CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - SCARY r/Nosleep Reddit Horror Stories Compilation for drifting slowly towards the void

Episode Date: August 2, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "Dad shut himself inside his bunker. Three months ago, we lost contact with him" Creepypasta►18:24 "We Always Had Each Other's Backs. Now I Have To Watch Mine" Creepypasta►40:04 "While Urban Exploring in 2014 I Visited an Abandoned Zoological Park" Creepypasta►1:03:05"The Sad Sunflower" Creepypasta►1:19:44 "My school's basement has always been locked up. I know why now" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

The festival season is Aangbroken and that betekent mudder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com. com. On the look to a waterdict tent,

a comfortable luggette bed, oh, so, Kness. And Luipartprint, regalarze. Miao. Now, he has Kim

not over the modder, just like that that's the mottes'am there, oh, wait just even,

has he now only modder on? Oh, yeah, only modder. Drove blithe? Goar for. Find what you need to

Dad shut himself in his bunker at the beginning of 2020. He said the world was about to end, and when we didn't believe him, he told us to wake up. It was raining that day. I remember focusing on the water hitting the window panes when my sister tried to change Dad's mind. I knew it was no use. He was too stubborn to listen to anyone except Trump,

who had just declared that COVID-19 had pushed the world into a pandemic. He made him, and when we told him no, he called us brainwashed. He purchased the land before I was born, only because of the dilapidated military facility that came with it. It was abandoned some time in the 60s, I think. My sister was there from the beginning, even before Dad's obsession pushed Mom away. It's hard for me to imagine what he was like back then. Mom says he was a gentleman, but they married young, they married young and a person can change a lot during those years, and so did Dad.

All I remember from him during childhood are the weekends at the bunker, constantly renovating it and stockpiling it with everything he would need to survive down there. We couldn't stop him. He wasn't the best dad, not even a good one, but it was sad to see him go all the same. He was excited, even though he thought that civilization was about to collapse. I guess that's what happens when he spent your entire adult life preparing. We had to set up an old radio to keep in touch with him. He didn't trust mobile phones. We didn't hear from him often, just once a month, sometimes less.

The last time he radioed in, he said he found a hidden door. He said he was going to see where it went. That was three months ago. You think it's okay, my sister said. He wasn't in great health. I told him. We sat on a car on the way to check up on him, driving through the heat wave. His radio might have broken down, I said, let's not assume the worst. But I felt worried too.

There was something strange about that hidden door and his tone when he mentioned it. It didn't sit right with me. But maybe it was just a heat and the endless desert around us that played tricks on my mind. I couldn't really tell. It was dark when we arrived. Dad's truck stood where he had left it, beneath some tarp that blew in the chilly, sand-carrying wind. We turned on our flashlights and walked to the cliff above the bunker. The steel door was made to withstand a nuclear blast.

Luckily, I owned the only spare key in existence. resistance. Before I used it, I banged on the door as hard as I could and yelled for Dad. I worried he would mistake us for intruders and shoot us. If he was confused, and if it was dark, it was a real possibility. I banged again and yelled at the top of my lungs. Dad, are you there? It's me, Josh. Evelyn is here as well. I don't think he can hear you, Evelyn said.

I nodded Dad, I'm going to open the door now I was 17 the last time I was here back when it was the Muslims that were going to end civilization as we knew it before that it was the Russians now it was China there was always something threatening his beloved freedom

and yet he was never truly free my sister put a hand on my wrist just as I was about to unlock the door you know she said maybe we should just call the authorities after all and no I said he'll fight them

I unlocked the heavy door a rancid smell escaped the darkness inside it was the odour of death I recognised it from when dad tried and ultimately failed to learn how to hunt and led a reindeer carcass rot on the property for weeks my sister had already stopped visiting him by then I didn't tell her what the smell reminded me of.

She covered her nose with her shirt. We descended the spiral stairs. It creaked for each step we took, almost as if it was about to fall apart. I tried the light switch at the bottom. The click echoed throughout the long corridor leading to the living area. Nothing happened. Hmm. I realized that the batteries, which he charged by the use of an old

exercise bike were dead. That meant he was most likely dead as well. The generator could be broken, I said, but maybe you should wait back here, just in case, you know, I pointed my flashlight in front of me. The light was too weak to reach the end of the corridor. On the way here, I had felt ready. I felt sad, the kind of empty sadness you feel after the death of a parent that was never any good. But I did not. feel worried. Now, on the other hand, while staring into the dark corridor that I used to run through as a kid, I was afraid. The fear reminded me of how my childhood night terrors used to start. They always crept up on me in the darkness, grew with the grotesque shadows on my

bedroom ceiling. I'm not letting you go in there alone, Evelyn said. We stayed together. We walked into the darkness. The foul smell intensified for every stepy-tuck, and so did my heart beat. I was glad my sister didn't stay behind. The bunker seemed so much smaller than I remembered it, much more cramped. The asymmetry between my memories and reality made everything feel off somehow, just as if the bunker was merely a model of the real thing. But it wasn't.

I had just grown up. The Confederate flag greeted us at the end of the corridor. It hung on the concrete wall. It looked pale in the hot spot of the flashlight, almost like a phantom. And, of course, in many ways it was. A ghost from a time long ago, or perhaps a corpse brought back to life, an abomination. It reminded me of Dad more than anything else. You have to be seriously confused that praise freedom as much as Dad

and hang that symbol of lesser freedom in the world on your wall, Evelyn said. He wanted to protect his freedom so much that he built a prison for himself. I removed the light from the flag, leaving only darkness. You bet he was confused. We entered the main chamber. It was overfilled with litter and clutter. Empty cans, both the food and beer kinds, lay scattered across a sticky floor,

made it take large steps not to step on any of the trash. That's weird. Evelyn pointed a flashlight at the small dining table. Look, my hair stood up on my neck before I even realized what she meant. The table was set for three people. I didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing. And just when I was about to speak, my sister interrupted me. Who the hell was here with him?

I don't know, I began. I mean, he might have left the old plates on the table and... A sound of something falling to the ground came from one of the other rooms further into the bunker. I pointed my flashlight in its direction, but couldn't see what made it. Dad? I yelled. It's me, Josh. You there? No response. I'm afraid, Evelyn whispered. Something isn't right.

I only vaguely heard what she said. my focus was on something else, something on the wall on the other end of the room. That's not supposed to be there, I walked toward it. That must have been what he talked about over the radio. Dad had hacked away a layer of concrete, for whatever reason, and uncovered a rusty metal door behind it. It stood, ajar. A lukewarm, musty breeze came out of it. My sister walked up to me as I carefully pried the door open with the back of my flashlight.

I felt my heart in my throat. I could hear my sister begging for us to leave, almost in tears. But I needed to know what was behind that door. It was imperative to understand what had happened here. I needed to know. I needed closure. What in heaven's name? Evelyn looked over my shoulder.

Why is this here? Behind the door was a room about the size of a broom cupboard. It was unremarkable, except for a circular hole in the middle of the floor. I showed my light into it, but I couldn't see the bottom. Just as I thought it was big enough for a person, my sister said, Do you think he fell? Drops of sweat from my forehead fell down the pit. I felt dizzy and stepped back, afraid I would fall inside.

My sister picked up a can filled with some rotten beans and threw it down the hole It clattered against the walls As it bounced from one side to another The sound faded away Until we couldn't hear it anymore There was no indication

It touched down at the bottom I stretched out my hand And held it above the opening It's warm I said The air I mean Maybe he fell

Evelyn stepped back, almost as if she were convinced. Can we please get out of here? She reached from my arm. We can return with the police. Please, Josh? It wasn't dark when Dad found this, I said. He would have seen the hole. Josh, please.

Just give me a moment to think. I walked toward the hallway that led to the other rooms, desperately hoping to find him. For some reason, it was important for me to see him, to be able to leave without wondering. I needed to know that he was truly dead. I just want to... I stopped myself after I accidentally pointed the flashlight on the floor

in the middle of the hallway, revealing a pair of feet. I think I found him. I ran up to the body. Wait, Evelyn yelled. and reluctantly followed me to avoid being left alone. It wasn't, Dad. I screamed upon the realization.

My mind couldn't comprehend what I'd just seen. I spun around and tried to run away, completely acting an instinct, and crashed into my sister. She grabbed me, kept me still, and, as she looked behind me, down at the dead body on the floor, she began to cry, while her hands trembled uncontrollably against my shoulders.

Oh my god, she said. How is it possible? It's you. Let's get the hell out of here, I said. Move. There was nothing that could explain this. And the more my mind tried to, moving in an endless loop doing so, the dread grew inside me. I only got a glimpse of the body before I panicked.

But my sister was right. The half-rottomed face was the same as mine. But with a bullet hole in the middle of the forehead. We stumbled our way through the living area, tipping over chairs and kicking cans all over the place. And just as we were about to get out of the mess, a familiar voice echoed through the hallway we had just escaped. Josh, it was Dad. We both stopped in our tracks. Is that you, Josh?

Dad? I yelled back. What the hell is going on here? Don't worry. It sounded like he was at the other end of the bunker, possibly inside the storeroom. I killed the son of a gun, put a bullet right between his eyes. Come out from there, I yelled. We have to leave. It's not safe here.

