Creepy - Day 4 - Jolly Jack the Carver Starver & Fallen Through the Veil

Episode Date: October 4, 2022

Jolly Jack the Carver Starver***Written by: Kyle Harrison***Content warning: mutilation***Fallen Through The Veil***Written by: Deirdre Coles and Narrated by: Megan McDuffee***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents The 31 Days of Horror Day 4

Jolly Jack The Carver Starver Written by Kyle Harrison I used to enjoy it when the autumn colors were changing I could go on a brisk afternoon walk or jog and just be in tune with nature but that was a long time ago The changing of seasons brings a different sensation for me now,

a feeling of dread and menace as soon as the first fall leaves hit the ground. Because it isn't long after that the bodies are found. It was my first year as a homicide detective, 2009, when we first experienced the wrath of Jolly Jack, why he chose that name and what his motives is now and continued to remain elusive to me, even all these years later. But I'll tell you what I know. Killing's always started by coinciding with the summer solstice,

and didn't end until we reached all-hollows Eve, or Halloween, as you Americans call it. They've never been any connections to victims except by coincidence. And I've often felt when that does happen, it's actually the killer toying with us, leading us on another wild goose chase when more people suffer. The thing about Jolly Jack that makes him so cruel or his methods. I still remember finding the first victim all those years ago.

I was fresh out of the academy and eager to take a call. My senior officer, a man named Duke, warned me that any crime scene was always like stepping into a blunder. If we were lucky, we'd get out in one piece, but most people weren't. It was a sobering thought. But even that app description didn't prepare me for the carnage. It was in the park where the body was found.

An older couple had been walking their dogs and stumbled upon what was left of the corpse. Getting closer, I could smell the stench of decay, hinting at the fact that the body had been there for quite some time. There was dried blood all over the concrete, leading a smeared and incohesive pattern up toward the ditch where the shredded human flesh was scattered. Please forgive me for the description. But the way the body looked reminded me of thinly sliced confetti, or cheese pushed through a grater. The majority of the corpse was hardly recognizable, except for the head and upper body. Jack had done great care to make sure the horror of what he had done to them was clearly shown. We were able to determine from the sunken chest and empty cavity where their stomach was

that the victim had first been starved to death. Then the organ had been carved out of them entirely. Then, more likely still in shock, Jack had carved their faces as well. No two victims were the same, but I swear the first one still haunts me. The mouth, nose, and eyes were all hollowed out, revealing what some say looked like a distorted jackalander visage for all to gaze upon and disgust. I remember Duke saying that he felt like puking, and that was how he found Jack's calling card.

It wasn't enough that he'd done this awful act to a single person. He also made certain to let us know he'd kill again. There was a cassette tape that was stuck amid the stool that was left over from the shreds at the bottom part of the corpse. And we took it in for evidence as soon as possible. It took almost a full 24 hours to get the audio cleaned up. But I won't forget those screams and the torture that were on that tape. It was a play-by-play of the victim's final moments as Jack, somewhere in the background of the room while it was being recorded, softly hummed to himself. It was clear from the manic attitude he displayed that the killer was enjoying every second of this.

First we take the tongue to make them stop crying. Then we take the eyes because no one wants to see him dying. Jack's voice said in a weird high-pitched way. It wasn't long after that the screams died down and Jack sounded disappointing that the killing was over. No more fun now, but don't worry. Soon I will show you how much can be had. More will come in a few days. I swear I'll be back.

That's a promise from Jolly Jack. There's a bat-shick crazy laugh at the end, and the tape died. You can bet our forensic team rebuted a dozen times, although each time it felt nauseating to relive those tortured screams. We were trying to find something that might pinpoint where Jack had recorded it. Some other sounds it might explain where he took the victim. It was clear from the autopsy, the starving process, had taken a few days to make their victim look so sickly,

perhaps even a full week of no food, which would mean Jack had to have a stable environment to hold them in, somewhere that he thought no one could find. As you may have guessed, over the years we've exhausted a lot of dead ends. There's so many places around these parts, from abandoned buildings to forest cabins that could have served as temporary hiding places. We are close, I think, over the years of finding victims.

but never close enough. There were these three sisters in 2014, I remember distinctly. Jack had decided to capture them altogether, which actually stood out as unique. He'd always made sure his victims were random and unnoticed, but kidnapping three college girls all at the same time made it difficult for it to go unheard. When we first arrived at the campus, I got a chance to speak to the superintendent and ask about the girls' classes.

