CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - Creepypasta REWIND - BEST Creepypastas of 2021

Episode Date: January 3, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "If you go hunting in Yansa's territory, make sure to follow its rules" Creepypasta►43:45 "My New Job Has Only One Rule; Don't Die" Creepypasta►1:24:30 "My mother kept night lights in every room of the house" Creepypasta►1:59:36 "I’m an employee at an unusual movie theater. We don’t open 'Screen Zero' to the public" Creepypasta►2:41:02 "I was an Astronaut for the Air Force. In 1979 we went to rescue a S*viet Space Station" Creepypasta►3:22:35 "The Thing in The Backrooms" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Antonio J. Manzanedo: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Oo...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

I stood in front of my grandpa's cabin, the keys to the front door in hand, and the engine of my truck rumbling gently behind me. The sun raced towards the ground, throwing his final rays of light over the forest. I came here to escape the madness of everyday life, to unwind and let my mind cool off for a month. Working as a game dev during the pandemic did a number on my mental health, and I needed to recharge my batteries before plunging back in. too many impossible deadlines, too much crunch to finish a terrible product, too much isolation. They eroded my sanity until I couldn't take it anymore. I reached the front door and tried the keys one by one. Turned out it was the last I tried, because of course it would be that one.

The door swung aside with creaks of its rusty hinges, opening up the cabin's insights to the world for the first time in over two years. I stepped in, slow and careful, shining the light of my phone around a sea. A thick layer of dust covered everything, denoting the property's descent into disuse since my grandpa's passing. None of his sons or grandkids cared enough to come and check on it, so it fell into disrepair. No one had even wanted it when the will was read out, so it was passed around until it ended up with me. And, truth be told, I didn't care much for it either. We were all city dwellers living in New York, so no one was keen to inherit a dingy cabin out in the wilderness of Ohio. Still, with the arrival of this blasted pandemic, I was happy to have signed those papers.

I spent a few minutes familiarising myself with the cabin again. It had been more than a decade since the last time I came out here with my grandpa. He'd expanded the structure since then, adding a guest room and an actual kitchen. First things first, I went up into the attic. turn on the generator. Since it hadn't been used in so long, it needed a bit of maintenance before it started up. I replaced the coolantin oil, installed new filters, and I even replaced the spark plugs. The batteries and belt drives looked fine, so I let them be.

Last thing to do was refuel it, and voila, I had electricity. With the lights and the cabin coming on, I checked the fridge and the pantry, cleaning them of all cans before restocking their with my own. I finished ferrying my supplies inside from the truck. I had a can of something for dinner, and I went to bed

for the night. The next day, I had my work cut out for me cleaning the cabin. When I was done with the inside, I went around it to the shed out in the back. I found the place cluttered with various tools and knick-knacks, but the centrepiece was what immediately

got my attention. Rusting away in the middle of the shed, surrounded by worthless junk and all sides, was my grandpa's old four-wheeler. A bulky two-seaterate TV with a cage around it that made it look like a doom buggy. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning,

eager to get my hands on my present. Figuring the keys had to be somewhere in the shed, I left more chaos behind me in my search of them. But I found them in a nearby drawer and I gave the four-wheelers engine a tentative test. It didn't turn on, of course, but I expected that. Much like I did with the generator, I ran some maintenance on it, though it took me much longer to get it running.

Luckily, it wasn't anything major. The battery was drained. With my new vehicle, my vacation got a thousand times better. Even though I had my truck with me, it was ill-fitted to brave the unsteady terrain of the forest. I spent that day and the next cleaning out the shed as well, throwing away the junk and doing an inventory of what I wanted to keep. and let me tell you that shed was the gift that kept on giving

besides a ton of useful tools I've had a couple of fishing poles with sets of lures and floats all in very good condition as well as an old-timey compound bow with ten arrows as soon as I was done with cleaning I hopped on the four-wheeler and made my way to the nearby lake

to catch some fish and end my vegetarian streak calling it a lake is well a bit generous of my part It's more of a pond than anything else, an area where the river overflows into a meadow at the edge of my property. The shores are muddy and infested with reeds. The water has shallow throughout,

but there's fish to be caught. I found a nice patch of grass under a tree, so I cast out the line and waited. It took a while to get a bite, and I almost missed it. I jumped on the fishing rod and started reeling the fishing. When it was finally out of the water, to the water and into my hands, I admired my catch before throwing it into a bucket I brought along. I applied new bait to the hook and cast a line again, but as I went to lie down, something

caught my eye. On the other side of the pond, hidden in the thick shadows of the forest, I saw a deer. It stared directly at me, unmoving, and I could feel its eyes scale me up. As soon as I moved, though, it bolted away. So, I didn't think much of it. I was in the middle of the wilderness. Seeing animals was a given. I ended up catching a few fish about the size of my palm. After I discounted them and threw them on the grill, along with some veggies, they made for a tasty meal.

Having finally eaten some meat, my mood improved exponentially. I decided to try at the bow, doing a quick and dirty job of painting a target on a nearby tree. I, of course, missed all of the arrows that I lost. launched it, but it was a lot of fun. The next few days was spent in a similar manner, and I slowly fell into a routine. Go fishing in the morning, patch up the cabin after lunch, and either drive the four-wheeler around or practice my aim with a bow in the evenings. It took me a while, but at the end of the second day, I was hitting the tree more often

than not, and by the end of the third, I started landing arrows inside of the target. The cabin itself didn't need as much work as I thought it would. My grandpa built it out of treated logs, so it was pretty sturdy and it didn't show signs of rot. The roof was ceramic shingles, so, besides checking if they shifted about, I didn't need to do much else. By the time my first proper weekend there rolled around, I decided to give hunting small prey a try. Fish are nice and all, but they can't compare to proper meat. I got out Saturday morning I hunt with my bow and some bait

in the form of chopped veggies and trekked on foot to the edge of the property seeing as I rode around on a four-wheeler a lot most animals got scared away around the cabin I found some bushes at the edge of a clearing and if my math wasn't failing me I was still well within my property I threw the bait around and hungered down

waiting for some small critter or another to come take a bite The only thing I forgot to account for was how boring the weight turned out to be. Laid in my belly in the bushes, I nearly fell asleep a couple of times. I don't know how long I waited until I got my first signs of prey,

but I heard something approach me. The bow came up in my hands and I nudged an arrow, ready to pull it back and let it fly at a moment's notice. But when I caught sight of the animal, I relaxed. The silhouette of a deer scumbered around in the forest in front of me, taking tentative steps in my direction,

but I wasn't equipped to take it down. If it got too close and would eat my bait, I'd simply scare it away and wait for something else. But it never did, instead, stopping at the edge of the clearing and looking straight at me. I knew I was too well hidden to be seen so easily, but then again, animals have better eyesight and smile than me,

It watched me for a few minutes, and, in turn, I admired its majesty. I never seen a live tear so close up to that point, but even so, I was sure that this particular one was much more beautiful than the average book. Then, as soon as it came, the book turned and ran away. I was a bit bummed out, but I didn't dwell on it for long. Only minutes later, my prayer of choice appeared as well. A plump rabbit came out at the underbrush, hopping around the clearing until he found a piece of carrot. He grabbed the bait with his front paws, rising up on its high and legs to keep on the lookout while it munched away. Sadly for it, the position it chose left it facing away from me.

I drew the arrow back, held my breath to steady my aim, and let it fly at the unsuspecting animal. But I missed, and the arrow ended up glancing the rabbit here. It led out of shriek and bolted, squirting blood everywhere in its frantic run for safety. I jolted up from the ground to follow it, feeling that anoint sensation of static spreading my legs. The rabbit was small and fast, but I kept up with it, even if just barely. We ran through the forest in more or less a straight line, swerving between trees and dodging prickly underbrush. I was sure that I'd leave my property at this rate, so I got another arrow out of the quiver, and I slowed down as I notched it.

With only a fraction of a second left to aim, I let the arrow fly. The rabbit almost dodged it, but it changed direction of the last moment and the arrow hit it in the nape. It fell over, dead, keeping up the running motion as his body was ravaged by spasms. I took a deep sigh of relief, putting the bow away before I walked over to the rabbit to pick it up. As I reached it and leaned down, a voice resounding through the forehead.

stopped me. You're trespassing on my private property, the voice yelled. No sort of moves or I'll shoot. I got up slowly, raising my hands up in the air as I looked around. The forest distorted the sound, making it echo off the trees, so I couldn't pinpoint its exact location. But I could tell that it was a man, mid-50s to early 60s by his tone and demeanor. I didn't mean to, I answered, feeling my pulse rising.

It was an accident. I chased a rabbit and left my own property. Your property? The man asked, stepping out in the open. He was some fifty feet away, dressed in camo clothes, and shouldering a mean-looking rifle. Are you one of Barry's sons? he asked. One of his grandsons, I answered, recognising my grandpa's name. My name's Isaac.

You should have said so sooner, Sonny. The man said, putting the rifle away and walking towards me. Nearly shot you there. Barry would have killed me for that. He laughed at that, setting me at ease. I put my hands down and waited for him to reach me, observing him better as he approached. Turns out I was not only right in my earlier assessment,

but I was generous with a few years. He looked like he was in his mid-60s with a tall frame, white shoulders, and a gaunt face drowned out by white stubble. He was missing his left ear, part of his lower lip, and the tip of his nose, and his left cheek ran rampant with scars. His appearance was scary, I won't lie,

especially given the circumstances of our meeting, but his beaming smile helped. I doubt that Grandpa can do that anymore, I said. So he kicked the bucket, huh? The man asked. I nodded my head in answer. I figured that was the case when he stopped coming out here. We were hunting buddies, names' huck.

He said, extending me his hand for a shake. All the Barry's family is welcome on my land. Sorry again. No problem, I said, trying to sound reassuring. It's not like you could have known. Hook looked down at the rabbit, then back up at me. His browsed forward, and his amusement died down as suddenly as it had appeared. Did you kill anything else out here?

He asked with a deep sense of worry and urgency. Have you been here for long? A week, I answered, and I caught some fish. But nothing else other than that. Hux's tins posture deflated when he heard that, and his shoulder slouched as he took a deep inhale. His reaction had me curious, but I didn't go prime about it.

Good, he said. The fish are free. Yancea doesn't mind those. Yantza? I asked. Who's that? Some ranger? I thought I could hunt without a permit on private land here.

The answer is... Hugg started, but his word stopped in his throat. He took a hand to his nape, rubbing it over his grey hair in long streaks. Yanser. Is the forest? The spirit of it. That's the best way I can put it, but it ain't quite right. I couldn't help but show my utter lack of belief at the mention of mumbo-jumbo,

and Huck noticed. He got defensive and his attitude shifted from worry to annoyance. I know it sounds crazy. he said, taking a finger to his face and dragging it over one of the longest scars he had, one that ran from the remnants of his left ear all the way down his jaw, stopping just shy of his neck. But I had the scars to prove it. Going against Jans's wishes is a terrible idea. Fine, I said, relenting all of the sarcasm that I had in store.

The fish are free. What else? I'm guessing the rabbit isn't. The fish are free. Everything else is a gift that Janser wants to. you to have. Huck explained. You set out this morning to hunt a rabbit. Yansa brought you a rabbit, simple as. No, what you want to hunt. Come prepared with the right tools and Yansa will provide. But only kill what Yantza allows you to. Nothing else. Okay, I half said, half asked. Anything else? Don't cause suffering. Be swift with your kill. All of the animals are Jansa's children, and it doesn't appreciate that.

Once you start a hunt, you have to end it. Yansa doesn't like its gifts being wasted. Same with using the carcass. Make the most of it. And only the animal's flesh is yours. You have to return the spirit to Yansa. This all sounded like a bunch of new-age hippie BS. But I could at least appreciate the underlying message.

Be kind, be thankful. Everything in nature is part of a big unity. All of that soul-warming stuff. Even though I didn't buy it, I could at least sympathize with hugs and attention. intentions, so I humoured him. And how can I do that? I asked. Cut out the animal's heart where it fell, and bearing it while saying a short prayer.

The words don't matter. The answer appreciates the intent, more than the prayer itself. Fine, let's give it a try, I said, wishing to just get it over with already. Do you happen to have a knife? I didn't pack one. Huck pulled out a hunting knife from a sheath in his clothes, handing it to me, and kneeling alongside me. I did a small incision, pulled out the rabbit's heart, and buried it while mumbling a thank you for your sacrifice. Huck seemed pleased by it, so I sung the rabbit over my shoulder and got up to walk back to my cabin.

Want to come over for a beer at my place? He asked, before I got to take a single step. It's not too far away, and I want to ask you more about Barry, if you don't mind. I really miss my hunting buddy. I paused for a moment. thinking it over. Huck had a few quirks and strange beliefs, but then again, who doesn't?

He didn't seem like a bad person or unstable by any means, so I stood to lose nothing, but I could gain a friend and a cold beer. Sure thing, either way, I answered. So, Huck did just that, taking off through the forest with me on his heels. We walked through the underbrush under the sun's intense midsummer heat,

with him bombarding me with questions about my grandpa. By the looks of it, Huck wasn't lying. He knew Grandpa and he knew him well, but it was clear that they hadn't seen each other in quite some time, even before Grandpa's passing. Anyway, drew to his word, Hook's cabin was only 15 minutes away. It was a bit small than Grandpa's,

but it looked just as homely. We took to its shade when we reached it, and Huck showed me to a porch swing before going inside to get the promised beer. I peered in through the open door, seeing that the cabin was full of pelts, trophies, and various trinkets made from animal parts. He gave off a very arts and crafts air,

certainly not what I expected from the impression that Huck gave me. I took the seat he offered me before he returned, and he found me swinging back and forth, feet in the air like a little kid. Huck brought out a cooler filled with ice and bottles, and he retrieved two beers from it before he joined me. "'Slow down,' he urged. "'I'll throw up.'

"'I did as he asked, "'taking the beer from him and opening it. "'Cheers,' he said, "'raising his up in the air for a toast. "'For new neighbours,' I said with a chuckle. "'We spent a while talking about this or that, "'mostly small stuff. "'Huck asked me about myself

"'and what I did for a living, "'trying to get to know me better. "'When I told him that I was a programmer "'making video games, He was very impressed, and his reaction made me laugh a little. Takes a lot of brains for a job like that, he said defensively, more than I got. We talked some more as we finished beer after beer, and the subject of my grandpa soon returned. I told Hook what happened, that he died peacefully in his sleep from a heart attack,

and then I started asking questions on my own. So you and Grandpa haven't met in a long time, right? I asked. Barry He stopped joining me for Hunts a while back Huck answered Stop visiting me too We had a falling out

But I never stopped considering him a friend Why, what happened I asked I never spent as much time with my grandpa as I could have We mostly saw each other during holidays and family gatherings So he didn't get to tell me about many things going on in his life Huck is one of those things

I never even knew that the man existed. Now, he offered me a window back in time, and perspective of Grandpa that no one else had, and I decided to take advantage of that. We went hunting, Huck said, his tone quieter than before. We were hoping for a bore to get some decent meat, you know. I nodded my head, so he continued. Well, we found a buck instead,

a damn gorgeous one with the most beautiful antlers I've ever seen. And Barry, he knew about Jansa too. He knew that we weren't supposed to hunt it. We came out for boars, not deer. But he said that he had to have that buck. We argued over it, and when it became clear that Barry wouldn't back down, I...

I shot the book myself. He made a motion of bringing up a gun and aiming it, putting on a pain expression when he pulled the imaginary trigger. Book shot, hug said in a grey voice. But I was too far away. I clipped the book's face, but he didn't bring it down, blew off its left ear, lower lip, and mangled the left side of its snout. He took a hand to his own face, tracing his fingers along the scars that he wore, and I realized the implications.

He ran away, and we couldn't find it again, and the answer made sure to pay me back for doing what I did. I winced hearing Huck's story, but I didn't interrupt him with questions. I was fine with whatever details he wanted to share. I didn't want to ask him for more when I saw the pain that the memories brought him. Me and Barry, we... We argued, through names and accusations around, and the word hurts, you know.

Barry left in a fit and told me he didn't want to see me ever again, and he stuck to his word. I'm sorry, I said. Yeah, me too, Hugg said. I'm glad that I bore the trigger first, and the answer came for me. I'm glad that I took that pain for my friend. I'm just...

I don't know. I wish Barry had found out and appreciated it, you know. I wish we were still friends. The conversation slowed down after that, and it was abundantly clear that I caused it with my questions. I finished the third beer and wanted to get up, but hug stopped me.

Let me take care of that for you, he said, pointing at the rabbit. The meat might go bad before you get home. the answer won't appreciate that. I didn't want to accept, but then I thought it over. I didn't know the first thing about skinning and gutting an animal, so this was the perfect opportunity for me to learn. Huck went inside and returned with a chopping board,

as well as an assortment of tools for the job. His hands were nimble as he worked, and his skills were a dead giveaway of his experience. Before I got to finish another beer, he skinned, gutted and portioned the rabbit, expertly. He sealed the meat and bags which he handed over to me, and he went a little ways away from the cabin to throw away the guts and whatever else couldn't be used. They'll make fine dining for some critter or another, he said when he returned, it's as good a way as any to return them

to Yantza. I flinched and hearing their name mentioned once again. He started getting on my nerves, but I bit my tongue and kept my sarcastic replies to myself. Hook also want to give me the rabbit's belt, but I told him to keep it as a gift, since I didn't know how to treat it anyway. Here, he offered when I took off on foot. I'll take you home. It's getting late. And the forest isn't safe at night. No, it's fine. I tried to refuse, but Hook really isn't the type to take no for an answer. Nonsense, he said, and rushed behind his cabin. In a few moments, the sound of an engine coming to life rumbled.

the clearing. Hook returned on a four-wheeler, much like my own, with only a different paint job to tell her apart. I hopped on, and he drove me into my cabin, going slowly and cautiously. We were both intoxicated and in no condition to drive, and he seemed aware of that. Take care, Sonny, he said when we reached my cabin and I got off. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. We'll do, I assured him and went inside. I went to bed for the night. And, I soon fell asleep, helped by the alcohol in my blood. The next day, I cook the stew I so desperately craved, and heard a knock on the door as I dashed around the stove.

Hook came to visit, with him another six-pack of beer and a warm hug after I opened the door for him. Sit down, I said, pointing at the table. Food's almost ready. Thanks, Sonny, he said, pulling out a chair and throwing himself in it. I fetched another bowl and a set of cutlery before. him. We cracked open the beers and talked some more as we waited for the stew. I come out here every weekend, Huck said. I live nearby, so I'll be gone Sunday evening, but I'll be back next Friday. Take care while I'm away, okay? I will, I said, sensing Rory

in his voice. I'll follow the rules, don't worry. Huck said, with a soft smile, I pulled his scarred lips upwards. You should check on that stew, by the way. I did, as I was told, I found that the stew was ready to be served. We ate a bowl each, and I even went back for seconds. It turned out delicious. I never expected wild meat to be such a big step up from the store bought. After a few more beers, Hook got up and left, saying that he wanted to get in one more hunt for the weekend.

He wanted me to join him, but, seeing as I only had a bow, and he wanted to bag something bigger than a rabbit, I turned him down. Bring the right tool for the job or something, right? I said. Yup, Huck answered with a smile and pat to my shoulder. You'll do just fine, I'm sure of it. With that, Huck left to do his own thing. I spent the day lashing about, catching up on some reading and being all around unproductive. But with a cabin sorted out and enough me to my freezer to last me for a few days,

I didn't have anything to do. I won't bore you with what I did after that, since it was pretty much more of the same thing. Hook left Sunday evening, just like he said he would, leaving me all alone. But I appreciated the solitude, and I had a blast doing whatever I wanted on the property. Despite my promise, I didn't follow hooks, seemingly crazy warnings. I saw no point in most of them, to be honest. I also didn't do much hunting anyway, opting for fishing most days for an easier source of meat. and on a few occasions that I did hunt again

I went for small prey that I could either trap or kill with a bow so mostly squirrels and rabbits Huck did return the next weekend and he came to visit first thing Sunday morning he brought me some more beer which I was thankful for since I didn't bring any I've seen sons of hugs on the far side of my property he said and I brought an extra rifle for you if you want to join me

I'll salute the catch with you of course Sure, why not? I said. And just like that, I sign myself up. We went out, and this time I was better prepared. I brought my own hunting knife and took my bow with me, despite the rival Huck had given me. We ended up finding the hogs, a feat which Huck attributed to Yantza once again.

We shot a couple of them dead before the rest scrambled, and he did his ritual. I stood a little ways away, on guard, in case any of the other Hugs returned to attack us. I had a sound far away from me, so I turned as I raised and aimed the rifle. But when I looked through the scope, all I saw was a deer.

