my pocket I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Aaron Aaron is, or was, my best friend all through high school. I met him on the first day of freshman year and we'd been completely inseparable ever since. We spent nearly every day together.

At least, that's how it used to be. I was surprised because it had been a long time since I'd last talk to him. Hell, I think that was my first conversation with him since high school graduation. Why would he call me now? I picked up the buzzing phone and answered the call. Hey, is this still Tay's number?

Aaron's voice immediately came crackling through the phone speaker. Hey, Aaron, yes, this is still my number. I answered, happy to hear his voice after so long. Oh, hey, I wasn't sure if you had changed it or not. He had said, a little bit of nervousness creeping into his voice. "'What's up? It's been a while since we've talked,' I asked, confused about why he called today of all days. Oh, I've been doing pretty good. My record shop has been pretty successful. How's college?'

He spoke quickly and his voice sounded almost tight, like he was out of breath. There was a good beat of silence before I responded. "'Collage is good. I'm glad to hear that your business is doing good, man,' I awkwardly answered. not knowing what to say next, I paused, waiting for him to say something. The silence slowly dragged out, killing the already fairly dry conversation. As it got more uncomfortable, I decided to cut to the chase. Why'd you call me, Aaron? I asked, voice piercing the silence. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go camping over Mount Mayworth for a couple of days with me.

As soon as those words left his lips, I knew I was going, I had to You see, back when Aaron and I were in high school We would always camp up on Mayworth every summer Normally with his brother, Jason It was our little tradition We stopped after we graduated I don't remember why

I had to go with him I couldn't just let our tradition die out completely And I knew I needed a break from college Okay, I'll go I responded smiling Looking back on it, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble if I just hung up. A couple of hours later, I was outside waiting to be picked up. I hadn't packed much, just some camping gear, my phone, and my old hunting knife.

The knife was a gift from Aaron, so it felt fitting. It was a cold day out. I remember that. Puddles of dark rainwater from the previous night still littered the area. It was pulling in every nook and crannock. in the street, and it flowed into the storm drains, into the abyss that was the sewers below. I checked my phone for any texts from Aaron. None.

It wasn't surprising, to be honest. Aaron was the kind of guy to always be late to everything, no matter how important it was. Hell, I remember back in freshman year, he was about half an hour late to his own brother's birthday party. Man, Jason was mad about that. I smiled. the image of Jason given Aaron a nuggy filling my head. I miss those days.

Why did we ever stop talking? Just then, I heard an old but nostalgic, dirty red pickup driving down the road, splashing through the puddles in the street, with a pair of dim yellow headlights paving a clear path. I looked up from my phone and looked towards the dirty windshield of the truck. Aaron waved at me through the filthy window. I waved back and walked up to the shotgun seat. and there was a little click as Aaron unlocked the door.

I opened it and clambered into the truck, put in my backpack and my lap. I shut the door with a thud. Aaron looked a little different from when I had last seen him, but I guess that's to be expected, considering it had been so long. His hair was longer, down to his shoulders. He also wore a large pair of dark sunglasses,

and I saw my own reflection staring back at me in those glasses. So, are you ready to head out? He asked. And in person, I noticed that his voice was slightly different. I can't really place it, but something was off. Once again, this was to be expected. It had been a long while after all. Yeah, let's go.

The drive was, to be honest, really relaxing. Aaron and I talked about our lives and about how things were in high school. Eventually, the building started to become less and less common, slowly replaced by rocks and trees. Before I knew it, the road was gravel and the looming shadow of Mount Mayworth had enveloped us. Looking up at the enormous mountain, I let sleep take me. Tap, tap, tap. My eyes creaked open, and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the dark glasses of Aaron looking down at me through the car window. He was smiling at me, slowly tapping the window with his eyes.

finger. I took a breath, my heart's still pounding. It was kind of a nerveing, to be honest, just watching him smile at me like that. I cautiously looked around and I realized we had arrived at Mayworth. Hey, wake up, we're here, Aaron said, which was kind of weird, considering I was clearly already awake and I was staring up at him. I opened the car door and got out. "'Geeze, man, you scare the daylight out of me,' I told him. "'Sorry,' Aaron said simply. "'I had the feeling he wasn't being sincere, "'but I decided to drop it just because we were losing daylight.

"'We didn't waste any more time "'and immediately set out of our usual spot. "'The hike was easy than I remembered, "'and soon we reached a small clearing "'that was full of many memories of our past excursions. "'It felt good to be back. We had gotten there just before night came and managed to set up the two tents and a campfire

before it started getting dark. The mountain was exactly how I remembered it. The trees danced silently in the wind and the campfire crackled and licked at the air. I took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air and smiled. I think a break from everything was just what I needed. I got to remember to thank Aaron later for inviting me.