Silence. Something is wrong, Evelyn said. I don't think... Dad? I yelled. Come out. I can't move, Dad said. I'm stuck under a shelf.

I need your help, son. I turned to my sister. Go back up. I'll get that old bugger out of there. We'll be right behind you, okay? Think Josh, Evelyn begged. You think he's been stuck under a shelf for? I should have listened.

But even after what we had just seen, I just couldn't bring myself to even consider something as outlandish as what my sister was suggesting. It was simply too far-fetched, to unbelievable to penetrate all my layers of presumptions about reality. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Hence, I ran back to the hallway, yelling for my sister to get back up to the service and wait for us there. I'm coming, Dad.

I only slowed down to carefully step over the corpse that bore my face. Perhaps, I thought, it was just a coincidence. A burglar had just happened to look like me. After all, the face had begun to rot. It wasn't obviously me. I felt stupid and I almost convinced myself that it was just my childhood fear of the dark coming back to life down here. And then, just as I was about to walk past a small composting toilet that stood inside a small room at the end of the hallway, I stopped.

Shivers spread across my entire body, paralysing me. Dad sat on the toilet. His gun still hung from his trigger finger, and his brain was splattered across the wall. behind him. He had his journal in his lap, covered in blood. Josh, Dad yelled from the darkness. Help me! I was frozen in place, both by fear and confusion, unable to make any decisions. Come on Josh, Dad kept yelling. I need your help, son. My mind was racing. There was no way of knowing who was who when I heard Dad's

voice yelling for help while watching his dead body. Nothing but absolute terror reverberated inside me. I slowly reached for the journal in Dad's lap and grabbed it, hoping it would shed some light on the situation. I was just about to open it. When my sister screamed, I ran back, this time jumping over my doppelganger's body and found a looking at something at the corner of the main chamber.

I told you to, I said, but changed my mind. Are you okay? What happened? It's, she cried. It's me. Crawled up in the corner was a naked, dead body. She'd been twisted in such a way that the neck had been broken. There's something seriously wicked going on here, I said.

Dad shot himself in the head a long time ago by the looks of it. And yet, he keeps yelling for help. Let's get back to the car, now. We drove away from the bunker as fast as we could. leaving whatever was still alive down there, yelling for help. My sister insisted on staying at my place for a few days. I didn't mind having her around. We shared an experience no one else could relate to,

and we needed each other to overcome the trauma. It took a day for me to build up the courage to Open Dad's Journal. It began with his usual deranged conspiracy theories. I flipped past them. At the end, he had only moved. made short notes. Found a hidden door. Deep pit, possible the remains of some old black project.

Evelyn and Josh woke me up. A surprise visit. Didn't hear them enter. Strange. Had dinner with them. Something seems off. It isn't them. They tried to make me illegible.

God help me, it isn't them. I shot the son of a gun right between the eyes. Hiding in the bathroom now, this will probably be my last entry. God forgive me. Chills went down my spine as I read the last entry on the blood-drenched page. I never got the last one. She's still out there somewhere. I got one bullet left.

I won't allow her to do that abhorrent thing to me. Forgive me. My sister had been cooking for hours. She just called for me from the kitchen. Josh, come here. I want to show you something. John tossed a can that I caught mid-air after asking him to get me one from the cooler.

Thanks man, I said, nodding from my seat. Cut you back, bro, John replied. It was a getaway that five of us had been looking forward to for months. Although it meant our undergraduate years were over, we didn't think that would affect the closeness of our little click. How we met was something out of a movie. We were all in the same economics class and put together for a group project.

Our presentation wasn't spectacular, but we formed a tight-knit circle that made these last four years some of my most enjoyable. As a graduation present, our friend Chetstad rented us a gorgeous house in Arizona. It was recently close to Phoenix and landmarks like the Grand Canyon, very secluded and extremely spacious. We spent our first night hanging out in the backyard,

enjoying the in-ground pool and jacuzzi. Despite initially planning and bar hopping our second night, we ditch those plans and wound up drinking again at the house. Got You Back was our cheesy trademark slogan, originating from an inside joke when Naomi and I literally saved Chet from bodily harm four times in one night. It was so prominent among us, Chet and Sophie, who've been dating since there were sophomores, even had it quoted on their graduation caps. Chet was going to get the phrase tattooed on his back right shoulder, but why not getting his football number? My train of thought was interrupted by Chet, screaming, a proverbial, got your back phrase, followed by a loud clang.

My eyes darted toward the metal folding table we were using to play drinking games. Chet, who probably drank enough booze to kill a horse, literally reverse belly flopped onto the table. Chet's muscular frame was sprawled out across its narrowest, surface, his limbs limply hanging off the table's sides, while he blankly stared upwards with an ear-to-ear smile. I was surprised to see the table with stood the impact from

Chet, especially since its legs on the side where his left lid and stangled were almost completely cracked in some parts. His drunk ass probably thought he was diving into the pool. Naomi muttered, while fixing her blue-highlighted black hair. I nodded in agreement. Let him think that. Don't spoil it for him.

I replied. Only wearing his bathing suit, Chet lay completely motionless on the table, his face showing no signs of consciousness. I give the boy credit, I added, looking at my phone. At least the night, he lasted past midnight. You know what the crazy part is?

Naomi asked softly, as to not be heard. Chet's dad bought this place for him. Almost choking on my drink, I glanced over at Chet's sprawled-up vigor on top of the table, trying to fathom the type of parties he would throw at this house. On the contrary, I had reservations about an inept simpleton like Chet, who only got into a high school and a full ride to football scholarship, happily keeping up with his place's cleanliness and maintenance. How the hell did you find that out? I asked Naomi, who chuckled lightly.

Chet doesn't know yet. His dad told me and Sophie the other day. Chet owns this house right now, and he doesn't even realize it. I shook my head. People who have everything fall into their laps usually have a pretentious aura about them, but Chet was a rare exception. He did have a flashy materialistic side and was susceptible to gloating, but Chet's generosity, personality, personality and loyalty to his friends was unparalleled. It was still hard to ignore that tinge of envy and resentment.

It did make this vacation more meaningful, I suppose, and Chet would undoubtedly make this place available to us whenever we wanted. regardless of who had what though I'd always have ched back and knew he always had mine for me knowing that was most important about our friendship

the rest of that night was a blur we drank by the pool until three or four in the morning Sophie broke a bottle something involving honey happened and I puked in the garden I know the night officially ended when Naomi slipped

while running alongside the pool she might have been getting chased by someone but my memory's fuzzy. I didn't even remember going to bed that night and was still drunk when I woke up the next day. After forcing myself to vomit, taking some headache pills and sleeping another hour, I finally emerged from my bedroom.

This one might be worse than yesterday's, I said to John regarding my hangover, who didn't even make it to his bed, and crashed on the living room couch. John just shrugged, remaining in his face down position until I plopped down on his legs. The hell's the matter with you?

John whined as he squirmed violently and tried striking me with a pillow. Bro, it's hot out and I feel like crap. I don't need that right now. I checked the temperature on my phone. It was 119 degrees. I could tell just by looking outside, the sun was blaring. I don't even think it's worth laying out by the pool. If we wind up salvaging any of this day, we should do something in dorsy.

I had to get something in the car and burn myself when I touched the door. You could probably cook something in the hood right now. After hydrating more, I made coffee and smoked a few bowls with John in the bathroom. Naomi popped in to join us while Sophie started cooking brunch. I need the tongs for the bacon, Sophie said while rummaging through the cabinets. Does anyone know where they are? Who's got my back here? They're starting to burn.

Lower the flame then? John replied sarcastically while we vegetated on the couch. Asked Chet, he knows where everything is. He was wasted last night, I said, causing everyone to chuckle. Is he still passed out? Sophie shrugged, saying she slept in the bathroom and came straight downstairs after waking. Sophie eventually found the tongues and finished cooking, after which she went upstairs to conduct a welfare check on Chet.

When she said he wasn't in the bedroom, we all giggled while pondering Chet's whereabouts. The giggles and goofy smiles, however, faded, upon realizing Chet had been outside all night and day in this blazing heat. Between sov his shrill, hysterical screams and sight of Chet's body when we went outside, it was a moment forever embedded in my mind. Chet resembled a bloated, overcooked roast, His raw inflamed skin had a reddish pink tint

Was littered with sores, blisters and stings Whose surface had a blotching milty texture Appearing like he became infused with the table Upon drawing closer we had the buzzing of flies and bees Swarming Chet around the honey smeared across his bare chest That still bubbled Or was reduced to scorch, crusty dark amber patches That's right

