Creepy - The Medusa Disorder - Tales from Uncle Henry's Farm Part 6

Episode Date: May 9, 2022

It appears, Henry has kin he's never met...***Written by: TW Grim and guest narrated by Joe Stofko and Nikolle Doolin***Bonus Episode: "The Peephole" written by Paul Caseley and narrated by JV Hampton-VanSant***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea 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.

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slash creepypod. My story this week is one of, if not the, most requested that we get here. And I'm very happy to be able to present yet another epic story from writer T.W. Grimm and our former producer, Steve Blizzin. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some red rum to find. Maybe I'll see some of you at the Overlook. I mean, the Stanley Hotel in a couple of days. Now, 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 Medusa Disorder Tales from Henry's Farm Part 6 Written by T.W. Grimm with guest narration from Joe Stofco and Nicole Doolin

and produced by Steve Blisen. It appears Summer has decided dig in its heels and stay wild this year. We're well into October, but the thermometer outside Henry's kitchen window is still hit in the mid-80s. This is what Henry refers to as a drag-ass summer. From the back porch cleared to the edge of horizon, the world's teetering on the brink of a great and sweeping renewal.

Somewhere up around the next bend, there's a hard frost waiting to coat the rooftops with a crystalline blanket of ice. But that day hadn't come just yet. For now, we're resigned to continue sweating it out beneath the waning sun of a drag-ass summer. Crops have been harvested. The barn's been freshly painted and a team of roofers finished re-shingling the old farmhouse just a few weeks ago. With these last few tasks in the bag, Henry's just about ready to call it quits on the farm life. Henry would be moving to his new home soon.

It's a retirement village with Onside Meele. medical facilities in a community center. Henry will be occupying one half of a tiny duplex. Coe's little home with a postage stamp-sized yard and a white picket fence. There's an identical flower bed in front of each identical front porch. This is where Henry will spend the rest of his golden years. But that's in the future. For now, there is still time to do some bullshitting in the shade of the mass of old trees that tower over Henry's yard. As for me, I've made my peace with the sale of the farm. It is what it is.

There's nothing I can do except plop myself down in one of those wooden swing chairs, turn off my ringer, and enjoy these last few visits the best I can. It sucks. Sure it does. But what can I say? It is what it is. In the meantime, I've been busy putting together a book of Henry's very best tales for publication. It's been taking up most of my free time and energy. I think it has a decent shot of being picked up by a publishing company. But I suppose I'm biased when it comes to Henry's stories. After all, they're awfully close to my own heart.

On this particular day, Henry and I were both too hot and dispirited to do much talking. Too fucking hot out for October. Henry grumbled. another can of that goat piss, would you? I'm drier than the Sahara over here. Henry was referring to the non-alcoholic beer we both been drinking these days.

He refuses to call it anything other than goat piss. And he isn't wrong. You can defend it any way you won't, but in my humble opinion, that stuff simply isn't very fucking good. It's just not the same. Sure thing, Henry.

Can a goat piss coming up. I fish one out of the slushy ice and Henry's old cooler and pass it over. He popped a tab and drank with an exaggerated grim as a distaste. He isn't happy about quitting the booze. But he's sticking to it, and I'm proud of him. I'm proud of us both. I'm happy to say that Henry doesn't need that tab opener anymore. His hands have been working a lot better since the operation.

He'd actually just finished plinking away at a few cans with his old 22 revolver. an activity that would have been impossible before he went under the knife. The old fellow is still a pretty good shot, too. Seven times out of ten, he'll hit the can dead center at a distance of 40 feet. The other three times, it's a little high or just a little low, but he rarely misses. He's a much better shot than I am, and he likes to rub it in, of course. Uncle Henry is undoubtedly one of the greatest shit-talkers

that ever grace the face of this planet. Henry tucked the 22 beneath his chair and grunted. It tastes awful, but it's better than a kick in the ass, I suppose. I quipped. Better than a kick in the liver, too. And fished out another one for myself.

Henry and I are both on the way again, and we're here to stay. Sprite, it can be pretty dull. But I lost 20 pounds, and I feel a little better, so I suppose not all bad. This new place, it's going to be a lot different. Henry muttered, and he drew his arms in a tight, angry X across his chest.

A real different way of life over there. You can definitely say that. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, kiddo. They have all these groundskeepers that take care of the yards, so I can't even go out and mold that little patch of lawn, for Christ's sake. I'm not allowed. Can you believe that shit? I shook my head and mock outrage and said,

You should hang around on your front porch and tell them they're doing it wrong. Henry flapped an angry hand at me and groaned. I guess I'll have to take up some new hobbies. Crimmage or something, I don't know. What do you do to keep yourself busy in the city? You sit around in a coffee house with a bunch of other unemployed jackasses? I rolled my eyes and growled. Unemployed?

I'm a writer. Henry. I provide a service for money. That's called employment, you dusty old bastard. Henry Grand. Well, that may be true. But tell me something. He leaned closer. And in a conspiratorial whisper, he asked. Do you need to start at any particular time in the morning? Or is it just whenever you feel like crawling out of bed and strolling over to your desk? I gave him the stink eye and shout back. If you get bored sitting there in your little apartment, I heard knitting can be a good time killer. Maybe you can hit me a sweater for Christmas.

Henry snapped. Oh, maybe you can kiss my wrinkly old ass. How about that? And it's not an apartment, dickhead. It's called a condominium. He shook his head at me and leaned back in his chair. You know, it's way the hell too late for second thoughts. But I'm having them anyway.

Oh, you bet. All kinds of second thoughts. He waved his can at the vast expanse of the valley down below and added. And this has been my view for many, many years. Talk about a downgrade. Shitty little picket fence. Old people wandering around like zombies. Nurses knocking on my door to ask if I need a laxative to help me shit.

Jesus Christ, man. What a horror show. Henry that out a small bitter laugh and took a gulp from his can. He grimaced and said, "'I had to be done, though, didn't it? I'm just too goddamn old anymore, and I don't even know how it happened. Feels like I was your age just a few years ago,

and now I'm older than Moses.' I knotted down at my feet, blinking away a sudden film of excess moisture in my eyes. I said, Time is treacherous ground, Henry. It crumbled under your feet. I wish there's something I could say to make it better, but there's not. And there's nothing you can say to make me any younger either.

Henry grumbled. Well, that's what I need. Three or four decades of my life back. What you're looking at anyway? I'm trying to say something profound over here, and you're staring off into the distance like I'm not even... You're expecting some company, Henry? I interrupted.

There's a car coming up the road. I pointed out of clouded dust that had been churning up by the wheels of an approaching vehicle. Rolled up the steep gravel road and turned into Henry's driveway. A cream-colored Mercedes-bin sedan that was probably worth well over $100,000. The Mercedes came to a sudden stop behind Henry's old truck and sat idling for a while. Henry and I stared at the luxury vehicle in silence, and then we looked at each other with similar expressions of confusion. Henry leaning closer to me and muttered.

I don't know a single soul who drives around in a machine like that. Good Christ, that thing's got to be worth more than both of us put together. A dark and sinister energy seemed to emanate from the Mercedes and thread itself into the humid air around us. I felt the hairs prickle up on the back of my neck. Henry's unexpected visitor was a bad person. I didn't have to meet them to know they were right. brought into the core. I didn't even have to see him. I could almost taste it in the air,

sharp and bitter, a rancid psychic odor that made me faintly nauseous. He even shut off and the towering ogre of a man stepped out from behind the wheel. Despite the oppressive midday heat, the driver was dressed in a dark suit and matching tie. His eyes were obscured by a pair of mirrored sunglasses. The rest of his face was an expressionless lump of stone. He lumbered around to open the rear passenger side door, bending down to offer a helping hand to an unseen presence inside. Another imposing figure slid out to stand beside him. It appeared to be a tall, heavyset woman that was swathed from head to toe and multiple layers of black.

She wore a long black dress and a black hat covered with a black veil, and her eyes were clad in black leather gloves. I couldn't see her feet. but I could only assume there were a pair of ominous-looking black shoes hiding beneath the swirling curtain of her dress. I mumbled. She looks like a shadow. And Henry cracked a humorless grin. Well, maybe she is.

I guess what'll find out. The sinister duo walked over to where we were sitting in the side yard. The hem of the woman's dress dragging across the dead lawn with the sound like a whisper in the muted hush of the drowsy afternoon. Her movements were almost disturbingly sinuous and fluid. Watching her approach made me feel anxious in a way I can't adequately describe. As she drew closer, I had to fight the urge to jump out of my chair and run like hell. Henry lifted a hand to our visitors and called out. Hey, good afternoon, folks.

How can I help you? The driver asked, are you, Henry? And Henry absolutely nodded his head. The driver rumbled, "'This Madame Delilah! She came a very long way to be here, and she'd appreciate if you could spare some time to talk to her today.' Henry didn't answer.

He was staring intently at the figure in black. A look of a dawning comprehension was slowly spreading across his withered features. His polite smile collapsed, and he folded his arms across his chest in an unwelcoming manner. I allowed to clear my throat to get the driver's attention, In a brisk and assertive tone of voice, I said, "'Excuse me, sir, but what is the purpose of your visit today exactly?' The driver turned his head very slightly in my direction, and he growled.

"'If your name isn't Henry, Madam Delilah doesn't have any business with you, homie. I either keep quiet or take a walk. I'm not going to repeat myself.' He stepped forward to loom over my chair, and I blinked up in my own reflection in his sunglasses. The driver was at least six foot four, and the broad, lumpy dome of his clean-shaven skull was molted with ugly battle scars. The word Diablo was tattooed across his cheek and faded prison ink, and there was a fresher tattoo of a serpent on the back of his hand. He didn't look like chauffeur.