My tense body unwound, and I aimed the rifle down as I took my finger off the trigger. Hook heard the commotion I made, so he shot up to his feet and noticed the deer as well. The rise met for a few moments, and Huck nodded his head at it. The deer took off into the forest, and he got back down on his hunches to finish bearing the hearts. So many deer in these parts, I said when he was done.

What? Hook asked, taking aback. I've seen a lot of them around. They don't seem scared of me. That's like the fifth or sixth one. Hearing that, Hook frowned, he rubbed his bloody hands on his jeans to clean them and approached me. Did you hunt while I was gone? He asked, I could tell that he wasn't messing around.

Yeah, I answered, honestly. Some squirrels and rabbit. And did you return their spirits to the answer like I taught you? I did. I lied to his face, but it was enough to set him at ease. Good, he said. It's probably just curious about you. You're a new arrival after all.

Without another word, Huck left to retrieve the four-wheeler. The hogs were too heavy for us to carry by. ourselves. I stayed behind the guard them from foragers, and Hook was hasty with his return. We tied them to the vehicle and went back, with Hook promising to bring me my share of the meat when he was done butchering it. Take the rifle back, too, I said, before we parted at the halfway point. Keep it. Maybe you'll need it, Hook said, and his gesture of kindness surprised me. Nah, I said, I don't want to risk breaking it or something. Hook gave in and took the rifle, from my hands. See you tomorrow, neighbour. See ya. It was nearing sundown by the time I got back

on my property, so I picked up the pace to make it home in time. There wasn't anything dangerous out in the forest as far as I knew. No wolves or bears or anything, but I didn't feel safe in the darkness of the night. I was maybe 20 minutes away when the sun touched the horizon, draping the world in shadows of bloody red. My senses sharpened as my alertness reached this peak, and I looked every which way as I walked. I usually wasn't so paranoid, but I guess that Hugs constantly yapping about this yansa spirit really got to me. Anyway, I found one of the paths that cut through the forest and led back to the cabin, so I followed

it. I was only about a mile away, so I still had a little ways to go. But something stopped me dead in my tracks. Another damn deer veered in from the forest behind me, halting in the middle of the path and freezing like a statue when it noticed me. It gave me a good scare for a moment, but my fear soon turned to admiration. This particular specimen was a buck, and the most damn beautiful one I'd ever laid eyes on. Its fur all but glistened in the sun's fading rays.

Its big round eyes pierced my soul, and his antlers were tall spires of an unmatched elegance. I made no sudden moves, but the book wasn't scared in me anyway. The moment I saw it, I was so taken aback by its beauty that I just knew I had to have it, cliche as that might sound. I could already imagine the trophy, a centrepiece that would take up any room. The only problem was how to kill the book, since I only had my bow with me. Screw it, I decided, I can take the shot.

I slowly pulled the bow up and over my head, and I retrieved an arrow from the quiver. The book didn't try to run, so I nudged the arrow and took aim, hoping to hit it square in the neck. A deep sense of anxiety invaded me as I pulled the arrow back, as if what I was about to do was absolute sacrilege. But I didn't falter. I let the arrow fly. The book tried to turn and run away at the last moment, but it was too late. The arrow clipped it in the lower jaw, and I saw it spit out part of his tongue mixed with blood and broken teeth.

Regret instantly flooded me, and I took off after it, pulling out my hunting knife to hopefully give it a quick end, but the bug took off. Realising that I couldn't catch up to it, I tried to pull out another arrow, but I wasn't fast enough. In a matter of moments, it got away,

and the prospect of the night, creeping up on me, kept me from following it. I couldn't track it through the dark, and I'd end up lost in the forest. So I put the bow away and kept water, walking back to the cabin, feeling terrible the whole way. Not for what I tried, but for failing. By the time I reached it, night had already settled, so I hurried inside and turned on all the lights.

I was still spooked, but I figured it was just hugged stories rubbing me the wrong way. Nothing that a tasty dinner and some sleep couldn't fix, or so I hoped. I had a bit of trouble falling asleep that night, but I managed to after a while. I don't know how late it was when I was awoken by a loud bang coming from the other side of the cabin. All I knew was that it was the middle of the night and it was dark as balls outside. Another bang came louder than the one before it as it echoed through the cabin, so I jumped to my feet. I didn't get to dress up as the banging continued and was soon accompanied by scraping sound as well. I retrieved the bow and the hunting knife, which, yeah,

it offered me little in the means of protection if I faced some predator, but it was better than snooping around empty-handed. The banging kept coming, and I pinpointed it to the guest room. I opened the door slowly to check out the situation outside

through the window, but I didn't need to approach it. The sight I was met with left me paralyzed in fear. Outside, crashing head first into the cabin's sturdy walls repeatedly. was a deer. One much bigger than it had any right to be, with crooked antlers bent and broken

at orchid angles. Seeing me, it charged at the window, sending shards of glass flying into the room and breaking me free from my stupor. I yelled, but that only angered the deer. It pushed his head into the room, breaking the window's frame and cutting itself as it tried to reach me. I didn't stick around. I turned and bolted down the corridor in a terraculed sprint. I didn't know where to, but it didn't matter so long as I got away from it. I tried to reach the front door, but the deer figured me out. By the time I got there, it was already headbutting it, and even if I reached it, what then?

I couldn't outrun it on foot. I needed wheels, and I needed to find help. So I changed the direction and ran to the bedroom, fishing the four-wheeler's keys had to my pants. It was just behind the cabin, so I opened the window and jumped out. The deer quickly followed me around the cabin, finding me the moment my feet hit the grassy ground outside. In the moons washed out light, I got a better look at it.

My initial assessment was horribly wrong. It was so much bigger than I thought. Bigger than a damn moose, and much more imposing. But the thing that froze the blood in my veins, its fur was disheveled, revealing rotting flesh and exposed bone beneath. Its eyes were shiny and clouded by white swells,

and I felt its gaze pushed me into overdrive when it landed on me. It charged with me and I dodged slam in the nick of time. I heard it collide with the cabin, sending the whole structure rocking back and forth, but I didn't stop to look back. I bolted towards the four-wheeler and jumped on it. My hands trembling like an earthquake as I tried to get the keys into ignition. The engine roared the life beneath me, so I floored it through the clearing. The deer came at me from the side, but I hit the brakes hard.

and watched it fly in front of me. Before it regained its bearings, I took off towards the trees, hoping it would have trouble following me. It did to some degree, but I couldn't outright lose it. I saw its shadow in the forest as I navigated the bumpy terrain,

and whenever I reached the more clear part of the woods, it tried to charge me again, but I kept constant track of it, so it didn't manage to get me. My destination was Huck's cabin, the closest human and the only one with proper gun, The drive up to his clearing was utter madness. I don't think I let up the acceleration for even a second.

In retrospect, I'm surprised I didn't crash into a tree or a ditch or something, but in that moment I didn't think straight. I was pumped so full of adrenaline and terror that I disregarded all consequences. My only goal was to escape the demonic deer following me. Huck! I started yelling the moment I burst into his clearing. Huck, help! Turning my head around.

I saw that the deer paused by the forest edge, breaking the pursuit. Hook shot out of his cabin, dressed in only boxes and shouldering one of his rifles. I stopped in front of his porch and jumped off the four-wheeler, running up to him as I panted heavily. What's up, Sonny? he asked, not daring his gaze from the forest. It's a damned demon deer, I yelled an answer. It's trying to kill me. What the hell did you do? Huck scolded.

As if I'm cute. The deer left the cover of the trees, making itself known. That's Yansa. What in the ever-loving hell did you do? You stupid kid! I couldn't answer. Couldn't even move when I laid eyes on it again. Yanser had grown bigger than before, towering over us, about the size of Huck's cabin at this point.

I'm sorry, I blurted. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I heard the rifle clatter as it hit the ground and looked up to find that hook. He dropped it from his hands. He kneeled in front of me and grabbed my shoulders, and I could see pure terror in his eyes. They'd grown watery as tears escaped him. But even so, he retained more self-control than me.

It's fine, Sonny. Huck tried to calm me down. You'll be fine. Don't worry. But, I tried to protest, but Huck wouldn't hear any of it. I said, you'll be fine. Believe me, okay? With the answer, approaching us slowly, I had no other alternative than to believe him and pray that he was right.

He forced my head back down, so low that my forehead touched the ground. But he got back up to his feet. I took short, scare glances at what was going on, but I was too afraid to do anything. Hook walked towards me, and it stopped when it saw him approach. Forgive him, Huck yelled. He's young. He didn't know what he was doing. hearing his words, Yan said. He lowered his head

until his undead eyes were at Hook's level, but I could see the distrust in them, even from this far away. Give his punishment to me, Huck yelled. It's my fault for not teaching him better, and I'll make sure he won't repeat his mistake

ever again. Huck! I yelled, you can't! Shut up! Huck yelled over his shoulder, but I didn't have the guts to lock him in the eye. Yantza walked up to him And I saw him get down on his knees in front of it

And I couldn't hold back anymore I started crying If Yianza would have repaid my deed in kind It would have mutilated Huck The image of the deer's lower jaw pierced And ruined by my arrow flashed through my mind Followed by Huck bearing the same ugly injury And it was too much for me to take

Hook lifted his head to look at it And I saw one of Yantzer's analyst drooped lower until one of its many jaded tips rested against his jaw. But he didn't pull back. Hell, he didn't even flinch. No, I yelled, which made Yon to stop and look up at me. Shut! Hug began, but I stopped him.

I was the one who did it, not him. You can't punish him for my mistake. Huck turned and looked at me, with desperation in his eyes. But I already decided not to let him go through with it. and I guess that Janser saw the conviction in my eyes. He pushed hook aside with its rotten snout and walked around him, stopping in front of me instead. The stench of its decay hit me hard,

nearly sending me reeling when it invaded my senses. It was such an ugly and twisted being, and yet I couldn't feel a single trace of malice coming from it. No, Janser didn't want to bring me unwarranted suffering. He wanted justice. I'm sorry, I said, blowing my head to the ground once more. I really, truly am. I know I broke a trust and I deserve your punishment.

But I'm sorry. A puff of putrid air left Yon's nostrils, rolling over my features and nearly making me gag. I felt its head maneuver until its snout caressed my hair. And I tensed up as I got ready for what I thought would follow. My eyes closed shut, so tight that they pulled my face into a grimace. but the blow never came. Instead, I felt something sticky and slick probe the ground until it found my right hand.

Yance's tongue enveloped my fingers, pulling them up, and I felt his jagged teeth nibble at my flesh. With a sickening crunch that sent bolts of pain radiating through my body, it bit my index finger off and swallowed it. I yelled out in pain, feeling blood welling from the wound, but Janza didn't let me pull back. It got a grip on my hand

and bit off my middle finger as well. The pain was so horrendous that I nearly passed out, but I saw my manage to remain conscious. I feared that it would go for another bite, that it would take my hand little by little as punishment, but it stopped at those two fingers

and let me go. It got up and turned its back on me, shrinking as it retreated into the woods until it was the size of a normal deer. I saw it look back at me one final time. Not a single trace of the ugly monster that had chased me remained. Huck rushed to my side after Yansa left, pulling me to my feet and helping me inside his cabin.

He busted out a first aid kit and did his best to patch me up before driving me to the closest town so a medic could have a proper look at it. I needed a lot of stitches, and the doctor also gave me a rabies vaccine just to be safe. As morning came, and my condition was stable, the doctor released me. You got very lucky, Hook told me on the way back, after I told him what I'd done to warrant Jans's wrath.

Seeing his scarred face, finally understanding what had happened to him, I didn't find the statement hard to believe. Thank you, I said, for what you tried to do back there. Hook took me back to my cabin, but he kept denying me for as long as he could. he left Sunday evening like he was supposed to

and despite his insistence that I should leave too I stayed I couldn't explain it to him back then and I still can't put into words to this day but I'm not afraid of Yanser or the forest if anything I've gained a deeper understanding and appreciation for it

me and Hocke are still friends to this day by the way I go out there whenever I can now and we've been on countless hunts together. The least he deserves out of the ordeal is a friend. But the one thing that did change is how I now respect Yanza. And no matter where you are, I urge you to respect it as well. Believe me, you don't want to risk earning. The answer's wrath.

So is there like a list of weird rules I have to follow or something? I asked, because I can be kind of as smart as sometimes. Only one rule on the job, kid, Stanley said. Don't die. He wasn't joking. Stanley handed me a heavy, three-cell maglite and wished me luck, before pulling the security gate down over the abandoned hospital's entrance and locking it. Listen, he said, before turning away.

It's not a rule, just some good advice. Try to stick to the upper floors. The hallways are narrower and the ceilings are lower. That'll give you a bit of a bit. bit of an edge. What? What's that supposed to mean? I asked.

But he was already hobbling down the hospital's front steps to the company truck idling at the curb. You'll be okay, he called over his shoulder. I got a good feeling about you. I didn't want this job. Fact is, I don't want any job. My father says I'm shiftless and lack ambition. He never says that to my face, but he never bothers the job. check the room to see if I can overhear him either.

Mom claims that I just haven't found the right spirit guide to illuminate my life path. She's really into all that new age stuff. My girlfriend, I should probably say X, since she's been ghost to me for the past five days, thinks I'm depressed. I used to work in the mailroom at an investment firm downtown. To me, it was just a job, not a career. I was pretty ambivalent towards stocks and bonds. the market, and getting promoted to an office upstairs.

While the other mailroom employees were networking, building relationships, and going the extra mile to get noticed, I just dropped envelopes off at people's desks. A smile and a nod was pretty much all the social interaction I could handle. Then the pandemic hit, and I was laid off. My roommates made the most of it. Anita delivered grub up and learned to play guitar online. Sanjay worked from home. he actually wore pants to his Zoom meetings.

Me, I sat in my room, listening to creepybast narrations on YouTube, which is where I got the idea for the weird rules joke that Stanley didn't get. And every once in a while, when I was feeling particularly motivated, I play a couple of levels of Candy Crush saga. I never wore pants. If it weren't for the home screen of my phone, I wouldn't have ever known what month it was, alone what day of the week. I didn't want anything

I didn't care about anything I didn't do anything sometimes I'll check my own pulse just to see if I was still alive the only way the level of substitude in my existence could increase was if I had to move back in with my parents that became a real

possibility when they started lifting the pandemic restrictions and my unemployment benefits ran out I didn't get my old job back when the firm reopened HR sent me a text telling me me they were downsizing the mailroom. I was too busy, wallowing in inertia to care, but my roommates didn't take the news well. The first time, I couldn't come up with my share of the rent,

Anita and Sanjay gave me an ultimatum, find a job and kick in by the time the next month's rent was due, or get out. They were not amused when I told them that I expected my investment in scratch-off tickets to pay off big any day now. Like I said, kind of a smart ass. The prospect of moving back in with my parents, living with my father's disappointment, and my mom's pity, was what finally got me off my ass. Of course, I started

with Craig's List. The night watchman gig seemed ideal, low effort with no education or experience necessary, perfect for a low energy, uneducated, inexperienced type like me, and they had an immediate opening. I figured I'd be sitting in a booth somewhere,

playing around my phone all night and getting paid for it. I called the number and was asked to come down for an interview immediately. So I shouted for the first time in days and threw in some semi-clean pants. They even sent an Uber. The company was a storefront. There was a sign in the window. You know, the old-fashioned kind where they painted backwards on the inside of the glass.

The innate script was chipped and faded, but it wasn't sharply scrawled on cardboard, so I figured it must be legit. Inside I was met with a man who looked to be in his 50s, with receding hair and a good start on a pot belly. He introduced himself as Stanley. Walking with a pronounced limp, he led me to his office and motioned me to a chair. The interview wasn't at all what I expected. He didn't seem to care about where I went to school, my job history, or what qualifications I might have. Mostly, he wanted to know about my situation.

Was I close to my family? Not really. Did I have a lot of friends? No. Was I dating anyone? It's complicated, but probably not. Stuff like that. It threw me off a little.

His line of questioning. But then he asked about my size. I told him I was five, five and hundred and thirty pounds. He smiled big, clapped his hands together and said, Excellent. So yeah, that was pretty weird. One last question. he said.

Are you a good runner? Runner? I asked, not sure what he was getting at. You know, running. He bumped his arms at his side, miming a jogger. Are you fast? Got any endurance. I shrugged.

I lettered in Cross County in high school, but that was five years ago. It'll do, he said, scribbling and a dress on a post-it note and handing it to me. Meet me here, no later than 10.45 tonight. Aren't we going to discuss paying benefits? Stuff like that? Let's see how things go tonight. If you still want the job in the morning, we'll talk about paying benefits then.

He walked me to the door, smiling ear to ear. I got a good feeling about you, kid, he said, shaking my hand. You know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I was about to be kidnapped by some weirdo with a fetish for chasing short people. I know, because I was thinking the exact same thing.

At 1025 my Uber showed up for the ride across town. I almost didn't go. But the thought of moving back into my parents' basement convinced me to take the chance. Besides, even five years after my last cross-county meet, I was pretty sure I could run faster scared and Stanley could run horny. Fifteen minutes later, I was dropped off in front of St. Luke's Memorial Hospital. You'd think that a creepy, abandoned hospital would have some stories floating about. But I didn't even know the place existed until the car pulled up in front of the building.

The hospital set back from the street a hundred feet or so, where the semi-circular drive leading to the entrance was in a neighbourhood of walk-ups and a few ground-level storefronts. Stanley sat in a company pickup truck by the front steps. The building itself had two wings, one on either side of the main entrance. It was five stories tall with a flat roof and was constructed of poured concrete, with yellow brick accents around the windows. You know, like those ugly, old high schools from the 70s that you see in your parents' yearbook photos.

The windows were all covered by ornate iron bars, a high brick wall topped with spikes with the same style as the window bars, hid the rest of the grounds. So, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here? I asked, as he ushered me up the front steps. You just stay inside and keep an eye on things until 7 a.m. The water is still on in the main building in case you need a drink or to use the bathroom

But there's no power Okay, but What do I do if somebody tries to break in or something? Call the police Your phone wouldn't work inside All the rebound the concrete blocks the signal But don't worry Nobody ever tries to break in

Just do what you need to do to get through the night I'll be back at seven There were red flags Popping up all over the place but instead of paying attention to them I was too busy being disappointed that I wouldn't be able to watch YouTube that's when I decided to be Captain Smartass

and ask about weird rules The first couple of hours were uneventful I spent them wandering around the hospital shining my flashlight into dusty exam rooms and empty offices The main part of the building was a drab square Its floors covered with murky grey linoinium tiles the walls and neutral beige.

Even without the years of crime and dust coating every surface, this place would have been lifeless. It occurred to me that if my existence could be translated into architecture, it would look a lot like this. A hallway beside the reception desk led deeper into the building. Beyond a defunct pair of elevators and the central stairs was a cafeteria, kitchen,

a couple of administration offices and a waiting room. Most of the furniture and equipment had been removed, but there were still some odd ends lying around, empty desks, filing cabinets, and a few office chairs. You know, stuff like that. In the waiting room, I found what looked like an upside-down traffic cone made of brushed aluminium. I had no idea what they were, until I took a closer look and saw they were filled with sand and cigarette butts. This place must have been closed before I was born, because I can't ever remember. remember a time when people could smoke in hospitals.

The wings on either side of the main building had a central hall with emergency stairs at each end. The halls were lined with doors to offices, probably for all the doctors that had worked here. The doors were all open, and the glow from the streetlights outside filtered through the crimy windows. It was enough that I could make my way around without the flashlight, but I used it anyway.

Something I should have noticed much sooner was the lack of vandalism. No one had tagged the walls with graffiti or smashed the windows, though no crushed beer cans or empty mad dog bottles, no used needles or busted meth pipes. I did find a couple of rooms where it looked like someone had kicked the doors off the hinges. Inside each were broken furniture and deep gashes in the plaster, more red flags that I ignored. By about 2.30 in the morning, I was actually starting to get into the job.

For the first time in recent memory, I was actually engaged with the world around me instead of being lost in my phone screen. There was this low-grade buzz in the back of my head. It kind of reminded me of the way I felt running a new cross-county course at an away meet or going on a first date when everything is new and fresh

and maybe a little bit scary. Describing a hospital that's been abandoned longer than I've been alive as new and fresh is crazy, I know, but that's how it felt. Then. I heard the crash. It was far away and faint, but noise carried on the dead air hanging in the corridors.

It sounded like it came from below. I'd seen a sign for the basement back in the central stairway, a diagonal arrow pointing downward with a word laundry, storage, boiler and morgue beside it. But I hadn't been down there. As much as I was digging the hole, exploring about in the hospital vibe, I wasn't ready to go poking around in an old morgue yet. Just about the time I had myself convinced that a stack of junk somewhere had finally lost this battle with gravity and toppled over. I heard more noises.