I remembered as my stomach sank We poured honey all over Chet while he was passed out on the table. I think it might have been my idea. Remarkably, Chet was somehow alive. He slowly opened his bulging, bloodshot eyes had helplessly stared at us, while making a series of weak, raspy grunts. Aside from Sophie, who fell into hysterics, we all stood and stared in disbelief for those first few moments,

not even being affected by the sun's beating rays. John was the first to act, and had me help move the canopy tent over Chet so he'd be out of the sun. While Sophie ran inside to dial 9-1-1, Naomi gathered towels strewn about the backyard, but she soaked in the pool to put over Chet's torch body. In between murmurs over whether we should give Chet water and hollow reassurances he would be okay, John pointed out the table was slanted, having been placed on two uneven sections of concrete. We grabbed a pool towel to protect our hands or moving the table on more level ground. The towels hissed as their dampened surfaces contacted the metal table's brawling surface

that was significantly hotter than the actual temperature. Although the towels only provided momentary relief from the table's fiery surface, we started moving the table, when those cracked, rusted legs on the side, where Chet's left limbs still hung, both snapped. The table's left side dropped about 40 to 50 degrees, taking John and I totally off guard. In that split second, it happened. What I can only describe as a squishy, tearing sound filled our ears,

which was Chet's body, detaching from the table. I used the term detach, because the skin, covering his entire back, remain plastered on the table, like egg or pancake batter stuck to an unbuttered frying pan. Chet rolled off the table and landed on his stomach, whose cooked discolored back muscles and outline of his spine were completely exposed. Chet used what strength he had to weakly emit a hiss-like scream

that did little justice in personifying the agony he was experiencing. While John screamed and clenched handfuls of his hair as Naomi rushed over with a dampened towels, I fell into a light-hearted trance, feeling on the verge of losing consciousness as I watched Chet squirm and twitch in such a disturbingly unnatural manner. I looked at the broken table surface,

most of which was matted with a thin layer of dark, pinkish-bays skin that indicated where Chet had been laying. My stomach twisted after spotting the skin that was on the back of Chet's right shoulder where the impression of his football number tattoo was visible through the fleshy membrane. I stared until Naomi covered Chet's body,

with the dampen towels. All we could do was stand around and try to keep Chet engaged while giving him empty promises everything would be alright, until help arrived. When paramedics lifted Chet, who was front side, he didn't realize

they got stuck to the ground. The skin over his chest and abdomen also tore off, remaining cemented on the spot where he'd been laying. I didn't see, but knew when it happened. Chet summoned enough strength to release a raucous piercing, holler that we all heard. Hitting a pitch I didn't even think humans could reach.

That was the last time any of us saw Chet. Although the doctors, who said this was the worst case of sunburn they ever saw, didn't expect him to survive. He overcame those stifling odds, but nowhere near the same. I learned Chet was horribly disfigured and spent over two years recovering before being placed and assisted living. Although no charges were ever pressed, his parents forbade us from ever contacting their son. We were supposed to have each other's backs, one of us would always say, whenever that weekend came up in conversation. We didn't have his that night.

Two years passed. John, Naomi and I were renting a house, still living in our college town. Despite still being haunted by memories of that awful weekend, staying together helped us cope. Nobody ever admitted it. but a smothering sense of guilt kept us from moving on with our lives. I guess for us, it felt like serving a sort of penance for our purported role in Chet's ghastly miss her. Sophie, who blamed everyone else for what happened, cut ties with all of us, and moved back to her home state. What about most upsetting was she never spoke to Chet again, abandoning him during his utmost time of need?

It was a late summer weekend, I remember. Not too long after the second anniversary of that horrible. day. John and I were watching television, waiting on the water for our spaghetti to boil. Did you hear about Sophie? John asked, looking up from his phone. I turned towards him and shook my head. She disappeared over the weekend. Some of her sorority sisters posted about it online. I sighed. This really wasn't much of a surprise. I knew Sophie would reject any attempts at reaching out, but always hoped she would gain closure and live a best life. Tragically, this wasn't the case.

A few friends of mine who still talked to her said Sophie wasn't doing well. She struggled with drugs and mental health issues, couldn't hold a job, spent time in rehab and was even briefly institutionalised. Shortly after, Naomi pulled in, whose car headlights shone through the living room's bay windows. We agreed not to say anything about Sophie. figuring she was better off finding out on her own. A few minutes passed,

during which I caught up to check the water. While entering the kitchen, John asked if I could get him a beer. I got your... I paused after flipping the kitchen lights on to stop myself from saying what was now a debut quote in our household. I got you, bro. Standing in front of the fridge,

I pursed my lips in frustration. All our beverages were in the garage fridge. This made me remember I was supposed to put Naomi's beer in that same fridge earlier this evening, but totally forgot. She was already annoyed with me for some deadly embarrassing things I said in front of a boyfriend the other night. I was trying to make amends, but wasn't after a good start. Grabbing Naomi's lukewarm case, I raced at the carriage, immediately noticing the door was partly open and expected to hear an irate Naomi begin ranting about me failing to do the simplest task. After hopping off the single step, however, I slipped on something as soon as my foot touched the floor.

My head hit the ground hard, which put me in a disorienting days. Grunting while sitting up, I ran my palm over the back of my head, growing uneasy when I saw it was smeared with blood. The pounding in the back of my head and sporadically blowing vision told me this was a pretty serious wound. Dreading a potential hospital visit, I slowly stood up, during which, I spotted the culprit. A soaking wet bathroom mat. I grabbed the sopping wet mat while searching for the garage light,

but froze after noting a slimy, leathery feel. I almost tumbled again after turning on the light, this time out of sheer terror. Naomi hung from a hock and chain, impaled through a jaw that was wrapped around some ceiling pipes.

She stared blankly up at the ceiling, her wide glossy eyes show no signs of life. Naomi's stroby-pont hair and clothes were covered with blood that streaked down a body and dripped onto a sloppy pall of entrails. As Naomi's dangling body slowly rotated, her entire back was revealed to be violently butchered whose innids had been pulled out through the gaping hole covering much of a lumbar region.

My grip tightened on the bath mat. I couldn't make a move or sound after catching a clearer glimpse of a distorted face. Naomi, I quickly remembered, didn't have blonde hair. This wasn't her hanging in the garage. Sophie. This was Sophie. Looking away from the heinous scene, I glanced at the soaked bath mat in my hand still clutched.

Yelping, I flung and scrambled away from it, realizing I wasn't holding a mat or towel, but a large flap of skin. Sophie's entire back, which was what called, my slip. Overcome with panic, I screamed out for John or frantically wiping my blooded hands on my clothes. John didn't respond, as I stumbled back into the house,

trying to battle the simultaneous effects of my head injury and growing nausea. I ran into John as he came down the stairs, who was taken by surprise as I frantically tried to usher him towards the front door, while screaming we had to leave immediately. What the hell's wrong with you? John barked as he tried holding me in place.

What's going on? Where's Naomi? I just heard her come in. Is she okay? Unsure if John noticed my injury or bladed clothes, I kept repeating we had to leave and call the police. When John didn't respond, I noticed he became transfixed on something in the kitchen. The lights were now off, which, through my fuzzy memory, I explicitly remembered turning on moments earlier. I then spotted what had John frozen in trepidation. The outlines of two dark figures. One appeared to be standing while the other lay sprawled out on the floor in front of the stove

and was making these awkward, nudge-like movements. Without saying anything, John flipped one of the light switches he stood next to, which illuminated the kitchen. Those two figures reveal themselves to be a topless, broad-shouldered individual, and nude woman I immediately recognized as Naomi. Breaking out into painful screams when the lights turned on, Naomi lay face down with knives, stabbed deeply through the feet and hands of her outstretched limbs, pinning her to the kitchen's wooden floor.

The skin running down her entire back was pulled apart in two flaps, resembling an open book. Naomi's spine, rib cage, and some of her organs were visible, the sight strongly resembling what happened to an old friend years earlier. After recognising the symbolic significance of Naomi's, his skin back and mutilations on so his body, the larger, menacing individual's identity became clear. It wasn't the mixed patches of raw, mottled, dark red and blotchy, artificial-looking, pinkish-white skin covering his hulking, topless torso and frail slim arms.

It wasn't even the dark, greyish-brown scarring on his chest, the vaguely resembled drizzle and smear marks. It was those large, bulging, bludcher eyes, peering through a narrow opening and the tightly-bound black cloth around his face that made me know it was Chet. His eyes still contained the same frenzied expression he had that day, only this time they were filled with anger and resentment instead of fright and affliction. Chet took fast, deep, scratchy breaths, his hands forming tight fists as he stared at us with malice. I phased out John's murmurous screams and stood frozen, fearful Chet would react to the slightest his gesture either of us made, while locking stairs with him, I detected other movement

on the stove, which was when my heart sank. The pot of water we put on earlier was boiling ferociously. That was when Chet mumbled something out of earshot for me, Miss John seemed to hear, and, in a single motion, knocked the pot over, who scorching hot water doused Naomi and a skinned back. The loud, hissing sizzle and Naomi's ear-splitting screams filled my mouth. ears as plumes of white steam permeated the kitchen and shrouding her and Chet. John and I took those seconds to bolt out of the house knowing there was nothing we could have done for Naomi whose screams followed us outside. Chet was long gone by the

time the police arrived who we contacted at her neighbours. Officers revealed the body hanging in our garage was in fact Sophie's. As for Naomi, despite being rushed to the hospital, she died later that night. I suffered a conventure concussion and nasty head wound from my fall that required stitches, which apparently knocked me out for five to ten minutes since John said that's how long I was gone before he briefly went up to his room. Detective said the intruder probably ambushed Naomi while she got out of a car and brought her inside when John went upstairs and I was in the garage. The investigation revealed Sophie had been abducted days earlier, but was already dead before getting strung up and gutted in our garage. It bothered me that Chet was probably mutilating Sophie's body or John and I watched television.

I still cringe when I think about how close we could have been to suffering similar gruesome fates, sometimes losing nights of sleep from obsessively conceiving an endless wave of what if scenarios about that night. Chet was never caught, who apparently escaped from the facility he lived at about a week before Sophie disappeared.