He looked like a hired goon. Quietly, Henry said, "'Oh, he's my nephew, and he can stay right where he is.' stacks. The woman in black held up a hand to silence her minion, and she exclaimed in a lilth in southern drawl. This young man right here is your nephew? Well, if it isn't my lucky day, I get the pleasure of finally meeting not one but two of my long-lost relatives. Diego, be a dear and fetch us a couple of those folding chairs I saw leaning up against the back porch. The three of us here we have ourselves a whole lot of catching up to do.

With visible reluctance, Diego stepped out in my personal space and hustled over to grab the chairs. I shot a questioning look over at Henry, but he didn't seem to notice. He was still staring at the woman in black. Diego came hurrying back with the chairs clamped beneath his arm. He crooned, here's your chair, madam. him, in a reverential tone, and he executed a slap bow. The woman in black delicately patted his arm with a gloved hand, and she sank down into the chair with an unnaturally smooth, coiling grace to make me feel deeply uneasy.

It was something wrong with the way she moved. Well, not wrong, exactly, just strange. And why was she covered up in multiple layers of black on such a little. a hot day. Even in the shade, I was still actively sweating through my t-shirt. How could you even stand it? Our decidedly ominous visitor folded her hands neatly in her lap and said, This is really something it truly is. It's good to finally meet you, Henry. Do you know who I am? Henry gave her a hesitant nod and answered, You're my half-sister, aren't you?

Guilty as charged, it's me, your long-lost sister Delilah, live and in the flesh. Isn't that just something? I'd wager you weren't expecting that, were you? Henry sat there for a moment, mulling over her words in his patient and orderly manner. He took a slow, unheard sip from his can of non-alcoholic brew. then another, and then he said, Oh, I wasn't expecting one of you to show up in my doorstep, but I knew there were some half-siblings floating around out there.

The woman in black sat up straight in her brightly color lawn chair. Slowly, she said. Well, now, is that a fact? How did you know that? Henry and I glanced at each other, both us affirming to the other that something was definitely off about this situation. Henry lit a cigarette and weased. Well, I hired a private detective agency to do some poking around a few years back. Seems Dad got into the bootlegging business, made himself a fortune.

Married a few times, had some kids, died in his bed at a ripe old age. It looks like he led a pretty colorful life down there. Henry was visibly annoyed with both her mock and tone and the whole unwelcome situation in general. But we were both very conscious of the unsettling presence of Diego, who was thrumming with a high voltage under current of barely suppressed violence. Oh, he most certainly did lead a colorful life, Henry. Delilah agreed. So was that it?

Was that all the dirt your private eye was it? able to dig up. Tell the truth, Henry. Diego doesn't like it when people lie to me. Do you, Sugar? No, Diego answered. That was it? Just no in a menacing stare. Henry and I glanced at each other again. I silently urged Henry to play nice and cooperate. Henry isn't a reckless man by any means, but he also does. doesn't respond to intimidation very well. Well, Henry muttered. Apparently, he just sort of rambled his way around the country for a few years, you know,

doing our jobs and boozing it up and taverns. We got tired of the working life after a while, so tried his hand at being a con man. And they called them grifters back then. It was a whole subculture of thieves and hoodlums. They'd wander around from place to place, cheating and stealing from gullible folks who didn't know any better. Dad wasn't so good at it, I guess, because he got himself arrested in Boise, got picked up again in Oakland, and once more in Houston,

pleaded guilty on that last fraud charge and spent 90 days on a work farm in Texas. I guess he met your mother shortly after he was released. My mother. Delilah said softly. Are you aware that she'll open? into brothel. I was born there. Does that bother you? Henry shook his head and held up his free hand in a placate and gesture. He said, I'm aware of the nature of her business and I passed no judgment on it. Delilah snapped. I wouldn't care if you did, Henry. Frankly, I don't care what any man thinks.

Henry gave her a ghost of a grin and said, I don't blame you one bit. I don't care what any man thinks he Anyway, I don't know what exactly happened between Dad and your mom, but they ended up getting divorced. I was told one of your siblings died in an accident, but the P.I. wasn't too clear on what happened. An accident. Delilah repeated. Yes. I suppose you could say that. It was a terrible, awful, horrible, horrible accident.

There was a brief and uncomfortable silence. The woman in black folded her hands in her lap, her head lowered as she pondered what to say next. She murmured. After he left my mother, our father, drifted to Ohio and charmed himself into the arms of another unsuspecting woman. When it was over, he moved to Nevada and got hitched for a fourth time in Reno.

They purchased a nice suburban home, lived a quiet life, and that's where he died. He gasped his last breath on September 8, 1985. And may he burn in hell for all. all of eternity. Henry pursed his lips and said, Well, can't say I disagree with that sentiment. Pardon my language, but

that man was a grade A bastard, a real poor excuse for a human being. Delilah waved off his apology and that out a dry chuckle. She said, I've lived a very interest in life.

I can assure you I'm no stranger to vulgarity. She pointed at the can in Henry's hand and said, Now, in my experience, there's only one reason why a working man would ever lower himself to drink a non-alcoholic brew. Are you a recovering drunkard, Henry? Alcoholism does run in the family, though, doesn't it? Our father was a terrible drunk.

How about our nephew over here? Is he on the wagon, too? Well, that's good. I'm very happy for both of you. Hanna was grown visibly annoyed with his unannounced visitor and her caustic demeanor. He tightened his jaw on, muttered. I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. I did it for health reasons.

Oh, yes. I heard about the cancer. Delilah cooed, and I could almost see her. malignant smile bloom behind her veil. Such an awful disease, that cancer. I'm glad you recovered, Henry. Good on you. Yeah, good on me.

Henry quietly agreed. His eyes glittered like chips of ice, cold and hard. He paused to ruminate on his next course of action, then leaned down to rummage around beneath his chair. He came up holding his 22 revolver, which he promptly cocked and pointed straight at Diego's large, clean-shaven skull. Well, I'd hate to be impolite. He sighed. But I won't tolerate any more implied threats today, not from you, or this gentleman beside you.

State the purpose of your visit, and then get yourselves the ever-loving fuck off my land. I gaped at the revolver and gasped. Holy shit, Henry, what are you doing? Diego coiled for action in his chair, but Delilah put a stand hand on his shoulder and snorted. My, stars! Is that how you treat your own kin, Henry? Kick them off your land at gunpoint. I don't know you from a hole in the ground. Henry snapped.

You tell me why you're here and then bugger off down the road. Diego growled. Get that gun off me, old man, before I take it from. you. Henry stared back at him, calm and unafraid, and he said, Won't be the first body I buried on this farm. Go ahead and try it. Delilah murmured. Diego, I'm only saying there's once. Stand down. She started to pull off one of her gloves.

He didn't even hear her softly spoken command, and neither did Henry. They're almost laser-focused on each of. other. The tough young thug and the hardened old farmer. Both of them were accustomed to danger and neither one was willing to back down. I croaked. Henry, put the gun down. And Diego nodded in agreement. Listen to your nephew, old timer. Get that gun off me and hand it over. I'll shoot you dead, young fella, and that's a fact. Henry assured him. I'm too old and I'm tired. And I don't give a shit no more. Diego started to stand up, but Delilah grabbed his hand before they could go any further.

Her bodyguard frozen place like a statue. Instantly transformed into an aggressive-looking mannequin, unmoving and unblinking. Seconds stick by while Henry and I sat there and stared at this bizarre spectacle and disbelief. Both of us struggling to process what we were seeing. Henry exclaimed Jesus Christ What did you do to him? Delilah ignored his question

She lightly smacked her paralyzed lackey In the face with the glove and purr What do you think you're doing? You don't make a move unless I say so And don't you forget that I watched in a horrified fascination As a long string of drool slipped over Diego's bottom lip

And trailed down his chin His face was a motionless mask behind his mirrored sunglasses. He didn't move a muscle, not even a single twitch of a finger. It was as if he been carved from stone, eccentric art exhibit for an unlikely audience of three. I saw that he was starting to turn a dark shade of red and I carefully ventured. Ma'am, I don't think he can breathe. No, sir, he cannot.

Delala agreed, and she gave Diego another smack on the face with her glove. If I require your services, Diego, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, you just sit tight and look hands in for me, sugar. Do you understand? Delada tapped the back of his hand with a bare fingertip. Almost immediately, her bodyguards are gasping for breath. He collapsed into his chair and panted like a dog in the heat. coughing and gay again with tears in his eyes.

There's a look of sheer terror around his face, and I don't blame him one bit. It was bad enough to watch it happen. I can't imagine what it must have felt like. The woman in black let on a loud, dramatic sighed, declared, That would be enough from all of you. It's done. Henry, be a peach and put your gun back under your chair.

you don't need it anymore. Henry placed the gun on his lap and patented it with his free hand, he said. No, I don't believe I will. It can stay right here until you're gone. He looked over at Diego and grudgingly asked him. You need some water, kid. You don't look so good. Delilah's veil swayed back and forth as she angrily shook her head.

No thank you, Henry. She said briskly. He doesn't need any water. He needs to mind himself and stop acting like a big man to impress me. I am definitely not impressed, Diego. Not one bit. Anyhow, to answer your question, Henry, I came all this way to ask you a question. Are you familiar with a condition called the Medusa Disorder?

More specifically, do you know if anyone on your side of the family has? Has ever been diagnosed with this condition? Henry slowly shook his head. No, I don't believe so. Never heard of such a thing. What is it? Delilah visibly relaxed beneath her voluminous layers of black. She murmured.