Speaking of Aaron, he emerged from his tent after unpacking. He still had his sunglasses on and he was watching me sit by the fire. He had this big, giddy smile on his face, the same kind of smile he had when he smiled at me through the car window. Having fun, he asked, grinning at me. Ah, yes, I responded slowly, getting a little uncomfortable with how he was smiling at me. He scratched at his neck, then slapped it. He grinned at me.

then slapped it again. You're okay, I asked him. Yeah, yeah, he repeated. That's when I noticed something strange. His neck? It was rippling. The skin bulged slightly, and he was trying to slap something underneath back into place. I blinked in surprise, and his neck appeared normal.

No bulge, just a small red lump. Damn mosquitoes, he muttered. adjusting his sunglasses. Had I imagined that? What the hell was that? He took a step towards me, and I felt a spike of adrenaline rushed through me. I took a step back from him instinctively and took a breath.

Hey, are you all right? You look pale, he asked, some genuine concern in his voice. I felt it in my gut that I had to get away from him. I'm going to go to bed, I said quickly, getting up and slipping. into the safety of my tent. As soon as I finished sipping up the tent, I finally took a breath.

Something was horribly wrong with Aaron. I don't know how I knew, but I could feel it in my gut. What was that bulge in his neck? Had I just imagined that? I reached into my bag, taking out the hunting knife I had brought. I fiddled with a knife, my fingers gripping the handle. I debated sleeping with it by my side, you know, just in case. but I decided against it.

I put it back into my bag. Sighing to myself, I seal myself in my sleeping bag. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. When I woke, daylight was shining through the tent. I crawled for my sleeping bag, quickly got ready and stepped out into the light. The campfire had long burned out, and the grey sky had enveloped the sun. Aaron's tent was still zipped shut. Must be still asleep, I thought.

Seeing his tent, I remembered what had happened the night before, causing a shudder to ripple across my body. Was that even real? I was tired. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe it was just a mosquito bite. There's absolutely nothing wrong with Aaron. You were tired in seeing things, I said out loud, trying to convince myself. The zipper began moving down the tent.

Aaron was awake after all. I quickly turned my attention to the fire, trying to look like I wasn't just watching his tent like a creep. Oh, hey Tay, you're up already. I heard his tired voice ask. I slowly turned around to face him. He still wore those shades. Clothing was the same too.

Had he even taken off his damn shoes to sleep? Yeah, I'm awake, I said, not taking my eyes off of him. great Hey I actually wanted to show you something I found up here It's a little farther up the mountain He said walking up and sitting down at the long dead fire What do you want to show me? I had asked him It's kind of a surprise he responded letting out a light chuckle

Hearing that chuckle I felt nostalgia rushed through me After a moment I made the worst mistake of my life I lifted my mind hand to me tears. I was just being paranoid, right? We set out after having breakfast and I managed to calm down, stupidly thinking that what I'd seen the previous night was just in my head. After about half an hour of hiking up the mountain, we made it to a large clearing where the ground stopped going up. In the centre of the clearing there was a large shimmering lake.

The lake didn't ripple. It was completely still and so murky I couldn't see into it at all. What took up most of my attention, however, was the large, dark stone that came out of the center of the lake. It was like no stone I had ever seen. It was made out of an odd dark material, I think obsidian or something like that. It had grey speckles covering every inch of the stone, and it rose from the center of the lake, at least ten feet high. The weirdest thing, though, was the dark hole at the base of the stone. It was small, no bigger than a dog is. door, and it was so dark I couldn't see what lay beyond it.

It was the most hauntingly beautiful thing I had ever seen, that stone. Pretty cool, huh? He said, grinning once again. Yeah, I said, distant, still focused on the stone. I found it on a high glass summer. It's insane, right? He continued. How the hell have we not found this before?

We've hiked nearly every inch of this mountain. I asked more to myself than anyone. Aaron simply stared at me in response, still grinning. Aaron, I asked. Come on, I want to show you something, he said, completely dodging the question. He then entered the lake, the water soon reaching his knees, then his waist. Come on, he beckoned me, and hesitantly I followed, lifting my bag over my head to make sure it didn't get wet.

I felt the icy water enveloped. my legs, eventually reaching my waist. The floor was unexpectedly smooth, no rocks, no mud, almost like the floor of a swimming pool. We waded through that lake and made our way to the great stone. Aaron hoisted himself up onto a little lip in front of the hole and helped me up and out of the water. I took a breath, shivering from the cold of the water. Jesus, I'm freezing, I mumbled, tried to shake some of the water off. A moment later, I stood up and faced it. him. It's warmer inside, he said flatly, turning towards the hole in the rock. What, you've been inside? I asked, surprised. The hole was small. How could you fit through?