Thunks, bangs and scrapes. I was standing in the corridor of the north wing, maybe 20 feet from the junction with the main building. Past the entrance lobby and the reception desk and around the corner with essential stairs and basement access that I had seen earlier. That's where the noises seem to be coming from. Stanley? That you? I called out into the darkness. My voice was a weak, dry croak.

The beam of my flashlight trembled. Hazing the new employee, huh? And the far reaches of my flashlight beam. Spinly fingers like the legs of an enormous spider curled around the corner of the hallway beside the reception desk. Slowly, a head emerged into view, high enough above the ground that it nearly brushed the ceiling. It was elongated, with skin the colour of mouldering leather stretched tight over skull-like features.

Stringy hair, dark and tangled, hung from its scalp like diseased Spanish moss. Its eyes were two coins at the bottom of a stagnant well, reflecting dull silver in the beam of my flashlight. Then, it smiled, revealing row upon row of jagged, serrated teeth. Jesus! I screamed as I turned to face. I remember that distinctly. Weird, the stuff that sticks in your mind when you're terrified. I ran in a blind panic, with no plan or purpose other than to put as much distance between me and that monstrosity as possible.

It pursued, of course, because why wouldn't it? That's what monsters do. They pursue people and then kill them, usually in the most horrible and painful way possible. I could hear this staccato clacking of its talons or claws, or which, whatever nightmarous appendage had had for feet on the linoleum tiles behind me. The sound grew louder, but I didn't dare turn to look. At the end of the hall, I slammed through a door and found myself on the emergency stairs. There was no place to go but up.

By the time I reached the first landing, marked by a sign reading, surgery, the thing crashed through the access door below. I flung myself into the second floor hallway, dodging a few wheelchairs and gurneys that had been left behind. as I bolted back towards the main building. Halfway along the corridor was a nurse's station. I dove under the counter and turned my flashlight off, just as I heard the creature burst through the stairwell door. The sound of the creature's pursuit slowed.

Claws or talons still clacking against the linoonium, but at a deliberate, more measured pace. Street lights shine dimly through the dirty windows, casting the creature's shadow in soft relief on the cabinets and decaying corgboards behind the nurse's side. station as it approached. It stopped, just on the other side of the counter from me. Only a thin sheet of near-covered plywood separated us.

It spider-like fingers curled around the edge of the chipped forming a worktop, spike tips tapping impatiently on the underside of the counter just inches from my face. My skin tingled and I could feel the blood coursing through my veins. I covered my mouth with my hand. It sounds insane. But I wasn't sure if I was going to scream or start giggling. Before I could lose control and find out which noise was building inside my chest, the creature snorted and moved off along the hallway.

When the sounds of his feet and the tile grew fainter, I chanced the peek around the edge of the counter. The creature had moved down the hall, almost to the juncture with the main building. It was vaguely human in shape, and so gaunt that its bone structure stood out in knobs and jags beneath its skin, and it was enormous, at least 10 or 12 feet tall. It was bent, almost doubling, shuffling awkwardly, to negotiate the hallway and all the abandoned clutter.

Now, I understand his advice about sticking to the upper floors with the narrow corridors and low ceiling. If that thing had been able to stretch out and run, I wouldn't have made it two steps. As I slipped out from behind the counter to sneak off in the other direction, the maglite in my hand bumped into the wall with a soft clunk. It wasn't much of a noise, but it was enough. The creature whirled spotting me, shrieking as it charged. I sprinted back to the stairwell. It was my only choice.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I ran through the door marked Patient Ward and into the third floor hallway, ducking into the first open room. It was empty except for two bed frames and a dusty final privacy curtain hanging between them. There was a window over each bed, but both a barred. Behind me, I could hear the monster's heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. There was nowhere to run, no time to barricade the door, and nothing to barricade it with. I threw my back against the wall behind the bed frames. I wrap myself in the folds of the curtain like a little kid hiding under the blankets from the boogeyman.

Just as soon as the curtain stopped rustling, the creature shoved its way into the room, snarling in frustration when it didn't immediately spot me. It smashed one of the bedframes and then swiped its stiletto fingertips through the curtain just above my head, severing it from the rod. The curtain crumbled to the floor, I crumbled with it. While the monster smashed the other bed frame in a fit of rage, I laid very still. I didn't move or making noise, even when the N-cap came off one of the bedposts and struck me in the temple hard enough to make me see stars. The creature hoffed and snorted for a few moments before forcing his way back out into the hall.

I remain in the floor, under the curtain, still and silent, sipping air through my teeth, suppressing the urge to either scream or giggle. I stayed under the curtain until I was sure the creature had gone away. For all I knew, it could be lying in ambush somewhere out in the hallway, but I needed to move. My body was literally throwing with energy, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay still. I needed to find some place to hide until morning. Or better yet, maybe I could get to the roof above the concrete and rebar that was blocking my phone signal and called for help. The glow of the streetlights filtering through the windows was dimmer. up on the third floor, but still bright enough that I could make my way without bumping or tripping

over anything. The stairwell, however, was pitch black. I had to use my flashlight, but I hesitated, sure that as soon as I turned it on, I would see those dull, silver eyes reflecting in the beam. Taking a deep breath and holding it, muscles called to bolt in any direction, I clicked the button. The stairwell was empty, nothing above or below. I made my way upstairs, creeping past the fourth or fifth floors. At the top of the stairs, I found the roof access. The door was chained and padlocked. I checked my phone.

Still, no reception. There was nothing to do, but go back down. About five steps below the fifth floor landing, I heard it. A soft scrape, the sound of clawed feet brushing against a concrete stair coming from the darkness beneath. me. I shine my light over the railing. Two floors down, those dull silver eyes fixed on me. The creature made a ticking growl and sounded almost like laughter, then scrambled up the stairs. I tripped twice on the five steps it took to reach the fifth floor hallway. I didn't need any signs to tell me this had been the mental ward. Most of the rooms were padded and I even saw one

with what I'm pretty sure was an electroshock machine. Again, so weird that things are stick in your head when you're running for your life. I sprinted down the corridor, heart-bashing against my ribs, and into the main building, as the sounds of the monster's pursuit got louder and louder behind me. I was headed for the central stairs, but even in my frenzy to escape, I realised that was a bad idea. If it was gaining on me running hunched over in the narrow hallway, I wouldn't last long in the open stairwell.

I ducked into the first room I saw with a sturdy looking door and slammed it behind me. It was the only choice I had. There was a deadbolt just above the knob. I threw it. It must have been the janitor's closet. The shelves lining the walls were empty. There was a galvanized mop bucket with a wringer

and a couple of pushrooms in the corner. A launcher cart sat against the back wall. None of it was of any use to me. The boom of the creature's first impact against the door was deafening in the small room. Bitter plaster sprinkled down from around the frame. another boom, and I thought I heard the crack of splintering wood. I grabbed the mop bucket, brooms and laundry cart and shove them all against the door.

I tried to pull the shelves down too, but they were bolted to the wall. The sound of cracking wood was unmistakable in the third impact. I didn't have much longer. I cast the beam with my flashlight desperately around the room, looking for something, anything. And that's when I spotted it. A sliding panel on the back wall, maybe two feet square. I grabbed the handle and yanked it up. It was a laundry chute.

Behind me, the closet door burst inward, smashing the cart, brooms in the bucket against the wall. I dove into the chute head first. About six feet down, I stopped abruptly, then started to rise. Shining the flashlight between my knees, I saw the creature's arm. It had reached into the chute up to its shoulder and managed to see it. snag me by the heel of my sneaker. I wedged my back and arms against the walls, trying to push away,

but it was too strong. No matter how hard I thought, I was dragged upwards, my sweaty hands and arms squeaking against the metal sheet of the chute. Curling my shoulders inward and tucking my chin to my chest, I was just able to grab my dangling shoelace

with my fingertips and pull. It came untied. My foot slipped out of my shoe, and I plummeted downward. I managed to slow my descent a little by pressing my hands and feet to the walls, but not by much. When I hit the unyielding floor of the laundry room, five floors below, I hit it hard. The world went black. When I came to, I found myself at the far end of the large, rectangular room.

The walls on either side were lined with industrial-sized washers and dryers. The door at the other end was open to the rest of the basement. From the darkness beyond, I could hear the creature prowling around coming closer. I was trapped again. My only choice was to hide. Pulling open the door to one of the front-loading dryers, I saw that the basket was big enough for me to crawl into, and the door itself was glass.

The washers were the same, and I had no doubt that those dull, silver eyes could see just fine in the dark. That's when I noticed the space between the wall and the back of the machines. Just wide enough for someone to squeeze in to service the water hookups and dry events. I clicked the flashlight off and settled in behind the dryers. It wasn't long before the monster showed up. The first thing it did was yank open the doors of each washer and dryer, peering into the baskets. I would have silently congratulated myself from my own foresight,

but at the time I was busy pinching my nostrils shut. The dust and lint was tickling my nose and felt a sneeze building in the back of my stomach. sinuses. Hiding behind the washers would have been the better choice. The creature reached the end of the row and seemed to deliberate for a long moment while I stood holding my nose, unable to even breathe. About the time my chest started to spasm, the thing snarled and stunt off, backhanding washes and dryers as it went. It smacked the dryer I stood behind with enough force to send its upper edge crashing into the wall. If I hadn't ducked in time, it would have crushed my skull, working my way out was tough. Doing it quietly was even tougher. Some of the tries were still tilted back

against the wall from the impacts, and I had to get down and crawl underneath of my side to get past them. By the time I reached the end of the row, I was completely covered in dust and lint. Judging by the sounds coming out of the darkness, the creature had left the laundry and gone off to the right. I went left, another mistake in a night filled with them. The hallway dead-ended at a door. Even before I covered the flashlight lens with my hand, clicked it on and had a slither of light slip between my fingers. I knew what the sign would say. Morg. It was the last place I wanted to be. And when I sneezed, it became the last place I was most likely ever going to be. Some dust or lint must have drifted up from my shirt. The sneeze came so suddenly that I didn't

even have a chance to try and stifle it. And, of course, it was lost. loud, because that's just how my night was going. Off, in the darkness, the Grie just snorted and charged back in my direction. There were no low ceilings or narrow hallways to slow it down. I yanked open the door to the morgue and ducked inside. I had no other choice. I've watched enough crime scene shows to recognize an autopsy room when I see one. There are three stainer steel tables evenly spaced in the middle of the room.

Above each was the dish of an examination light, home for. from the ceiling on an armature, all of them dripping cobwebs. Behind the tables, the walls were lined with cabinets and worktops, still cluttered with all the tools necessary to carve somebody open and figure out what killed them. What I'd never seen in a crime show morgue was a half-dozen human schools, decoratively arranged on the work tables like trophies. I had to blink, just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. But the one in the middle had a samurai sword shoved through its temple

with the ends bent upwards like rabbit ears. Oh, this is bad, I moaned. At the back of the room, another door, thick and insulated, stood open. It led to the walking freezer, a dead end to the dead end. The sound of the creature's approach were getting louder, and there was no place else to go. Once I stepped inside, I realized that I had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. In the back corner, across from a wall of storage drawers were

bodies was an enormous pile of fibre-filled and shredded foam. The thing must have dragged every mattress left in the old hospital down here and torn them apart to make a pile that big. In the centre was the depression, which I knew intuitively or was just the right size for the monster to curl up in. This was its nest, or den, or there, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I was trapped in its bedroom. My heart pounded in my chest.

no need to check my pulse to see if I was still alive. I could feel the blood coursing fast and hot through my veins. Running out of time, I gave the freezer door a quick glance. It had no lock and opened outward, so there was no way to bar it. I yanked on the handles of a couple of the body drawers, but they wouldn't budge. Whether there was some kind of catch that I didn't see, or they were rusted shut, I don't know. I spun in a frantic circle, waving my flashlight beam around the room. There were no counters to hide behind, no privacy curtains to carry under, no laundry shoots to dive into.

I was well and truly screwed. I don't remember when or how the idea occurred to me. I don't even remember thinking about it. I just did it. I dove into the fibre fill where it lay piled against the wall and borrowed as far back as I could. The stench was awful. I had to grip my teeth against my gag reflex. Just as soon as I click my flash that off, the creature announced itself with a low growl and the clack of its claws on the tile floor.

It paced for several seconds, breathing heavily before I heard the sound of screeching metal. It was ripping open the body drawers looking for me. That went on for several moments before its footsteps retreated back to the autopsy room. Even under all the shredded mattress stuffing, I could hear it rummaging around, making frustrated chuffs and snorts. The rummaging sounds didn't last long. It really wasn't a lot to rummage throughout there, and the creature returned to the cold storage room. It paced for a while,

the ticking of its claws on the tarred floor, almost becoming monotonous. Then, I actually heard it yawn. A moment later, I could feel the mattress stuffing being displaced by the weight of the monster as it crawled into its nest, fluffing and tamping the fibers until it got comfortable. soon. It was snoring.

I'm the thing under the monster's bed, I thought, and came dangerously close to bursting out in laughter. I waited, biting my knuckle, still fighting that insane urge to giggle. My heartbeat roared in my ears. Muscles recalled under my skin, ready to explode with kinetic energy. My whole being was energized to fight or flee. Inch by inch, I dug my way out from under the mattress stuffing. Once three, I looked back over my shoulder toward the sound of low buzzing the creature made as it snored. There were no windows in the room, and there was no way I was going to turn on the flashlight, so other than glimpses I caught running away from it, I never did get a good look at the monster.

Crawling on my hands and knees, carefully sweeping the floor in front of me with my fingertips for obstructions, I made my way out of the cold storage, through the autopsy room and back into the basement hall. With the door to the morgue quietly close behind me, I finally felt safe enough to turn on my flashlight. By now, the batteries were getting weak, but they lasted long enough for me to find the central stairs and make it up the corridor leading to the main entrance. The first rays of the rising sun was streaming through the windows as I jog past the reception desk and through the lobby. When I yanked open the frosted glass front doors, I came face to face with Stanley. In one hand, he held a cardboard tray with two feet. styroframed cups and a paper bag. With the other, he lifted the security grate barring the

entrance. Rough night, huh? He quit looking me up and down. What happened to your shoe? I swung the blunt end of the three-cell maglight at his head. He deftly blocked the blow. I brought coffee and doughnuts, he said, holding up the cardboard tray. I swung the flashlight again. He blocked it again, this time twisting it out of my grasp and stuffing it in his back pocket. "'Stop that,' he scald. "'You'll make me spill the coffee.' I screamed an incoherent string of obscenities in his face.

My voice echoed in the empty building behind me and I suddenly realized how much noise I was making. I scrambled out the door and around Stanley, only stopping to look back when I was halfway down the steps. "'Oh, don't worry. It's asleep by now,' he said, pulling down the security gate and locking it.

You know, sometimes, it doesn't come out for his nest for days, even weeks, but you got your cherry busted on your first night and survived. Good job. I had a good feeling about you. What the hell, dude? You know about the monster? Well, yeah, that's kind of my job, finding people to keep it occupied. You mean to feed it? Stanley limped his way down to where I stood on the steps, handing me a coffee and sat down,

motioning for me to join him. Not knowing what else to do, I did. there's cream and sugar if you want. They only had glazed donuts. I hope that's okay. I gave him a hard glare as I poured four creams and six sugars into my cup with trembling hands. I've never been a coffee drinker,

so I didn't really know what I was doing. Stanley just watched with raised eyebrows. What? I asked. Nothing, he grinned. Take as much as you want. I drink mine black. The first sip of my coffee was disgusting. A second was delicious.

I grabbed a donut out of the bag and stuffed half of it in my mouth. Stanley said his coffee, grimacing at the taste. We're not so much feeding it as keeping it entertained, he said. I mean, yeah, sure.

Every once in a while, somebody gets killed. But we try to avoid that. The goal is to keep it occupied. Somebody has to be in there every night just in case the creature wakes up. So it has someone to chase. around. Otherwise, it gets bored and starts looking for a way out. That's a bad thing if it gets out. We've got a regular crew to run the halls, as we call it, but Rousseau had an unfortunate accident.

That left the last minute vacancy on the schedule, and I had to find a replacement. By unfortunate accident, you mean got eaten? Nah, she got hit by a car, broke a pelvis. And you just grabbed the first idiot that walked through your door and applied for a job? He shook his head. There were three other applicants. I picked you because I thought you had the best chance of survival. And if things didn't work out, you'd be the least likely to be missed.

Hey, I got parents. I got roommates. If I disappeared, they wouldn't notice. Yeah, sure, but they miss you. He had me there. You could at least be a bit more specific in your help-wanted ads. Stanley snorted at that, almost shooting coffee. out of his nose. Yeah, right. He held up his hands as if framing a newspaper headline. Help wanted,

monster bait, competitive pay and benefits, no experience necessary. I shrugged and ate another donut. I guess he had a point. What happens? I asked to run a mouthful of sugar and carbs. If it gets out, I mean. You ever hear of the Mill Street Massacre? It sounded familiar. Something that happened when I was in middle school, or maybe my freshman year, but I had only vague memories of the incident. Wasn't that when a drug cartel hacked a bunch of people up with machetes in some kind of turf or something? I asked. That's the story the paper's got, but it wasn't a cartel and it wasn't machetes. Stanley said, nodding towards the hospital entrance with his chin. So, if this thing is that dangerous, why doesn't somebody just kill it? I asked.

Oh, people have tried. Guns, fire, electricity, crossbow bolts dipped in holy water. You name it. Never turns out well. Last one was a guy named Dwayne. He'd been running the horse for about six months. Showed up with a samurai sword one night. A samurai sword.

Can you believe that? I tried to talk him out of it. But he was in no mood to listen. Never saw him again. Usually when the creature gets someone, you find bits and pieces in the morning. Not with Dwayne. always wondered what happened to him. I opened my mouth to tell him about the skull I'd seen in the autopsy room,

but decided against it. Instead, I grabbed another donut, my third, and tore a chunk out of the ring with my teeth. Nobody knows how to kill it. We don't even know what it is. Stanley spoke, staring off into the distance. Some say it's a demon, others a genetic aberration. I think is the physical manifestation of negative energy.

That's the only explanation that my explanation that makes any sense to me, but I can't claim it's better than anyone else's. What we do know is that it's been around for the better part of 150 years. The earliest reports come from just after the Civil War. You also know that destroying its nest is a bad idea. It just moves somewhere else and a lot of people get killed before we track it down and find a way to keep it occupied again. Then why don't you?

Stanley held up his hand and shook his head. Trust me, kid. We've been doing this a long time. Longer than I've been around, and I've been around for a while. Everything you're going to think of on how to do things better has already been tried. We do it the way we do it, because that's the way that works. Stanley paused the sip and grimace before continuing. The job pays two grand a week, full benefits, and we match contributions to your 401k.

You'll work two to three times a week. I don't like to schedule people to run two nights in a row, so I won't need you back here until Thursday. Are you insane? No way in hell I'm going back in there. You need somebody else to play hiding sequel to the monster. Do it yourself. Are you too scared?

I ran those halls for eight years, kid. He reached down and pulled up the cuff of his chinos, revealing the titanium shaft of a prosthetic leg. Things went sideways one night. Oh, sorry, I muttered. Stanley shrugged. The company promoted me to supervisor. we try to take care of our people.

It's not nearly as exciting, doesn't pay as much. And yes, occasionally, I have to send people to their deaths. It sucks, but somebody's got to do it. We sat quietly, me shoving clay's dough into my mouth, while Stanley sipped and made faces. I was starting to suspect that he didn't really take his coffee black.

After a few minutes, he checked his watch and stood, limping down the remaining steps before turning to face me. Well, I got to get to the office. paperwork, you know. I'll see you Thursday night, 10.45. Don't be late. I shook my head in disbelief. Dude, I'm not coming within 10 miles of this place ever again.

You'll be here, Stanley chuckled. I got a feeling about you. What feeling? What feeling do you have about me? You liked it. First time you felt really, truly alive in years. Tell me I'm wrong. I wanted to

But I couldn't God help me I couldn't Welcome to the crew See you Thursday He said Before wrestling himself into his truck And pulling away in a cloud of blue tinge exhaust

I've been thinking about it a lot These last two days Maybe I'm an adrenaline junkie And never realised it Or one of those people who gets off And being terrified Maybe it's just that For the first time in my adult life

I have a sense of purpose. I don't know and I don't care. I've hardly touched my phone. I'm spending time out of the apartment and I don't need to check in my pulse anymore. Seems I've found that spirit guide to light my path that Mom always talked about and is a 12-foot monstrosity

that shows samurai swords through people's skulls. It's 10.15 on Thursday night I'm waiting in front of my building for the Uber to take to St. Luke's as I post this. I guess Stanley's feeling about me was right after all Wish me luck The brief moment in which your eyes adjust to the darkness after switching off the lights That's the moment you should be afraid of

The few drawn out seconds that your vision is shrouded in pitch black As you wait for your eyes to make sense of your surroundings How many of those seconds before the outlines of your furniture come into view Those are the seconds When you should be hiding This is what my mother told me a long time ago, long before she passed away. These words have been stuck in my mind since the day I heard them, and they repeat themselves to me each night when I shut the lights off for bed.