John, who I was still roommates with, heard what Chet said before killing Naomi. It was three haunting words that keep me on constant edge and a why I can't rest easy. Knowing Chet is still out there and can return to terrorize us

at any moment. Watch you're back. The festival season is aangbroken and that betekent Mudder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On look to a waterdicton, A comfortable lute bed?

Oh, so, knus. And lupart print regalarze. Miao. Now, he hoofed Kim's not sorry to make over the mudder. Just like that's-dance-mond there. Oh, wait just even. Have he now only mudder on?

Oh, yeah, only mudder. Drove-blown? Goar for. Find what you know-noddhap. When I was in my late teens, I was very into urban exploration. Usually, I was limited to reasonably tame areas. For example, I would just go down streets I didn't know

or walk around abandoned buildings and construction sites. Admittedly, I never spent much time in areas that made me feel that I'm going to get in trouble for being here feeling, and I had a curfew. I was also pretty sure my mum would kill me if I came home late, so I was never late home. This was until I was about 17. Then I was more self-assured and rebellious. I met a girl.

Charlotte, that I wanted to impress. So, naturally, I rammed up how dangerous and scary it could be. Trying to make myself sound cooler, I suppose. She seemed delighted by this, and to my surprise, she hinted at an exploration date. Honestly, it was a miracle my hormone-filled awkward self actually noticed her hint and offered to take her along to a super spooky location. Of course, I absolutely did not have a super spooky location to take, her. To buy myself some time, I told her it was a secret location and that if she met me at seven

at night with a bicycle, I would take her to this mysterious place. She agreed, and I panicked myself into rapid Google searches of abandoned places in my area. To my horror, there was nothing. Not one place that seemed even vaguely exciting or eerie sounding to visit. In desperation, I looked up historic records hoping to find an old train station or something. Still, nothing. As I skimmed through the pages of results, the word zoological park closure in 1944 caught my attention. I was saved. Clicking on the link, I saw that the old zoo was little ways out of town. It was closer to the industrial side of town, so I hadn't actually been to that area before. which is probably why I didn't know about it sooner.

It was a Friday night, and that was usually the night my parents went out on their date, so I wasn't going to have any trouble sneaking out. In fact, I told them that I would probably go to bed early since I'd had a long day, and, while they seemed surprised, I could tell they were quietly relieved because it meant they didn't have to call home to check on me later. My parents left around six, and I spent the next half an hour getting ready. combed my hair, used mouthwash, that kind of thing. I chose a black, high-collar leather jacket and denim jeans to wear.

I wanted to make a good impression and look much tougher than I really was. Then I rode down to meet Charlotte. We met in the park and she was there before me, nervously looking around as she waited. She was wearing a halter necktop, skirt and sneakers with a dark brown hair down over her shoulders. She looked relieved to see me. and I tried not to gawk at her. We greeted each other. Then I led the way towards the old zoo.

A lot of the way there was darker than I thought it was going to be. The streetlights were far-spaced, and I could tell Charlotte was a little bit scared. Truthfully, I was a little bit scared too. However, instead of saying this, I poked fun at her. If you're scared, we can go back, I taunted playfully, hoping she would agree. I'm not scared, are you?

She teased innocently in return. Not at all, I lied with a smug tone. I still cringe at how cool I thought I sounded. We arrived at the zoo, not too long after that. The entrance to the zoo was a set of tall barred iron gates. They were held shut by a thick chain and a padlock that was just as rusted as the gate itself. To either side of the gate were decorative stone brick pillars

spaced by sections of iron bars that matched the gate. Eventually, these sections connected seamlessly to even taller concrete walls. On the right, there was a simple stone building with a window hole and wooden door on the other side. It was in a state of disrepair, pieces of broken bricks laying around its base, the paint on the door was peeled and the window was smashed.

This was the old ticket booth, I told Charlotte, pointing it out. I was hoping my knowledge would be impressive. She, however, just smiled and said, I see. I realized then that I was only pointing out the obvious. We left our bikes near the gates, making sure to put them out of direct sight

in case someone passed by on the road and led around the outer perimeter of the zoo. How are we going to get in? She asked curiously. She seemed more confident now. I could hear excitement in a voice. Don't you trust me? I asked light-heartedly to hide the fact that I had no damn clue how to get in. We couldn't fit through the bars of the front gate and I was really just hoping the whole thing wasn't surrounded by this giant wall.

It was by pure, dumb luck that we actually found a way in. We came to a section of the wall that had a chain-link fence running parallel to it that was only a little shorter than the top of the concrete. This meant that if we could climb the fence, we could stand on top of it and then get on top of the concrete part. Thinking quickly, I announced this was the spot that we would get in. I pushed a nearby dumpster up against the chain fence and then offered to help her climb up by lifting us slightly, so she could reach the top of the fence and pull herself up from there. At this, Charlotte hesitated a moment. What? I asked her.

I was worried that she had suddenly changed the mind. Don't look up my skirt, she told me firmly. Honestly, that thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I felt my ears grew hot with embarrassment. Don't worry, I won't. I'll close my eyes. I assured her, tripping over my words, and I'm sure ruining my cool facade.

She eyed me with suspicion for a moment before smiling. Why so serious? She joked to lighten the mood again. I was thankful for that and lifted her up. When I opened my eyes again to see that she'd made it, she was sitting on the concrete part of the wall, swinging her legs. Hurry up, slow poke, she called down. Great.

Now I had to hoist myself up there. Let no one think pulling your own body weight up is an easy task for anyone, let alone 17-year-old me who would never be into any gym a day in his life. Somehow, I managed to get up with my dignity intact, and we cautiously shuffled along the top of that wall until we were able to jump down onto the sloped roof of the gift shop. I helped to slide down to the ground and cautiously jumped down after her. On the inside of the zoo wall, it was dark. I mean, pitch black.

Can't even see your own hands in front of your face dark. I brought a flashlight with me, but I fumbled to turn it on, and those extra seconds before there was light were deeply unsettled. I shone the light at Charlotte. That's so bright, she laughed nervously as she shouldered her eyes from it. Yeah, I agreed, returning on laughter to hide my own nerves. Feeling emboldened by the flashlight's strong beam, we picked the direction and began to explore. The ground was made of long, neglected, uneven paves, with plant life growing up between them.

We had to be careful not to stumble in the dark, and I spent half the time shining the light of in the ground. We would stop at places of interest, so I could point the light ahead of us and over the empty cages. Dust, litter and cobwebs were their only inhabitants now. They were extremely small, too small to imagine ever-butting animals in, and we found entertainment in reading the plaques and the bars that noted which animal had once been housed in each cage.

Some closures were deep pits with moat surrounding to keep their inhabitants trapped and visitors out. For some reason, these spaces gave me the creeps. Looking down into them and seeing the remains of dismal-looking habitats gave me feelings of claustrophobia. As we walked, the conversation came easily. We talked about school, my parents, and how sad it was that animals had been kept in these small enclosures. Gradually, Charlotte grew closer to me, and eventually she looted her arm around mine to hold my hand, holding my arm lightly with her other hand so that she lent in close to me. My heart beat so fast then.

She smelled like vanilla body spray. It was the best moment of my life. Why did they close this place down? Charlotte asked me after some time. They closed it down in 1944. Officially is listed that they just lost funding during the war, couldn't afford to keep the place running without visitors, and a lot of animals died due to neglect.

I told her, please, that my five seconds of research in the place was coming in handy. That's really sad, she replied with sympathy. Yeah, but that's just the official reason. Do you want to hear the unofficial reason? I asked with Glee.

Yes, she answered a light with curiosity. I smiled. I was out of the teller and had been trying to work it in all night. I thought it would really set the mood, since she seemed to enjoy the spookier side of things. Well, the head zookeeper was crazy. I began in a low tone, shining the light under my chin for effect as I began.

At this, she laughed and folded her arms in an unimpressed manner, giving me a sarcastic, oh really, expression, as she waited for me to continue. When the animals would die, the head zookeeper would become inconsolable. He wanted his animals to come back to life. It was rumoured that he would try to bring them back by sew their remains back onto live animals. Some people even say he would take children from parents who weren't paying attention

and sew them onto his beloved animal corpses. As many as 23 children disappeared in this park. When the public found out about these experiments, there was an uproar. The guy locked himself down in the zoo basement with his creations and the townspeople set fire to the building. The zoo's reputation never recovered. Some people say some of his creations survive the fire

and still roam the grounds to this very day. I trailed off slowly and cut the light for a moment to scare her. Charlotte screamed and I laughed turning the flashlight back on. That was not funny and totally not scary either, she shouted. But I think my laughter won her over because she seems more exasperated than angry. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I apologize sincerely.

but still very much amused. Jerk, she grumbled, though thankfully seemed to forgive me. You know, if that's true, shouldn't the burned building still exist? she asked. Maybe, I said slowly. This was a major plot hole in my story if it didn't. I had gotten my little tale from a comment

left by an anonymous user at the bottom of the article. I didn't really believe it myself. I'd try to find it, she suggested, eagerly. This woman was unnervingly enthusiastic about terrifying situations, and I was in no position to refuse after I had talked it up so much. We wandered around, looking for any child buildings for a while, and I felt disappointment setting in, as there was nothing.