Maybe I'm the only one left. That would be a wonderful thing. It really would. To Henry, she said. Ah, well, the Medusa. disorder is. Well, it's a curse, a blessing,

and a nightmare all rolled into one. My doctors believe it may be hereditary, but they're not really sure. It's extremely rare. Mama said father always claimed he'd never heard of it before,

but knowing him, he could have been lying through his teeth. He was very fond of telling lies. It was his favorite pastime. Delilah's there to pull her glove back on, and I finally noticed that her hand was deformed. I only saw it for a split second, but it was long enough to make my heart lurch from my chest. Her palm appeared to be abnormally small, making her fingers seem far too long in comparison.

They looked like a nest of smooth, paled little snakes. The very thought made me swarm a little in my chair. I don't like snakes. It's the way they move, I think. Creeps me out. If Delilah noticed my reaction, she didn't acknowledge it. She turned to Henry and said, Let me tell you something about our dear father.

He was an awful man, but he could be very charming when he wanted something. He was dark-haired and handsome. His looks and his accent reminded people of Bella Lagosi and women just loved him to death. He could talk his way into just about anything that man. So here he comes swaggering into my mama's establishment. Fresh from the barbershop with $55 in his wallet and a nasty little plan rolling around in his head.

He slipped a crisp dollar bill into the doorman's pocket and said, Sir, I would like to sit down and have a drink with the madam. I've heard she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Delilah flipped a hand in the air and said, Unfortunately, the harsh truth is that my mother was not a lovely woman. The poor dear had a face like a French bulldog and a body to match. Her only saving grace was being born into wealth. Imperfection is the subject of much ridicule in those circles.

Even more so when you're a woman. Mama had a lonely childhood. She spent her youth languishing away in her father's stuffy old mansion. If it weren't for the kindness of their servants, she wouldn't have had a friend in the world. Such a shame. Mama had a good heart. She deserved as much happiness as anyone else in this world. Well, we see didn't grow up hungry, Henry observed.

If you ask me, that's a hell of a lot worse. I'm not interested in listening to your folks immoralizing, Henry. Delilah interrupted sharply. All people can know suffering, be they old or young, rich or poor. You see wealthy circles are ruled by wealthy men, and wealthy men see women as accessories. You know, kind of like an expensive watch or a luxury car. Unattractive women are perceived as having no worth at all,

even if they're filthy rich themselves. It's a dreadful culture, and I wish the whole lot of them would build a rocket ship and launch themselves into orbit. Just blast off into space and never return. That sounds good to me. Anyhow, my grandparents died and Mama received her inheritance. She realized it was her one and only chance to forge a new existence. and she thought to herself, I can't change the way people think,

but I can change my own destiny. And so she did. Delilah absently reached out to rest her hand on Diego's arm. An unconscious gesture of dominance and ownership. The hulk and body are let out an involuntary whimper and shrank away from her touch. Oh, don't be like that. She scolded him.

I would never hurt you without a reason. Such a drama queen. Anyhow, Mama took some of that inheritance money and bought an old playhouse that was on the verge of bankruptcy. She closed it down and had it renovated by a team of master craftsman. She named her new business venture the All-Star Texas Review. And my goodness, I'll tell you all something. That place wasn't just the grandest cat house in all of the south. It was the grandest establishment of any kind at all. Henry smiled a little and said, I wouldn't know about any of that. You want to talk about corn? Well, I'm your man. Delilah laughed and exclaimed. Farmers are the glue that holds this country together, Henry. No shame in that.

Personally, I find the whole process fascinating. Tell me, is it difficult to operate a harvester? Yeah, very intimidating. It looks like it would be hard work to rest of one of those things around in the field. Or not these days. Henry snorted. The little one's all got that GPS tracking. You hardly even have to hold on to the wheel anymore.

Hell, I remember way back in, I must have been right around the time that I... I frowned at Henry and said, Don't get him started, ma'am. It'll never stop. Please continue. I want to hear this. Thank you, Sugar. Delilah purred.

So as it came to pass, Mama made a fortune and reinvented herself all at the same time. She went from being a sad little wallflower and a stuffy old mansion to host in the wildest parties in town. every single night. Mama always had a fondness for theater, and her live productions put the review head and shoulders above the rest. There was burlesque and erotic theater,

vaudeville and magicians, just all kinds of live entertainment. Mama always referred to the ladies who worked there as the talent, and they really were quite talented. They could sing and play instruments, they could act, and a lot of them could dance just like a professional ballerina. But most importantly, they could empty a man's pockets and send him off with a smile on his face.

And he'd come back time and time again. Not only would he come back. He'd bring all his friends along with him. Mama charged $50 just to walk in the door, and that was a lot of money in those days. Oh, yes, the entertainment came dear at the review, but it was always worth the price. Sounds like she carved herself a cozy little niche in this world.

Henry said. Can't find any fault with that. She had a good good thing. thing. Delilah agreed. A very good thing. And then our dear father swaggered through the door and smashed it all to pieces. I could almost taste the bitterness in her words, sour and acidic. She obviously harbored a deep ingrained and long-standing hatred for her father, the kind that smolders away in the pit of person's soul forever. Now, you have to remember that not one single guest had ever requested to sit and have a drink with my mother.

Never once in the whole five years the review had been open for business. They sat in the lounge and he turned on that old world charm of his all night long. All her bodyguards knew he was a con man with bad intentions, but all they could do stand back and glare at him. Mama was hopelessly swept off her feet. They got married exactly 26 days later. Everyone could see what was happening, except Mama, of course. He was the one and that was that.

You simply cannot reason with someone who's caught in the throes of their first love. Yeah, love really can be blind. Henry agreed. Sometimes it works out for the better, but not very often. Delilah grumbled. Oh, she was blind all right. Our father played the part of the starry-eyed husband, but only when she was paying attention.

He was obvious he despised her, but he couldn't show it to her face. Not yet. Not until the time was right. About five months after the wedding, Mama got pregnant with my oldest sister Lucille. It was a difficult pregnancy. She was confined to her bed for the majority.

of her last trimester, so she granted my father power over her management responsibilities. Right away, he fired all of her security staff. He replaced them with a bunch of ruffians who were loyal only to him. After that, he started firing anyone who even looked at him wrong. Just pointed at the door and said, get out. They were probably folks who'd never bother to hide their distaste for him, I'd imagine. Father had a very frail ego. Once he had the majority of their employees under his thumb, he pulled up a chair beside Mama's bed and talked her into making him a senior partner in the review.

He demanded a 60-40 split. Just kept her rang in the poor sick woman until she gave in and signed the documents. It was the second biggest mistake. she ever made. Henry asked. What was the biggest mistake? He thought about it for a second, and added. Mary and him, I suppose.

Her biggest mistake. Delada growled. Was not allowing her bounces to take him around back and kick his brains out of his ears. By the time she might have even considered this option, it was far too late. So, by the time Lucille came around, Father basically owned the review in everyone who worked there. Mama became a prisoner in her own home. She was always surrounded by his hired goons,

and she couldn't go anywhere without his approval. He'd openly mock and degrade his own wife in front of their employees, for when they were behind closed doors, it was even worse. He would fly into a drunken fury over nothing at all and start hitting her. Sometimes he beat her up so badly. She wouldn't be able to show her face for weeks at a time. Hanner shook his head grimly and said. Sounds an awful lot like Wally.

Being a worthless shithead must be a genetic trait. Perhaps it is. Delilah agreed. At any rate, now that he was in control, father got the bright idea to diversify their portfolio, so to speak. and he got into the bootlegging business. It wasn't long before he was selling his hooch clear across the state and even beyond. He became very rich and powerful in a short period of time,

but it was never enough. The money, the influence, none of it could ever sue the burning fury in his heart. If anything went wrong, it was automatically mama's fault. If a business deal fell through, it was Mama's fault. If one of his flusies got tired of his drunken rages and broke off their affair, it was Mama's fault. If it started raining, it was Mama's fault. And if it didn't rain, well, that was her fault, too.

He'd use any excuse at all to belt her in the mouth, just to make himself feel a little more in control. A drunk and a wife-beater. Henry observed dryly, and he shook his head. They go hand in hand. It's learned behavior. Delilah replied currently. He probably grew up watching his daddy do the same thing. Anyways, father never cared much for Lucille,

partly because she was a girl, but also because she looked more like Mama than him. He wanted a boy, a legitimate son to carry on his name. So he started forcing himself on Mama whenever he was drunk enough to get over his disgust for her. And eventually she got pregnant again. This time it was a boy. He loved his new son. Well, as much as a cold bastard like him could love another human being, I suppose.

He named him Charlie and he dressed him up in these tiny little suits, just like one of his mobster buddies. He always said Charlie would take over the family business one day, but what he really meant was his business. Mama was no longer a factor in any decision he made. She was a prisoner, an incubator, and a punching bag. Nothing more. I could feel that malignant smile pop up behind Delilah's veil again.

She sighed. Well, it was inevitable that dear old dad would eventually get caught for his illegal activities. Sure enough, federal agents arrested him outside of a barbershop. They charged him with tax evasion, bootlegging, racketeering, and a whole grocery list of other nefarious deeds. When father got out on bail, he started drinking as soon as he got into the limousine that was waiting for him outside the jailhouse. He went straight back to the review and got blackout shit-ass drunk at the bar.

He just sat there for hours getting drunker and drunker, angrier and angrier. And who was he angry with? Who was to blame for all of his troubles? Mama. She said softly. That's who. It was all her fault. He hauled her out of bed by the hair and beat her up so badly.

There were blood spatters on the ceiling. Henry wrinkle his nose in disgust and grumbled. What a piece of work, Jesus. No. Delilah countered. I don't believe Jesus was there, not that night. Father beat her until she was unconscious, and then he hurt her in other ways.

He left her crumbled up on the floor, and a maid found her lying there in the morning. She ran downstairs hollering that madam had been murdered. That's how bad it was. The maid thought she was dead. I murdered. I agree with Henry. What a piece of shit.