Yeah, it's amazing there, he said, grinning at me again. I felt his eyes boring to me through those sunglasses. I got a horrible, sinking feeling in my chest, a deep, horrible sense of dread. I slowly looked from him to the hole, and I no longer felt curiosity and wonder. I felt fear. A deep, black fear that seemed to consume my very soul. Whatever lay beyond that hole, it was evil, and I could sense it. You want me to go in, don't you? I asked in a small voice. Yeah, I do, he said, still grinning. But I realise. I realise. I want me to go in a small voice, don't you? I asked in a small voice. Yeah, I do, he said, still grinning. But I realized that the grin was not because he was hanging with a friend,

but because he had successfully lured me into a trap. That's when I realized Aaron was no longer a friend. I think we both know, I'm not going in there, I said with surprising confidence. He looked disappointed. He sighed woefully to himself. And then he lunged at me. Before I could react, he had his hands around my throat, trying to choke me out. I felt his icy hands lock around my throat, and I struggled madly, desperately trying to get him off of me.

His hands were so cold, I kicked and screamed, but he only seemed to falter when I struck him in the face. After his iron grip around my throat began to loosen, I violently pushed them away from me, and I took a swing at him, striking him right in the face. His stupid sunglasses flew off, the left. lens broken. I smiled, enjoying my small victory, but that joy was killed when he looked up at me, and I saw that instead of eyes, he had two large holes in his face. I gasped in shock, but then it got worse, much worse. Crawling and wriggling, what appeared to be two jet-black insectoid limbs began working the way out of the two holes in Arons' face, like some kind of demented wasp nest

had been disturbed. His mouth opened and a third limb, larger, began to make its way out of his mouth. Upon seeing this, I wisely turned and dove into the water, trying to swim away from that place and away from Aaron as fast as I possibly could. But it was in vain. Aaron dove in and landed right on top of me. I felt the wind to get knocked out of me and my mouth filled with icy water before I could force it closed. I felt Aaron hold me on the the water, pressing my head down. Aaron always was stronger than me, even back in high school. I thrashed madly, but I eventually gave up, realizing that this was how I would die.

Then, everything slowly turned black. I didn't expect to wake up, but I did. I couldn't see at first. Everything was dark. I was lying on something cold and hard. I slowly tried to get up in order to get my bearings, but I ended up knocking my head on something only three feet up. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that I was in a room of some kind.

It was a large circular room, but the ceiling was only about three feet up, making it impossible to stand. The entirety of the walls, the floor and the ceiling were made up with that same kind of stone from the massive black stone in the lake. The only light in the room was a soft, glowing, fluorescent blue color, radiating from the spaces with a floor met the walls. small, pale, blue parts clung to the ceiling randomly. They were tiny, pea-sized and seemed to grow in clusters. They smelled awful and looked slimy.

I decided not to touch any. Even with this light, it was difficult to see. I was in the middle of the room and, around ten feet ahead of me, was Aaron, and all fours facing away from me. That wasn't the weird part, though. The weird part Was that he was on the ceiling After a quiet, tense moment

I knew that Aaron Or whatever the hell it was Didn't know I had awoken yet Maybe it thought that it killed me Doesn't matter now All that mattered is that I had a window of opportunity To get the hell out of here I looked around for any kind of exit

Anything My eyes scanned left and right Nothing Nothing besides With those bones? Don't think about it. I scanned the right, and there it was. A small hole in the wall that led to an exit.

Maybe, hopefully. I slowly began to make my way towards the hole, avoiding the pale blue pods, but it was like a minefield. Just one step at a time. I could feel my back scraping against the ceiling. Just one step at a time. I tried to hide the sound

of my terrified breathing, just one step at a time. I could hear him scratching at the two cavities where his two warm brown eyes should have been. I was just three steps to salvation, two steps. Then a crack shattered the silence and my hope of escaping without being spotted, shattered along with it. I slowly forced my head to look down. I had broken some kind of bone.

I think he was once a finger. I looked back at Aaron and jumped back screaming when I found him mere inches away Had he known I was awake the whole time He skittered towards me mouth wide open I lifted my boot clad foot

And kicked him right in the mouth He fell back A shriek escaping I kicked him again Then I kicked him a third time And I felt his nose flattened against my boot Aaron let out a much more Human-sounding scream

and I crawled madly through the hole. The hole led into a tunnel. I could hear him screaming behind me. I crawled and clawed up the steady incline of the tunnel. I didn't care when I felt cloth and skin tearing off my knees and my elbows. He was getting louder. I don't know how anyone could ever scream so loud. Looking back on it, I didn't even feel like I was in control,

like some primitive survival instinct took over and I was just in the backseat. I only really noticed the pain when I crawled out of the tunnel and into the light and saw how badly I was bleeding. The light itself was blinding at first, but soon I realized I was back on the rock in the lake. Aaron must have dragged me down here once he thought I was dead.