One in particular caught my attention. criminal psychology. The professor, a woman named Celia Bellwether, explained that they had actually been getting ready to study Jolly Jack, since by that time they could have become something of a local legend. The laptops procured from the girl's apartment also shed another clue to their disappearance. They'd actually gone online and formed a fan club of sorts for Jack, making merchandise and treating the killings like they were harmless fun.

Kids these days. I remember my new partner saying I'd even called up Duke to get his thoughts on it since he'd retired by then but he didn't want to utter that name again the poor man had been driven to alcoholism and anger because of what this killer could do I did my best to fight that for a while but I think these three sisters broke me after they had created their little fan club

the girls had gone out of their way on social media to challenge Jack to take them They were overconfident that their connection to the campus and to each other would keep them safe. And when they did disappear, it was actually apparent that Jack had access to the campus that he shouldn't have had. The superintendent tried to dismissively explain that the firewalls simply needed to be fixed and security could be tightened up. But I didn't see it that way. It felt like Jack was sending a message he could destroy any life you wanted to, and he had the resources to do it. Celia claimed that in her professional opinion, Jolly Jack saw himself as an artist, and that each victim was a statement that was being made against society. We're seeing this horrific act of violence, but perhaps the emotions that are meant to be evoked are supposed to stir us to action.

Make us want to find him. Perhaps it's a desperate plea from a tortured soul, she declared. I told her I thought it was brave that she was even daring to give him the benefit of the doubt. But then again by that point, I knew they'd kill dozens. These three girls were probably just perfunctory to his routine now. My new partner speculated that this might be part of the issue. The Jack was becoming bored, and therefore bolder. There's an old saying amongst cops, and when criminals make mistakes,

that's when you catch them. This is how it was with the three sisters. Thanks to a few people among the campus staff, we learned that the three had taken a weekend vacation on the day they were reported missing, and the person that made the call was also a part of the Jolly Jack fan club. The girl explained that she knew once they had left for the cabin, that they had intended to go find Jack's hideout. Like I said, we had very close to finding them because the location we were able to determine they rented

looked like it was meant as a halfway house for some other staging chamber for his torture devices, either that or as Duke said after I showed in the pictures of the crime scene maybe somehow Jack had gotten wind of our arrival and left before we could find any further clues I didn't want to believe but after scouring the cabin for further clues it soon became clear that there was no residual fingerprints left to give us a hint about where he had gone next

the cabin had been at dead end and by then we figured that girls were as good as dead About three weeks later, their bodies were placed on display after a rave at the college. By that, I mean they were discovered during a party, hanging from rafters in one of the auditoriums at the college. From what the medical examiners told me, Jack had made certain to tie them up to a weight system where they starved to death. It would cause their bodies to slip further and further off the precipice until at last, when they died and had nothing left. they would wind up dangling upside down like strings of meat. That was exactly the image that came to my mind when finding those three girls.

Hardly any muscle or tissue left on them. And each of their faces carved in misshapen to represent Jack's newest artistic nightmare. I remember thinking I'd retire after that. But wouldn't you know it? It was actually my new partner in Duke that both convinced me to stay on. Jolly Jacks just. one person amid a sea of evil. Eventually he'll fail.

He'll mess up, and at this point I think he enjoys the chase, Duke told me over a couple of beers. And besides which, each year we learn something new. For example, we use the connections of the dark web door advantage, making sure to keep an eye on the forums

that fawned over his killings to get an idea of how he chose his victims. Professor Bellwether's hypothesis about the fact that Jack considered himself an artist was also taken very seriously by the police force. We were trying to find ways to exploit that and draw them out. I think we have it all wrong. I think he's just been toying with us this whole time.

And the only art he's creating is a cruel joke, my partner told me one day. And then, in spring of 2017, Duke had a strange idea. He'd come out of retirement right after a string of child kidnappings and said he had plans on how to capture Jolly Jack, but that would be extremely dangerous. The plan was simple, but when he told me,

I could see why our police chief was so quick to dismiss it. Duke wanted to offer himself up as a victim, as a sacrifice to Jack. We knew he kept his victims alive for at least a week, slowly torturing them. Duke suggested if he was able to swallow a tracker, it would make the rescue far simpler. Of course, our police chief didn't agree and chewed him out for even thinking that we would endorse this half-cooked idea.