Oh, it gets even worse. Lila grimly assured me. Mama had broken bones and internal bleeding, but father wouldn't let her go to a hospital. His mobster friend set him up with a doctor who would come see her in the penthouse. The doctor was a gambling addict who was trying to work off his debts.

He did what he could with the resources available to him, but Mama never fully recovered. To complicate things even more, the attack had left her pregnant again. This time it was me. Henry and I were quiet as we absorbed this information. Gently, Henry said, I suppose you are right after all. Rich or poor, everyone suffers.

Yes, sir, they do. DeVisler agreed. Now, Mama could feel there was something different about this pregnancy, but no one would pay her any mind. When she went into labor, they called in the doctor and he performed the delivery right there in her bedroom. When the doctor got his first good look at me, he let out a scream and dropped me onto the bed. The nurse fainted dead away, and fell like a stone onto the floor. Father tried to come in and see what the hell was going on, but the doctor blocked him from coming through the door.

He said I was horribly deformed, and he doubted I would live for very long. He asked permission to euthanize me immediately. Oh, in his own words, We'll both be damned. Father pushed his pistol into the doctor's stomach and told him, Get out of the way or get yourself shot. When he saw me lying there on the bloody sheets, He turned wide as a ghost and said,

God in heaven, this thing is a monster. Do what you have to do, Doc. We'll bury it tonight. Mama started screaming at them to not hurt her baby. But the doctor pulled off his gloves and filled a needle with enough morphine to kill me on the spot. He told her, hush now, woman, this isn't murder, it's a mercy. Mama begged him to stop, but father pinned her to the bed while the doctor knelt down to do his dirty work.

As soon as his bare fingertips touched my skin, he froze up like an icicle and fell onto the floor. The nurse tried to revive him, but his heart was locked up tighter than a fist inside his chest. He was dead within minutes. I muttered, holy. shit. And Henry solemnly nodded in agreement. Holy shit indeed, dear nephew, Delilah said. Father didn't know what had just happened, but he knew he wasn't in a hurry to get close to me. Instead, he called in some of his goons and asked one of them to pick me up.

When his lackey got over his shock at my appearance, he tried to scoop me up and instantly froze in place. Not blinking. "'Not breathing. "'Just standing there hunched over the bed "'with drool sliding over his lower lip. "'Something finally clicked in Father's brain, "'and he told the others,

"'This thing is venomous. "'Put on a pair of gloves before you handle it. "'None of them wanted to deal with me "'while I was still alive. "'So they stuck me in a shoebox "'and put me in the attic to suffocate in the dark. "'Mama begged Father to stop, But her pleading fell on deaf ears.

So she waited until he and his men left to dispose of the other bodies in the penthouse suite. While they were gone, a couple chambermaids helped to climb those steep stairs, and she nursed me by candlelight. She sat there on the floor with her poisonous child cradled to her breast, and no harm came to her, because I was her and she was me. I suppose if she hadn't been immune to my toxins, I probably would have killed her in the womb. But we were one flesh and one blood, and we were safe together. She washed me and held me close, and in the waver and glow of the candles, she named me Delilah.

The chambermaids didn't approve, but she told them, Every man thinks he's a Samson, doesn't he? I hope my baby girl proves to be the downfall of some arrogant bastard like my husband. Yes, I dearly hope so. When father got back from his errand in the desert, he was furious. Mama had saved me from dying in that shoebox.

He threatened to kill her right then and there. She cradled me close and told him, Go ahead, you rotten bastard. Kill me and kill. her too. I'll be waiting for you in hell. He saw the fire in her eyes, and he knew she was telling the truth. So he went downstairs to hide in the bottle, cowering behind the liquor like the weak man he was. When he came a few hours later, he told her, go ahead and keep it alive if that's what you really want. But it stays up here in the attic.

I don't want to see it ever again. If I do, I'll shoot it right between the eyes. And do you know what Mama said to him? She said, That's fine by me, because I'd rather burn this place to the ground than let you anywhere near this precious baby girl. I'd burn it down in the middle of the night,

and we'd burn right along with it. You and me both. I mean what I say, you evil son of a bitch. Don't you forget it. Delilah turned to her bodyguard and said, My throat is getting a tad dry over here, my dear. Can you fetch me a drink from the car? Diego hustled over to the Mercedes and popped open the trunk.

You came back holding a metal flask and a straw. Delilah accepted there with a quiet. Thank you, sugar. And the straw disappeared beneath the trunk. prevail. Oh, that's much better. Anyway, I spent the first seven years of my life living in the attic of a bordello. Mama had a separate room built, and she turned it into a nursery. That's where I existed for every second of every hour, day in and day out. Mama would divide her time between me and the other children downstairs.

When I was still very little, she started draping me in a veil so my appearance wouldn't disturb the nanny too much. She was a nice old woman who always wore a pair of thick rubber gauntlets when she came to take care of me. I was never told her real name. I just called her nanny. Now, I knew I wasn't allowed to touch people, but I didn't understand why. Mama would tell me, because you'll hurt someone if you touch them. But I was just too young to understand. The nanny would sing songs and play games with me, but she never held me close or stroked my hair when I was sad.

I would whine and beg for physical affection. But nanny always stepped away and told me it was too dangerous. I remember I was acting like a little brat one day, as children will do. And I tried to touch the nanny's face while she was tying up my shoes. Well, that wonderful, kindly old woman slapped my hand and shoved me away with her foot. I fell down and banged the back of my head on the floor. I started to cry and Nanny yelled,

Don't you ever touch me? Ever! Do you want me to die? I cried and cried my poor little heart out, and all she could do was stand there and cry along with me. She apologized over and over again, but there was a look of terror in her eyes, and there was something else, too.

It was loathing. That sweet, kindly old woman loathed me with all of her heart. Hannah was starting to look a tad misty-eyed. I'll admit that, despite my own general dislike of my new aunt, and her disturbing presence. I was beginning to feel a little choked up myself. I cleared my throat and said, I'm really sorry these things happened to you and your mom.

I wish there was more I could say. Delilah took another step from her flask and said, Thank you kindly. Unfortunately, I'm just getting started over here. Now, my only connection to the real world was through the attic windows. I would spend hours looking at the sky and watching the clouds float by. Mama said I couldn't go outside because I would scare people. And people are dangerous when they're scared.

I asked her why people would be so scared of how I look, and she answered, Because you're different. The woman in black laughed bitterly, took another sip from her flask. Sometimes. I'd see other children playing outside. I had no idea they were my own brother and sister. Mama had never told me about them,

or father, or about virtually anything that happened beyond the walls of the attic. All I knew was there were other kids out there, and I wanted to meet them so badly it actually hurt. Whenever I saw them down there, I'd beg to go outside until I was in tears. but the answer was always no. They said the other kids would cry and run away from me.

I couldn't understand why they would do that when all I wanted was to run and laugh with them in the sunshine. I cried over it so many times. I could have filled an ocean. It was hard on Mama to see me get so worked up. But what was she going to tell me? I was too young to grasp the situation. Oh, she could say was that I was too different to play with the other children.

Someone would probably get hurt. And she was right. Henry watching telling us to lie the fish something out of a hidden pocket, his hand ready at the grip of his revolver. It was a floating fan that was embossed the same serpentine shaped those tattooed on the back of Diego's hand. She waved some tepid air under her veil and exclaimed. Goodness, it's certainly a lot warmer up here than I'd expected at this time of year. It gets plenty hot down my way, don't get me wrong, but it's a dry sort of heat.

More like a blast furnace and less like a vegetable steamer, if you know what I mean. It feels like I'm swimming through the air. It's absolutely horrid. And his hand drifted away from his gun. He smiled a little and said. The humidity can just about drive your nuts sometimes. You're right, though. It doesn't usually get this warm in late October.

We're having ourselves a drag-ass summer this year. It's not ready to pack its bags and go, not quite yet. I nodded along with Henry and said, Yes, ma'am, the heat is a different sort of beast entirely when it's coupled with the humidity. A different sort of beast entirely. De Viler repeated in a wooden tone. Well, as I said, Mama was right. I was very different from the other children.

I found out just how different on Charlie's 10th birthday. I peaked out the window one morning and saw a whole bunch of people setting up tables on the grass. A group of men were putting together a big metal framework of some kind. And another man was filling balloons with a tank of helium. Everywhere I looked, people were putting up lights and hanging up streamers. I'd never seen such a spectacle before. Never in all my seven years of life up in that attic. I was so excited.

I couldn't stop jumping up and down and giggling like a little maniac. There was so many colors. I asked Mama what was how was hell. happening down there, and her eyes got really sad. She sat me down and explained to me that it might look like a lot of fun from the safety of the attic, but it was very dangerous. She told me, there's a lot of people out there today, so you'd better stay away from the windows. If someone sees you, they might start asking questions. I was so, so crushed that I couldn't watch through the windows. I ran to my bed and cried so hard, I ended up crying myself to sleep. When I woke up,

Mama was sleeping beside me on my bed. She was completely zonked out on her pain pills. Mama always called them her vitamins, but they would make her act slow and tired, and sometimes she would lie down in the middle of the day and sleep like the dead. They definitely weren't Anyhow, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the bedroom window. I probably could have banged two frying pants together beside her head and not wake her up. But I tiptoed because I knew I was about to do something bad. I thought, just one peek and that's it. One peak won't hurt anything.

I saw dozens of people eating and drinking at the tables. and I could hear Calliope music in the background. A clown was wandering through the crowd on a pier stilts, and they even had a merry-go-round set up under a huge tent. I drank it all in like a girl dying of thirst, the colors and the sounds, the people and the laughter. I drank it all in, and then I drank some more. I was completely transfixed.