I keep a nightlight by my bedside, just like my mother always did. She told me this the day after my 11th birthday. I remember because we had spent my birthday and a day trip out of town to celebrate. My day was filled with frolicing in the hot sand on the beach and taking countless ocean waves straight to the face. Needless to say, I was exhausted. It was around 9pm where we got in the door and I dropped my things in the hallway

and dragged my heavy body to my bedroom. This moment should have been a blur, just like any other tired night. But after changing into my pyjamas and switching off the light, something happened. I switched off the light, and the room around me became a dark void in every direction. My mother had kept a nightlight in my room for as long as I can remember. But tonight, I guess, the bulb had finally died.

At that moment, I didn't give it a second thought. I had walked to my bed thousands of times up to this point in my life, and I knew I could navigate there easily. I made my way across my bedroom, keeping my arms extended as to not bump into anything. seconds passed of wandering across my room in the dark, and I had not yet reached my bed. I thought this was strange, but I quickly wrote it off as my tired brain getting me turned around and lost in my own room, despite it being a straight shot to my bed. I squinted and swivel my head around, looking for any recognisable outlines of furniture,

but my eyes had not yet adjusted to the light. In all directions, it was pitch black. Again, I blamed this on the day spent in the blinding sun and began to wiggle my arms around while I walked, hoping to make contact with anything in my room. There was nothing. A crippling pain surged in my chest as I became overwhelmed with panic. I tried to turn 180 degrees as accurately as I could,

hoping to dash back to the light switch and flick it on. I took off full speed, but I never reached the wall. I never reached anything. My knees buckled under me and I collapsed to the floor, but there was no floor. No matter where I looked or how hard I flailed, my surroundings had been replaced with an empty abyss. I opened my mouth and I screamed. No sound came from my mouth, but I could feel my vocal cords burning and vibrating.

I continued to scream, empty my lungs several times over. My face was wet with tears and my throat felt tore open. But I never heard a sound. I don't know how long I stayed in that gap of emptiness, just outside of reality. My mother said she had only heard my ear-splitting whales for a second before she rushed into the room and switched the light on. I remember the look at my mother's face in that moment. It was the first time I'd ever seen a look of absolute terror on the face of an adult. My mother, the pinnacle of an unwavering spirit, looked completely broken.

That night, my mom didn't let me out of her sight. She made me a cup of warm tea with honey to soothe my throat. She listened patiently while I told her what had happened, but she never seemed surprised. She replaced a nightlight in my room with a new one from a box she kept in the closet. I slept in her room that night with the lights on. The next morning, she was. waited patiently for me to wake up, and she had a warm cup of tea ready by the bedside.

She stood by until I was ready to hear the answers to my questions about the night before. She explained to me about an exit door to reality. They can only be passed through in specific circumstances. My mother told me that if a person stays in that blackness for just a few too many seconds, they will be lost forever. It was then that the nightlights in every room of the house made sense. That was nine years ago, and I've never made the same mistake again. So, why am I sharing this information now?

My mother passed away last week. I was the one who found a body. She was lying in the middle of a bedroom floor, the sun shining onto her through the window and her eyes swollen and bulging from her face. Her hands were curled in unnatural positions like a frightened animal. The following hours were a blurry mess, consumed by talks with the police and EMTs. They told me then that the cause of death was a heart attack, confirmed days later by the autopsy. In an attempt to comfort me, they told me that it happened suddenly and was over all at once.

They said she wouldn't have suffered at all, but I knew better. I still know better. My mother suffered immensely when she passed, and she may still be suffering now. I don't want to think about what it must be like for her right now. I just know that when I found a body that morning, I couldn't help but notice that the nightlight by her bed was burnt out. After my last post, I received a lot of messages encouraging me to go back into the abyss.

It is something I had not even considered, and initially I shut the idea down completely. It was difficult enough just to write out the experience I had when I was a child, so there was no way I would intentionally go back. I thought of it as a slap in the face to my late mother, who spent my whole life trying to protect me from that. However, the more responses I received, the clearer it became that people genuinely believed there was a chance I could. bring my mother back from the abyss.

I slept on it. I waited a few days, but the thought never left my mind. Each passing day, my head was filled with more guilt of the thought of leaving my mother alone in that void. I pictured her weeping,

with no sound coming out, just like when I was lost in there. Her cries, her movements, her thoughts, all consumed by a starving darkness. I had to go back. I spent an in a moment. entire evening corresponding with other users on here, making sure all of my bases were covered within reason. I rode down each good idea and started planning. The first step was to reach out

to a friend for help. I did this in the form of a lengthy message explaining everything. I wasn't sure I could face somebody calling me crazy to my face right then. I sent the complete message to a long-time friend, Mia. She knew what I was going through with my mom, and she didn't promised to be there for me if I needed anything. I know this probably wasn't what she had in mind. I told her that if she doesn't believe me, then don't bother replying. But if she wanted to help, she could meet me at my house at a specific time with some extra supplies. Mia showed up two hours after I sent the message. I almost didn't believe it until I opened the door and saw her face. She had a backpack on and a look of determination that made everything else for the message. I almost didn't believe it.

feel just a little more normal. I pulled her into a hug before either of us spoke a word and we stood there in the doorway for quite some time. I don't think either of us knew what to say. I broke the silence. Thank you. She stepped through the front doorway and put her hand on my back. It's what friends are for.

I laughed for the first time in over a week. Not exactly. Mia started down the hallway toward my room while pulling off a backpack. I brought 150 feet of static rope, a timer, a tactical flashlight, and this. She pulled out a long string of what appeared to be fairy lights. I shot her a quizzical look, she explained. There for backup, we can wrap them around you, just in case you lose your flashlight or something. Their battery operated, and it's just a quick button press to turn them on.

She demonstrated by flicking a button at the end of the string and, sure enough, the whole thing lit up nice and bright. I had to admit, it was a good idea. I'm grateful that you came here. Really, I couldn't do this alone. She smiled at me while she continued to empty out the backpack. She emptied out several boxes of batteries and began separating them into small plastic bags. I stood back and admired her preparedness. We spent the next half hour checking and rechecking the supplies while waiting for the sun to go down. Once it was dark enough outside that there was no light coming in through my curtains,

we figured it was time to start. I didn't feel ready, but I don't think I ever would have. We tied the static rope around my waist and practiced tugging on it, hard, to make sure it wouldn't come loose. Meas' logic was that if I got turned around inside the void like before, I could just follow the rope and it would lead me back to the door. We wrapped the fairy lights around my body loosely, put in pin securely to my clothes in several places. I took Mia's backpack full of assorted batteries for each of the lights

and I kept the flash I gripped tightly in my hand, but turned off for now. We decided that we would start with a 30-second timer and Mia would switch the bedroom lights back on when the timer went off. Mia stood by the light switch to my room, one end of the rope wrapped tightly around her hand. Ready? She looked to me in the eyes when she asked.

I couldn't answer. I thought if I opened my mouth to reply, I might say no. I might say, this is silly, let's just stop it now and have a normal sleepover. Instead, I nodded and forced my lips into a hopefully convincing smile. The last thing I saw before the room went dark,

was the heavy look of her knees in Mia's eyes. Then, it was black. The room was so quiet that I could hear my own breathing. I could still feel my feet on the ground, so I began to walk in a direction. I get my eyes squinted, looking for outlines in the inky darkness. Part of me hoped my eyes would adjust

and I'd see myself in the bedroom mirror, tied up with lights and rope, looking ridiculous. But they didn't. In fact, it seemed like my surroundings were only somehow getting darker with time, as if being washed away by an ocean of thick black oil. I took a deep breath and realized then that my sound had left me. I felt my lungs filled with air but heard nothing.

So, this was it. But now what? My legs kept moving in a walking direction, but it ceased making contact with the ground. It was impossible to tell if I was even covering any distance at this point. In the void, my movements had no pushback. When I tried to walk or swim or float, it was just flailing. Moments passed and the sense of hopelessness crept its way steadily into my mind. There was nothing for me here.

The only physical sensation I could discern was my own heart sitting heavy in my chest. I decided I would just wait out the timer and then. put this plan to rest. How long had it been already? It felt like it had been minutes, but I knew this was just my own anxious perception. Regardless, it could only be a few more seconds left now. I started to count myself.

One, two, three. I get my eyes wide open, waiting to be blinded by my bedroom light. I continued to wiggle my limbs around. There wasn't anything. else to do. Ten, eleven, twelve. Any second now. I waited. I tap my fingers on my stomach with each second counted. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty-thety, the light. Never came on. I stayed there, suspended in the void, counting each tap of my fingers.

I counted past one minute. Past this point, I couldn't stop my mind. racing. I began to cycle through all the possibilities of what could be happening in the real world. Why hadn't Mia hit the light switch yet? I remembered our fail safes and began to frantically feel around for my flashlight. As soon as I made contact, I hit the power button. I could feel the warmth of the powered flashlight in my hand, but any light that would be emanating from it was instead being swallowed up by the void. In frustration, I pointed the thing directly into my eyes. I could feel my retina stinging and my cheeks getting damp with tears, but I couldn't see a thing. I knew I was panicking. I could feel my own chest rising and falling rapidly. I could feel

the cool air entering my lungs, followed by the hot air exiting into the abyss. I still had one thing left. The rope. I took a shaggy breath in, not sure what was going to happen to me if I slid my hands down my torso in search of the rope. My hand stopped on the coarse material tied around my waist. I breathed a sigh of relief. I pulled the rope, hoping to feel myself propelled towards it. But the rope was slack. It was too slack. I ran my hand down the length of rope and it was only a few seconds before it slipped out of my hand and I realized I'd reached the end. The rope was severed when I passed the darkness. Of course it was. I had nothing left. My body felt tired despite not moving much. My breaths came in short bursts. I couldn't tell if it was my anxiety or if the void was closing

in on me. I imagined myself being physically crushed by the darkness. I pictured myself suffocating as the abyss closed in on me. I began to lose track of which sensations were real and which I was willing into existence. I lost track of my body. I lost track of time. I don't know how long I spent like this. After a while, it felt like hours had passed. I began to think about my mom. I wondered if this is exactly how she felt when she passed.

Was she scared like me? Or did you feel prepared? I wondered how long she spent, thrashing around, trying to fight back against the empty space. I wondered where she was now. Was she still out there? She could be right next to me, thought just out of reach, but I would never know.

My thoughts continued like this for some time. My sense of time had left me long ago, but eventually I knew days must have passed me by. I'd reached the point of pure silence then. There were no more thoughts buzzing around in my head. My anxiety had left me, and with it, my inkling of humanity. I had no control over my movement anymore, or if I did, I couldn't tell. That's why it came as a shock to my system When I heard a sound

Like a jolt of electricity through each of my nerves Came in noise from the distance My sense of distance was skewed If there at all But if I focused hard enough I could hear it I'd nothing else I could do So I just listened

The sound was somehow foreign Yet familiar I knew that I could pinpoint what it was with enough time, but I was so worried it would leave me just before I put my finger in it. The sound struck me to my core. This faint whisper of a noise shook my bones. It was so soft, but I could feel it reverberate up my spine, down my arms and out of my fingertips. But what was it? I listened. I listened so hard that I was sure I had given myself a headache if I could feel my head.

Then, he finally registered. I was hearing this sound of my mother's cries, a sound I'd never heard before. I was struck with a sense of motivation I hadn't felt in the eternity I'd spent in this void. I'd have left for joy

if I could control my legs. I'd have sprinted to water. I'd have held her in my weak arms. I never would have let her go. But then, There was light. Blinding, burning, stinging, painfully intense light. Terrible light, dreaded light.

The cries were gone and it was only light. My bones ached. My head was full of a searing fire. My mouth was dry and my throat sore. The sound of a friendly voice nearby. So, how was it? Mia's voice, just a few feet away. I turn my neck, slowly,

like a rusted gear. I tried to respond, but my body didn't cooperate. I watched Mea approached me with a glass of water. I was back in my bedroom. There was another noise that had faded into the background, an irritating beep and repeat. The timer. I used the last of my strength to sit up,

and Mia helped me to the bed. She sat with me, an eager expression on her face, as I gulped down the water. she'd brought me, my throat feeling slight relief, I spoke. Why did you leave me in there for so long? What happened? My questions came out like venom. Mia looked at me like I'd slapped her. She held up the timer, still beeping. The numbers flashed on the screen. Thirty seconds. I couldn't believe it. Mia stayed with me for the rest of the night, but I wasn't ready to talk about my experience.

She was understanding and she left the next morning. She told me to reach out when I was ready to talk or try it again. It's been several days since those events, and I've barely had the physical strength to leave my bed. 30 seconds in the abyss has wrecked my health. I thought about going to the hospital, but I wouldn't know what to say. As I've recovered, there is really... only been one thing in my mind. I have to go back.

I know it's crazy. I know I'll probably die. But I don't know what else to do. My mother is in there. I heard her cries somewhere beyond the darkness.

Days after my last venture into the abyss, I was finally feeling ready to get moving again. I'd spent several days in bed, barely able to feed myself. For a few years, of those days, I really thought my body would give up and I'd wither away. Part of me is convinced that the only thing keeping me alive is the thought of seeing my mother again when I recover and return to the abyss.

Yes, I was planning and returning to the abyss. At that point, there wasn't anything that could have stopped me. I truly hoped I could find my mother in there and bring her back. I'd accepted that my next venture would kill me. But there wasn't any other up. Because of this, I knew I couldn't tell Mia about my plans. I knew she would try to stop me. I got my supplies together, just in case, and I waited until the last minute to send

Mia a message. In the message, I thanked her for all of her help and let her know that she might not see me again. I figured she would know immediately what was happening, but by then it would be too late for her to change anything. With everything prepared, I stood in my daughter. I stood in my doorway with my hand on my bedroom light switch. It took up until this point, but it dawned on me that I didn't really have a plan in place. I truly knew nothing about the nature of the abyss. I could only hold on to the hope that I'd hear my mother's cries again,

and I'd be able to navigate towards them. That is all I had to go off of. When I tried to picture a plan laid out in front of me, all I could visualize was that hopeless chasm I'd been lost in twice before. Each time I'd had someone there to pull me out of it. This time, I was alone. But I'm not, I told myself. Mom is in there, waiting for me.

I remembered how long those 30 seconds had felt before, and I wondered again how Mom felt floating in that deep darkness for weeks now. Part of me hoped that in all of that time, maybe she had learned something about the void. Maybe she knew things that I didn't, and we could put our heads together to make it out. out alive. Another part of me remembered the way my sanity slips from my grasp so easily a week ago, and after only 30 seconds, I considered that my mother's brain could just be inhuman mush by now,

lost to the clutches of the void. What if, by now, her soft sobs are gutted out and been consumed like everything else in there? I couldn't think about that now. I couldn't live with myself if I walked away from this. Soon, Mia might be not. knocking on my door, and then I'd lose my chance to make things right. I had to go. I hid the light switch. This time I didn't move. I just waited.

I tried not to count or focus my thoughts on anything. I didn't want to waste any time. I stayed put and anticipated my mind, becoming unbound inside the endless room full of nothing. I waited my body, melting away, until I was just the point of consciousness. with all physicality disabled, and then even that will be washed away into that now familiar sea of desolation. I waited. I thought I would be ready this time when I passed through the gateway out of reality, but

it felt just as terrified as the other times. No matter how much I mentally prepared myself, my animal brain could not find comfort in the darkness. When I could no longer feel the floor beneath my feet, I flare my limbs in panic. It was a wholly unnatural sensation to be floating, but not falling. Like each time before, it was impossible to rationalize my silent but panicked breaths. I placed my hands on my face to choke for tears before I'd lost my physical sensations. My cheeks were damp and my eyes stung as I sobbed.

I wept for everything I'd lost and would lose. I wept for my mother and wondered if she could hear me somewhere out there, even though no sounds came from my body. I pictured the abyss as an entity with a gaping moor, gobbling up my tears. I recalled the way the light from my flashlight had been absorbed into the entity's stomach, always starving, never satiated. I envisioned it swallowing everything it touches, devouring the things I love the most, with no concept of remorse.

I was convinced that the abyss was gnashing at my bones, contoured to my flesh between its teeth. I couldn't feel anything besides the fear. I pictured myself at 11 years old again, staring the abyss in the face and having no idea. I remembered the way my mother listened to me, calmly. I remembered how she warned me about this and took precautions to ensure I never end up back here

in the belly of the inky beast. Yet, there I was. I let the abyss savour the taste of the taste of, my terror. This is what I deserved for daring to re-enter its domicile. I had been warned. I don't know how long I spent in its stomach. I gave up on any sense of time the moment I entered. I guessed that I was there for multiple eternities. It didn't matter because I knew I'd be there for many more. After some time, I'd lost touch with each of my senses, just like before. There were times I thought I heard mere sobbing beside me. But I knew it was only my regret trying to manifest. I knew I was being punished. It didn't ever last long, just like anything else in the abyss.

I wondered if I would ever perish in there. The abyss had taken everything from me, except my fear. I wondered if he would ever show me that kind of mercy. I wondered if the beast would ever let me be at peace with my fate. I wondered if the darkness around me would ever feel like a warm embrace. grace, but the abyss only ever seemed to punish me for my weakness. It was only once I stopped my wondering that the beast returned my sensations to me. I thought this was what I wanted, until I realized that my sensations were given back to me

in the form of cold hands pushing down on my throat. The force was jarring. I opened my mouth to scream, as if it would help, but it felt as though my mouth was filled with rushing water. I was drowning, being forced downwards by something intangible. Why, I thought, but the void only answered back with more pain. The liquid darkness filled my ears, my nose, and finally my eyes. Somehow my vision was washed out with the darkness that was darker than the endless black of the abyss.

Why? I tried to scream, but my lungs were full of the nothingness. my lungs felt like they would burst. I waited to black out, but I knew that was impossible. Not in here. I knew it was pointless to beg the void, but I couldn't help it. Please, I heard my own voice from my lips, a sound I thought I'd never hear again. My lungs was still heavy in my body, like they were filled with concrete. Yet I could hear my own voice.

Please. begged again. I didn't know what else to say. Make this stop. It felt good to speak again, but I knew not to get comfortable. From above me, they echoed another voice. You have to relax, sweetheart. Perhaps the most tender sound I'd ever heard. My mother's voice. I gasped, and, instead of thick oil or concrete, my lungs were filled with a gentle, almost sterile air. I realised then that my eyes had been closed, but I don't know for how long. I didn't think it mattered.

When I opened them, I was greeted with the sight of my mother, about five feet above me, with a hand open and extended down towards me. I couldn't move to grab hold of it. I wanted so badly to take a hand and let her pull me out of this nightmare. I wanted to be in her arms. I wanted to cry again, just like when I was a child. Lost in this same void. I can't, I spoke, trying to will my hands to water, but it still wouldn't move.

A soft smile crept over her lips. You have to stop struggling, her word swaddled me like a warm blanket, but I felt frustrated. All I could do is struggle, I thought, doesn't she know that? As if she read my thoughts, my mother answered. You don't have to be here. You came here on your own. But living in the darkness is no way to live. I hated hearing this.

A word stung like a hot blade to my flesh. I just wanted to save you, I squeaked out. At this, Mom moved closer to me. I don't know how she did it. Surrounding her and me was still the endless chasm of blackness that was the abyss. yet she effortlessly moved towards me. I still couldn't move.

My senses were engulfed in her presence. Her smell, her warmth. I could feel all of it as she closed in and wrapped her arms around me in a familiar embrace. At first I fought back my tears, but I knew what mum would say. Don't fight it. I let them flow.

The warmth of my own tears and my cheeks felt like pure relief. I sobbed into my mom's shoulder while she kept her arms grip tight around me. It felt so good not to feel like I was floating away. Aren't you scared in here? My words stroked out, muffled by a shoulder. I peeked up to see her, still smiling. I realized it then.

She was just happy to see me. I felt her pulling away, and as much as I wanted to grasp for her, I knew I couldn't. I saw her inhale, as she spoke softly to me again. You have to go back to the light, sweetheart, and stay there. This place isn't for you.

