Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep11: Episode 11: The One with the Weird Dreams

Episode Date: January 7, 2021

Is there anything more frightening than reality just slightly askew? Today’s first fantastic offering is ‘Forever, a Drug’ by Nick Moore, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and read here with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/nmwrites/ https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/bdx6rc/forever_a_drug/ Today’s second tale of the macabre is ‘If Someone Offers you a Drug Called C9, don’t Take it’, an original work by The Fear Junkie, this one kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all [This story was originally titled: ‘Cloud 9 (Loosely based on true story)’].  https://www.reddit.com/user/TheFearJunkie Our third tale of the horrific is ‘I Was Paid to Test a New Drug, I Didn’t Expect This to Happen’, an original work by the wonderfully talented Sad Treacle 8, again kindly shared with me via Dr. Creepen’s Vault so that I could narrate it here for you all, with the author’s express permission.  https://www.reddit.com/user/SadTreacle8  Today’s final tale of terror is ‘I just broadcasted the biggest Twitch stream of my life, but now me and my chat are scarred for life’, an original work by Spooky C Horror, also narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/spookyChorror/ 

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. Can it be true that all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream? Four tales of distorted reality for your listening pleasure this evening. We start off with Forever a Drug by Nick Moore, an award-winning story from No Sleep. We continue with three more tales of warped reality from the Fear Junkie,

Sad Treacle Eight, and Spooky Seas. horror. Now, as ever, before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. I want to get high tonight. Scott was bordering on junkie status, and I was always wary about spending time with him, normally in the filthy apartment of some deal of friend while he got shot up. It seemed like he was boring on a collapse, and I was scared of doing the same. I don't know.

What are you thinking? On the other hand, I'd been despondent since breaking up with Ruth. Maybe something to take my mind off the pain would help. I knew she was better off without me, and I was just holding her back. Maybe a Jared, sir. He says he wants to try something new. This may me feel a little better. Jared was probably the nicest dealer Scott knew and his stuff was generally sourced well plus his apartment was at least somewhat clean

You know I don't fuck with needles? Yeah man, it's fine nothing like that I showed up at eight with three beers in my system that had failed to calm the nervous energy I was feeling Whatever it's fine it's gonna be fine Jared was happy to see me and pour me a whiskey I felt a little weird and sat down at the table He put three black pills down in front of us. Of this from a trusted contact overseas, he began. He said it's like nothing else.

He smiled. I thought the three of us could test drive it before I put in an order, see if it's really worth it. The stuff's called, forever. Scott laughed and downed a pill. Jared and I followed suits. I sat down and stared at the TV, waiting for it to kick in. It was fine. I felt really mellow and sort of like the room

and me with it was stretching in a weird way. We all wound up falling asleep. I woke up the next day feeling fine and we parted ways. No big deal. Certainly nothing life-changing. Years passed. I never left town. Never really did anything.

I could never kick smoking cigarettes either. Well, it wasn't a surprise when the doc told me the blood I was coughing up, was cancer. Shit. Too late to do anything. I was alone when I took my last breath.

I woke up back in Jared's apartment. Sun streaming through the window. What the fuck? I'd hallucinated an entire sad life. Was that the truck? I mumbled something at Jared and Scott and walked outside.

What a weird dream. When I decided I could do more. Maybe that was a wake-up call. Applied to a job I didn't think I was qualified for. Got it. Stop screwing around. Quit smoking. Married a nice girl. Had a kid who loved to play ball outside. Didn't even see the truck coming the day he chased his ball into the streets. But I did. Probably never moved that fast in my life. Fast enough to push him out of the way, but not fast enough to get myself out of the way. Oh well What a way to go

Protecting someone you love And I woke up In Jared's apartment Fuck me What the hell was happening I had to short circuit this I must still be tripping I decided to throw myself off the bridge

Down the street When I got there I found I physically couldn't do it Something stopped me So killing myself was out I had to go home And figure this one out I wasn't paying attention as I walked up the stairs to my apartment If I had I would have noticed the neighbour's kid had left a toy car on one of them

When I slipped and tumbled I knew it was going to be bad I woke up in Jared's apartment Maybe this could be fun However long this lasts I can do anything and it's not real Like lucid dreaming but it lasts for decades So I tried to try to a life of crime. Got shot coming out of an electronics store.