And then I saw him strolling through the crowds, the birthday boy himself. I recognized him as one of the kids I would see playing out in the yard. I watched him stroll through the milling crowd, getting handshakes and pats on the shoulder everywhere he went. And I pressed myself up close to the glass. If only I could be down there among all those happy people, just smiling and eating and eating. laughing away like anyone else. I wanted a piece of cake and a ride on the merry-go round.

I needed it. The boy in the suit shaded his eyes and craned his neck to look up, and I realized he could see me standing in the window. My heart jumped in my chest and I almost ran away, but I did a very bad thing instead. A thing I was told to never, ever do. But I went and did it anyway. I waved at him to get his attention. Delilah sounded like she was struggling not to cry. She cleared her throat and said, My apologies, gentlemen.

It can be very difficult to talk about traumatic events, even if they happened long in the past. Those old scars can still tear open, can't they? Yes, they certainly can. Anyway, Charlie saw me waving at him. He looked around at all the grown-ups standing nearby, but he didn't tell anyone. Instead, he headed for the front entrance. As soon as I realized he was coming up to the attic,

I felt the most awful wave of panic wash over me. I hid behind a bunch of wooden crates on the far side of the attic. What if he was scared of me and ran away, just like Mama always said he would? What if he just plain didn't like me? The very thought made me want to shrivel up and disappear. I wouldn't be able to bear it. Of course, I knew I should just keep my mouth shut and hide until he was gone. But I was lonely and little and so, so sad all the time.

I just wanted to go outside and run with him in the sunshine. That's all I wanted in the whole wide world. So I gathered up my courage, took a deep breath and called out. Hi, happy birthday. Poor Charlie just about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around and yelped. Who's there? I came out from behind the crates, and goodness my tiny heart was racing a million miles an hour in my chest.

I raised my hand and squeaked. Hi, I'm Delilah. Charlie turned just as pale as cream, and he asked if I was a ghost. I told him I didn't think so, but I didn't know what a ghost was, so I wasn't really sure. He walked up to me slowly, real cautious like, and he asked, How long have you been living in the attic? How'd you get up here? I said, I don't know.

I guess I've always been here. Charlie still wasn't sure if I was a ghost or not, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He told me his name and said that he lived downstairs with his family. Well, I'd never even suspected there was anyone below us. So I was completely shocked. He gave me a funny look and said, Do you know what this place is? It's a cat house.

Delilah chuckled at this and sipped at her mystery. drink, she said. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought he meant it was a house full of cats. I didn't care either way because it was amazing to be talking to someone new. Remember, I'd only ever spoken with two other people in my entire life. I started asking him a million questions, but he shushed me and said, How come you're wearing that thing on your head?

He was talking about my veil, of course. All of a sudden, I got really, really scared. I tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal and told him, Mama says I have to wear it. I wanted to just leave it at that. But he kept pestering me about it. I was getting more and more flustered, and finally I just told him, Nanny doesn't like to see my face.

Charlie stared at me for a second, and then he started smirking to himself. He was only ten years old, but that was old enough to put two and two together. He said, is there something wrong with your face? Is that why they're hiding you up here? Let me see. I denied there was anything wrong with me, and Charlie said, Yeah, right. You don't even know who you are, do you?

Everyone thinks you died when you were a baby. Come on. Let me see your face. Delilah said quietly. Charlie got what he wanted. He snatched the veil off my head. And that mean laughter of his instantly turned into a scream. I tried to calm him down.

But I don't think he could hear me over his own hollering. He grabbed an old wooden cane out of an open crate and whacked me over the head with it. My word, it hurt like the dickens. I started screaming right along with him. He kept whacking me with that cane and yelling all kinds of awful things. I was calling for Mama to save me. But those painkillers had her floating around in the cloud somewhere. She didn't hear a thing.

Charlie cornered me and laid into me But that came. At this point, it wasn't a fear reaction anymore. It was loathing. He saw something that offended him on a primal level and wanted to destroy it. I was curled up in a ball, blubbering out him to stop. And then something came over me. Delilah trailed off, as if she were uncertain if it would be wise to continue.

Henry said in a gentle tone, There are certain places where it feels natural to unload your secrets. Bar rooms, confession booths, bedrooms. Heck, people do it on the Internet all the time. This farm, it's one of those places. A lot of secrets have been told right here where you're sitting, more than you believe. You traveled all this way to tell us yours,

so go ahead and unburden you. Your secrets will stay right here with the rest of them. Delilah shifted uncomfortably in her chair and said. Well, something came over me. I saw red. And just like that, I wasn't scared or hurt anymore. I was white-hot, blazing furious. I dodged another swing from that cane and slammed into him like a rocket.

We fell onto the floor and I bid him. I coiled up and struck just like a scent. Deladdle let that last word die on her tongue. I could feel that wicked green radiating behind her veil again. I had the distinct feeling this particular memory wasn't actually difficult for her at all. She enjoyed it. I thought her poisonous smile. And it made me feel profoundly uncomfortable.

She took another sip from her flask and said, Charlie's whole body went stiff as aboard His cheek started turning black It spread across his face And he started swelling up like one of his party balloons I realized what I'd just done And I just about fell apart I ran into the bedroom and started screaming

Directly into Mama's face to wake her up I jumped up and down on the bed Until she finally rolled over and slurred Where's your veil, honey? Why are you wearing your veil? I was too hysterical to make any sense, so I just grabbed her hand and pulled until she followed me. When she saw Charlie's body,

she made this horrible sound and yanked her hand away from mine. Charlie was swollen up so badly, all of his shirt buttons had popped off. His skin was purple and black all over. He looked like a rome. rotten old melon. You couldn't hardly even recognize him as a human being anymore. Mama crumpled down beside him and yelled. What did you do? What did you do to your brother? It hit me then. It all hit me like a clap of thunder. And suddenly I understood. I truly was

a monster. And there could never be a place for me in this world. It would all always come down to destroy or be destroyed. Always. Mama looked up at me and shrieked. I told you this would happen, didn't I? She grabbed me by the front of my dress and shook me like a rag doll. She cursed me until she was gasping for breath, and then she started to cry. I sat down on the floor beside her and we cried together for a while, me and Mama, the only person who would ever truly love me.

Henry wiped a film a sweat off his forehead with sleeve of his work shirt and murmured. God Almighty. What an awful tragedy I can't even imagine. Lila squeezed her hands together in her lap and snorted. I told you already, Big Brother, God wasn't there. To be quite frank, I don't think God is anywhere. If he was, why would he allow such things to happen? Delilah paused and waited for a response. Andrew shook his head, muttered.

I don't really have an answer for that. It's a damn good question, isn't it? In a distant musing tone, Delilah asked. No one's heard from him in a long time, have they? A lot of folks are searching for something new to fill that void in their hearts. Isn't that right, Diego? Diego snapped to attention and vigorously shook his head in agreement. He sat up straight and chanted,

I will follow the word of the madam. I am her well-made flesh. I felt nod to chill race up my spine at the evangelical Lilton, his voice. Henry raised his eyebrows and said, I see, well, as long as you're happy, I suppose. What do you say, kid, are you happy? Delalla pointedly cleared her throat. And Diego quickly slumped back into his chair.

He looked down in his lap to avoid eye contact with Uncle Henry and nervously fidget at his pants. He was already on Madam Shitless today. He didn't want to risk incurring any more her wrath. She said, I think your nephew is right, Henry. You do seem to have a bad habit of derailing the conversation. Anyhow, as I was saying,

Charlie's... His unfortunate accident was very bad news for poor little me. Mama had to get me out of there before father found out. She rang the bell to summon the nanny and started tossing all my dirty clothes out of the laundry hamper. She said, We have to get you out of here right now, baby. Or he's going to kill you. I asked,

Who will kill me? And she answered, Your father, he'll kill you and he'll kill me too. Get in the hamper. When the nanny saw Charlie, she staggered back and almost fainted. Mama caught her before she fell and eased her onto the floor. Nanny crossed herself and said, Oh, my dear God, they're looking for him right now.

Your husband will murder her on the spot. Mama snapped right back. Not if he doesn't catch her. She made me curl up in the bottom of the hamper And packed a bunch of dirty laundry on top of me They dragged me onto the dumbwaiter That brought up food from the kitchen And clothes from the laundry room

Mama told me We're going to lower you all the way down to the basement, darling Just wait there in the hamper and don't make a sound Okay I'll be down as soon as I can I was so, so afraid Delilah murmured softly I couldn't imagine what might happen to me next.

As Mama started lowering the platform, I heard Nanny say, Have you lost your mind, woman? Where is she going to go? No one will ever take her in. She was wrong, though. Delilah purred, and the flask disappeared beneath her veil for another sip. That shriveled up old prune, she was dead wrong about that one. Now, Henry, this is a bit off topic, but I understand you recently sold your farm.

Is that so? Henry pursed his lips and grudgingly, he said. Yeah, I did. I sold it for a fair price to a couple from the city. I guess they're looking to escape the rat race or something. I don't know. My neighbor over on the next concession, Johansson, he's going to work the land for a share of the profit. If there is any profit, sometimes the margins can be awful slim.

Delali nodded thoughtfully inside. Oh, it's a shame the farm couldn't have stayed in the family. I believe our nephew here feels the same way. Don't you? Her words were like a slice sucker punch to the kidney. I grimaced and said, it wasn't the right time for us to buy. I was disappointed, but it is what it is. Oh, my, yes, timing is everything. Delilah agreed. And funding, of course. If you lack the funds to close the deal yourself, well...

Delilah trailed off and sipped away at her mystery drink. I felt my face flushed red and I gritted my teeth. Delilah was undoubtedly a tragic figure, but she was also an antagonistic asshole of a human being. She used her words like a whip, splitting skin, so she could lap up the misery that trickled from the wounds. Well, I suppose I should amend that statement. She was a being of some kind. I'm not sure if human is the right term for someone who's afflicted with the Medusa disorder.