You will grieve and slowly work your way back to normal. I know you can do it. I'll be waiting for you when it's your time. I love you so much and I'm so proud of you, but it's time for you to go home. I gazed upon the abyss as my mother's form was swallowed back up, bit by bit. Wait, I wanted to scream Don't go yet, I've barely said anything

I still wanted to tell you I love you But I knew somehow that she already knew And I knew what she would say And I knew that she was right Just as the last of her form was drowned out by the darkness That same darkness was replaced with a blinding light This light was painful But not unbearable

Following it was a consistent mechanical beeping just near me But I couldn't turn my head to see what was making it I squinted and waited for my eyes to make sense of my surroundings I could hear mixed voices chattering away nearby I took a deep breath in loud enough to make a sound The air tasted smooth and clean I heard the sound of quick excited footsteps behind me And then a figure in my field of view

My vision took its time to unblur and focus. But when I did, I saw Mia stood at the foot of my bed. Except, it wasn't my bed. I was in a hospital bed. Behind her followed a nurse with a clipboard in hand. I could see the sun coming up to the hospital windows. Mia spoke first, with the widest grin her lips would allow. You're awake.

I could see her bouncing on her heels. She turned to the nurse. Can I hug her? The nurse nodded and replied with a smirk. It's not like I could stop you before. Mia nearly tackled me with a hug. I thought I would fall out of bed if there weren't guards on the sides. Her embrace was warm and I hoped she wouldn't let go.

She didn't. She only buried her face deeper into my neck. I could feel her arms trembling around me. and the words came out in whimper's. I was so worried, you weren't answering your phone or anything. When the paramedics got there, they said you'd been passed out for hours. Mia took frantic breaths between words. I was so scared.

I felt my hospital gown getting wet from her tears. I mustered my strength to lift an arm and drape it around her. I'm sorry. My voice came out in a quiet rasp. I wanted to say more to say more to. comfort her. I wanted to let me know that it wouldn't leave her again, that I planned to push forward and pass the darkness. Somehow, though, just like my mom, I knew that she knew, and I knew that she would be there for me while I worked my way back into the light and beyond the darkness. The movie

theatre complex I work at is a pretty standard one. Large lobby, popcorn and confectionery stands, and film posters everywhere you look. Numerous screens with row after row of seats and soft here for little dusty red fabric. We have 12 screens in total, officially. They're pretty obviously laid out. You grab your ticket and head past the attendant and the little roped off gate.

Down you go through one of the wide scarlet corridors of the complex. Pass large, faintly glowing white signs with enormous numbers printed across their faces. screens 1 to 5 on the left screen 7 to 12 on the right Screen 6 straight ahead Screens 9 onwards requires you to head around a corner

at the far end and for screen 12 another still There's a bunch of stuff back there A large supply closet A vending machine, restrooms Employee only areas that lead you to some of the screens Backstages Not as exciting as you might think

And then There's something else as well We don't really know much about it The big boss has forbidden us from heading down But he's never actually here So naturally we ignore this rule pretty frequently My immediate supervisor loves going down When there's a few of us off shift

We'll typically sneak off as a little squad Head down with a few boxes of popcorn And watch for like an hour or more It's always fascinating And it's always different Screen Zero. There is no glowing sign with a zero on it, if that's what you're wondering. Screen Zero is just a nickname we've decided on, as a collective.

Seems appropriate. Screen Zero can be reached by heading through a set of nondescript double doors by the storeroom, near the visitor entrance to Screen 12. We're heading there right now, my supervisor and I, and a group of three others. It's a quiet one tonight, and the only background noise to our joke and low-grade banter is the muffled, general buzz and rumble of the movies playing on the screens behind the corridor walls. The glowing panel for screen 11 flickers and words as we pass by it. The thing's been on blink for weeks now.

We've been waiting on a repair for a while. What do you think is going to show tonight, Finn? Lev asked me. That's my supervisor, Lev. He's only a couple years older than me. It's going to be a spooky one, I reply, Griswold. I can feel it. I hate the scary ones,

one of my colleagues mutters behind me as he stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. They give me nightmares. There was a few whispers of Pussy and other such insults accompanied by some good nature jostling. I'm not a part of it, however. I don't blame him.

It's all fun and games in the light of the day, but at night at times like this, and especially down there in the dark, screen zero can be seriously unsettling though that's part of the thrill I guess Screen zero is at first glance a screen like all the others 100 or so seats all in rows like you'd expect The only light in screen zero unless the screen comes alive that is

is the faint dim glow of the green emergency exit sign We have looked for a switch or a series of mains for the electrics But our search has so far been unsuccessful nor have we been able to find any way backstage. Screen Zero seems to be triggered into life once everyone in the room has taken a seat. We reach the end of the complex corridor, past the panel for Screen 12. He pushed through the double doors by the storeroom. It opens onto a set of narrow and undecrated stairs, leading down and around into the darkness below,

and the mood shifts as it always does to one of excitement, if rather anxious energy. and we begin our steady descent. The screen, typically once everyone who has chosen to venture down has settled, begins to rumble and quietly roar. In that way, the movie theatres always do before the movie starts to play. The anticipation builds. If you are particularly attuned, you can feel the subtle vibration of the speakers through the seats. In Screen Zero, some of the other swear they can feel a soft breeze against their face as the process begins.

a stirring of the airs around their skin, though, I have to say, I've never felt this myself. We're not sure how, but once we're quiet and watching, without fail, that's when the screen always begins to play. It cycles through weird

and sometimes downright disturbing commercials and trailers, but we never get to see the actual film. The movie. It just never arrives. The anticipation builds and builds and builds, but the commercials and the trailers never stopped coming. The longest I've ever been down in Screen Zero was about an hour, but I know that sometimes the other guys tried for an overnight session one time, around Halloween.

I think they made it about three hours before it all became too much, and they bailed. There were four of them in total, but three of them don't come down to Screen Zero anymore. Two of them quit the job outright. The fourth was Lev, but even he won't talk to me about. about what he saw towards the end of their little viewing party, just that the movie never played. We reached the bottom of the staircase and head through the lightless corridor that lies ahead

and through the heavy doors at the opposite end. Screen zero awaits. Ten bucks say his dead girl plays tonight, someone mutters. I'll take you up on that, say someone else amidst the chuckles. And we scoge down the aisle to the seats in the very middle, the best in the house. The commercials and trailers that Screen Zero chooses to play for us are almost always different, unique in their own right.

That's part of what makes it so fascinating, but Dead Girl is one of the screen's rare examples of repetition. It's a trailer that varies subtly in its content, but always features the same titular character, the Dead Girl for a movie officially titled, You Left Her Behind and She Died. Not the catchies of titles, and one that often draws laughs when reminisce the bout in the lobby upstairs,

but when it appears in simple white text upon the black title card before the trailer, I can never help a terrible sense of sinking dread. I know the others feel it too. I'm hoping we won't be seeing it tonight, but such is never guaranteed. I think about my previous experiences in Screen Zero as I take my seat, and that all too familiar rumble picks up at the edges of the walls. Goose bumps ripple across my skin

And I feel the urge to turn around To look behind me And I do so Behind is nothing but empty seats And shadow I look back to the screen Screen Zero has shown us all sorts of curious And twisted scenes over the course of our many visits

The commercials are typically Little less frightening than the trailers If still rather unsettling at heart I remember an ad for something called the grinder. The screen flashed with blueprints for an enormous cylindrical machine, all that rotated around and around, a picture of linear gears and barbs and crunching metal teeth. It was calmly discussed, and, I presume, explained by a man off screen, speaking in a language that none of us understood. Sounded vaguely European. The animated blueprints revealed,

after a little more discussion, a steady moving conveyor belt, one that led right into the path, after the grinder. These animations were lost in favour of a more realistic 3D graphic of a large, clear container filling up with a dark, red-black fluid affixed to the grinder side as it turned and turned.

The man's voice then suddenly cut out replaced by silence, and, after a few seconds more, the commercial cut out entirely, abruptly ending in black. There was a public safety announcement played on the screen once. A group of kids,

aged around 9 or 10 were talking and playing with a group of Playmobile figures around a barbecue grill in a warm garden. The camera kept panning in real close on one of the figures to the sound of a beating heart, growing steadily louder and louder. The figure was, eventually, carelessly dropped by the kid who was playing with it, and the camera watched it tumble onto the barbecue grill and fall down past the metal grid onto the coals below. The camera maintained a slow pan As the children's laughter faded away And the figure started to burn and melt The flames grew brighter and brighter in intensity

And not until the little toy had been melted beyond recognition Did the screen cut mercifully to black Fire is not a toy It said in yellow text Keep your children safe from the dangers of fire Ah Even thinking about it makes me shiver I remember the screen playing as a commercial for an enormous water park,

indoors somehow, which I would deem impossible given the park's supposed size, and the place was entirely empty. The water flowed, the camera panned across a plethora of exciting, and, upon reflection, a great many physically impossible slides, but no people. It was rainforest-themed, beneath an enormous glass-like dome. Some other sides intersected with each other, the water flowing impossibly down only their predestined tracks, rippling with nothing more than a few bubbles where the streams intersected. The camera dove down great tunnels, tunnels seemingly without end, filled with spiraling colors and flashing lights and cascading water,

widening into sizes that made no logical sense, merging with more of the tunnels and carrying off and away into the unknown. One of the tunnels was pitch black and made me feel very much. very cold as the camera passed by, lingering for a moment on its entrance, and the churning grey-white foam that frothed there. There's something down there, I remember thinking, there's something in the tunnel. One time it just played as footage of an empty screen zero. For three full minutes, just footage of the screen's empty seats in the darkness. That could have well been the creepiest, actually.

I was watching through my fingers, ever expecting for something to happen for something to jump out from the shadows. But nothing ever did. My thought process is interrupted by ScreenSera's dutiful awakening. I exchanged and nervous but excited glances with the guys. My heart beats with fearful anticipation. Here we go. Screen Zero flickers into life.

One of the guys to my left munches quietly on a mouthful of popcorn. The first commercial cuts through the rumbling quiet with such intensity that I jump in fright in my seat. Welcome, announces a sharp voice, and the screen rolls back to show us a man in a brown suit walking across a hill of fresh green grass. He grins, revealing a mouth full of bright white teeth. Welcome indeed, friends to be, my pioneers,

to a place that defies the limits of the world we know. It's time to re-question your assumptions about what it means to be alive. He sounds British. He throws out of hand and the camera pans across the theme park of astronomical complexity. A picture of interlocking rails and whirring animatronics. Dream World salutes you, the man proudly proclaims, and through a series of fades we had taken around the theme park.

We see a fountain covered in robotic little frogs. The yellow orange eyes of a fibreglass dragon flashes bright as it turns on its pedestal in the midst of a roller coaster, one that passed. passes through a cave. The cogs turn beneath a green-grey plastic of its body, and it opens its mouth, almost as if it is about to try and speak. Then the scene transitions to a colossal, animatronic whale, rising up from a body of water, an electric whale's song pulses out from its form as the water above it is pushed aside. A grimace. This spectacle fills me with a deep and bizarrely primal fear. The whale looks ever so slightly too fake to be real.

The movement of his jaw are too robotic. Its eye looks just a little too painted, and the result is an enormous animatronic monstrosity. I dread to think what vicious gears and pistons churn beneath it in the dark water. Harry Lawson's dream world reads the text across the screen. Opening three. Not opening third, or opening in three months or three weeks, etc.

Just opening three. The screen cuts the black and the commercial is replaced by another. The screen fades into an aquarium, bathed in a pale, icy light. I shiver. I get the impression that the aquarium is cold, and I feel this cold secondhand. A series of unusual circles appear, overlaid on the screen and the panning shot of the aquarium beyond. There are three of these circles, some darker than others, and two of them are broken in places. I move my head from side to side

and realise that the circle in the middle seems to be closer than the others as if it is being pushed out of the screen towards me. It's an optical illusion of some kind one that makes me feel rather dizzy. The circles vanish and the sound of grating stone

like rock being dragged over a sheet of rough granite is played through the speakers accompanying an atmospheric bubbling from the various tanks. The camera takes us through the aquarium though I do not recognise any of the fish. We are shown silvery little creatures with tiny blackbeat eyes

rippling silently through the water of the home. Curious cylindrical crabs with tall, tearing shells, ambling and shuffling across the sands at the bottom of their tank. Eels lined with fur, slither grotesquely around and over each other in an exhibit filled with mossy green water.

The pupils of their eyes are rectangular, like those of a goat. The ruined and mutilated carcass of so now unrecognizable creature is dumped into the body of dark water and is dragged down into the depths by a great black lobster-like claw, one of horrific size. I squirm in my seat. Something is different tonight. These commercials feel more real than usual. I hate it, I decide and I want to leave, but I refuse to be attacked as a posse by the others.

I won't be the first to get up. I won't. It doesn't help that to do so, I believe, feels like breaking some kind of twisted spell. And I'm not walking up those creepier stairs in the dark by myself. I remain where I am as beads of sweat begin to bud across my skin. The commercial continues and shows us a mermaid. Beautiful, if a little eerie.

She doesn't look like a person in a costume or CGI. She looks real. And she stares at the camera in sad silence, her hair floating about to bare shoulders in the icy water. She's... Lonely, I decide. The ad cuts out, replaced by another. The walls of screen zero rumbled dutifully on.

The faint green glow of the emergency exit sign flickers in the darkness. And when the screen relights, I feel my stomach lurch in distress. No, someone murmurs in dismay to my right. It's her. It's the dead girl. It's too soon, I think, in curious panic. She's not supposed to appear until the trailers. It's too early.

It's way too early for this. I have to remind myself that I'm just watching a screen. They're just pictures on a screen. I'm not in any danger. We are not in any danger. There is no crunching or rustling in the seats around me now. In death silence we watch Unable to take her eyes from the screen

The trailers and promos for The Dead Girl Are always slightly different But at their base contain the same core element The camera begins on the girl's corpse She is still as death Eyes wide and lifeless Teeth clenched

She is slumped in the seat of a movie complex Not this similar to our own The light is cold and blue As is the shade of her skin Her eyes are also blue, only paler. She stares at nothing, up towards the ceiling. She has something clasped tight in her hand. She always does, but, as always, I cannot see what it is.

The camera panned slowly back, so terribly, painfully slow. I want to look away, but I can't bring myself to do so. As more of the room is made clear to the audience, the edges of the theatre seats are revealed to be tipped. in frost. The sound of wind blowing beyond the walls grow subtly in volume as snow starts to drift into the girl's complex.

My heart thrums in my chest. The camera has begun to rotate. Round it goes and the broken walls of the complex are made clear. Beyond their edge is only bleak white mist. In another few seconds the camera will meet the gaze of

the dead girl. Her eyes will bore back into mine. The anticipation is torture. And I cringe in discomfort. Any second now, and our eyes meet. The camera cuts to a close-up shot of the girl's face, then fades the black. You left her behind, reads the text, and she died. The words hanging the void of the screen for a moment more.

Then they too disappear. Aurora's seat is utterly silent. No one breathes. The great robe of tension upon which the atmosphere is balanced grows tighter and torter, stretched horrifically and unnaturally. Guys, I want to say, it's time to go. Please, we need to leave. But I cannot bring myself to do it. An irrational fear has taken a hold of me, one that claims that by doing so I will single myself out to screen zero, and I might as well draw a target across my face.

So, I remain motionless, staring. dead girl's pale blue eyes still burned like ice into my mind. The screen lights up with the next commercial. The cycle continues. The camera pans in on a long, low building, well maintained and wildly out of place, nistled as it is amongst the squalid, run down street of an unfamiliar city. A little jingle plays from the speakers, one which is wholly unremarkable, yet grotesquely upbeat,

Had the jingle played on TV and the friendly light on my living room I doubt I would have even looked up from my phone but here played in the darkness of screen zero following the quiet horror of an unexpected dead girl promo

it's sick it makes my skin crawl the camera draws us through the double doors of the building then the doors beyond and the place is revealed to be a restaurant of some kind at first glance it seems relatively normal

deep scarlet decor wealthy looking patrons eating their meals at the tables the air seems to ripple ever so subtly with heat and it's as if I can actually smell the sense that the restaurant boasts rich pork

fragrant spices and fine meat but the longer you look the more you start to notice it's all meat for one thing every plate is piled with ribs and slabs of steak sticky and leaking as the camera travels through the

restaurant and passes the patrons by, we hear their snorts and burps of gluttony, their ravenous chomping and munching and grinding teeth, we see the juices fly from their lips, and the patrons themselves. Their skin, upon closer inspection, is covered in scales, some more flesh-colored, some closer to grey. I grip the edges of my seat as one, only one of the nearest patrons bulging ice swivels around in its sockets to regard the camera. The other, staring at the plate of meat, being lowered by the waitress to the table. She has three. The waitress has three eyes.

One of the patrons, to my utter disgust, right near the back, appears to be little more than an enormous, scrabbling beetle. They are lost to sight as the camera pushes through the doors to the kitchen, and my stomach twist and turns in bitter revulsion. A large woman stands proudly, hands clasped before. her. Her skin is greyish and her eyes bulge out like all the rest of them. Her neck is lost of rolls. Her neck is lost a rose of several great chins and when she opens her mouth it reveals her rows of broken, sharpened teeth. Far sharper than teeth have any right to be. She speaks about a grand reopening but I struggle to pay attention to all words. I cannot tear my focus away from what I can

see behind her, in amongst the chefs. The human core. corpses. Many are headless and limbless, sizzling away behind the counter, dripping succulents as they are turned on their spits, bubbling and steaming on the grills. My mouth fills with pre-vumpt saliva and have to force the sensational way. I watch a chef bring down his blade and slice the fingertips from a hand of a severed arm. Only the finest, the woman finishes, farm-raised and locally sourced. And the screen cuts to a card of deep. burnt red. Now hiring, it reads across it in gold, with its turns and conditions in small print along the bottom. There is no time to read it, however, before the commercial ends, and, as it does

so, I can feel the heat of the room leave with it, and we are plunged back into the cool darkness of the theatre. Speak, Finn, speak, say something. I summon from within every ounce of will I can find. Lev, I whispered to my right, in a voice that shakes and is barely audible. Lev, what do we do? He hears me, I know it,

but he doesn't respond. His knuckles are white against the armrest. The next commercial plays. It's her again. It's dead girl. The exact same scene as before. The silent and empty movie theatre, the cold and steady.

daring lifeless eyes, the frost-tipped seats and the edges of snow in the rising wind. Please, I beg silently, please make it stop. But the trailer plays on, if anything, a little slower than it did before. The camera rotates to meet a blind gaze. It holds on the close-up of her face, then cuts out once again. You left her behind, and she died, reads the text. The screen changed. I can't take much more of this.

We made a decision coming down here tonight. A real, terrible mistake. This is so much worse than what it's supposed to be. A loud and clown-like laughter burst from the speakers as the pictures on screen light up in a myriad of sickly, artificial enhanced colours. Wow, says the little girl as the camera zooms in on her face, then down to her hand.

We are shown a pair of ancient dice, sitting in the centre of a palm and carved from a thick and deep red-brown wood. They are quite obviously out of place in the cartoonish exaggerated surroundings. Hey, let me see those, calls a boy, and the girl

gleefully throws the dice through the air, and the boy catches them in his fist. Another series of zooms and close-ups. There's a whole group of them now, of kids, all looking at the dice and dressed in bright primary colours. Hey kids Comes a disemboded voice

And the children look up the screen Smiles wide Yeah They replies one Are you feeling lucky They cheer and clapping response As a jaunty Zolophone pop tune

Bulls away in the background Make a wish And give him a roll Just keep him close and watch your soul Sing the voice merrily I wish for ice cream Says the boy And he crouches the roll

the dice across the ground. The camera follows the movements with exaggerated angles and quick-changing close-ups. The dice land heavily on a four and a three. The camera suddenly swivels and the colors are temporarily blurred. The focus shifts to the street and an ice cream truck skids to a stop by the front lawn. Hey, calls the driver, adjusting his cap. What do you know? My freezer just gone and broke. You kids want any of this ice cream before it melts. The camera shifts to a POV of the ice cream man as the cheering kids run the length of the grass for their free cones.

He starts to hand them down to the jumping, bugly children. All except for the boy who actually rolled the dice. He is not the camera's focus, but he can be seen in the background, writhing and screaming in the grass. The others have left him behind.

He cries out in pain as red cuts and fresh scars that slice in their way across his bare skin, as if marked by an invisible blade. his screams are lost beneath the music The camera shows up a close-up of the dice Still in the grass And a third girl grabs them up

She looks into the camera with a smile Ice cream cones slowly starting to drip into her other hand I'm so sick of my mom She exclaims with a grin I wish she was dead The laugh track plays and the screen cuts the black The commercial ends Jesus

It's so cold in here I think to myself, shivering. Since when was screen zero so cold? This is hell. I'm trapped in a nightmare here. We have to go. But nobody moves and the watch party continues. The screen bathes the seat in front in a soft yellow light.

It shows us yet another movie theatre, one like ours, more or less empty and occupied by only a handful of guests, sat right in the very centre. For one long, terrible moment, I think that it is us. A screen zero is showing us footage of ourselves. There's Lev, sat in the middle. I tense right up. But no, it isn't us.