I'm not cut out for that. It hurt like hell. Screwed around, partied too much. Overdosed back to Jared's when it all goes to hell. I'd lived ten or twelve lifetimes when I saw her. Rood. It might seem weird to have forgotten her, but you have to remember, we'd broken up probably 300 years before. She was older, divorced.

Sad. She'd married the wrong guy after I break up and gotten abused for years. I was so depressed after our talk I just walked for hours thinking about how sad her life had turned out. I thought I was helping her. I found myself in a rough neighbourhood. When I got jumped, I didn't hand over my wallet. That was a mistake. I woke up in Jared's apartment.

This time I could fix it. I bought a bunch of flowers and went to Ruth's. She took me back. We got married, had a family. We traveled the world. Best friends. It was incredible. The best life I ever had.

I died a happy old man. Surrounded by a family. I woke up in Jared's apartment. I bought a bunch of flowers and went to Ruth's. If I'm stuck in this Ground Dog Day shit, I know what to do. You know what isn't bought. boring, living your best goddamn life that you can, twice, three times, ten times. The rough edges get smoothed away.

You learn when bad news is coming, when you need to side-step a bad argument. Just absolute happiness. If you get to choose happiness, you choose it every damn time. Then one day we were in Paris, celebrating our 30th anniversary. I'd taken this trip with her 20 times. She walked down to the cafe to get me some breakfast. The car jumped the sidewalk and killed her. That had never happened before.

The next lifetime was worse. We made it 12 years after our wedding before she got some weird flu variant and died. The next one, she was diagnosed with cancer a year after marriage. We never had kids. The next one, her building had burned down the night I spent at Jarrett's. I stood outside with flowers in my hand, staring at the smoking ruins. A filthy old homeless man walked up next to me as I stared in disbelief. Thought you could cheat it, did you?

He says. Thought he wouldn't notice. He did. He started laughing as he walked away. But he did. I watched him as he walked away. He turned back from time to time to smile at me. My lives turned dark. Friends were killed in horrible accidents. Serial killers struck peaceful towns and ravaged the families of those I loved. Ovidose, disease, murder, death. Everything was wrong. The world turned two. Dictators came to power. Wars broke out. Hatred rose. Cities burned. Countries shattered and the world bled. The old man would have been. The old man would have been. The old man would have been. The old man would have been.

appear from time to time, though centuries would sometimes pass between sightings. He always laughed at me, told me that he had me now, always smiled at me. I drifted from one dying port town to the next, finding work where I could, drinking away shitty lifetime after shitty lifetime. I was sitting in a bar in the capital of East Scotland, watching some cable news about a genocide in some country that hadn't even existed in most of my lifetimes. The bartender laughed and I looked at him clearly for the first time. It was the old man. He smiled at me. Who the fuck are you? I growled.

I've seen him longer than you and he sees you now. He laughed again. Where do I go to find him? He laughed. Go to Samar in the Philippines. Not now. in your next life, when you're still young. Find Beringan. He waits for you there. He smiled at me, and I stumbled for the door. I left another dozen years before a boat I was on and went down in a storm.

I woke up in Jared's apartment. This time I immediately started looking for a way to get to the Philippines. I sold my car and walked to work for six months, eating the cheapest food I could find. I arrived confused. Turns out bidding gun isn't a real place, or maybe it is. I found work under the table, making money however I could. I asked about the invisible city of local folklore.