But that didn't stop him. You could see the fire in his eyes as he walked out of the chief's office. Duke was going to go ahead and go through with his plan anyway. I tried to talk him out of it, too. The man was like a surrogate father to me. I'd seen him overcome even the most difficult at trials and still bounce back. I don't want Jolly Jack to be the death at you, I told him. He gave me the biggest hug and reassured me that he'd be fine.

He told me that I'd be the one to catch this sadistic killer. I wish I had his confidence. 72 hours later, Duke's girlfriend called and reported him missing. We all knew what had happened, but no one wanted to admit it. Some admired his bravery. and I decided to use his rash decision to hunt down Jack once and for all. At his old house in the downtown harbor, I found the laptop he used to contact Jack. A chilling correspondence transpired between him, giving a window into this psychopath's thoughts.

You realize that by taunting me, you have sealed your death certificate, Jack. I have confidence in my coworkers. They've wanted to lock you up for a long time. Which is precisely why this will end in failure. I have become an expert. But I will admit, I can't resist the offer here. You will be a worthy trophy for my collection. Once you've been captured, no more people will get hurt.

There is no prison or hell that can contain me. I have become immortal, eternal. I will permeate every single night and every tortured soul. I will destroy you and be reborn again and again. And again. The exchange was long enough that it gave us a bread trail of data to follow. Duke knew what he was doing. And as promised, he swallowed the tracker.

Although somehow Jack figured that out as well. Because when we located it, all we found were portions of Duke's intestines with the tracker lodged inside. It was still blinking when I held up the bloody tissues, realizing that Jack was sending yet another gruesome message with this. He wasn't going to wait for Duke to starve out. We probably only had eight hours to find him or he'd bleed to death. I was in charge that afternoon, demanding that the entire place be searched,

constantly checking and rechecking every single speck of dust to find clues. It paid off. We found fingerprints that connected to an old database file that had been untouched for almost 14 years. It felt like we were striking gold, and I didn't want to get too excited, but I'd jump on the opportunity to find out everything I could about this cold. case. It was another child disappearance from around 2003, a young girl that had gone missing from in front of her house, and the parents had begged for police assistance, but the trail had died out. It felt strange to imagine how in the world these same fingerprints were now connected

to Jack. I wondered if this might have been the moment where he became a killer. Was it his daughter that had been taken? I found old transcripts of the father angrily challenging the police to do their job, and excitedly warning he would find a way to take them all down. Those sounded like the words of a potential psychopath with a bone to pick, but Jack had never targeted any police or their families, so it felt like I was following the wrong threat entirely. Still, I knew the fingerprints meant something. It was a message. After searching transcripts alongside one of my close friends in forensics, we even started to theorize that maybe Jolly Jack really was supernatural.

He always seems to find a way to get ahead of our investigation. He seems to have insider information about the victims and the moves were going to make, he said. For some reason, that simple statement made me see the entire case differently, and I ran to the police chief to proclaim my theory. It wasn't a pleasant thing to say, but I told him that I believe Jolly Jack was someone within the department, using all our resources and equipment at his disposal to methodically plan the crimes. The chief didn't want to accept the theory, especially since Duke's life was on the line, but admitted I might be right.

That afternoon, with the clock ticking, the chief made a statement to the public that we would begin an internal investigation at the department. It was a terrifying thought for the public to realize the same cops that were supposed to protect and serve them might be unwittingly protecting a dangerous killer. Let's face it, as years have gone by, the police haven't gotten the best reputation. so this admission about Jack wasn't exactly good news. The chief figured it was the only card he could play to save Duke, though. And wouldn't you know it? It actually worked. Duke was admitted to a hospital about an hour later.

He suffered from severe loss of blood and internal injuries, but to our shock and surprise, he lived. When he came out of surgery, you can bet I was the first asked questions about the torture he endured. He didn't have much to say. He was a hollow shell of a man I knew from only a week ago. Jack had taken out several major organs meticulously, making sure that Duke could still survive,

and doctors said it was a miracle that he did. He'd never be the same, they warned, and probably never walk right or be able to pee without a catheter. And it felt like his sacrifice was for nothing, because Jack had been careful to never show their face to provide any clues to their identity. All I remember for sure, Duke said, was that the guy was tall and white.

I told my old partner what we learned about the connection to the police force, and it shook him. He couldn't believe that one of our men might actually be a sadistic killer. And to think he let me live, I don't understand it. What message was he trying to convey, Duke asked? I was at a loss for words.