The people on screen are smiling. They are laughing. I can't hear what they're saying, but they're talking in low voices. I have to examine him closely, but the teenager in the middle is not Lev. similar for sure but the bone structure is slightly different his hair is lighter Lev

someone whispers to my right isn't that your dad Leve again does not respond could it be I think could that be Leve's dad back when he was young there are five of them in the group four guys and a girl

the girl alone stops laughing she quietly disengages with the group and looks slowly up at the camera her bright blue eyes glittering a little green in the yellowish light. I swallow a sharp intake of air. It's her. It's the dead girl. But I have no time to process the implications of this realization before the scene cuts out yet again.

A white message flashes up in the black. The following trailers are appropriate for the rating of this film. Then it disappears. The text is replaced by the title card for a movie that does not exist. It's called Broken and Rebels from the Skeleton Rated NC-17 The day began

as any other Whispers the narrative voice of a young woman As the scene fades in Its fall in New England She is locking up the front door of a little house and heading down the street Drawing her coat about her shoulders against the breeze When, without even a word of warning

Everything changed The woman steps into a thin a wide cluster of orange-red leaves, and she stumbles. She trips and falls right through. She falls through the leaves as if they were water and disappears from sight. The camera shakes and we see her panicked. She's falling through a shadowy tunnel. The leaves blown all around her body.

The leaves fly past the camera and they are replaced by great webs and hordes of spindly spiders, watching her fall with their hungry green eyes. The close of is played of a pair of fangs that tear. into the back of her hand, ripping off a slither of flesh with burst of blood. The woman screams and twists. As she falls through the tunnel,

she is caught with a mortal suddenness in the strings of a great web, one which promptly and mercilessly snapped her neck. The camera holds its position, the spiders draw in. Leave her alone, calls out a voice,

and a flash of light encompasses the screen. The scene fades in slow, and we see the, the woman in a childhood bedroom. Metal bars can be seen protruding from a neck, connecting her head to her shoulders. She raises an arm with an accompanying mechanical

whir, and the camera zooms in on the back of her head through her hair as she rises to a robotic stand. There is the spider. Hidden in a crevice he is built in the back of a skull, tugging on wires and little metal wheels with his many legs.

I will fix you, he whispers. You'll save you. with me. Dramatic classical music starts to play over the speakers and the audience has granted several wide, panning shots of New England cities and landscapes. We see the woman being harassed on a bus by a gang of teenagers. We see her lose her hand and she tries to brush her teeth with a cluster of bolts and gears. She never reacts, only stares expressionously ahead. We see her standing on the side of a bridge on the rain, and we see the spider eating its way

through a corpse of a rat. It cuts abruptly to black with a beat of a drum. Coming soon. Darkness. Leve, I whisper. We need to go, man. We need to go before. Before the trailer for the Dead Girl plays,

I mean to say, because I know that it will be different this time. It'll be different for the worse. But I cannot bring myself to say the words. I can't do it. The weight of the environment forces me back into strange silence. The trailers play on.

Cornfield, this one is called, rated R. And sure enough, the opening shot is one of a cornfield, gold and green, shifting and stirring in gentle breeze. The camera remains fixed in place as a rumbling rises in the speakers,

reverberating through the seats and the floor and the corn starts to shake a little more violently. The sounds of heavy scuttling and a low grinding in clicking becomes clear amidst the rubble. And just when I can take the growing tension no more, a colossal centipede creeps into view in the distance. Massive and unearthly, it winds his way through the corn,

ever scanning for the most rewarding route with its lightless black eyes. It tears the corn from its stems with its pincers and chews it up as it scuttles up close and right across the view of the camera, shaking it a little as it does so. Release, summer, flashes the text across the corn backdrop. There is a date beside it, but the numbers are scrambled. It cuts the black, and the next trail plays. And we are too late.

It is time it would seem to pay the price for our inaction. My heart pounds loud and hard in my chest, as if it is trying to burst free, as if it is trying to escape from this terrible place. You left her behind, and she died, rated NC17. No, someone murmurs to my left, but there is nothing we can do now but watch. We may as well be bound to our seats.

It opens on that all too familiar theatre complex. The dark rows of seats cast under a cold blue light. I shiver, the temperature drops, the camera movements remain the same, but... She's not there. The dead girl is nowhere to be seen. Despite the icy chill in the air, the beads of sweat across my neck and shoulders begin to leak down my back. The ground shakes.

The wind rises and the snow starts to fall. Whether it falls on screen or in real life, all around us here in Screen Zero, I could not say, I cannot look away. The seats are tipped at frost. The camera reveals her same wrecked walls that swirling snowy mist beyond.

But the dead girl's seat is empty. A sudden and biting fear, terrible beyond word strike hard and holds me tight in its jaw. She's here in screen zero. I realize in panic. She's in one of the seats behind us. She's right behind us at this exact moment. Does anyone else have this same thought simultaneously? Is it one that is shared? Because Leif speaks now. His voice low, but loud as our hair is whipped back from my head. The wind is ice, and it blows with the force of a gale. Don't turn around, he commands as the rushing force of the hurricane blows in my ears.

Don't turn around. She isn't here. She can't be. Hit a screen, nothing more. Just don't turn around. The voice of a girl. Impossibly loud and painfully shrill, screams in fury from the speakers, forcing them into crackling and sparking despair.

You left her behind. You left her behind in the waist. How could you? How could you leave her behind? It wasn't me, left shouts in defence. I swear it. You left her behind, screams the response with the force of a barreling storm.

You left her behind! With a final piercing shriek and a roar that rumble the foundations of the building, we are pressed back into our seats and forced. to close her eyes tight shut against the burst of the iciest wind so far. I can feel the sting of it on my cheeks, on my ears. I can feel the torrents of snow and sleet against my skin. I feel it.

But when the gust has passed and we are able to open our eyes once again, the screen is just as it was. No frost, no snow, no wind. The screen is black. The speakers are quiet, silence. And something happens next That has never happened before Not to my knowledge at least

The trailers To my dismay Come to an end This isn't supposed to happen None of this is supposed to happen Did we push our look too far Did we push screen zero beyond its limits The director's title card appears

It tells us the name of the film The name of screen zero's exclusive film. It is called The Wastes, an Interactive Journey. Unrated. The sense of dread that overcomes me, as the picture fades gradually in from the black, is like nothing I've ever experienced, nor have ever experienced since. As it washes over me, I feel as if I'm drowning. I am drowning down here in the dark of screen zero. A lone violin plays softly and sadly through the speakers, and the camera

begins a long, slow pan across the bound field of rock and snow. As far as the eye can see, from grey horizon to grey horizon, is empty space. Ruined columns of stone and vast flat plains of white. A pack of shadowy walls appear

from behind the stone. They pad towards the camera, and as they draw closer, their forms become clearer. They are headed right for the camera. They are looking right through it. They are looking right through the screen. And to my horror, I recognize them.

I recognize each and every wolf, because they are us. They are the group of guys that sit beside me, myself included. Our skin and bodies and faces stretched nightmarishly over the skeletons of wolves, eyes aglow. There is me, padding through the snow. Lev is beside me. He pulls back the lips of his twisted human wolf jaw, and snarls and snaps. And that's it.

That's the end of it. The trigger. Leve, the real Leve, springs up from a seat with a scream. It is the cataclysm that we so desperately needed, and the dominoes fall as fast as a blink. The entire group is on their feet in an instant, in the throes of panic, shouting and swearing and pushing and clattering for the exit.

Back we run past the seats and up the aisles in the dark as the wolves snows. snap and snarl at our heels. Back we push through the heavy double doors, back through the corridor and back of those narrow backroom stairs, back into the scarlet corridor of the lobby, with bloodshot eyes and drenched in sweat. And back we stumble round the corners and into the theatre's main lobby.

Terrified, drained, but safe, safe and alive. That was one of the worst nights of my life. Lev quit the following day and stopped responding to my messages I'm still an employee I need the money but I called out sick and used the great many off days in the following weeks

and I'll be damned if I'm ever heading back down to screen zero screw that never again because as if all that wasn't bad enough there's still something I haven't mentioned yet something we saw at the very end of our experience and every time I found myself to

and curiosity on the meaning behind the movie, behind the movie titled The Waste and Interactive Experience, behind the appearance of the Dead Girl, and of supposedly Lev's father and all the rest, I think of what I saw on my way out. As we pushed and shoved the ways through the shadows of Screen Zero to the exit, there was something new on the wall, something changed, something that could have only been put up by hand by a physical presence in the theatre, It was a poster A fix to the wall

One that was not there when we went in I'm sure of it It was a poster for You left her behind and she died It was blue and cold And showed in the lower half The head and shoulders of the dead girl Staring out at nothing

With those lifeless eyes Above her Retreating into the distance A row after row of theatre seats All tipped in frost and at the very back at the very back of the poster where a chaotic group of human-shaped shadows

pushing and jostling and sprinting their way through the swelling mists it has been 42 years since these events happened and I really don't care what the government is going to do if I spill the beans

sure I signed that non-disclosure agreement and was sworn into secrecy all those decades ago but I don't give a damn I'm 83 years old and have lived a wonderful life. So, come and get me. I'm ready to meet my maker.

With that said, I really doubt it that the Pentagon is going to send a kill team to eliminate an old man who can barely walk a few feet without his cane. Now, I could begin from the top when I started my Air Force career. But all of that is just useless detail. I will, however, give you a quick rundown of my life in the Air Force astronaut course before the important events of 79.

After eight years of service in the branch, I joined the top secret unit of the Air Force in 1971. I graduated his training program in 1972 and was sent on my first space mission in 74 after spending a year and a half doing office work and writing research papers for the Air Force's Orbital Warfare research team. My flight history is not really impressive

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

These were the missions we astronauts sought for And I was lucky enough to take part in two of them The idea of building a moon base Always had a certain kind of appeal that attracted us Yes, that's right A moon base on the far side of the moon May sound like science fiction to you But I can tell you now that back in the 70s

We were launching two missions a year to make it happen Too bad all our hard work went to waste After the incident of 85 But that's not the story I wanted to talk about. No matter how bad the 85 incident was, I wasn't there, and I did not experience its horrors firsthand. It's not my story to tell. However, the one I did witness was equally terrible and horrifying. I still wake up with nightmares of it, and it was my inability to cut away from these horrors

that ultimately ended my career in the Air Force. You see, in 19. 1878, after finishing Blue Apollo 11, I was assigned to the latest program of the Air Force's roster, the Orbital Space Barracks, or OSB. Essentially, the plan was to create an orbital base that would hold six personnel, four of which will be space-trained special forces operators from the Army's Ranger Regiment. These Rangers will be trained to conduct spaceboarding operations and zero-gravity combat in closer quarter environments, with the overall goal of learning how to start. storm the Soviet space station and secure it within minutes. In an actual operation, we Air Force astronauts would operate the base and maneuver it to intercept the target space station. Then, depending on the situation, we would either hard dock with it, or maneuver close enough for the rangers to don their spacesuits, conduct a spacewalk, and use their specialized equipment in order to forcibly enter the station.

Selected as one out of two astronauts to first work in the station, I became the mission's orbital base part. 's Orbital Base Pilot, and was subordinate to Major Howard MacArthur, the Mission Commander. Joining us were Captain Jonathan Rogers, the Rangers Commander, Master Sergeant Gerald Newman, Specialist Ryan Camberlane, and Specialist Andrew Reynolds. On 1979, all six of us lifted off from Midway Launch Base in a CrewX20 dinosaur and began our journey to the Orbital Station, which was nicknamed Phoenix. The base itself was fairly big and was made out of two Saturn V third stage boosters that were docked and welded together. However, after the first week, I wished it was bigger.

Despite looking large from the outside, the inside was a different story. A lot of the space was taken up by maneuvering propellant, which took up 40% of the station. That left us with 60% of space left, with 30% of which used for a superiors. space, leaving the remaining 30 for habitation. I'm going to tell you now, it wasn't enough. Now, the Air Force did say that they did their studies, and it told them that the space left was more than enough for six humans to live in for six months. However, were the Rangers always training and the US Air Force personnel zooming about

in order to maintain the station, we often intersected one another and interrupted each other's work. It took us a month before we finally got a schedule that that we'd have to be able to be able to allowed the least amount of interruptions. After the third month, with a standard routine made and inter-service friendships created, life in the station was good. But one day, we got a transmission that would bring us into a mission that we trained for, but never expected to actually do.

Pomoch, pommoch! The caller was garbled, but the one word was clear. Having studied Russian, I knew that it was a cry for help. As part of our mission, the station regularly monitored Soviet space communications. Because of this, part of my schedule was to spend three hours in the communication station listening to Soviet chatter. Switching through the various known Soviet frequencies, I recorded everything that I heard before filing them and making use of our latest communication encryption system

to transmit the info down to Vanneberg Air Force Base. On that day, I just switched our radios to tune into one-to-one 0.75 megahertz. A frequency we knew that was used by the Soviet orbital piloted station 10, often referred to as Alma's 10. Stunned by what I heard, I quickly

called Howard and gestured him to put on his headset to listen to what I was picking up. Just as he did so, the same cry for help repeated. Pomosh! Pomu! The last call was cut off and, after waiting for 10 minutes, no new transmission

came. We better. to contact Vandenberg and informed them of this was Howard's only remark and before long we got a reply from them. Information received, Phoenix, continued to monitor the Soviet frequency and update us of any new developments. So, we did, but there was nothing new to report. After an hour with nothing new happening, it ended up that it was Vendenberg that was going to update us. Phoenix, this is Vandenberg, do you copy? Fandenberg, this is Phoenix, we copy, Howard replied.

Phoenix, it seems we have a request from the Soviet ambassador in Washington, who passed on a message from their Ministry of Defense. Apparently, at exactly 1021 GMT plus 3, the Soviet Space Force received a distress call from their Alma's Tense Space Station. This is the same transmission you intercepted. The reason for the distress call is unclear, and they were unable to get any relevant information from the operator's panicked cries. At 1023, all communications from Almaz 10 was lost,

and the Soviets were unable to get vital signs from any of the six-member crew or telemetry from the station. Because of this, they fear the worst. Due to the direness of the situation, and because there are no nearby Soviet spacecraft to aid Almas 10, the Soviets are requesting our assistance. They are aware we have a spacecraft in an orbit close to that of Almas 10, and that's you. Because of that, they are requesting.

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

and that we return every part of their space. vehicle. We ran this through with a Pentagon and they agreed that we should assist the Soviets and rescue their cosmonauts. They also informed us that no attempt to steal Soviet technology or equipment should be made or else risk back fire. So, take nothing but pictures. Because of these sudden events, a plan for the operation is currently being drawn up and we will brief you about it within half an hour. Over. Roger that, Vandenberg. We are aware of the situation and would go into high alert. Over. Howard replied, shaking his head. Risk backfire, huh?

He muttered, turning towards me. The ambassador probably hinted that they knew we have nukes in some of our stations up here, and threatened to reveal it to the UN if we don't abide by their request. Well, those nukes are only there because the Reds did it first. I had pointed out to him, which we still failed to confirm, Howard reminded me. Aside from Soviet transmissions, mentioning their nukes in space, we are yet to have physical evidence of them existing. The Soviets, on the other hand, probably have photos of our nukes,

especially after a careless installation of them in Freedom Station. They probably been holding back this information until the right moment, which seems to be now. I nodded my head. He was probably right. But after a few seconds, I started wondering about the whole situation. It's strange, isn't it? I asked him.

What strange, Howard replied. The Soviets blackmailing us. I think that is a pretty common occurrence. No, not that, I scoffed. I mean, the request for help. The Reds must be really desperate if they're asking us to help them. Howard just shrugged. Maybe, he said.

Then again, maybe they just care a lot for their cosmonauts. I just hope that if something like that happens to us, the Air Force would show the same care in their hearts, which, I doubt. with that he made his leave voting away to inform the ranges of the situation we worked fast so that within three hours after the briefing

we were approaching Alma's 10 and preparing the dock with it alma's 10 was a big station do you know mer well imagine that but two times bigger built as a modular type station alma's 10 had various sections popping out in all directions making the whole place look like an orbiting housepipe system. The station also had various docking ports used for a large variety of rules,

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

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

I muttered a curse at this, feeling a bit stupid. Working in our spacesuits was hard, especially when you had to do a delicate task as docking. The suits, large, bulky and cumbersome, was not exactly something you wanted on when you needed to do fine control movements. However, protocol was protocol, and we had to have them on.

When the procedure for docking where the Soviet space station was planned out, the authors had it in the minds that we would be facing a hostile target, one that would be firing guns or missiles at us. In that scenario, a single hit would rip a hole in the phoenix and decompressed the air out of the station.

If that happened, then it meant death for anyone who wasn't suited up, Thus, it was necessary to have everyone on board wearing their suits. Of course, given the actual situation we had at the time, our target station was not supposed to be hostile. But headquarters feared that the Soviets had an onboard artificial intelligence on their station, which would automatically lock on and engage spacecraft that it did not identify as friendly. With the Soviets having lost telemetry with the station, it was unknown if this system was still active. so as a precaution we were required to have our spacesuits on

as we got closer to Alma's 10 however it became evidently clear that the station's defence system was no longer on mine then again I'm not even sure if the station even had an artificial intelligence handling its defenses although I can't be sure they never really declassify this stuff you know happy with the knowledge that no one was going to shoot at us I continued my work and got the phoenix

docking port aligned with that of Almas 10. Keeping it aligned on the right target, I brought the docking port closer and closer until the gentle sound of metal bumping echoed along the hole. Achieving a soft dock, I then flipped a switch to allow the mechanical clamps to grasp the Soviet station's port. Getting all green lights, I informed Howard that we got a good hard dock and was beginning the pressurization of the hallway that connected the two ports. Once this was done, the Rangers would begin their task of entering Almers 10 and assist the Soviet cosmonauts on the other side. Joining the Ranger team at the hatch of our docking port,

I monitored the pressure levels of the hallway as the Rangers prepared themselves and checked their gear. Going through their own intricate set-of-checklist, they checked and double-checked everything, from suit systems to weapons. Yes, I know what you're thinking. This was supposed to be an aid and rescue mission, so why they need for weapons? Why, for safety, of course. It is true that we were here to help the Reds, but help them against what? For all we know, there could be a crazed cosmonaut on the other side,

voting around and killing his crewmates because he could not stand another day in the cramped station. That was a possibility, and headquarters knew that. So, in order to protect ourselves over such a possibility, the Rangers would go in with weapons armed. In fact, even we astronauts were ordered to carry our guns, just in case we needed to use them. Only when it was confirmed that the situation was safe, would we and the Rangers put our safeties on and stow away the weapons.

Hey, Jonathan said, his voice blaring in my earpiece as he used the local comms network. You checked your weapon yet? Turning to him, I noticed that he was done going through his chicks and was now facing me and gesturing to the hostel on my suit's belt. I glanced at him before shaking my head. Yeah, I told him, just before I went to dock the station. All right, he said, but be sure to check it again. You'll be amazed how many times weapons fail when you need them the most,

so it won't hurt checking them as many times as possible. Not only my thanks, I carefully took up my pistol from its holster and did the necessary checks. The gyrojet pistol was the standard arm for Air Force astronauts, with a Mark I, 51 caliber pistol being the only one commonly given to us during missions. Firing a rocket propelled bullet at 1,250 fission, It was essentially the premier firearm used in space. It gave us the same power normal firearms gave, without the annoying recoil.

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

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

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

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

Now, at that moment in time, I really believed Gerard's conclusion was right, since it made a lot of sense. A micrometeroid must have punctured the station's hull and drastically depressurized the cabins. They would explain what the distress call hours earlier was frantic and why it was suddenly cut off. However, thinking about it decades later, it should have been obvious to me that it didn't make total sense. If they were indeed running out of oxygen, then how come someone was knocking on the hatch right now, many hours after the distress call was made?

Sure, maybe some of them managed to down their spacesuits and hold out for a couple of hours. But then, that opens up another question. Why did the station go silent? If a cosmonaut or a group of them did indeed manage to survive the same, station's loss of oxygen, then how come none of them bothered to contact their ground stations? It didn't make sense. But back then, during the moment, that was none of our concern. We were more worried about the lives of those on the other side, and we wanted to save them. Adrenaline and our own fear blinded us. A sense of urgency now filled us, and thinking that the

cosmonauts were indeed choking on their final gasps of air, we decided to quickly open the hatch and help them. Get that hatch open, Jonathan ordered his team. Adrian, Gerald, you two get the hatch and open it. Pull whoever's on the other side and get them some air to breathe. Andrew, you stay here with us. You and me are going to cover them, just in case those Ruskis are playing us and do something funny.

Move. I remember thinking how foolish he was for saying that. Cover them? Against what? Of course, I did not bother asking him that right in his face. But it seemed really an honest. I guess you could never just get rid of that soldier's instinct. In the end, it turned out his instinct was right.