I was starting to think that I would have to confess to her that my story was probably make-believe, when the very faint smell of stale smoke reached our nostrils. At first I thought I was imagining it, but the closer we got, the stronger the smell of damp mould and charcoal became, until the building stood directly before us. It wasn't much to look at. It was a stone building similar to the ticket booth and gift shop, only that the roof had caved in. The internal stones were blackened with sutt, and the floor was covered in the collapsed remains of rotting, burned wood. It seemed that this was all that remained of the supports that would have once held up the ceiling and walls.

Finding it was an eerie achievement and I secretly wondered if maybe the user who had left the comment was in fact telling the truth. Given our discovery, we were both unsure of what to say and it seemed we silently agreed not to say anything. Instead, we turned around and swiftly walked right back the way we had come as teenagers do. When we felt we were a safe distance away, we began to laugh like idiots, as the nervous energy released at once.

That was so creepy, Charlotte exclaimed. I thought my story is BS. I never actually expected to find anything. I admitted, excited and terrified. It could just be a coincidence, something that burned down recently. She rationalised as we calmed down. Definitely, I agreed. We stood in awkward silence. a moment. Then, to my surprise, Charlotte leaned in toward me. My heart started to race. I thought

she was going to kiss me after that little adventure. But, as she got close, there was suddenly a sound from the darkness around us. It sounded as though a chain were jiggling, or dragging. If the non-existent wind was somehow strong enough to move a loose chain somewhere behind us, that would be the sound. Hesitantly, I turned towards the noise and point. pointed the flashlight at the area. The circle of light fell on emptiness. I looked around a little further. Still, nothing.

Jack, you're still trying to scare me? She accused me, pushing me away in the joking manner with an exaggerated, how dare you expression. Hey, that wasn't me. How could I do that? I'm standing right next to you, I pointed out, sulky, at the moment, was ruined. This gave a pause,

and I could see genuine concern. turn across her face. But it was probably nothing. It must have been just the wind, I showed quickly. Oh yeah, definitely, she agreed through dry lips. Maybe we should start heading home, I suggested reluctantly blowing my light back to the usual level. Yeah, she agreed, and we began to walk back the way we thought we had come in. Truthfully, with no map and almost no light, it was difficult to navigate. We were guided mostly by the enclosures. I felt my confidence return as more and more animal plaques were familiar to us. However, after hearing that sound, we felt watched.

The whole place was eerily silent. So what had made that noise? Rats or something, I rationalised with myself as I resisted the frequent urge to look back and look behind us. I was both a little afraid in case there was something, but I also didn't want to seem paranoid. I was lost in thought when Charlotte abruptly screamed. Something just ran past my leg, she shouted and almost tried to climb up onto me. From the panic in her voice, I knew she wasn't joking.

Immediately I shone the flashlight around us. There was nothing. It's okay, it's okay, there's nothing there. See, there's nothing hit. The word died as it left my mouth. The torchlight had come to rest on several sets of reflected eyes glowing ominously in the darkness ahead. Charlotte and I stood frozen. Neither of us made a sound.

I don't think we were even breathing as we stared back of those eyes. They were too far away from the light to show us exactly what we were looking at, but they were undoubtedly some kind of animal. The eyes blinked and bobbed about as the creatures moved, slowly advancing on our position. We should go. Can we please go? Charlotte whispered in my ear, and I nodded. There was no argument from me on this point.

Don't run, just walk backwards slowly. I told her quietly through my set chore. Both trembling, we gradually inched backwards. With the worst look I've ever had in my life, the back on my heel connected with an out-of-place paver, and I fell backwards, dragging Charlotte down with me and dropping the light. We both scrambled back to our feet in a frenzy and I hurriedly snatched the torch back up

I showed the light back to where the eyes had been as quickly as I could They were gone We ran I was faster than Charlotte So I was practically pulling her along Behind us I could hear the sound of heavy grunting Scraping a pavement and the clatter of chain We had absolutely no idea where we were going

It was impossible to keep the light stay and the lumpy neglected pavers were not kind to us. In our haste and fear, we fell several times, dragging each other down, but we did not even once consider leaving the other. Behind us, the sounds grew louder. I could practically feel the hot breath of a predator on the back of my neck. The gate! Charlotte panted out as she changed her direction. I hadn't noticed it, but she was right.

Through the darkness, there was light. It was streetlight to be presided. ice, shining through the bars of the front entrance gate, highlighting itself brilliantly. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. We reached it, and, in a panic, tried to cram ourselves through the bars, only to remember that there were still too thin for us to fit through. Over, go over, I gasped, hoisting Charlotte up without a moment's hesitation. I practically threw her towards the top of the gate with adrenaline-fueled strength I didn't

even know I had, and in seconds, she was pulling herself up over the decades. She landed on the other side of the gate heavily. I heard her ankle snap and she gasped in pain. However, that didn't stop her from staggering back to her feet. Climb, she screamed at me desperately. I didn't need to be told, but it was also an impossible task. There was nowhere to put your feet for support, so I just kind of jumped up as far as I could

and scrambled to haul myself up the rest of the way. As I was doing this, I was only vaguely aware of Charlotte. She was shouting like a lunatic, so loud a voice strained, things like, Hey, hey, over here, come here, you ugly thing, over here! And she limped away along the fence away from the gate. In her hands, she had pieces of broken bricks, and she was hurling them through the gaps in the fence. Hearing a shout like that was honestly both inspirational and terrifying. I could tell the creatures were distracted by her, and I made it over the gate just in time with my arms screaming in protest.

Once she saw her I was over, she began hobbling back towards me as I hurried over to her. I will never forget her expression. Her eyes were wide with pure terror and she was trembling like a leaf, but her expression was one of unwavering determination. My attention was then drawn past her to the creature. This was the first time I got to look at it properly, and it was horrific. I had been expecting to see a pack of something,

some group of animals that had been abandoned all those years ago, and somehow survived. What I saw instead was a single, large monstrosity. Its body was a tangled mess of body parts, some human, some animal. I don't even dare guess as to what animals exactly. The most disturbing part of this thing wasn't the healed over liquefied skin and fur patches,

nor the remains of the chain that had joined onto its limbs over time. It was the heads. There were several heads on this creature. Some were tiny, infused onto the main body, while others were on elongated necks. Its main head seemed similar to a giant rodent, but didn't seem to have any functional lower jaw, so it was just an open mass of wet flesh,

reading onto a dark throat. He made awful sounds as it beat itself against the bars trying to reach us. I was afraid that the old walls wouldn't hold, and that thing would get loose. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be able to climb. Charlotte was in no condition to be able to ride a bike, and neither bike had any space for a second passenger, let alone an injured one. So instead, she put an arm around my shoulder, and I put an arm around a waist. We walked as fast as we could in a three-legged race.

manner until we were far enough away that we couldn't hear the beast anymore. As the hours passed, our urgency faded into exhaustion and we staggered along together until dawn before a police officer car pulled up beside us. As it turned out, my parents had come home early from the date and noticed I was missing. When I wasn't home after midnight, they called the police to help search for us. I don't think anyone believed our story of what happened, but But we also weren't really in any trouble. Our parents were just grateful to see us both home safely.

Charlotte and I got married in 2018 and are expecting our first child later this year. We tend to shy away from the Where is your first date question when people ask? And neither of us have any intentions of visiting any zoos in the future. We also don't enjoy urban exploration anymore. A few months ago, my wife, Julie and I decided to start trying for a family.

We moved out of the big city to a small mid-western Minnesota town not too far from Grove City. It was time for a change. Hell, we even decided to stop smoking. We found a cheap, recently renovated flat. The entire complex was built in the 50s,

but the apartments themselves had been fixed up just recently. We were told by the landlord, an absolutely stunning young woman that most of the previous tenants decided to move out rather than wait for renovations to finish up. The place was basically brand new. Our apartment was on the ground floor. We didn't want to think about baby-proofing a balcony on the third or fourth floor,

and we figured this would only be a stepping stone to get in our own house anyway. Julie had left a job as a high school teacher behind, while I'd gotten a job as a manager at the local warehouse. I'd already worked as a manager previously, for the same company, so it was just a matter of finding a suitable transfer. The previous tenants had left us a gift. Sitting alone in the kitchen window was a blue sunflower. At first I thought it was plastic, but it was perfectly real.

The colour was striking. It was still yellow in the middle with black spots, but the leaves were sparkling ocean blue. The flower pot was handpane. With a small landscape and a shining sun. In plain black text, it read, The Sad Sunflower. That is just too cute, smiled Julie.

We've got to keep it. I've never been able to say no to her. A big smile of hers could make me do anything. If she wanted to keep the sad sunflower, so be it. I watered it and turned it facing outwards. oddly enough it had been leaning inward towards the apartment I thought sunflowers were supposed to follow the sun Julie just loved it

she really had a good feeling about this place I wasn't convinced yet but I figured it was just nicotine withdrawal over the following days I was getting adjusted to my job I brought in a cake to get to know everyone their previous manager had personal issues and suddenly left town so there was urgent need for someone to step in.