Once Duke was discharged, a year later, we expectantly waited for another killing spree. Armed with a new info about an insider, we monitored each and every member of our staff with so much surveillance as our little town could muster. As you might imagine, it was difficult during that time to get anyone in the public to trust us again. Duke worked a lot to restore faith in the police force,

and then, when the killings were expected to happen, we found nothing. No bodies, no grizzly crime scenes, strangely that caused wild speculation to run rampant again. And Jack decided to quiet down now that we were close to catching him? It seemed like it. Duke even said maybe the killer had decided to end his rampage. I've been thinking about a lot, he said.

The one thing that the psychopaths seemed to care about was making his message clear. But I never understood until now. Most killers want to be caught, you know. And I don't think he was any different. He wanted us to step up and make the police force better, and we've done that. Maybe that gives him a sense of accomplishment. I wasn't so quick to decide. I was still ruminating over the few final parts of the puzzle in my head.

I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that this was all an effort to weed out some bad cops. It felt so basic. It was humanizing this mad killer. Could it really be so simple? That night I reviewed all the evidence we had. Every interrogation, every interview we'd made. What was the connection to the missing child from years ago? Had the cops not done their job and that's why Jack started his carnage?

I was flipping through those reports when a name stood out among the officers that had handled it. And it chilled me to the core. I reviewed other incidents relating to Jolly Jack and a pattern began to emerge. This officer was there in almost every incident. That officer was my former mentor and partner. I went to his home that night. My service weapons still on my hip as I knocked on his door. Duke was in his pajamas and told me he had his grandkids there for a sleepover.

I sat down and he offered me a drink and I was studying his moves, trying to comprehend how he had done this for so many years. After we had a drink and a few laughs, the time for business had arrived and Duke announced that he knew. knew why I was there from the moment he saw my gun and realized I hadn't looked him in the eye. I always said you'd be the one to catch Jolly Jack, he said, as he lifted his glass. I hate to admit it, but I was curious how he'd managed to perform surgery on himself. With my surprise, I learned that he'd actually never really been injured at all.

The medical reports, the dangerous situation, it had all been a hoax, staged to keep him off the hook. As it turned out, Jack had a large fan base. They admired the killer for his efforts to bring a voice to the awful police force in the futility of their efforts to catch him. His grotesque art was enough to keep Duke from being arrested all these years. I told him that I wanted him to go quietly and that his grandkids and current wife would never even know why he was arrested. But he said he wasn't going to have any of that. As a matter of fact, he explained. As a matter of fact, he that the drink he had been sipping was laced with arsenic. He knew his time was over as the psychopathic killer.

But then he did something strange, and he embraced me and warned the jolly jack could not simply disappear. Otherwise, we'll see more bad press. More bad cops. More people are distorting the system. The purpose of the mask and the killings is to keep them on their toes and remind them that the world is a cruel place. he died a short moment later.

I called to his wife to contact the authorities. When they took away his corpse, I stayed at his place and checked around for any evidence connecting him to being a killer. It was surprisingly easy to find, as if he laid it out for me. I stared at the pumpkin mask for a long time, knowing his haunting words were meant to evoke anger

and purpose within me. Was he right about his mission? Could this evil balance with good to be a tool? I took the trophies and the mask, made sure there was nothing any prying eyes could find. That was about a year ago. And I haven't forgotten about his legacy or the danger that Jolly Jack represents at this time of year. Soon enough. I will down the mantle and remind others of the terror that exists in the world.

Jolly Jack is back. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents. Fallen Through the Vale, written by Deirdre Coles, and narrated by Megan McDuffie. We are so gloriously ugly that five people take our picture before we even get into Town Square Park. So I'm not surprised when my family wins the costume contest. Again. We are dressed as a family of goblin royalty from the cult anime hit Cobalt Bay. That's Cobalt Bay in the Goblin world.