I asked questions about the law behind it. I learned how many people who'd seen it are victims of demonic possession. I searched for it every chance I got. years passed by I lived an invisible life like the invisible city I saw the world rotted away but I still searched one night I was walking home when a car stopped next to me I heard a familiar laugh through the window I looked in and saw the old man he smiled at me I got in the car we drove for hours the gas gauge never moved. Finally, in the distance, I saw a gleaming city of light. He pulled over and

gestured. I have to walk from here. He's waiting for you in the center of the city. He smiled. I got out and walked. I felt like I walked for days, but the sun never came up, and I never grew thirsty. I walked into a gleaning, deserted city. I felt drawn to a giant tower in the center. It glowed with a light Despite having no windows Or obvious source of illumination I wasn't surprised to find a single door At the bottom of the tower

I entered I began to climb As I went I heard a voice Deep and old I couldn't make out the words I climbed forever Finally reaching a door I opened it and stepped inside

Facing a giant black abyss The voice was everywhere now. Every word ripped me apart. I was, you cheat me. Do you think you could live your lives forever? I screamed. You are with me now. Forever. I destroyed this world. The abyss closed and I realized I was staring at a giant mouth. It opened again. I thought of Ruth. Then the world went black. I woke up. In the hospital. Scott jumped up from the chair in the corner. Oh, dude, I'm so glad you're awake.

What happened? It looked over his shoulder. We were just about to take those pills and you threw up all over them and then clasped. Oh man, you had a crazy fever. I looked around. How long have I been out? Four days. Ruth keeps chasing me out of here.

I thinks I did this. He glanced at his shoes. The nurses don't like me much either. Why is Ruth here? She's your emergency contact, dude. It hasn't left your sight even to go home and sleep. She's just getting coffee now. He paused and shifted awkwardly.

He, um, did you have any cash? Jared's kind of pissed you puked on his stuff. I heard an excited. shriek and barely managed to turn my head as Ruth launched herself at me. I was in the hospital for another four days before getting discharged. Doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I said it must have been a freak infection. Getting discharged was great.

Ruth was picking me up and bringing me to Scots so I could go with him for the first NA meeting. Ruth was picking me up and bringing me to Scots so I could go with him to his first NA meeting, Seeing him he almost die scared him He was trying to straighten himself out And then Ruth and I had a special date plan Things were getting figured out We were thrilled for another chance I walked out to the curb

And waited for Ruth to pull her car around I stood there in the sunlight Feeling alive for the first time in I guess millennia A nurse rolled another patient in a wheelchair out to the curb, locked his wheel and walked outside. I felt the breeze on my face

and smiled. The old man in the wheelchair laughed. I stared at him and he winked. He let you go. Make sure he doesn't get his teeth into you again. And then he smiled at me. This time

I smiled back. What a terrifying thought to live out entire life. It's inside a dream, only to wake up and have to do it again. Now we move on to tonight's second tale of the Macarborough. If someone offers you a drug called C-9, don't take it. By the fear, junkie. I don't give a damn where you go.

Just get the hell out. A powerful voice boomed from the doorway, and several random objects flew through the air, missing Alex as he stormed off down the driveway. Father had always been a raging alcoholic. and had a habit of throwing tantrums, but this one was the worst yet. Alex had failed history three grading periods in a row, breaking his promise to at least pass his classes.

It's not my fault. Mr. Thomas is the most boring and confusing teacher ever! Alex muttered under his breath as he pulled on his hood, fighting off the chill of the mid-November air. Pulling out his phone, the steaming teen dialed up his good friend, Dad. You, dude, I need a place to crash for the weekend. My parents kick me out again. Alex sighed into the phone.

No problem, bro. I've got you covered. His friend replied on the other end. Just come on over to my place. My mom's gone on another week-long bender, so she won't be home to care. Alex could always rely on Redd, ever since they'd been nine years old.

Coming from similarly broken homes, Red and Alex had a mutual understanding of each other, finding comfort in each other's company, along with many mind-altering substances that they could get their hands on. By the time Alex arrived at Red's beaten up shack of a house, Red had already invited other guests. Upon opening the door, Alex saw who'd shown up. Before him, Red, the short and lanky ginger, with skin. skin as pale as paper, smiling widely, showing off the gaps in his teeth from one too many fistfights. Inside the house, Alex spotted Eric, a massive, stout, 18-year-old, who was like the older brother of the whole group. His beard had grown in when he was 12, so Eric had always looked like a

huge mountain of a man. Lastly, but certainly not least, there was Patricia, or Paddy, as Alex called her. Paddy was Eric's little sister, two years younger, and while he didn't enjoy what she did in her spare time, he did want to keep her safe, since she had a bad habit of catching the attention of thug types. While younger than the rest of the group, Paddy stood a good six inches taller than Alex, but she never wasted time rubbing that in his face. Hey, shoddy, glad you could make it to the party. Red's got some good shit for us tonight, chime Patty. as she sat on the stained couch, sipping from a flask.