It was just great timing for me. Julie was still looking for a new job. There were a few schools nearby that she was going to look up, but we needed a second car first. Money was tight after the move, so we decided to wait a few weeks before making any big purchases. So Julie spent most of the days at home. She'd been clear about wanting to be a stay-at-home mom

once we had a family of her own, so maybe she was just trying to get used to the idea. Call it a practice run. She would do a lot of housework and handle the groceries. I usually cook dinner, but she would handle the dishes. One day, after coming home from work,

I noticed her humming a strange tune while watering the sad sunflower. I'd never heard it before. You're, my friend, I'll sing your tune a setting sun to rising moon. I ask you, buddy, buddy blue, won't you be a sunflower too? I took off my shoes and joined her in the kitchen. She'd hummed the tune over and over, checking every leaf from that sparkling blue plant.

He was leaning inwards again, away from the sun, almost like a dog, asking for a head scratch. What's that song? I asked. What song? I asked her several times over. She honestly didn't know what I was talking about. I read it out loud, and she just... Blanked. The same way I could have sworn I heard her to sing it,

she swore she hadn't. I turned the plant back outwards towards the sun. The next day, he was leaning back in. That tune started to haunt me. I could hear Julie sing it in the shower or doing the dishes or tying her shoes. Over time, she came to accept that she was singing it, but she wasn't doing it consciously.

It was like a brain teaser. I must have heard it somewhere, she said. Some kind of nursery rhyme. I couldn't blame her for having a mind occupied with kid stuff. It was pretty much all we talked about. We just started trying for a baby, and it would be a matter of time before our lives would change forever. It was stressful.

but exciting, more of an adventure than any bungee jumping could ever replicate. Julie got a part-time teaching job at a local high school. One of the teachers was going on maternity leave, so they needed someone to step in and help out with social studies. We didn't have a second car, but one of the guys I worked with lived just down the street, so we started to carpool. I thought having some independence and getting out of the apartment would do Julie some good. It did, at first. She had so much energy when she got home after a long day. Still, she would beeline towards a sad sunflower,

take care of it, water it, and only then would she concentrate on anything else. She didn't even take her shoes off. That plant was, by far, her most favourite thing in the world. Honestly, I didn't get it. She still honed that memory. You're my friend, I'll sing your tune, a setting sun to rising moon. I once got back home early, only to notice that the sunflower was gone.

Julie wasn't home from work, and the thing was just gone. Later, when Julie came home, it all made sense. She held that thing under her arm as she walked through the door. It was almost like someone holding a baby. She had a grocery bag swinging underneath. I'll be first to admit, I didn't handle it very well. You're bringing it to work? I accused. What is going on with you?

It's nothing, Julie sighed. It's like having a safety blanket. It doesn't mean anything. Then throw it away. She stared at me in disbelief. I took a step forward to help her with the groceries, and she recoiled. Her eyes were dilated, and it looked like she was on the edge of a fight-or-flight reaction. I just stopped.

What the hell? Don't you dare, she spat. Don't you dare! After that, Julie slept on the couch for a couple of nights. It was her idea, not mine. She would give me these long, accusing looks from across the room whenever I was in line of sight of that damn plant. It was still facing inwards.

I'm sure the damn. thing was moving or turning back every time I tried to face it outwards. I started hearing things at night. I once peaked out the bedroom to see Julie watering and pruning the plant in the middle of the night. She'd sing to it over and over, the same rhyme. In the moonlight, it looked like she didn't even blink. Two-thirty in the morning, and there she was, caressing the leaves. There were other things as well. Fowl smelling dirt in the waistbasket. blue sunflower seeds scattered around the bathroom. I didn't know what to make of it,

but Julie and I weren't really talking anymore. She had no problem talking to that plant, though. I ask you, buddy, buddy blue, won't you be a sunflower too? It all came to a boiling point the day when Julie didn't come home from work. Of course, she'd taken the plant with her. I tried a phone, but she didn't pick up. At seven in the evening I was getting seriously worried

I called the school where she worked but of course it was closed instead I called a co-worker Miss Marriott This is Claire she answered Hey I'm calling about Julie This is a husband I said

Sorry about calling you like this No it's fine Is everything alright When Julie came to work Did she seem okay Did she do anything unusual. I'm not following.

Well, like, did she bring... No, I'm sorry, I meant what do you mean came to work? Apparently, Julie had quit a tent job about a week ago. I rushed down the street to my co-worker and asked to borrow their car.

They didn't mind, and even asked if there was anything they could do to help. I didn't even know where to start, so I just thanked them and left. I drove around town for hours, checking every open store, every alley, every side road. Finally, I stopped for gas. As I went inside to pay and get a soda, I noticed the clerk humming a tune.

She was reading a magazine and humming away, barely noticing I was even there. I'd recognised that melody anywhere. Where'd you hear that? I asked. She just looked up at me, like she'd woken up from a nap. She had no idea what I was talking about. I just paid and left, figuring Julie had been there. She was close. There was a small dirt road not too far from the gas station, leading down to a fishing lake.

All you could catch there was smallmouth bass, but it was a great little place to have a barbecue. I drove down the road, following a hunch. It paid off. Just a few minutes later, I saw her car on the side of the side of the road. of the road. The door was still open. Lights were blinking. It was swarming with mosquitoes. I parked alongside it and brought out a flashlight. There was a small trail through the woods leading up to a clearing next to the lake. It was the only place she could have gone, unless she was mindlessly going random directions. I didn't have to go far to hear her.

There was no wind, so even a slight noise could be heard from far away. I ask you, buddy, buddy blue. The same damn rhyme. Next to the trail, I noticed small, bright stalks reaching out of the soil. They looked freshly planted. I could guess what kind of plant they were, even though they hadn't bloomed yet. Won't you be a sunflower too? I stepped into the clearing.

I could barely see them all with that tiny cone of light. There were hundreds of them spread out. in a circle. In the middle was Julie, reciting her rhyme over and over. She'd taken off her clothes and I could see mosquito swarming her. It didn't seem to bother her. The melody in a song was gone, turned to a mantra. She was standing with her back towards me, holding her hands in front of her like a cup. She suddenly made a harsh coughing sound and bent forward. I took a few steps and stopped. Every single sunflower turned towards me. Blue leaves vibrating like rattlesnakes.

Julie turned around. Sunflower seeds were dripping from her mouth. In a copped hands, she held the same kind of foul-smelling tar dirt that I'd found in the wastebasket. Her eyes were bright blue, her teeth were stained black. You, my friend, I'll sing your tune. Some flower seeds kept falling from the edge of her mouth. She kept coughing, almost choking. She was constantly on edge of inhaling the seeds into her lungs.

Her singing voice was broken and struggling. Still, she smiled, the same smile that could get me to do anything. A setting sun to rising moon. The flowers turned back towards her, vibrating. Tiny leaves clapping in appreciation. I didn't know what to do. I was horrified. I was angry.

I was desperate. I froze. Julie walked up to me, holding a large seed between her lips. She took my hands and leaned forward to kiss me. I've never smelled anything so putrid in my life. I think that's what snatched me out of it. It was the only time I refused a kiss from her. I'm not proud of what happened next, but I didn't have a choice.

I grabbed Julie and threw her over my shoulder. She protested wildly, scratching and beating me. She had to stop over and over to throw more seeds and dirt. I just ignore the wounds of my neck and scalp and kept carrying her. I locked her in the backseat of the car and turned on the child locks. As I shut the doors, she was hysterical, screaming and flailing in the backseat like a possessed toddler. I got a jericho from my car. It was half full.

That was enough. I stopped smoking the day we moved into our new apartment, but I still had my lighter. When I stepped back out into the clearing, I could hear something moving. I ignored it. I dumped every drop of gasoline that I had and just set the whole field on fire. I left the lighter behind. As I stepped away, I could hear things popping in the grass, blue leaves crinkling to ash, and somewhere there were tiny screams.

It were tiny screams. Tiny bright screams. Something was burned alive in that field. And I don't want to think about what it might have been. It sounded human. Wrong, but human. Julie recovered in a couple of days. The doctors figured she might have been eating seeds from the sunflower

and that it contained some kind of poison. The doctors couldn't find anything abnormal about her blood levels. And after a couple of days of rest, she was back to her old self again. Her eyes were back to their ordinary brown and a smile was as genuine as ever. She was so sorry for all the trouble she caused and she had a hard time remembering what had happened.

To her, it was all just a bad dream we've since gotten pregnant. Over the months we've babyproofed the apartment but we're already looking to move to her house. Julie got a job back as a temp and she might be looking at an extension at the end of the school year. She's quite popular.

I'm thinking about the name Danny with a why for a boy or Danny with an eye for a girl. They're not sure yet. There's only one thing that still worries me. The ultrasounds. Julie has been taking them while I'm at work, but she's showing me every single image.

They look perfectly fine, but on the last one, there was something that didn't add up. In the corner of the picture, the date was set of five years ago. I'm suspecting she's not showing me the actual ultrasound or that she hasn't taken them. I don't know what she could be hiding. And sometimes at night, I hear her humming.

That same damn tune. The festival's season is aangabroken and that betekent modder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On the way to a water-dict tent, a comfortable lute bed, oh so, so, knus, and lupart print regalearze. Miao! Now, Kim, no, no,

just like that's the mottomberman, that, oh, wait just even, has he now only modder on? Oh, yeah, alline modder. Drogh-bhore. Find what you know-noddhap at amazon.com.com. High school, a time where teens become adults and learn the rest of what basic education has to offer.