Quickly flinging themselves across the hallway, Adrian and Gerald reoriented themselves so that their boots made contact with the hatch and absorbed their forward movement. Their impact made a loud thump on the hatch, which seemed to attract the attention of those on the other side as the banging continued to increase. I started feeling uneasy about this. The knocking was very eerie and having its sound vibrate across the talking fort made me feel unnerved.

There was just something about it that was scaring me. Maybe my mind was imagining myself in that situation. Maybe it was a thought that someone was dying there so close to rescue. I did not know what it was at the time. So I never realized that it was actually my flight or fight senses warning me of the imminent danger. Wasting no time, Adrian is in the moment. immediately grabbed the lever for the hatch and used all his strength to pull down the tight mechanism. Once it opened, however, the sight I saw was not what I expected.

What I expected were thankful cosmonauts rushing in and grasping sweet breaths of air. What I saw was the face of terror rushing in to spread its vile darkness. Hollow, empty eye sockets, wide, open mouths that clearly indicated a broken jaw, torn and tattered jumpsuits. rotting flesh that exposed muscles and bone, and a thick black liquid oozing out of every orifice and opening in their bodies. That was what the cosmonauts looked like. That was what was left of the cosmonauts.

At first, I thought there were corpses, dead, lifeless corpses. Well, they were indeed dead. Lifeless, though? I am not sure I could say that. The first one lunged through the hatch, just as it was opening and barely, one-third done, its hands, or muscle-wrapped skeleton that resembled a hand, darted towards

Adrian and quickly caught his leg. There was no saving him as he was pulled towards this creature, as more hand-like appendages grabbed a hold of him and pulled him inside their Soviet station. What the hell is that thing? Damn it, get it off of me! Captain, he's pulling me in! Came Adrian's cry on the local comms network. I remember seeing his helmet bomb under the barely open hatch as he screams of panic and cries for help. continue to echo in our comms. Hold on, kid, I got you, Geroot said, as I watched them make a grab of the Ranger.

However, the pull by these creatures was too strong and quick, and Adrian disappeared into the darkness of the other side before Geroot could do anything. Damn, I can't see an air, continued Adrian's calls. I can't switch my light. Damn, it's too dark. I think there were more of them. Damn it!

I could tell that Gerold was contemplating and rescuing his teammates, as he seemed like he was orienting himself to slip inside. But, before any attempts to go in for a rescue could be done, and lunging hand made him think twice. Surprising him, the hand made a grab for his arm, causing him to react and back away. Following his survival instincts, Gerald used his legs to kick the nearby wall

and fling himself back towards where we were. Taking his carbine, he then aimed towards the creature that tried to grab him. By then, the creature was using its hands a scoop up air and swim his way towards Gerald. Bits of flesh and muscle were flung off as it did this, as a trail of black liquid marked this path as it moved. Being careful not to hit anything important, since the Girojet's bullets could easily penetrate the station's hull,

Gerold fired two shots. Both rocket-power bullets were true to the mark and hit the creature's forehead, but it did nothing but leave a large gaping hole that revealed brain matter. I stared at this hole as I felt fear fill my body. It just survived the 51 caliber bullet to the forehead, something that should not have been possible. These bullets were able to penetrate body armor and spaceship hulls, yet the creature went on, unfazed by the gaping hole on its forehead. Whatever this thing was, it was not something that mere bullets could stop.

But that did not stop us from trying. Watching the creature approach and seeing the danger opposed to Newman, Jonathan immediately ordered Andrew to cover the sergeant's retreat as he lifted his own carbine and opened fire. Taking precise shots, the two of them fired and fired. The sound of the rocket-powered bullets whizzing through the hallway, echoing through the module. Each hit met its mark, taking chunks away from the creature's head. However, it did nothing to stop it.

On it went, swimming its way through the air, dead set and getting to Newman. Luckily for the sergeant, The kinetic force of the bullets was enough to slow the creature down, giving him enough time to reach our side. Getting close, Andrew grabbed Newman by the arm and pulled him in. Falling back, the two were covered by Jonathan, as the officer continued to fire the creature. Once again, it slowed it down.

By then, the thing had no more head, with only a disgusting writ mess left between its shoulders. A trail of flesh, bone, muscles, brain matter, and a black liquid floated behind it, a testament to the ranger's accuracy. Too bad, it did nothing to stop the thing. Close the hatch, Jonathan said, as he reversed and tapped me on the shoulder.

This brought me back to reality, as I realized that my fear had gotten to me and left me frozen. The sight of these horrible creatures, and the sound of agents continued struggling in the comms had essentially paralyzed my mind and left me as nothing but a frighten-unlocker. Cursing myself for my use-lawful.

I grabbed the handle of the latch and pulled onto it to close the entrance to the hallway. Pulling the lever, I locked its mechanism, which was confirmed by four firm clicks. But just as the hatch locked, the sound of a loud bump echoed from the other side. Thud, thud, thud, thud, the creature was there, and it was knocking on our hatch. Mustering all my courage, I placed my head on the small window of the hatch and peered out. What I saw was the creature's tattered neck, black liquid oozing out of the tunnel that was supposed to be the esophagus. Puking it out, the liquid floated freely in the air of the hallway. Staring, I noticed that it was some sort of thick dark vial that looked more like jelly when up close.

It floated carelessly and without reason, before clumping up together. As if each drop had a mind of its own, the liquid did its best to squirm and make its way towards me. choosing me as a target the liquid swam towards my direction only stopping when it splattered itself and the luminous silicate material of the window backing up I shook my head and stared at the now-covered window

what the hell I sighed under my breath unable to process what I just saw however there was no time to think as the silence was broken by the sound of Jonathan contacting Adrian through the comms Adrian this is Jonathan can you hear me?

There was no reply. I repeat, Adrian, this is Jonathan. Can you hear me? Only static replied to him. And for a moment, I thought the Ranger was a goner. What a terrible way to go. To be killed by those creatures. I can only imagine what horrible things they did to him

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

Damn, Captain, he managed to say, still breathing heavily, but sounding much calmer than earlier. Captain, I need help here. Adrian, Jonathan shouted. relieved that he had not lost the Ranger yet. Give me a quick sit, Red Ranger. Just hold on there, all right. We'll get you out of there in no time. Then, floating towards one section of our station's wall,

he stared at the stolen Alma's ten blueprints we had on board for the ranger's training. I'm not really sure where I am now, sir, Adrian said, the fear evident in his voice. I think I might be in the main lap, but I'm not sure. I got lost and disoriented when I tried escaping those. those things I'm mostly all right though sir no damage on my suit

alright that's good Adrian just hold up in the corner and stay there we're going in there to get you out as he spoke Jonathan studied the map he was probably formulating a quick plan okay sir but get here quick Adrian said

I don't know how long I can damn they're here Adrian just stay calm we'll get to you Jonathan told told him before turning towards Howard. He was busy communicating to Vanneberg the events that just transpired.

Using a secure comms network used by us officers, he began telling us his concerns. Howard, we need to rescue the kid. The lab is only three modules away from where we're docked. If we go in there now, we might just be able to save him before he gets overwhelmed. I'm sorry, Jonathan.

I don't think we can do that. I just got off with headquarters, and they were ordering us to just undock and get away from here. Howard replied. "'Undark?' Jonathan said with anger. "'Are they aware that we have a man left behind there?' "'Yes, Captain, they're quite aware that specialist Chamberlain is still in there, but they have considered the situation,

and they do not believe that one man is worth risking the whole team or of this valuable station.' "'One man?' Jonathan hissed. "'He is not just one man. "'I'll never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy. "'That's the Ranger Creed, so we're going to go in there and rescue him.' "'Do you think that's a good idea, Captain?' Howard asked. "'How about those creatures? How do you plan on dealing with them as you rescue your fellow ranger? "' Clearly our bullets don't work. You would know. You shudder them yourself.'

"'We'll find a way. We rangers always do,' Jonathan said firmly. "'As the two were arguing, I could hear the frantic and desperate calls of Jonathan on the other frequency. "'I knew those two were hearing the same thing, and I always like to believe that this brought more urgency to Jonathan's side and guilt to Howard's. They were all over me, Captain, Adrian shouted. I can't father them. Damn, my bullets aren't stopping them at all. There was a pause, and all I could hear was his heavy breathing.

Damn it, I think one of the bullets is stuck in the chamber. The bullet must have been a dud. Damn it, damn it, they were closing in. The sounds of a hard struggle could then be heard, as Adrian's cries continued. They got me, Captain, help. They got me. are you? I can't get them off. Damn it. Damn it. They're tearing open my suit. They're shredding into pieces. By now, Jonathan had given up an argument with Howard and returned his focus

on his stranded ranger. Adrian, we're on our way. Just hang on. Jonathan said, ignoring Howard. Gerald, Andrews, we're going to pick up Adrian. The moment I open this hatch, I want you to shoot up the thing that's been banging on a door. You got it? They gave simultaneous, yes, sir, as they followed their orders. Floating to Towards the hatch, Jonathan placed his hands on the lever, ready to unlock it. But before he could do it, I made a sudden and quick decision. Knowing what awaited us if the hatch was opened, I did what I thought and still believe is right. With one flip of the switch, the clamps holding Phoenix with Alma's 10 immediately let go.

As I pulled on the stick to push our station away, a whooshing sound could then be heard in the other side of the hatch as the press rise section was suddenly forced to vent out the air. then there was silence. The steady thud the reverberated from the hatch had stopped. What have you done? Jonathan asked me, a rage more intense than anything I'd seen before, or would ever see again, ringing in his voice. I don't know.

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

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

Adrian, Jonathan called, relief in his voice. To be honest, I was relieved. leave too. He was alive. I didn't kill a man. What's your situation? Are you all right? I could be better, sir, but I'm mostly okay. I managed a patch of the tear they made with some duct tape, and suit pressure is starting to normalize. It's a good thing they've made these things standard issue. Adrian said with a chuckle. Anyway, sir, when are you guys going to pick... Oh no, ah, damn it, damn it! Adrian, what's wrong? There's something in my suit, sir. Damn it. I can feel it inside my suit.

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

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

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

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

I can only imagine how terrible the experience was for him. Just then, Jonathan did something I did not expect. He raised his carbine and pointed it at me. Dog this station now, or I'll blow your head off. whoa I said shocked and frightened

okay captain let's try to calm down think about what you're doing no he said firmly there won't be anything calm until we have Adrian back on board so dock this station now captain you'll be arrested if you don't stop now I reminded him I'll be arrested when we get back on earth

but at least I've saved one of my men so dock us now staring at him before glancing at his carbine I knew that I had I had no other choice. Reluctantly, I turned toward my console. I felt angry, though. This man was going to get us all killed, and he didn't realize it. In the background, the sound of Adrian's struggling could still be heard. Doc us quickly, we don't have time to spare, he told me, before changing frequencies to talk to

Adrian. Just hang on in there, kid, we'll be that. Whatever he had to say was cut off by three spurt of rockets firing. Confused, I turned towards him, only to move back in surprise. His helmet was covered in blood. I cursed, before noticing that Gerald and Andrew were in a similar situation, helmet visors covered in blood. Right in front of me with three floating dead bodies, and behind them was Howard, gun-drawn and face expressionless.

In the urgency of the situation, he'd slipped behind them and resorted to the quickest method at dealing with a mutiny. Damn, idiots, he muttered. Should have just listened to me and followed orders. This is going to be one hell of a mission report we'll have to file later. Did you really have to shoot Gerald and Andrew too? I asked. Howard shrugged. It was necessary.

They would have retaliated so they could avenge Jonathan and save Adrian. He should have just followed orders instead of thrown to. a tantrum, then maybe he would still be alive, instead of dying a disgraceful death. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Instead, I just stared. While in the background, the muffled voice of Adrian still blared in the comms network. Captain, are you there? He said, but there was no reply. Jonathan and his team were dead, and Howard had no plans of talking to the man he planned on leaving behind. Captain, I don't know what's happening, but I feel strange.

I don't feel all right. I feel... I feel hungry. The next couple of minutes was filled with the sounds of Adrian growling before being cut off by the sound of rushing air. My assumption is that he took off his helmet. Why he did that, I don't know. And I don't ever plan on knowing.

We spent the next hour cleaning up the mess and debriefing Vandenberg of the situation. as we did so I could still see the eerie sight of Alma's 10 through the various canopies and I swear that I saw some of those creatures floating and drifting in space

once everything was clear and all the information we needed was gathered we were ordered to conduct an orbital maneuver to a lower parking orbit the Soviets we were told have been informed of what had happened and will be taking over recovery operations

why they wanted to recover the station I didn't know, but I was glad that we were finally getting away from it. The next day we were ordered back to Earth, and the moment we landed at Vandenberg, we were immediately quarantined and interrogated for every bit of information we knew. We cooperated, of course, and after two weeks, we were cleared off. After such an intense encounter, it was decided that we should remain grounded for a couple of months. To be honest, I was glad. for this. For 13 months I was assigned to light duty, conducting research and paperwork. I never saw Howard again after that, but I heard he was immediately sent back up after three months of rest. After my time of light duty, I was ordered to have a psych evaluation.

Apparently they needed a good pilot for a planned 1980 mission to Mars, but after my experience the last time I went up there, it's no shock to say that I failed. I was still too traumatized, and they concluded that a six-month voyage in a spaceship was no place for a man like me. Sick of recess duty, and with no future prospects of going up, not that I would have wanted to. I finally decided to quit the Air Force. The next few years were tough, but I did my best to hide my fears and guilt from my friends and family. Nightmares always plagued me, and regret would suddenly hit me in unexpected times. The events of 1979 at Alma's 10 would never leave my memory.

I know that I will continuously be plagued by terror, brought on by its horrors and the regret I feel because of my decisions. However, I do hope that by putting this out there, the weight I feel would be lessened. To Adrian, if you're still up there, I'm sorry for leaving you behind. doors did you open today? What about in the last week, month or year? What about your entire lifetime? The answer to that is probably many. Yet, if you're listening to this now, probably not enough of them. So, consider yourself lucky. Or luckier than me at any rate. My ordeal started about five months ago. It was a usual day. Wake up, go to work, be bored to my mind. Only it was a night. I worked the night shift at a small pawn shop and the night

passed at a glacial pace. That's usually good news, as I'd browse the internet on my phone, but my charger did that thing when you sleep and it just bloody disconnects, leaving you with no battery to speak of. And me being me, I didn't notice until I got to work. Great. So I was alone and bored out of my mind for some ten hours. But the night eventually passed. A co-worker came in as morning broke, so I left. On my way to the car, I stopped at a local mart and grabbed a couple of sandwiches and a water bottle.

I was too lazy to make myself something to eat when I get home, so I figured I just waved down the sandwiches and go to sleep. The commute was only ten minutes long, and it passed in a blur, as I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to anything. My mind had melted under the boredom, to the point that I couldn't wait to get home and plug my phone into watch some YouTube. I pulled up in my driveway and went for the entrance, fumbling for my keys. When I finally found them, I opened the door and entered, still not paying attention to my surroundings.

Had I been a little less negligent, had I looked inside before going in, my life would have been so different today. But I didn't. The door clicked shut behind me. and I made my way to the kitchen through the corridor. I was also searching through my backpack for one of the sandwiches. I finally noticed something was off when I reached for the place where the table should have been, but I didn't bump into it.

There was supposed to be a chair here for me to sit down and eat my meal, but there was nothing. I looked up frantically and noticed the table was gone entirely, along with all of the furniture in my kitchen, the drawers, the fridge, even the dam sink. not a trace of them remained. I was dumbfounded to say the least. Did someone break in and steal everything while I was gone?

But why? How? On a closer inspection though, I realised it hadn't been thieves because the sink's train was gone, replaced by a smooth wall instead. No one could have done this in the ten hours I was at work. And even if they could have,

I couldn't fathom a reason for them to. Looking up, I saw the light. board was gone as well. At that point I started freaking out badly, because light still emanated from where I used to be. I grabbed my backpack and ran to the front door, hastily opening it. The street was gone. In its place, only another empty room. I let out a yawber surprise, mixed with fear as I froze in the doorway. What the hell was going on? remembering my phone I pulled it out and prayed that it still had some battery

but I was out of luck The thing was dead I took a few minutes to calm down And decide what to do My breath smoothed out after a while And I felt confident enough not to have a panic attack So I closed my eyes and opened the door again Still a room instead of the street

Crap I explored the rest of the house, hoping to find something that would have helped me understand. But every room was the same story. All the furniture was gone. The walls were uncharacteristically smooth and featureless, and the light bulbs were nowhere to be seen, even though there was plenty of light to go around.

I had hoped against all odds that I'd find my landline phone in the living room, but I think you can guess how well that went. I don't know how much time I spent, curled up on the floor of the living room, Just crying. And I don't know how much time I spent, opening and closing the front door, hoping it would finally reveal the street to me. Many hours, at any rate, until I finally gave up and decided to take a leap of faith. I entered the room the front door led to, closed it behind me, and opened the door again.

Now my corridor was gone. It's placed taken by a small room with a singular door on the other side. If someone would have been there with me, they could have pointed out the exact moment my soul shattered by the pop it made. But no one was there. I was all alone and lost in a twilight zone of empty rooms. I sat down, pulled my backpack in my lap, and took a sip of water. I didn't feel hungry yet, so I decided not to touch the sandwiches.

With only two of them and a liter of water, I had to make them last. My mind went into survival mode And I didn't know how long I'd be here Or how to get out I eventually decided to take a nap As I was still tired from the night shift I'd been through I decided I'd have a better chance at figuring things out if I was rested Sleep came swiftly

But it was fitful and as bland as the room I was in I didn't dream at all And I constantly woke up feeling paranoid Like someone or something thing was watching me. The fifth time that happened, I jumped to my feet. The room was dark now. I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face.

After I was done dropping bricks, I thought I died and was now in some sort of hell. But I walked around slowly and still found the walls of the room in about the places I expected. It clicked in my head. It was nighttime. This place, wherever or whatever it was, kept trying. track of the time outside. I huddled myself in one of the corners and waited for the light to return. That took a few hours, but with nothing to draw my attention and excite my senses, it felt

like a small eternity. There was only me, the darkness, the sound of my occasional breath, and the pulse of my heart pounding in my ears. I thought I'd go crazy, that I'd start to hallucinate any moment now. But then, I noticed a small ink. of light emanating from the ceiling. Dawn was coming. The light slowly grew in intensity,

mirroring the pace of a sunrise, but I didn't wait any longer. The moment I could see even past the vagas of shapes, I got up and on the move. Despite the poor quality of my sleep, I felt rested and refreshed, so I started exploring.

Door after door, room after room, all I found was more of the same. The walls were different colours and the shapes of the rooms buried to mirror their purpose. A small closet, a garage, a bathroom, a corridor once in a while. But other than that, they were all the same. For a split second, I felt like I was in a video game and I'd entered an area that I wasn't supposed to. A building the devs didn't flesh out because no one was meant to enter it.

Only this was reality. At one point I got an idea I kept finding windows which although they didn't show anything on the other side and were flushed with the walls I thought maybe would lead somewhere so I threw my water bottle against one of them hoping to shatter it

but it bounced right off and rolled at my feet the next few days was spent going from room to room only stopping at night when I couldn't see a damn thing but I made a few interesting discoveries if you want to call on that. About how this place and my body worked now. Closing a door randomised the room on the other side,

so you could walk in a circle without going in the same room twice. As soon as the door left your direct line of sight, even if you left it open, it would close on its own. This one I figured out, after I had the bright idea of not closing any doors behind me, hoping I'd managed to figure out how big the place was. I didn't need sleep, or at least I didn't need it as often as I normally would. Despite a few days having passed at that point, I didn't feel tired,

and I only slept through the first night I spent there. Same went for food and water. I didn't feel hungry or thirsty, even though I still had both sandwiches and the water bottle was missing and the few sips I took on the first day. That was either a curse or a blessing, depending on how you chose to look at it, It would give me more time to find a way out, but it had the potential of prolonging my suffering immensely if I didn't.

I decided to take it as a blessing for the time being, and kept going. Room after room, day in and day out. I think I opened more doors in that time than I would have in my entire life otherwise. But, after roughly a week, I finally found something that wasn't just another bland wall. though I wished I hadn't the first thing that hit me as I entered another room was the gut-wrenching smell it was stagnant and putrid

to the point that it made me rich and made my eyes water I slowly looked up and found red trails adorning the floor they had a radial pattern that led back to a common source and looked as if they flowed at one point or another as my eyes followed them slow and uncertain, my gaze came up on something in the corner. It was a dry husk with his back against the wall and his hands beside its body.