And I'm honestly not sure if afflicted is there right word either. Delilah leaned forward and waited for my rebuttal. eager for an opportunity to needle someone for her amusement. I remained silent, so she reclined back into her chair with an air of subtle disappointment and continued her story. No one at the party saw Charlie go inside. They all figured he wandered into the scrublands and got lost.

Everyone was out there searching for him, even the laundry crew, so the laundry room was dark and empty. I laid in that hamper for what seemed like ages before I heard footsteps on the concrete floor. It was Mama and the nanny. Mama whispered, We're going to get you out of here, Sugar. Just like stealing hush.

They pit the hamper in a laundry cart and started wheeling me over to the service bay. Just then a man's voice called out. Hello, ladies. If you don't mind me asking, What are you doing down here? Mama let out of yelp and said, Oh, you scared me, Saul. What are you doing down here?

He answered, I'm looking for your boy, madam. In fact, just about everyone is looking for your boy. Everyone except you. There was a thick silence, and then Mama told him, I'm sure he's just out wandering, Saul. That's what kids do They explore their environment You could hear the raw emotion in her voice

She wasn't fooling anyone That alone one of her husband's cutthroats He said I went out to the attic I saw what happened That she devil of yours, that circus freak Is she in that hamper? Huh? You're trying to smuggle her out of here?

Mama started to deny it, but Nanny spoke up and said, I'm so sorry, she forced me to help her. I wasn't even there when it happened. I swear it's true. Mama growled. You nasty old bitch. And I heard a loud smack. There was the sound of a struggle, and Mama shrieked.

Away from her! Don't you hurt her! I heard another smack. louder this time, and Mama cried out in pain. The man yelled, Stay down! And a big hand in a rubber glove hauled me out by my arm. I found myself staring at a mean-looking thug

with a crooked nose and a scar on his lip. He looked down at me with absolute horror in his eyes, and he whispered, Sweet mother of God! How could you let this? thing live. Mama was lying on the floor with her eyes swelling shut. She pushed herself up with her arms and screeched.

What's to hurt you? He's a bad man. Oh. Delilah crooned and her hands clenched tightly around her flask. Oh, the horrible rage I felt when I saw what he did to Mama's poor, sweet face. I went absolutely wild. He tried to shove me away and pull out his gun, but I was too fast. I sank my teeth into his neck, and he went down like a ton of bricks.

Nanny screamed and turned to run, but the old cow tripped over her own feet. She hit her head on a folding table on her way down and started to crawl away. Mama pointed at Nanny's retreating backside and groaned. Oh, she'll tell them everything, baby. You have to stop her. Delilah sit from her flask with an air at deep satisfaction. In a matter-of-fact tone, she said. I understood what had to be done.

I came after Nanny with blood on my teeth and murdering my heart. She swore she wouldn't tell anyone. I knew it was a lie. So I silenced her. There was another uncomfortable silence, dense and oppressive. Henry wiped a fresh film a sweat off his face with the sleeve and murmured. Well, good Christ, I don't even know what to say to that. He grabbed a fresh can out of the cooler and rolled it against his forehead.

It tastes awful, he said. But it's cold and wet. So, I'm guessing your mother intended to smuggle you out of there in a laundry truck. That's exactly what she was planning to do. Delilah confirmed. Unlike a lot of women in that era, Mama knew how to drive. She was so bored and isolated as a teenager, she actually paid one of her father's delivery drivers to teach her how.

So she put on a pair of sunglasses in a man's work jacket. Tucked her hair under her hat, and I'll be damned if she didn't drive us right through the front gate without anyone even batting an eye. We were down the road in long, gone before anyone knew she was gone. Mama was hoping to take me out to her family's horse ranch in New Mexico, but the truck had other plans.

We broke down on the side of the road just after sunset. We were way out in the middle of the desert, and there wasn't a single soul for miles. Mama sat behind the wheel for a while with her head in her hands, and then she said, We're going to start walking, baby. We'll just pray the wrong person doesn't find us. Well, Mama had never taught me anything about religion, so I didn't know what she was talking about. She told me praying is when someone else's a higher power

to help them out during a rough time. I thought about it for a minute, and then I asked, Is there more than one higher power? Which one should I pray to? Mama just rubbed her eyes and said, I honestly don't know. Folks pray to a lot of different gods,

and I don't know who's doing it right and who's doing it wrong. Just pray for things to turn out okay, and maybe someone will hear you. Delilah pointed at Henry and asked. How about you, big brother? Do you pray to a god? Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, Hmm, prayers. It's just hopeful thoughts, aren't they? It's just hoping for the best. I do that all the time. Delilah nodded thoughtfully and took another sip from her flask. That's an interesting take, Henry. I don't disagree with you. How about you, nephew?

I shrugged and said, I have in the past. And I'll probably do it again in the future. I'm not sure if there's a god or not, but it can't hurt, right? I suppose not. Delilah conceded. But it might not help, either. Anyhow, there we were, stranded in the desert with bad people looking for us and nowhere to hide. So I did what Mama told me to do, and I prayed to a higher power. Lo and behold, just a little while later, we saw headlights pop up in the distance.

Mama was scared it might be father's henchmen, but I assured her it was going to be just fine. I said, I prayed and something, listen, Mama. It's going to be okay. Pretty soon an old Studebaker came rattling to a stop on the road beside us. It was full of all these rough-looking people with dirty faces and wild, bushy beards. They all got out and stared at us with a look of fear and wonder on their faces. One of them stepped forward with his hat clutched to his chest, and he said, The scion and the mother, walking along a dusty road beneath the desert moon.

I saw it in a dream many years ago when I was still just a child myself. We've been searching for you for a long time, Mother. Praise him! The others repeated, praise him in unison. Their leader showed Mama the serpent tattoo on the back of his hand, and he asked, Mother, will you allow me to see the child's face? Mama hesitated for a moment, and then she exposed my face to the moonlight. I was expecting them to scream, but that didn't happen.

No, they started to laugh and sing praises to the heavens instead. They were overjoyed. Their leader threw himself on the ground at my feet and cried like a baby. They weren't afraid of me. They worshipped me. They loved me with all their heart and soul, and they still do. Isn't that right, Diego? More than my own life, Diego breathed.

His right cheek was twitching beneath the lens of his sunglasses, and his lips were drawn together. in a tight bloodless line. He looked like he was either going to start bawling or lash out in a violent frenzy. Maybe both at the same time. Henry's hand promptly dropped onto the gun in his lap, and it stayed there. Delilah patted her servant's knee and asked. Would you kill for me, Diego?

He automatically responded. Anyone, anywhere, any time. Of course you would. Delilah chuckled. Would you die for me, though? Tell the truth. Diego promptly intoned in a strange mechanical voice, it will be the highest honor to die in the service of the medal.

It seemed like he wasn't answering a question so much as he was reciting a line of scripture, often repeated and long committed to memory. I glanced over at him. Henry and by the stunned expression on his face, I knew we'd come to the same conclusion at the same time. His long, lost half-sister appeared to be the leader of a bona fide death cult. Delilah slurped back to her mains of whatever was in her flask and handed it over to Diego.

She purred. Go put this back for me, Sugar, and then wait in the car. Get that air conditioning going, you hear? we'll be leaving soon Diego stood up cast one last menace and scowl at Henry and myself and stalked back to the Mercedes

with his hands clenched into fists when he was out of earshot she said They took us back to their compound out in the desert We settled in and began our new lives As the Sion and the mother Of course Mama didn't believe a single word of their

Holy Rowland nonsense But she understood that we have had no choice but to play along. After a while, it felt natural. It felt right. Now, obviously, I don't believe I'm some sort of antichrist figure. Honestly, I'm just doing what I have to do in order to get by in this world. But it's awfully strange, isn't it?

The effects of my condition match with their delusions almost perfectly. That young man's childhood premonition saved us that night. It brought us together like two lost pieces of a puzzle. And when you throw that little prey of mine into the mix, well, it's awfully strange. Yeah, that is pretty strange. Henry mused. Coincidences happened, sure, but that's a pretty big coincidence.

It's food for thought. Delilah murmured. When Mama passed away, I took on the name Madam. Delilah to honor her memory. They just call me the madam most of the time, and that's fine by me. I like my given name well enough, but the madam just sounds so elegant, doesn't it? If you don't mind me asking, how many people do you have in your congregation? Henry asked carefully. He had almost said cult, but caught himself at the last instant.

Well, when we first arrived at the campground, there were only 20 people in total, and that was including Mama and myself. But it wasn't long before new believers started trickling in. One, two, five, ten, more and more all the time. Today we're ten thousand strong and we have congregations all over the country. Our flock is always growing. Ten thousand will become twenty-thousand. and then 40,000. I reckon it won't be long before we step into the light and make ourselves known.

But that time hasn't come just yet. It will come, though, gentlemen. It most certainly will. Henry took a long swallow and darkly muttered. You know, I'm kind of wishing this was the real thing right about now. You'll mind if I have. Ask the name of your organization. What do these people even believe exactly?

Delilah brightly chirped. I'm afraid we're not quite ready to reveal ourselves just yet, Henry. Without getting into particulars, our followers hold very strong opinions concerning the role of the serpent in that whole Garden of Eden affair. Let's just say they're firmly on team serpent, and leave it at that.

Delilah let out a yawn and said, Oh. Well, Henry, I suppose I'll finish my story real quick and get out of your hair. Father pulled some strings and had Charlie's death declared an accident. He blamed me, of course, but I was only seven years old. I had never intended to hurt anyone. I just wanted a friend. Every child wants a friend.