A time where connections are made and some of those linger for years, even long past the days of their youths. A place where chaos meets order, resulting in a beautiful thing we call controlled chaos. I'll admit, I was nervous to start physical high school as a sophomore after quarantine caused my freshman year at high school to be at home. I'm not going to lie I did very poorly my freshman year and only moved onto the sophomore year because there were so many students flunk in their classes for the same reason as me

that the school corporation couldn't possibly afford to hold students back and everyone just went on with the next year I would still say I'm lucky however as I have some friends in this with me three not counting the ones who moved off but still contact me

their names are Brandon Seymour and Catherine or cat as we call her. We've all been together since our first year in middle school, except for Brandon. He and I go way back to first grade, and despite some rough patches in our friendship, we're still incredibly close. Brandon and I also share the same bus route, so we often talk on the bus about our lives, family, pets, you name it.

Seymour and Catherine are unfortunately on a completely different bus route than Brandon and me, so we don't get to have early morning conversations but I do happen to share a few classes with Seymour and Catherine Seymour and Kat are both in my gym class every other day and Seymour is in my English class on the same day as my gym class we always meet at the same place in the auxiliary gym talk for a bit before Brendan bolt off to get to his class across the school before the bell

pulling up to school in one of my rickety old buses that first day was well unnerving My high school for whatever reason is actually surrounded by woods with two roads leading in and out to the campus one for cars and one for buses looking through the canopy of trees above as the bus rattled down the road

put a sense of dreading me that I can't quite describe looking back at Brandon I could tell he felt a bit odd about this too even though he's already been inside the school more than once the road was destined to as always, which honestly makes sense, seeing as to how there's only a small gas station,

the high school and an abandoned building down that way. Most townsfolk would never come here unless they had business in that area. So, in a sense, this area was cut off from the world. Brandon cracked a few jokes about how we seemed to have just wondered right into Silent Hill almost, to which I laughed,

and occasionally made a snarky remark back to him. As we pulled up to the school, I could already tell that the first day would either go horribly bad or impossibly well, no in between. The building looked aged and weathered, but kept up to date just barely so that it wouldn't be condemned. The parking lot on one side was barren, no cars or people in sight, just the cracking concrete with the streetlights above them, occasionally flickering. The other side was full of cars, but still in the same rundown state. As he pulled slowly towards the area where the bus is unloaded, Brandon,

made a comment to me that stuck out. Did you know this school has a basement? I didn't really know how to respond in all honesty. I wasn't surprised at the statement, as a school this large would have a basement without anything weird going on. Yet Brandon still said it in a manner that made it seem odd, mysterious, and even foreboding in some ways. I eventually told him that I wasn't really surprised,

as I began to gather my belongings to get off the bus. It's been here for forever, but no students are allowed in, he stated, before popping a joke about there being a secret torch chamber below the tile floors of the hall. I told him that it was probably just a storage room, or perhaps rooms that were intended for classes but were deemed unfit for day-to-day use, so they may have just closed it completely. As the bus slowed to a halt, Brandon smiled at me. We should go down there at some point, you know. I juggled a bit at this statement as the bus store opened with a hiss as the whole vehicle began to sway as the students got off in a single far line. Brendan eventually jumped up in between this girl

who honestly looked too old to be attending high school and a really tall kid who I later learned was named Brian. He blocked the other students from leaving for the moment it took me to get into the line and we got off together and into the pale, crack sidewalk leading up to the side entrance of the building. As we walked through the muggy summer morning heat, Brandon asked me where I was headed. Jim, I believe, I replied, hoping I'd remember the schedule right.

Ah, I can take you there, Brandon said, speeding up just a bit to almost guide me into the building. As I set foot onto one of the concrete stairs leading into the side entrance, I got this strong, nostalgic feeling deep within me, as my mind made an effort to recall the very first time I set foot into my foot. my elementary school. I paused for the briefest of moments before I stepped forward more and up those last few faded steps and into a threshold and through the door following Brandon. Entering the building, I was hit with a still air that made me cough a little.

It was as though this was the first breath of life this building had felt in a century, and it honestly looked like that as well. Lockers with paint scraped up, revealing an old rusty metal, lined the walls, which looked as though they had been painted in the early 1800s by the condition. The tile on the floor was scratched, aging like the exterior, and fluorescent lights hung above us on the stained ceiling. I continued to follow Brandon through the maze of hallways, having to grab onto his bag as to not lose track of him in the surprisingly heavy flow of students. After a very brief while of this, he led me into a more open room. I quickly realized this must have been the main

hall. Stairs of stones sat in the middle, leading up to the second floor of the building, congested beyond belief with students. I kept an even pace as I walked behind him, but now a little further back, taking in the view. After some time, he led me down a hallway that actually was remarkably well kept. The lights were shining bright, and the floor looked and scathed. The walls weren't painted, but the brick looked freshly washed. He turned left, and I followed it. him into a large fancy gym. The court was on the lower level and the bleachers we were walking past

were raised up to view the games that would take place here. The gym floor looked newly waxed and I kept following Brandon as I looked around the almost spotless gym. He then took me down another short hall to the left of the gym and into another smaller gym. This one was notably

less kept and it looked like the rest of the school. Boards covered the areas of broken opaque glass. way above, and the floor creaked below any weight. Brandon stopped for a moment, motioning his hands. This is the auxiliary gym, aka where the P.E. classes are. He paused, just as Seymour and Kat called over to us. I turned, beaming as they ran towards me and Brandon, and Seymour waved.

Hey y'all, long time no sea, Kat said, stopping barely two inches from me. Seymour caught up not long after and politely waved. waved once more. You in this class? He asked to both me and Brendan. Brendan shook his head and said he had to get to his next class. I, on the other hand, nodded, and Seymour smiled happily. Brendan departed from us, as Seema and Kat led me over to a door on the far end of the gym,

bolted up tight with a rack of balls in front of it, as though it was a warning to stay away. Cat enthusiastically asked me and Seymour a question. Did you all hear about the biggest rumour in this dump? Seymour, as though he were acting, said Depends on what it is, in a tone so bored, it was as though he would rather be in the pounding heat outside doing nothing than have this conversation. I answered after him.

I'm not too sure what you're talking about, honestly. A grin grew across Kat's face as she pushed the ball rack to the side, as Seymour visibly cringed. Cat, if it's the basement, the teachers will have you hide, he stated, backing up a little. little, clearly knowing where this was going. Kat only giggled in response. What else would it be, Seymour?

Every year, students have tried to get into the basement, but not many succeed, as the door is bolted up tight. However, there could be another way in. She was cut off by Seymour sighing. Kat, we haven't been here for a day. We're really obsessed with the basement. How do you know it's not another supply closet? He stated, rolling his eyes, and beginning to inch towards the bleachers.

Cat's eyes widened, as though Seymour had called her a slur. You don't know about the urban legend? she asked, raising an eyebrow. Urban legend? I muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear in the ever-growing noise of the gym. I had already heard about the basement rumour from Brandon earlier, but I, along with many others, had no clue about the whole urban legends surrounding the depths of the school. Cat turned to me as Seymour began to scan the bleachers for a place to get away from. what in his mind was no doubt nonsense. Apparently, back in 84, the basements weren't so locked up.

A group of students went down there, and when they got back up, none of them were the same. The group's leader became paranoid and shut down. One of the group members moved away, and the others all met terrible damage to the psyche. One of them, Sean, ended up screaming in hysteria in the middle of lunch, and apparently the paramedics had to take him away, she said, almost in one breath. Don't get me wrong. I love Cat and all, but she's a bit over the top, especially when she's excited about something,

which I could tell she was. And what happened after? I asked, beginning to move over to the bleachers to find some place to sit with her following. Nobody knows. There are some variations of the story. Some being with the students never came back up. Others with rumours of the gateway of hell showing itself below the tower we're standing on right now. But either way,

with all entrances to the basement being bolted shut and never being opened again. She blurted as we took the first steps onto the bleachers. I looked back at the bolted-up door. It was a heavy metal, dented and scraped, but still too firm to be broken through easily. Two windows made of a bulletproof glass sat, dirted as though it hadn't been cleaned by anyone ever,

one on each door. Beyond that glass sat what seemed to be nothing. a black void creeping up from below the school, swallowing any light it had come into contact with, confined by only those two doors. I shuddered a bit at the sight, and my mind began to wonder. What was down there that led to it being bolted shut? I began to question my earlier theory of it just being more storage space, as if all the doors to the basement looked like those did, then what did it mean nobody's been down there in a good bit? The rest of the day, honestly became a bit of a blur until the English class,

as I made my way to classes weaving through the halls, hoping I wouldn't get lost, until eventually, I found myself in the upstairs room 204 with Seymour. I sat down in a seat that was assigned, that just so happened to be next to his. We talked idly for a bit before the question of the basement came up. I asked him what he thought about the basement story, to which he just shrugged. It's a whole lot of crap if you ask me, he muttered before bearing his nose into a book, trying to avoid further conversation until the final bell rang. The next day began the same as the first, and all was normal until about lunchtime.