I didn't waste time, couldn't. I dove into the water and a bit down the pain I felt from the agony of the cuts touching the water. I swam as fast as I could, away from that hill. But I heard of it. splash in the water.

He was coming for me. I just barely reached the shore when his fingers snatched my ankle. I yelled and kicked at his fingers. I heard one of his fingers break, but he did not let go. Aaron tried to drag me back into the depths of the lake, back towards the stone.

No, no! I screamed. I couldn't bear going back there. I kicked and kicked and clawed. By some miracle, I managed to slip out of the booty grit and I got up and bolted into the forest. My entire body felt like it was on fire.

Blood ran down my arms and my shins. Never in my life had I ever ran as fast as I ran then. But it was inevitable. Aaron caught up to me. He clawed at my back, managing to grab one of the straps. I felt myself get ripped back and Aaron started whipping me around like a rag doll. He had to have some kind of supernatural strength.

because it was so strong that he lifted me. My feet didn't even touch the ground. When he finally threw me, I flew through the air for a long second, peeling my heart go up into my throat before crashing into the ground. Gasping and coughing, I got up. Aaron looked even worse than before. I could see his purple and blue veins bulging beneath his skin, and they were moving, writhing and wriggling like worms or snakes under his skin.

his broken nose was crooked at an odd angle. The insectoid appendages still reached out at me from his eye sockets. Tay, help me, please, Aaron goggled out. Was Aaron still in there? Was the person I once knew still there? Please. Kill me. Aaron choked out.

And that was the last thing he ever said, because his head suddenly split open. revealing the source of the insectoid appendages. It was jet black, and it looked like a horrible mix between a huntsman spider and a cockroach. It was coiled around his broken skull, and I could see that it was attached to his brainstem, having severed his spine from his head. I realized that the bulge I'd seen the night before was probably part of his vertebrae. It was controlling him like some kind of demented meatpuppet.

But that was Aaron, the real Aaron, talking to me. Was he still there, trapped in his own mind while his potty was used as a puppet? I couldn't let that thing. That creature do that to him. I couldn't let that thing exist. I knew what I had to do, for Aaron's sake. I took off my pack and took out my hunting knife, dropping the pack to the ground. It was the knife Aaron had given me, the one I'd brought.

It was fitting. I charged and managed to stab him right in the heart. blood splattered across my face and heard a strange gurgling sound maybe it was Aaron trying to scream the knife sank nearly to the handle and Aaron dropped like a rock to the forest floor almost immediately

the insect lit from Aaron's head and onto my face it vomited a bunch of foul-tasting white foam all over my face making a horrible screeching noise that reminded me of a cicada buzzing I coughed and gagged the foam tasted like mouldy cheese and spoiled fruit The disgusting insect crawled all over my body.

I frantically swiped away the foam. I realised that it was riddled with those little blue pods from that place under the lake. I swung wildly with a knife of the insect, slashing off one of its front appendages. It squealed and tried to scurry away, but I didn't let it get far. I raised a bloody knife and made sure that thing was dead. Then it was just... over Everything got real quiet

and their smell and the pain started to set in I cried for a while buried the knife and Aaron then I walked down the mountain everything was a haze but I think a hiker found me they broke me back and I talked to the cops

I told them Aaron disappeared after he went on a hike I explained away my injuries as from a fall I had while searching for him If I told them the truth of the insect and a strange rock in the lake, I'd probably be in prison right now, or a psych ward. After a week or so in the hospital, I went home. Now I'm here, telling this to God knows who.

I know, you'll probably believe that this is just the ramblings of an insane person who went nuts, killed their best friend, and blamed it on a fantasy monster, and is now confessing their sins. If you want to believe that, I can't really convince you otherwise. But there is a reason I decided to write this all out. When I first got home, I noticed that the veins of my wrist were moving. I also noticed that it's been getting harder to see.

Even now, I can feel things crawling around underneath my skin. The pods in the white foam. I must have swallowed one. Or maybe a couple. Doesn't matter. I have a cherry can full of gasoline and a lighter. After I finish this, I'll go into my shower, set myself on fire, and make sure those things can't use my body. I don't know how much longer I'll be the one in control, so I'll leave you with this.

If you ever find a strange, shimmering lake with a stone in the middle of it up on the mountain, run like hell. Some places should be left to live. alone.