Every kid deserves a friend. Henry interjected. Children are born pure. They don't come into this world with hatred in their hearts. They learn it from their environment. And who's responsible for that? Us. That's who.

Once again, I can't disagree, Henry. Anyway, father was granted a divorce from Mama in abstenture. And when enough time had passed, he had her declared legally dead. He was in a lot of hot water with all those indictments, but the state didn't do a very good job at protecting their witnesses. A bunch of them went missing, and the rest of them stopped cooperating with the prosecution.

Their case fell apart, and they were forced to let him walk. The review had closed its doors shortly after Mama disappeared. When father was cleared of all charges, He had it demolished and fled the state. You know the rest of the story from there. Well, everything except for the very end. See, I'd been secretly tracking the old goat for many years. I knew where he was, how much he was worth,

and where he'd hidden all his assets. I had a plan, and I waited until the time was right. When I learned father was on his deathbed, I showed up at his door with a handful of legal documents and five of my most devoted acolytes. We forced our way in, and three of my followers detained his wife and the nurse who was doing father's home care. They were too afraid to make much of a fuss. The rest of us trooped up to the second floor to pay Daddy dearest a visit. It was the first time I'd ever seen him in real life. He was just a pile of sticks at this point.

All bones and hanging skin. I stood beside his bed and asked him, Do you know who I am? He squinted up at me and weised. You're the devil that stole my boy. I said, Well, that's just your opinion on the matter, isn't it? Now allow me to tell you a fact, you horrible old bastard.

You're going to sign each and every one of these documents, and then I'm going to kill you. That is not an opinion, dear father. It's a fact. Delilah tittered fondly at this memory, then added. He signed them, of course. Our patriarch wasn't a hero, not even on his deathbed. When he was done, I told the others to wait for me downstairs.

After they were gone, I leaned over him and said, You haven't seen my face since the night of my birth. I think it's time to take one last look at me, father. Look at what you've created. I lifted my veil, and he died of heart failure on the spot. I didn't even need to touch him. It was almost kind of a letdown, to be honest. He just let out a gasp, and that was that.

He was gone. Delilah gracefully flowed out of her chair with a low-grown. Executing the big stretch skyward with unnervingly long arms. She looked down at us and said, It was amazing how quickly his widow stopped caring about his death after I told her about his hidden wealth. I took father's nurse aside and explained she had two options. She could either receive $10,000 for her sworn discretion on the matter

or she could go for a car ride. She wisely chose the money. And with that gentleman... Delilah said briskly. My tale has concluded. The time has come to take my leave. I apologize for the intrusion, but I simply had to know

if there were other members of the family who suffered from my condition. I'm relieved to hear I'm the only one. You would have had them killed. Henry stated flatly. Isn't that right? You're the Messiah figure in a cult full of cutthroats and nut jobs. These cults, they're big money, aren't they?

Sure they are. You can't risk having another Messiah pop up out of the blue now? And now, there's too much at stake. Did you have your sister killed too? You wouldn't want a living heir to come after you for a share of the estate? Oh, I bet you got rid of her a long time ago, didn't you? Delilah stared at him for a moment, and then she threw her head back and barked some cynical laughter at the treetops high above. She said,

You are a cagey one, Henry. I'll certainly give you that. I'm very pleased to have met you, big brother. And before I go, I'd like to make you an offer. How about I buy the farm from these new folks and give it back to you? Free and Claire, no strings attached. Would you like that? That choked on a mouth full of non-alcoholic beer and fell into a coffin fit.

Henry, however, appeared to be unfazed by her offer. He pursed his lips and said, These people are awfully excited to start a new life here. I'm not sure if you'd convince them to sell. Oh, Diego is very persuasive. Delilah countered. I think he could convince them to do just about anything I wanted. So what do you say, Henry?

I promise to make it worth their while. And then it'll be yours again. You won't owe me a thing. Henry shook his head and said, No, thank you, ma'am. I don't want that. Your money is tainted and frankly, so are you. I feel sorry for you, but I don't like you,

and I don't want your chance. charity. I just want you to leave. Delilah flapped her hand at him, a dismissive gesture, and she snapped. Very well then, Henry. I wish you all the best. I spoke up and said, wait a second. It's none of my business, but I'll have to ask. What was in that flask? Delilah went silent, carefully considering her answer, and then she said, Over time, the Medusa disorder slowly changes your digestive system. I haven't been able to consume solid food in many years. I drink my nutrition instead.

But what was it? I asked again, and I could feel her malignant smile radiating its casual evil from behind the dark curtain or her veil. May the hair stand up on my arms. She said, It's best if I keep that a secret for now. Just for now, though. Things will change. Remember, we're 10,000 strong and growing.

Soon enough, it will be 20,000. And then 40, and then... Well, who knows? The word of the serpent is spreading far and wide. due time we will go public with our beliefs, and all your questions will be answered. Good day, gentlemen. Delilah turned and glided her way back to the waiting Mercedes. Diego jumped out and hustled to open her door before she got there. She turned to look at us one last time before she left, and the languid breeze gusted enough to make her veil swirl around in the wind.

I was left with a quick impression of an elongated job. jaw that sloped into a disturbingly long neck. I saw a flash of wickedly sharp teeth and the glitter of yellow irises. It was just the briefest glance, but that was more than enough to make my heart pound in my chest. We watched the Mercedes recede into the distance. When it was gone, I turned to Henry and said, Can you believe what just happened?

Holy shit! Well, Henry Drol. I'll tell you something, kid. It's a big, weird old world out there, and we really don't know jack's shit about it. All I can say for sure is, that cult is going to become a big problem someday. Oh, you watch and see. A few days later, I wandered into a variety store to pick up some lottery tickets, and I noticed a very familiar tattoo on the back of the clerk's hand.

I wanted to mention it to him, but I had no idea what to say. After all, weren't they a secret organization? I thought, hey, man, I have a funny store for you. I actually met your Messiah the other day. Turns out we're related, so can I maybe get a discount on these tickets? I decided to keep my mouth shut and headed for the door. As I was walking away, the clerk called out. The serpent will return, brother.

Believe it. I turned around to try to think of a response. He saw the look on my face and said, Come on, I saw the way you looked at my tattoo. It won't be long before we can stop hiding in the shadows. There's more of us every day. Have a blessed night, brother. Delilah said they're 10,000 strong and steadily growing.

As I drove home, I tried to imagine an alternate reality where a serpent worship and death cult ruled the world. Numbers like that, a highly organized mob as zealots could probably take control of an entire city. What if there were a hundred thousand of them? A hundred million. And Delilah would be at the helm of the ship, twisted by horrible misfortunes and driven by the thirst for revenge. Delilah, who so closely resembled their image of an unholy messiah. Delilah with her poisonous touch and deadly venom Henry was right

they could become a problem someday a very serious problem as Henry is fond of saying it is a big weird old world out there and we really don't know jack's shit about it what he doesn't mention is that sometimes it's a lot better that way It allows us to get some sleep at night.

For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, The People, written by Paul Casley, and narrated by J.V. Hampton Van Sant. My name is Landon Fortin, and I'm a realtor who specializes in houses that have bad reputations, sometimes specific, very viability. Island events that took place in the house caused the problems. Sometimes someone who loved the home and can't let it go is the issue. In other cases, bad choices on the part of previous home owners caused the distress. When I was asked to deal with a wartime-built home on Windsor Avenue, I wasn't quite sure the cause for its poor reputation. The house itself was quite beautiful, wood floors, skylights, updated amenities.

Unfortunately, the home suffered from certain problems, namely every owner from 1946 onward had mysteriously disappeared. In fact, I was dealing with the estate of the present owner who had vanished from the home three years ago. Family members had come in and dealt with the upkeep on a semi-regular basis, even hiring a cleaning person and a groundskeeper in case the owner returned. After several years, they decided that the upkeep was too much, and the house needed to be liquidated.

After a petition to the courts, I found the house in my hands. The first thing I had to do before I list a home is the one. walk around. I need to make note of anything that needs to be replaced or spruced up before listing the home. It also gives me a good idea of the amenities for the listing. For example, upon entering the beautifully carved craftsman-style oaken front door with sidelight windows, I noticed the ratty front-hall carpet that I would have replaced. See what I did there? I can tell prospective buyers about the beautiful door and fix something fairly easy in terms of cosmetics. My job is a bit more complicated because, as well, I also have to look for evidence of otherworldly infestations,

and those sometimes catch you by surprise. While I don't have to disclose everything, I also don't want to hide too much, as that could cause problems with future clients as word of mouth moves faster in the internet age. Basically, I have all the same problems and stresses of any other realtor, just with supernatural crap thrown in. The walkthrough was pretty straightforward, the contents of that, The house had long been put into storage by the family, giving me a clear view of the floors, walls, windows, and doors. The kitchen had been redone in the last few years and had fairly new appliances that came with the home.

I would love to have a kitchen like this one, to be honest. The house was nice. It just had a crappy history. I was taking down notes on a wall that needed to be touched up here and a fixture to be cleaned there, and then the door rang. I paused at the sound, musing that even the doorbell had a pretty nice sound. It commanded attention without being annoying. I returned to the front door. Sometimes neighbors see a realtor in a place, and they decide to see a little bit of the door.

stop by. In rare cases, they call family or friends who are interested in the neighborhood to stop by and ask questions about the sale. I wasn't prepared to give any details about the asking price or anything else, but I would take their name and call them as soon as it was finalized. As I arrived at the doorbell ring again, and I decided to look through the peephole. What I saw did cause me to gasp despite my years of dealing with the strange. Framed in the strangely curved confines of the peephole were what looked like two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was the taller of the two, and he was dressed in what we once used to call Sunday Best.