I walked into the crowded cafeteria before deciding that it was too packed for me to remain there. I left the small room and went into the hall where students lined up to enter the cafeteria. I traced my hand down the wall until a familiar voice called my name. I looked over to see Cat sitting by the entrance to the main gym with both Seymour and Brandon, talking and laughing about two feet from her. I chugged over to her before she grabbed my arm, then Seymour's, as she turned to Brandon, telling him to follow. She pulled us down the hallway, leading away from the gym, and into a small, largely avoided area of the school, with a wooden door with a window.

sitting at the end. She let go and plop down in front of the door as I sat down slowly as Seymour and Brendan did the same. We sat in silence for about 30 seconds before Cat giggled some. So remember the basement? she asked much to Seymour's dismay. Brandon and I nodded as she rose up from the floor and jiggled the wooden door behind her. With a creak it opened into a black void, with stairs leading down into what seemed to be nothing. I looked over a school map and noticed this area existed, leading down into the basement. Do you all say want to go over look tomorrow?

Brandon paused before saying slowly, I'm not sure if this would be a good idea, he said, as Cat turned to close the door, making sure to not lock it. Oh, come on, silly. Those legends are probably not true And besides, we'll never know if we don't look Nobody's been down there in years And that's exactly why we shouldn't do it

Nobody's been down there It's probably not anything major Just black mould and asbestos He stated Cat turned to me, hopeful I sighed and nodded agreeing with her I wouldn't be opposed to finding out what's down there

I stated as curiosity Once again filled my mind Cat flapped her hands Kidley and she poked up some. All right, Seymour and Brandon, if you decide to join us, meet us here the moment you get into the building, bring a flashlight, she said, before jogging off and down the hall, disappearing into the crowd of students.

I tend to see more, who was glaring at me. What were you thinking? Yeah, sternly. I stammered for a moment before answering. Seymour, I know you're just as curious as me to find out what's down there. plus, Cap managed to find this entrance within two days of being here at most. If we don't go down there after that, she'd never shut up about it, I stated, before Brandon spoke up.

I don't know, Mike, he said to me, I have a really bad feeling about this honestly. He sighed as Seymour began to stare at the wall. You said that about our trip to the aquarium. You loved it, and you even brought a season past to the aquarium later on, I stated. He sighed before turning to Seymour. What do you think? he asked, making Seymour's stated true thoughts about the basement. I think it's dangerous. They could be black mould, leaks, God knows what down there.

It was bolted up for a reason, he stated, before I blurted something out that I hadn't even thought about saying. Then, come with us, I stated, unsure of my reasoning. He stared blankly for a moment before speaking up. Fine, be here at 7. 35 at the latest. And, unless Brandon is also going, I'm staying up here, he said, before marching back down to the main hall. I turned to Brandon, who I could tell, didn't want to go down there. Fine, I'll go too, he stated. The whole rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about the basement.

The second I got home, I threw my best flashlight into my school bag and immediately did a Google search in my high school. However, no matter how much I dug, nothing about the basement of it. showed up. I ended up searching so long into the night that I fell asleep at the computer. Upon waking up, I immediately saw the time. 6.45 a.m. I panicked, jolting upright and grabbing my almost dead phone before throwing the nearest pair of shoes on and grabbing my bag. I booked it out at the front door, just as the bus began to pull up. I narrowly caught it and the bus came to a halt allowing me to board. I immediately took to Brandon, who looked incredibly anxious about the upcoming event.

When I told you about the basement, I didn't mean it seriously. I don't want to go down there, he said before I even sat down. I smiled and asked him one question. Did you bring your light? He nodded, turning down to his backpack and pulling out a large, diesel flashlight that looked older than him. I chuckled some before I asked him light-heartedly. You sure that thing works? I asked as he put it back into his bag.

I planned to grab this one so I wouldn't have to go down if it didn't work. He said, turning to the window and gazing out. The rest of the ride had no words between us until we got to the school. I got out of the bus before him and he told me a simple phrase. Let's go. I followed him, despite his total shift in demeanor. as he led me once more through the halls and into the back area

where we met the previous day. Once we got there, we were surprised to find Seymour, but not Kat. Seymour looked up with a fearful expression as we approached him. Without sparing any time, he spat out a sentence.

Cat went down there. Brendan's eyes widened, as he forgot all about his apparent fear of what was down there. We need... We need to get us. her, he said, with a low whisper. Seymour looked at Brandon with a face of disbelief.

I'm not heading down there, he said, before Brandon pulled his light out. Look, I'll explain it on the way. We need to get her out of there, now, he said, spraying no time as he went for the wooden door. Seymour's eyes followed him before inching forward himself. I stepped forward, just as Brandon opened the door up, revealing the darkness once more. You made a deal, I said to Seymour, urging him to follow. He sighed but nodded, pulling his phone out for a light. One by one, we shuffled into the darkness, until all three of us were on the landing before the flight of stairs leading into the basement.

I turned my light on and churned it around as Brandon closed the door most of the way. We need to hurry, he said, as he urged Seema and I down the flight of concrete steps. Whereas the main stairway looked to run down, this one put it to shame. Staines from God knows when decorated the surface of the stone stairs and various scratch marks accompanied them cracks in the stairs also became evident before I had even reached the halfway turn

and I show my light up and in front of me cutting through the darkness What sat in front and below me was horrifying A dark, wet hallway that seemed to mirror the one we were just in jotted forward leading into what seemed to be nothingness as the temperature dropped as I descended.

Seymour and Brandon trailed behind me as they turned the lights on. Brandon told us both something that will stick with me forever as we reach the bottom of the stairs. I don't care what you see or hear. We need to stick together. And the second we find cat, we need to buck it back upstairs. He said, as I wondered what he knew about the basement. I showed my light down the hall to my left as the darkness in front of me took back over. Brandon glanced around

before urging us down the hall We walked into the pitch darkness Now in a temperature Almost as cold as the winter's night Whispering among ourselves Our feet clattering the floor Was the only other sound to be heard And the smell became mustier and mustier

The further we walked It was clear We were one of the first to set foot in here in forever I show my light above me As Brandon and Seymors illuminated the path I was pointing mine down. The pipes and wires sat exposed above us, and every light ball we crossed was shattered.

It became clear that the basement was abandoned before it was ever finished as we travelled further into the darkness for what felt like an eternity before Seymour paused. His phone was ringing. I stopped my walk and went over to him as he accepted a call from my missing friend.

He was Cat. He put the phone on to speak. just as she asked the question. Where are you all? She said with a murmur of voices behind her, signifying something impossible. She was above us and in the halls of the school still swimming with students. Our eyes went wide with collective fear and terror. We came down following you, Brendan stammered, and Seymour's face ran pale.

My hands grew cold and felt sick at her response. I haven't even gone into the basement yet, she said, as my eyes focused on Seymour. He stammered his response out. I saw you go down there before silence. My blood rang cold as Kat stated her next sentence. I'm right outside the entrance we agreed on. I stared at Seymour, shaking. Then how did Seymour see you?

I asked. Seymour's face contorted in fear of something behind me, as Brandon turned to face the same thing he was, all blood draining from his face. I spun on my heels, shining my light in that direction, and Seymour muttered one line. What the hell? I backed up some head of instinct as my light fully illuminated what the others were staring at. Its body had spindly legs, too thin to be humans. The torso appeared to just be a thin stick, barely holding the body together. Its arms dangled to the floor, tapping my foot lightly, before pulling away.

And its face. Its face was demented. Its skin was seemingly pulled back from its pale face, and several sunken eyes stared at me. Below it was what I presumed to be its mouth, but all I saw was a black, gaping hole. It stepped forward, impossibly quiet, as I saw. stood there in pure shock and horror before I felt a pull from behind. I turned around,

dropping my light, leaving it to idly beam on that thing. I was being pulled by someone quickly away from whatever that thing was. I was pulled through the destroyed hallways and someone dragged me behind them before I found my feet on my own. I ran quicker than I ever ran before,

following the patter of the persons ahead of me's footsteps. We tore down the hall and I was certain that thing would grab me up and pull me back into that damned darkness. The feeling I felt when I saw the light shining in from the landing is indescribable, as the silhouette of Brandon and Seymour became more and more clear as we got closer.

We ran up the first set of stairs before I turned to look back into the dark. That face peered at me from the darkness. It followed us without making a sound as it crept towards the stairs. I jumped up the stairs as Seymour and Brandon, and dashed through back into the light. I ran through the threshold,

tripping onto my face as I made it through as the door slammed shut behind me. I looked up, only to see Kat staring at me in abject confusion. Brandon stepped forward, and Seymour did as well. I shuffled to my feet

and told Cat everything. I could tell she didn't believe a word of it as she bounded to the door, only to be stopped by Seymour. He grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the door and down the hall. The moment I stood up, I was instantly nauseous, as Brandon ran off to God knows where. I went home sick that day, and haven't been back since. I haven't heard from Seymour until today, and Brandon only once.

A simple text stating one thing. We're not doing this again. Kat, on the other hand, has been calling me non-stop. demanding to know what was going on, accusing me on making this up, etc. My parents are growing suspicious of my new behaviour, but still think I'm too sick to go back to school. And honestly, I hope it stays that way. Seymour messaged me recently, telling me that he was moving,

and honestly, I can't blame him. I responded back, wishing him the best of luck. And that was that. It's only been three days since we went into that basement. And honestly, if you ever come across an area that you should avoid, you should avoid it. Those areas are closed off. A reason.