The trails led to its wrists, and I could see bone beneath the mummified skin. Words were strewn on the wall behind it, in the same red colour as the trails on the floor. I backed up slowly as the realisation hit me like a truck. This person, whoever he or she might have been, was like me at some point. Someone stuck in here that couldn't take it anymore and decided to end it all. That was their only way out, their only release, and I feared more and more each day that it would eventually be my only option as well. For hours I fought back the urge to leave the room and shut the door behind me.

The reality of what I was facing sunk deeper and deeper, into my soul, bringing with it despair and a feeling of complete helplessness. Many slaps later, I managed to snap myself out of it and approach the corpse to inspect it. I thought that maybe they'd have something useful on them, though what exactly that would have been I had no idea. Certainly no food or water, else they might not have taken their own life, and certainly not a map that led outside, or else I'd not have found them here like this. I fashioned a mask to cover my mouth and nose out of my t-shirt

and walked over to it slowly. The words behind it came into view as I got closer and I could read them when I was a few steps away. Beware the dark. Don't follow the footsteps. The eyes. Oh God, the eyes. Make it stop.

I'm paraphrasing a bit, but that was the gist of it. Short sentences with a little. an ominous feeling to them. They certainly did a good job of making me feel like I drowned in dread. I tried to puzzle them together and draw some meaning from them. But I couldn't. What eyes? What footsteps?

I'd been here for more than a week now, but, besides the sounds I made myself, I didn't hear anything. I was still terrified reading it, though. I kneeled down next to the corpse and started pulling on its clothes in search of pockets. It was dressed pretty blandly, jeans and a t-shirt, so I not found much. One of the front pockets of the jeans revealed a phone with no battery, and the back pocket revealed a wallet. There was a bit of cash in it, a few bills and coins, but I decided not to even count it, let alone take it.

But I found an ID and a driver's license and took those. I figured that if I ever get out, the least I could do was turn these in and let their relative no of their fate. His name was Brandon, an average-looking 25-year-old guy with dirty blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He didn't deserve his fate, and I didn't either. I found nothing else on him, so I decided to move on. Staying put wouldn't do me any good, and, after finding Brandon's corpse, I felt a renewed sense of urgency. The next few days followed the same pattern as before, stopping only at nightfall. Before, I moved as long as I could see,

but with Brandon's warning to beware the dark, I began stopping the moment the light started to fade. I was itching to move, to keep my mind occupied so it wouldn't collapse in on me, but I was afraid. I didn't need to see any monsters on top of all I'd been through. As the second week came and passed, I was certain I'd travel for dozens of miles now,

and more or less in a straight line too. I'd grown properly hungry in the meantime, so I ate one of the sandwiches and held on to the other one until I'd literally be starving. I was also down to half a bottle of water, but if my body kept it up at the same rate, these meager supplies would have lasted me a month or two.

That was unless I'd have found her. As I entered another room, I saw someone huddled in a corner Thinking it was a corpse I approached it slowly My nerves on their ends It looks shriveled and malnourished But I couldn't tell if it had been dead for long now

Decomposition was probably affected the same way as my hunger and my thirst Which is why my sandwich went stale But was still edible But then she opened her eyes Looked at me with horror And started to scream I covered my ears to shield them from the loud screech, and it took everything I had in me not to bolt it out of the door.

She screamed for a solid 30 seconds before she stopped to gasp for air, but I could see she was ready to do it again. Stop that, I yelled, I won't hurt you. She opened her eyes, and they were wide with surprise, a look of disbelief, and then a relief washed over her features, and she huddled down tighter. Help me, please. Oh God, if you're a real human, help me.

I rushed over to her and kneeled down. She looked bad, but knowing she was still alive in her condition made it so much worse. Her face was scrawny, a skin pulled taut over her bones. Her clothes looked a few sizes too big, hanging loosely on a frame. Her hair was dishevelled, dirty, and punches of it have fallen off to reveal her bare scalp. What happened to you? I asked, although I probably knew the answer. Do you have anything to eat or some water?

She asked. I considered for a moment to lie and tell her no, but I couldn't have lived with myself if I did that. However long I still had to live anyway. I opened my backpack and offered her the sandwich. She wharfed it down in a few seconds and then lick the plastic wrap clean. Thank you so much, she said after she was done.

I haven't eaten in months. I gave her the water bottle too and told her to drink it slowly. I was no expert in malnutrition and starvation, but I knew that if the stomach is empty for a long time, it's not a good idea to stuff it all of a sudden. She, of course, didn't listen to me and drank the water in a few gulps. I couldn't really blame her, though. I can't even imagine what it feels like to not eat or drink for months.

We stood in silence for a while, as I allowed her to regain some composure. She eventually opened her mouth and started to talk. And to this day, I still regret hearing her words. Have you seen it yet? She asked. See what? I asked back. So you didn't travel through the dark.

then, she continued. No, I haven't, I answered. I can't see anything, so when night comes, I stay put. Good, she said. You didn't answer me, though. See what? I asked again. I tried to get more out of her, but my attempts were met with failure.

She didn't evade my questions. She outright shut them down and told me it was for my own good. Seeing that I didn't relent, however, she eventually told me something. Listen, you really are better off not knowing. Believe me, just don't travel through the dark, and you will be safe. Fine, I said, accepting defeat. The terror in her voice was not hidden at all. It was laid thick on every word she spoke, so I didn't pester her further.

Still, her questions and cryptic words felt eerily familiar. earlier. Brandon's words, written in blood, came to mind. Beware the dark. I stayed by a side as the day passed and night settled, even though I was itching to get on the move again. I'd not seen another human or spoke to anyone in over two weeks, and although I thought I'd never miss it, that changed. I was starved for conversation, for interaction, and most importantly, for information. Her name was Vanessa. She was 25 years old and had been living a few towns over from me. One day, three months before I found her,

she went to the bathroom in her own apartment. Pre-occupied with her phone, she didn't check on the room she entered. Only when the door was shut behind her and she was cut off from the world outside, did she notice something was up. By then, it was too late and she'd been trapped in here ever since.

Her story sent chills down my house. spine, as it was very similar to mine. In a moment of distraction, she walked through a door she'd opened countless times before, only for it to lead her here. The gears in my head started spinning as I began to theorise the how and why. I knew these rooms were copies of real ones, that much was evident from day one, seeing as I'd entered my own house and thought someone had stolen all of my furniture, and I knew they were randomised upon closing the doors. But where was this place, outside of our reality? Did we enter it because we weren't paying attention?

Or was it something like quantum mechanics where the content of the room weren't decided until they were observed? That, I didn't know. It could have been any one of them, a combination of them, or something else entirely. Anyway, after me and Vanessa talked some more, she fell asleep. She was obviously weak, so I didn't wait. I stood by her side as a light slowly dimmed, hoping she'd get enough strength back the next day to walk. I myself couldn't sleep.

In fact, ever since I'd gotten here, I only slept that one time through the first night. The rest of them I spent awake, pondering my predicament and my life thus far. Tonight I was glad to have someone next to me, even though all I could hear was a steady breathing. I wasn't alone anymore. about halfway through the night I got up and paced around through the room for a bit to stretch my legs I do this every night to stop my muscles

from going stiff but I never left the rooms I was in at one point I stopped after maybe ten minutes of walking in circles I listened for Vanessa so I could return next to her and it didn't take me long to pick up on a breathing but before I could take a single step towards her

I heard footsteps I stood as still as I could, listening, hoping my mind was only playing tricks on me, but it wasn't. Although they were faint and sounded like they came from far away, I could clearly make out every single step. They were slow, with a few seconds between them, but they followed a steady rhythm. I turned to face the direction they seemed to come from and took a few steps of my own, slow and careful not to make a sound I hinged forward until my outstest hand met the wood of the door

I leaned against it pressing my ear in the wood and heard the footsteps clearer I hoped it would be another person I hoped Vanessa and I would get another companion to help us out but the more I listened the more that hope was eroded away until it was shattered entirely.

The steps were too heavy for a normal human, too drawn out, and besides that, the room they seemed to come from wasn't decided yet. For all intents and purposes, I shouldn't have been able to hear them. The moment that realization hit me, Brandon's warnings and Vanessa's questions suddenly made sense. A deep sense of dread and fear took over me, and I made my way next to Vanessa without even taking a single breath. The night passed one heartbeat at a time, one footstep at a time, because they never went away,

not until light returned in full. At that point, I woke Vanessa up. She came to a census slowly and noticed the change of my demeanor. Did you see it? Was the first thing she asked me? No, I answered. Did you hear the footsteps then? She continued with the questioning.

Yes, I admitted, but I didn't follow them. We should be safe then, she said after a long pause. Vanessa tried to get up on her own, but she couldn't. She was still too weak, and we both doubted a sandwich and a bit of water would change that. I helped her to her feet and threw one of her arms around my shoulders, basically dragging her along. You don't have to. She said as we walk towards the door opposite of the footsteps I heard during the night. I'm not going by myself, I cut to short.

If I spend another night awake by myself, I'll lose it. She didn't say anything else. Having been alone for the past months, she probably understood me. We spent the next day in a straight line, door after door, hoping one of them would lead us outside. It hadn't, of course. and by nightfall we stopped once again. I sat Vanessa down in a corner and lay next to her. She lifted a right pant leg to reveal her shin,

and I saw it was full of straight cuts in various angles of healing. I didn't know what to make of them, but they looked suspiciously like tally marks. With the nail of her thumb, she cut another line into her skin. She winced a bit, but didn't let out a sound. Seeing my confusion, she started explaining. I'm counting the days I've been here, she said. On your skin? I asked and nerved by it.

I've got nothing else, she said. We talked a bit more, mostly, about her lives. She had finished high school, but didn't pursue higher education. That left her working at a restaurant as a waitress to make a living. there she met a man who would soon become a boyfriend and then fiancé he was the son of the owner

but from what Vanessa told me he worked with him whenever he was needed he sounded like a swell guy to be honest anyway the two of them moved into an apartment by themselves a year prior and they'd been happy together Vanessa said she could already see the rest

of her life with him until well this happened to her I told her I was in a similar position to hers, working a dead-end job in order to scrape by. Only, I'd wasted years of my life going to college, getting a degree that never led me anywhere. I still lived with my parents in a small suburban home, hoping to find someone to share my days with and maybe start a family. You can guess how well that went, I said, trying to pass it off as a joke. Vanessa managed the giggle, but could tell she didn't really taste my joke.

I don't blame her, but I always found humour alleviates bad situations for me. We kept talking until the lights vanished almost completely, and we'd have done it even after that, probably all through the night. But something we heard stopped us. The footsteps, the goddamn footsteps. They returned as the last rays were gone, seemingly closer than last night. listening in anticipation for what must have been ours. We huddled closer together, punching into one another for a fleeting sense of safety.

The night eventually passed and we were both still alive by the end of it, scared out of our minds, but alive. We spent about two more months travelling together, passing the days with small talk and the nights fearing for our lives. The footsteps got closer some nights, but if we were to be able to be able to. But if we kept quiet, they wouldn't approach us. We both got weaker by the day, withering away to hunger and thirst. But Vanessa was much worse off than me. I didn't think someone could be that thin and still alive, and I think only a world to survive and see through this kept you alive at that point.

We'd made very little progress for a few days, and I guess we both knew. That she didn't have long left. But I refused to acknowledge. it. One evening, as we stopped for the day, she was too weak to even talk with me. She went straight to sleep, which worried me, since I didn't need sleep once since I'd met her. When morning finally came, and she woke up, she kept uncharacteristically silent. I waited half an hour for her to wake up fully before I suggested we get on the move again, but she stopped me. Just leave me.

She said in a weak, sad voice. We both know I don't have much left, and I'm only slowing you down. No, I protested. This is not some movie. You're not doing some heroic sacrifice for me? She didn't even bite me about it. Maybe she was too weak to.

Or maybe she simply didn't care anymore, knowing we both meet her enter into regardless. Fine. She accepted my decision after a while. But at least, Let me tell you the truth. God knows how much time I have left, and this might be my last chance to. I wanted to stop her, to contradict her and reassure her we'd make it eventually.

But I listened. I was curious, but I didn't want to risk braving this place alone without knowing exactly what I'm in for. There's something in here with us, she said after a long pause. I don't know exactly what it is. But it's haunting us down. If you move during the night, it picks up on you, I think. Then it will start circling the rooms in search of you, making those footsteps we've been hearing.

If you make noise, or if you follow the footsteps, it can find you. Did you see it? I did, she admitted, with a surprising calmness. When I first got here, actually, I ran around for a few days, even through the the dark. One night I pumped into it, but I didn't get a good look at it. I ran away like hell, and I guess I lost it. How did it look? I asked, even though I was sure I'd regret finding out. Tall, gaunt, spindly limbs, Vanessa said, and paused for a moment. Her sight got lost in empty space, and for a few heartbeats, I was sure she wasn't there with me anymore

on a mental level. And those eyes, she eventually added, Red and shining and... Tears formed her eyes and flowed down her cheeks, but her expression didn't change to reflect that. Haunting? I asked. She nodded her head. Okay, I said, that's enough.

I'm not sure I want to hear more, and I'm pretty sure it's not doing you any good to try and remember more. She, she busily nodded ahead again, so we closed the subject. We got on the move at a glacial pace, with breaks every other hour or so for her to catch a breath. We mostly kept silent, with barely a few words exchanged between us, but I still appreciated her presence. I think another week or so passed, and Vanessa withered away visibly by the day. It wasn't long before she couldn't walk anymore, and she kept insisting that I either leave her or render, but I didn't do either, couldn't do either, at least not in the meantime.

For as long as I was able, I'd carry around in my back, which is exactly what I did. And even though she was more bone than flesh at that point, she still felt very heavy, a clear sign of my own degradation. We travelled less and less, starting up later and stopping sooner every day. Vanessa kept tallying the days in her skin, until her. still she ran out of room on her legs and had to move onto her forearms. Bored one evening, we counted the marks, and we found out that she'd been in here for a little over six months. At the right time going, she said after a while.

I have maybe another month left. She didn't bring it up again, but I knew from the look in her eyes that she was afraid. Despite her inhuman amount of resolve, she feared what another month in her condition would mean. So much pain. so much suffering, and although she never said it, I knew she was angry with me for refusing to end it for her. That night was the first time I slept as well, and I can't describe how good it felt. Escaping the hell I was in for even a few hours was a blessing, but unfortunately I didn't get to relish in it for too long. All of the stress, all of the anxiety, and all

of the worries had built up in me. They turned into nightmares and ruined. ruined my rest. I dreamt of Vanessa dying, of me crying over a lifeless body. My resolve continued to shatter. But then she opened her eyes and reached a skeletal arm out towards me. I tried to scream and back away from her. But you know how well that goes and dreams. I was paralysed, the yells frozen in my throat, and she threw me to the ground effortlessly. Why didn't you kill me? She asked, climbing over me and wrapping her fingers around my throat. I couldn't answer, and I could in fact barely fight her.

I thrust around beneath her and tried to scream again and again, but I was only met with failure. The struggle didn't last for long. Fortunately, the real Vanessa woke me up, but I led out a single, loud screech as I came to and regained control of my body. It's all right, it's okay, you're okay. She whispered and covered my mouth. The silence that engulfed us was all too consuming,

that I heard the beating of my own heart in my ears. I kept quiet as the shock of the nightmare faded away, and Vanessa did the same, not making her single sound. I could barely hear her breathing. All my senses adjusted, I heard something faint and distant. Footsteps, somewhere far away, and doors squeaking as they open and closed.

They got closer and closer, and I knew that the creature heard my screams. It was only a matter of time until he would reach us. We have to move, I whispered to Vanessa. We will be found. We can't outrun it, Vanessa said, and it'll hear us. It'll hear the doors. The footsteps got even closer, to the point I could tell them apart. The creature was only a few rooms away at best.

we don't have a choice I said as I cut to my feet let's go we'll figure something out I didn't wait for Vanessa to answer the footsteps were maybe two rooms away we didn't have time to argue any longer I took her hands and pulled her to her feet getting her on my back and taken off I tried my best to move as quietly as possible

but as soon as I opened the first door the footsteps quickened behind us The door to our room opened just as we left it and I heard a guitar or scream from behind. That was all I needed to convince me to throw all caution aside. I sped up, not quite running but hurrying to the best of my abilities. I went at random, opening and closing all the doors in my wake but the creature was onto us.

I didn't have the strength to go any faster and lose it. It soon caught up to us and I turned my head around in time to get a glimpse of it. Dred invaded me at the sight of its glowing eyes filled with malice, and I almost tripped right then and there, but kept going, and by some miracle, I stayed ahead of it for a little while longer. Leave me, Vanessa urged. I'm a goner anyway. I'll buy you some time to get away.

No way in hell, I yelled back at her, not an option. The next room was the flight of stairs, with no other route in sight. I could barely make out a door all the way up, and with the way I came from, blocked by the creature, I started ascending. I don't think I made it five steps before I tripped and was forced to continue on all fours. Vanessa was barely hanging on to me,

and I felt a grip around my throat loosen. Whether or not she was letting go intentionally, I'll never know. Your guess is as good as mine. At any rate, she didn't get to fall off my back. The creature caught up to us, bounding up the stairs. stairs like a crazed animal, and it got its calloused hands around my ankle. I tried to kick it away, to keep going, but in a single motion it hurled me through the air

and back down the stairs. I landed hard on my back, getting the air knocked out of me. I had Vanessa crashing to the floor somewhere to my right. Through the stars in my vision, I could vaguely make out a form in the murky darkness, and she was completely still. Vanessa, I yelled, crawling towards her. Just go, she yelled back. Get. Her words were cut short by the creature as it plowed into her. He picked her up off the ground so fast that its spindly body was just a blur of shadows and

movement. I heard a loud thud as it pinned Vanessa against the wall, and I heard a gargle as she tried to scream. Her eyes locked for a final time. And behind a gaze I saw a terrifying calm, an acceptance of her fate that I didn't think possible. She mouthed, go, one final time, and her eyes left mine, moving to meet those of the creature. I didn't want to. My heart screamed at me to stay, to help, to fight. But my tired, Malner's body fought me back, and I found myself turning around, limping away in all fours.

As I reached the door and left the room, I heard a sickening sound of flesh and bone being torn apart as the creature led out squeals of satisfaction. It won. It got its prey. I went as fast as I could, closing all the doors behind me, hoping that the rooms would get reshoveled and I'd be safe. More than once, I was tempted to do with a stop or outright turn around, because what was the point? but I kept going until my lungs burned and my souls felt raw the human survival spirit is a hell of a thing after Vanessa's death

I have no idea how much time passed days weeks a month even slowed down as it was hunger and dehydration were finally catching up to me and I soon started resembling the state that Vanessa had been in during her final days with my conscious lapsing in and out spending more and more time sleeping each day,

I picked a room and decided to just give up, to let myself die and end the nightmare. But that didn't get to happen, obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here telling you my story. One fateful evening, as the lights in the room dimmed to almost nothing, one of the doors opened. Two figures walked inside, shining flashlights in my face. I opened my crusted eyes slowly and tried to speak,

but all that escaped my mouth was a throaty rasp. "'Blody hell, mate,' one of the figures said in a thick British accent. "'He's still alive, get him out.' More people appeared behind the two, banishing shotguns and firemen axes. Two of them grabbed me by the feet and arms, hauling me up and carrying me along. I passed out on the way, but I was conscious for long enough to notice that they left every door open behind them. They also spread a thick steel rope as they went, which kept the doors from closing and shuffling. I made it out of the backrooms, four months after I entered, and I woke up

in a small town in northern Alaska. Seeing as I am from West Virginia, I was quite a ways away from home. The local doctor defied arts in treating me, and his idea of keeping me in the backrooms for another day while he gave me liquids and glucose was quite smart. He feels, he felt. He feels, that bringing me back outside to the real world would have caused my body to instantly collapse and die. I didn't get to meet my saviors. By the time I woke up, after a few days of non-stop sleeping,

they were already gone. A pair of monster hunters named Damien, the British guy, and his apprentice named Miles. That's all I managed to get out of the locals. Men in black arrived before long, and they're made of a story about me being kidnapped by human traffickers, for unknown reasons.

When we're all on the same page, they contacted my family to let them know that I was alive. Transport was arranged for me to return back home, and I made it without incident. But my life hasn't been the same since. For starters, I removed all of the unnecessary doors in my home,

and I replaced the rest with glass ones, so that I could always see what laid on the other side. Unfortunately, I was unable to share Brandon's, and Vanessa's fate with their families, and not from lack of trying. Believe me, I did try. But from the day I got home, the men in black have been keeping me under surveillance.

For how long they'll keep it up, I don't know. I'm not even sure who they work for, beyond the nebulous concept that they're part of some branch of the government. Anyway, that's all I got. I wish I had a better resolution, a happy ending, but I don't. I'm a scarred and traumatized shell of the person I used to be, a nomad of therapy in meds can fix me,

and I'll forever be paranoid when opening doors. I will never again in my life, enter a room without checking what on the other side first.