The collar of his shirt was abnormally large and was, done all the way up with a dark-colored tie, tied in a full winds or not, at the shirt's apex. Most of the shirt was covered by a five-button, dark-colored vest, with a turned-down collar that was greatly out of style. This was covered by a short coat of the same color and fabric. I would like to say that the suit itself, which did include matching pants, was wool, but without closer inspection, I could not be sure. The girl was dressed in a patterned white dress with a rounded turned-down collar and a slightly ruffled front. She had her hair tied back with a single ribbon.

Both of their heads were down just enough to obscure their faces from my view. The effect was rather jarring as it reminded me more of a photo my grandparents might have had when they were children and did not resemble the way any young people dress in our current age. One of the things about the job that I do is that I have had a lot of experience with many different kinds. of entities. I didn't answer the door.

Instead, I moved to a window at the front of the house and positioned myself to view the front porch where the children stood. There was nobody there. This could be several different possibilities, and I knew it. They could be ambient spirits from the time the house was built. It could be some form of demon-infesteads. or the possibility of black-eyed children always existed. One way or another, I wasn't going to be welcoming them into this house,

and I would be calling in my spirit management team later to cleanse the house. This place had just risen to a six on the usher scale for haunted homes. As I thought about my next move, the ringing of the door bill was, replaced by a loud knock. I walked back to the door to have another look through the peephole, and instead of two children, I now saw three. The new edition also seemed to be male, looked a year or two older, and was dressed similarly to the other boy. They still all looked down. I knew at that point there was no way I was answering the door. Now, I know better than to panic in these sorts of situations.

This wasn't the first time I was trapped in a house, and I actually found it slightly less disconcerting being trapped by supernatural creatures than by some of the human clients I work with. At least supernatural creatures are predictable most of the time. Still, I would be lying if I didn't say that I felt my levels of anxiety starting to rise. I really didn't want to be late for dinner and suddenly felt in need of a fairly strong drink. At this point, I still had to believe that. I had dealt with worse, although I did wonder how the hell the children expected to be let in

crowding the door like that. It really did seem counterintuitive, although most supernaturals weren't known for their strong reasoning abilities. However, I did have my full faculties about me, and I was suddenly wondering who would buy the creepy-appearing children-house. This could really negatively affect my sales quarter. With this in mind, I figured I should call the Reverend Rachel Harlow, the minister I had been employing for cleansings and exorcisms for some time. I pulled out my phone and thought, bet you didn't count on cell phones, you weird supernatural creatures, with no small amount of amusement, and I dialed.

In what felt like minutes, but was actually a few seconds, a familiar voice answered, Hello, Houston Park United Church, Reverend Harlow speaking. Hi, Rach, it's me, Landon. I seem to have run into a spot of bother. There was a pause on the other end of the line as it registered exactly what this probably meant in my case. I had been dealing with Rachel for a number of years,

and she was a true professional. Most people think of exorcists as being old Catholic priests, but the truth is that any faith can perform cleansings and exorcisms. Rachel and I had a good working relationship, and she didn't balk when non-traditional conditions were at play, like some of the more conservative faith did. What have you got, Landon? I think it's at least a U-6 might be higher, and it has me trapped. Okay, where are you? I'll come by and see what I can do. I was just about to give my location when the signal cut out and the phone was rendered useless.

Turns out the supernatural freaks figured out cell phones after all. At that point, the banging on the door started again, and it seemed like the door had started stretching in towards me. I peered out of the people and saw another female had joined the other children. This is also when I became aware that they knew I was looking at them. As soon as my eyes fell on them, their heads snapped up, and four sets of completely black soulless eyes stared at me. I backed away from the door and started checking the rest of the house for some way out.

Almost instinctively, I ran to the back door of the house through the well-appointed and recently updated kitchen. The classic six-window-pane door was there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I paused and looked out the window and saw a world that wasn't quite right. Actually, it was beautiful. Despite being February in Canada, the sun was shining, the grass was green, and the flowers were in full bloom. In other words, it was a trick, and probably accounted for the disappearance of the previous owners of this house. My guess was that people were lured out into safety, and that's when whatever was haunting this place got. them. If the creatures had adjusted for the season, they might have got me too. I glanced at my phone again.

Were the beings blocking the signal, or was I now someplace without a signal? I knew that some properties served as portals to places much less pleasant than the world we're used to. Was I in one of them? With this little wrinkle, I decided to upgrade the house to an eight on the usher list. Eights are tricky, and it's hard to understand what exactly the presiding entities are up to. They're also deadly, or at least intent on separating you from your own reality. I passed back through the kitchen and into the spacious living room with the bay window and looked through the archway at the location of the front door. I needed to figure out some way out of this

and a way to remove whatever was controlling this house. I couldn't sell it like this. Well, I could. But eventually its reputation, as well as what it would do to mine would catch up to me and harm my overall career. If I could clean it out, it would have a much better result. I just didn't quite know how to do that on my own.

I crossed over to the peephole again and looked out to find the four sets of staring eyes still there. Suddenly, four mouths began to draw back into the creepiest smiles I had ever seen, and then slowly opened, revealing the most hideous sets of jagged and predatory teeth. I felt that old primitive fight-or-flight response well up inside me, and then started to tamp it down. This is what they wanted. This was their game. They wanted me to panic. They wanted me to run.

They wanted me to run across the classic honey oak, hardwood floors, right out the back door and into whatever hell had been constructed. I needed to calm down and think my way out of this mess. There was a good chance. This was a trick to. get me out of the house. With that in mind, I decided to go upstairs and see if there was anything I could find to try and defend myself. Despite the fact that the house had been pretty much emptied out prior to being listed, it was still amazing what some homeowners often left behind.

I still remember one house that was said to have an otherworldly odor. After checking through the house's kitchen, I found a stack of dirty disposable diapers in one of the cupboards. The only haunting in that house was the smell of a weird compulsion by the former homeowner. Still, I don't know why it. anyone would keep those, but humans are weird. With this in mind, I walked into the master bedroom and looked up through the skylight into what was now a night sky. I had arrived at a period that I would call late morning, and there was no way, even during

winter when the sun sets before 5 p.m. for it to be already nighttime. This confirmed that the entities were playing with me through illusions, or that the house had been moved. Making the latter hypothesis even more likely was the fact that none of the constellations in the night sky made sense. Even the moon was the wrong one, unless ours had recently sprouted rings. Sying, I checked the closets and eventually found a piece of floor molding.

To be honest, it was pretty flimsy, making it fairly useless as a weapon, but something was always better than nothing. At that point, I decided to check the kitchen again. As I descended the stairs, the banging started again on the door. This time, I ignored it. I purposefully walked down to the kitchen because I wanted to see if the scene outside the back kitchen door matched what I saw in the skylight.

Was it still the summer daylight scene or now and nighttime scene. The first would confirm that the illusions were likely at play. The second would indicate the possibility of a shift in dimension. One way or another, I wasn't feeling particularly excited about my eventual outcome. I was trapped in an aging house with monster children scratching at the door. I mean children are scary enough, but monster children? Eventually they would find a way to either trick me into letting them in or find a way in

on their own accord. They seemed to be playing some kind of game with me, trying to scare me fully and regularly. Some haunts and creatures enjoyed feeding on fear, and they certainly were cultivating a healthy dose of that. One way or another, I knew my chances weren't very good. I passed through the kitchen and peered once again through the window in the door.

What I saw was nighttime. Well, night time and a very tall figure standing in the middle of what would have been the backyard. If I had to guess, I would say that the figure was approaching seven feet in height and was clad in a black top coat. That fact didn't surprise me. How many evil spirits or creatures do you see traipsing around in bright orange or yellow? Anyway, a fedora sat slightly askew on his very pale white head.

His eyes were but pinpricks in an otherwise very blank face. I could think of a few myths and internet tales that describe something very close to this, but again, who knows? If I were some kind of demon or ghost and I wanted to terrify a modern audience, I purposefully would generate the look of one of these creatures. Suddenly the creature's gaze moved to me, and I saw the slit of a mouth appear, and the corners turned up high on his cheekbones in an impossible grin. Then its eyes turned red, and suddenly he was in motion. I remember thinking, what fresh hell is this?

Moving faster than rumor, the creature disappeared. from view and the next thing I heard were the most terrible sounds of screeching, clawing, and screaming, as if from the mouths of the children. The screeches reminded me of the sounds of nails running down a chalkboard as I raced through the house to arrive

where the people was again. I peered out to see the front porch was covered in blood, splattered as high up as the collar, supporting the porch's roof. Standing in the middle of the carnage was the figure that I had seen in the backyard, holding the now lifeless body of one of the little boy creatures that had been standing on the front porch terrorizing me.

The figure was still holding the preternatural smile as it raised its very pale hand and waved at me. I backed away from the peephole a shiver running through me. Soon, that same shiver seemed to run through the entire house, and when I looked again, the light streaming into the hallway had become the leaden gray color of a Canadian winter. Suddenly, there was a mad knocking. I had to collect myself for a second or two before looking out the people once again.

A wave of fear ran through me, as I expected to see the creature standing there in my world. Instead, I saw the Reverend Rachel Harlow and an occult scholar I knew named Alma Hadi. I found out later that Rachel had called Alma to help her in case things when went sideways. When I finally opened the door, Rachel came rushing in with Alma sauntering behind her. Are you all right, Landon? We've him banging on the door for ten minutes.

You look terrible. What happened? I relayed the story to the pair of women, trying to omit no details. I still couldn't figure out how I arrived back here and was ruminating on that when Alma broke in. It sounds like there's an open gateway here, and you witnessed a turf war of sorts.

I nodded. I was thinking something like that. Yeah, there's a problem. Alma responded. Once entities like the one you described sees you, they rarely let you go. it may come back after you, Landon. The mere thought of this possibility has resulted in many nights of lost sleep.

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