Cobalt Bay in the human world. where the goblins fall when they flee a palace coup. Amanda says that's almost a dad joke, but the show is cool enough to pull it off. My mom wanted to show off her improving cosplay skills, and she didn't want the judges to recognize us as the winners from last year, so she made us all full-head masks. She worried that the adult judges didn't watch the show

and wouldn't recognize the characters. She worried that our costumes would bunch up when we were walking. She worried that my little brother Leo wouldn't keep his mask off. on. What she should have worried about was that while my parents and siblings wore costumes from the first season, my character was wearing the amulet headdress she didn't get until season two. But this isn't the kind of thing I have come to expect as a middle child. We climb onto the stage to accept our first prize. I admit, I'm proud of us too. But because we won, there's no chance Amanda and I will get to go trick-or-treating without our parents and little brother,

even though we're both really too old for that, and it's a little embarrassing. My mom wants to show up our costumes, and several neighbors seal our fate by insisting that we all just have to trick or treat together, because we look better as a group. I'm glad to see that after two years of pandemic Halloween's, people have gone all out this year. I get in a fight with my mom because I insist on bringing a canvas shopping bag instead of the delicate, embroidered purse-type thing that Amanda carries. But it turns out, I'm right. People give us ridiculous amounts of candy. By the time we've done the first three blocks, Amanda's bag is almost full, and some people start putting her portion in my bag instead,

telling us that they know I'll share later. Through my mask, I give her an evil goblin grin. We both know I absolutely won't share a thing. It's not just the candy, either. People went nuts with decorations, too. On Yarrow Street, it seems like everybody set up a mini-haunted house that we have to traverse before we get to the front door. The first house has gravestones on either side of the front pathway,

and as we head for the front door, things lurch at us and rotting hands reach out from behind the gravestones to grab our ankles. Some people, I have to say, have gone too far. At the corner of Yarrow and Jackson, we have to pass through an archway of skulls that I don't like at all. Plastic bones themselves don't bother me, but these skulls look like they have.

haven't finished rotting. Patschy scalps with clumps of hair cling to them. I step on a flagstone that tilts under my feet and makes me stumble a little to the side and a tuft of that coarse hair brushes against my arm. It's stiff with gore and through my mask I imagine I can even smell it. Old blood and rotting flesh. It's all far too realistic for my tastes. I'm starting to lose enthusiasm for trick-or-treating at this point, I trail behind my family to let them trigger all the animatronic jump scares. Lagging behind also gives me a chance to sneak a candy bar from my bag. I tilt up my mask to take a big bite before my mom can catch me. Is there any combination in the world better than chocolate and coconut?

I close my eyes for a second to relish the taste. Pure bliss. We are moving fast now, whisking from door to door. I'm a little surprised that Leo hasn't gotten tired. yet. Last Halloween, he only made it a few blocks before demanding to stop. I don't really like the costumes we're seeing either. The people wearing them are getting way too into character, moaning and snarling at other people they pass. We reached the corner of Yarrow and Gray. If we turn left here, it's just a couple of blocks to our house, but I see my mom turn to the right. Mom, I'm getting tired. Do you mind if I just go home?

I say. I figure my dad will insist on walking me back to the house and then rejoin the group. But that's okay. I can hand out candy by myself for a little while. I won't be scared to answer the door, even if it's teenagers. My mom turns around slowly, her tall headdress glinting, her skirts sweeping out behind her. At that moment, she really does look like a goblin queen. And then she lifts up her mask. And it's not my mom at all. My real mom has this phone app that lets you use filters on your face, like adding bunny ears or bangs or fake eyelashes. The person's staring at me so coldly now looks like a version of my mom, but one that's wearing 20 different filters at once. Their face is thin and cruel and heavy with makeup.

Their lipstick looks solid as paint. Their nostrils flare and she looks at me. Oh God, John, she says to my dad. Look at this. This nasty thing is following us. The leaks are getting worse every day. The man next to her lifts his mask, and it's another jarring sight. A man who looks sort of, but not quite like my dad. He's got a tan and a stylish haircut, and he's staring at me with total disgust. It's okay. I'll make the call, he says, tapping on his phone. The V team has double patrols out tonight. They can get here fast.

It's Amanda's turn to unmask now. I can tell by her scraped, smooth hair and knife-sharp collarbones and cheeks that this version of Amanda hadn't been allowed to quit ballet when she turned ten. She didn't look like a person who got to make many of her own decisions at all. And she looked sorrowful and haunted as she stared at me. Dad, do you have to? She said in a voice that is soft and timid.

and un-amanda-like. You know what will happen. Dana says they do experiments on them. Can you just give it a chance to find its way back? Meanwhile, Leo's double just stands there, clutching my not-mom's hand and regarding me with his blank mask face. Maybe he's the creepiest one of all. I am very confused.

Why do they look so strange? Did I somehow start, following another family that happens to look like mine, wearing the same costumes? But why do they seem so angry? And what does my not-mom mean by leaks? Since un-amanda is the only one who seems at all sympathetic, I address her. What do you mean, find my way back? Grab it, John, the woman says. Don't let it get away. Amanda, you know that's a bad idea. God knows how many more of them will come crawling through.

The man steps towards me and I back away, still confused but now also scared. Don't make this harder, he warns. They're on their way anyway. It'll go easier on you if you cooperate. It's just a kid, on Amanda protests. And I can tell she feels bad for me. But bad in the way you might feel sorry for a duck that's being chased at a park. Not like she is scared for her sister. I turn around and run, and I turn around and run.

I can hear the footfalls of the man behind me. My actual dad is not in very good shape. They plays golf sometimes, but that is about all he does as far as physical activity. I could outrun him any day of the week. This guy is different. They catches up almost immediately. He grabs a fistful of the back of my robe and jerks me to a stop.

But as I stop, I start to spin and instinctively I swing my heavy bag of candy at him. I'm sure it doesn't hurt, but it startles him enough. that he lets go of me. I dart sideways onto someone's lawn. There's a very loud siren, one I've never heard before. As I cut through a garden, I hear car doors slamming shut, raised voices, and suddenly there are a lot more people chasing me. When I dare to look back, I'm sorry I did. I see people in gray and black uniforms with gas masks running after me. What was it, not Amanda said? they would do experiments on me? As I run, I remember my Aunt Susan telling me about how Halloween is also Sawin

and how some people believe that the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest at this time of year. I think Susan meant the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead. But maybe it isn't a single veil between two worlds, but many veils between many worlds, and I have somehow stumbled into a world where I don't belong, a world where lots of people stumble in from other worlds, and we don't belong and are hated and are hunted, enough of us that they had some kind of special government agency devoted to tracking us down. The leaks are getting worse every day, the woman said. But maybe I can find my way back, if I'm not caught first, if I can figure out how and where

I crossed over. Then I see it just ahead of me, that archway of skulls. I run across front lawns and I could see a uniformed figure sprinting along the street, aiming to get ahead of me and cut me off. I dodge behind a house and through another backyard, giving thanks these people don't have fences. I swing around the side of the next house and run for the archway. I have doubled back now and I'm heading straight towards my pursuers. If I'm wrong about this, they are going to catch me in about ten seconds. I run back through the archway, away from the house and towards the street.

Just in time, I think to reach out and brush that same gore-encrusted clump of hair. I stagger to a stop when I realize the sound of shouting and footballs have stopped. My pursuers are gone. I'm going to have to find my family fast. I'm going to be in so much trouble. I look for trick-or-treaters. At the far end of the street, I see the silhouettes of a group of short figures sprinting by under the streetlights. Those kids really want their candy.

I just want to get home. The parent following the group is moving fast too, and wearing a really weird costume. Suddenly, the tall figure lurches forward and snatches up one of the small shapes with inhumanly long arms. The little one gives out a piercing shriek that chokes off as long jaws rip into its midsection,

scattering blood and gore. I can hear other distant cries and growls. other sounds of hunting and pursuit. I'd escaped the world I'd just been in only to find myself someplace worse. How many other worlds are there? How do I find my own? Then I have a terrible thought, so terrible that it's probably true. Oddly enough, the answer comes from Cobalt Bay.

In the show, the main characters escape by falling through into the human world, because according to the show, the human plane is below the goblin realm, further down in the wheel of worlds. Getting back into the goblin world is different and much harder. It requires powerful charms and incantations to climb back up. The first place I'd landed obviously got a lot of visitors leaking through, or maybe falling through. That might mean it was near the bottom of the wheel of worlds. And this place? Even further down.

Maybe every monster banished or exercised or driven away from other dimensions ended up here. I don't know any spells. I don't have any potions or magical powers. The amulets in my headdress are bits of plastic my mom put together with hot glue gun. Trying to get back to my own world by crossing through the archway was like stepping backwards off a landing and expecting to find yourself at the top of a flight of stairs. I'm really tired now. And my feet hurt. I sat down on the curb. I can see now what I didn't notice before,

that many of the houses on this street have broken glass or boarded up windows, and most look abandoned. I open my candy bag on my lap. There are at least three of my very favorite kind of candy bar, the full-size versions, too, perfect for a last meal. I take a big bite. There's nothing better than the combination of chocolate and coconut. Nothing I'm going to have the chance to experience at any rate. I close my eyes to savour the taste, even as I hear a low growl start to rise from the hedges behind me. Pure bliss.

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