Smiling softly, Alex stepped in as Red closed the door behind him. And the lady speaks the truth, my good man. I have procured a new brand of substance from yonder pipe shop. Behold! Red held out several packets, all labelled the same. C-9. Cotton candy clouds. Just read the packaging. Depics what would look to be clouds.

of cotton caddy, as the name suggests. C-9. What on earth is that? Alex inquired, just as Patty draped her arms over his shoulders. Ah! C-9 is the newest and hottest thing on the block, Daddy, oh. One puff of this, and you'll be as high as the peak of Mount Everest. Red replies, while giving Alex the finger guns, changing his mannerisms as per usual. It's a synthetic, supposed to mimic the effects of pot, but it's crazy cheap, Patty added, and Red nodded in agreement, tossing the packages to Eric who sat in the oversized recliner, which still looks small compared to him.

Eric, my man, do me the honors and stuff those pipes for me. Red chimed as he struck an overly dramatic pose. Eric grimaced, signet to Redd to red that he was tired. of him bringing in new things around his sister. Chill, bro, it's totally safe. It wouldn't be legal if it was dangerous, right? Patty retorted, with a chuckle, drawing a sigh of defeat from Eric.

He just couldn't say no to his little sister. While Eric started stuffing the pipes with what looked like sawdust, Patty pulled Alex to the couch and pushed him down, sitting next to him, but clutching his arm. Tonight, my friends, we explore new territories, announced the overly zealous red as he took a stuffed pipe, wasting no time in lighting it up and puffing hard. The foul stench of burnt cotton candy filled the air, making Alex's nose scrunch up.

Receiving his own, Alex placed the pipe in his mouth and Paddy lit it for him, and he inhaled. Burning smoke filled his lungs, scorching everything it touched. all the way down, eliciting violent coughs from Alex, drinking water to expel the horrendous taste from his mouth. Alex watched as Paddy and Eric joined in, taking puffs of their own. For several minutes, the group felt nothing, taking repeated puffs on the pipes in hopes of speeding up the process. Ah, Red. Fudgy said this was good shit, Alex scoffed, dumping out the ashes from his chili pepper shaped pine. Shit, man.

I was told this was the hottest shit in town right now. Maybe we just can't feel it since. Alex looked up at Red, expecting him to finish his sentence. But all Alex could see on his friend's face was... Nothing. It wasn't that he was expressionless, just that, well, he had no face. Blinking rapidly, Alex realized. Alex realized Redd still had facial features, but they were blurred out, as if he was in one of those police shows where witnesses wanted to keep their identities concealed.

Alex couldn't remember Red's face now for the life of him. Looking around, he realized that the same thing was happening with Patty and Eric. A numbness overtook Alex. He neither felt nor heard anything, aside from a steady and rapid thwarted. thumping from his chest, like a muffled drum. Soon after, his vision started to fade to blackness. It was a warm and comforting darkness, like when one falls asleep. But the tranquil feeling of security was quickly lost,

as Alex realized, he was back home, staring into the scarred door to the hallway closet. A sturdy-looking board leaned against the doorframe, looking to fit in metal hooks screwed into the wall on either side of the door. Dread overtook the boy as he felt an imposing force behind him, pushing him backwards towards the slowly opening closet. I told you, boy, you mouth off to me again and I'd put you in the hole. Consider yourself lucky.

A deep, rumbling voice bellowed from the force pushing him through the doorway. Panic set in as he struggled against the force, but much like an animal fighting against the current of a river, his efforts were in vain. Behind him, the door swung shut, and the loud thud of wood hitting metal rang out, casting Alex into silence and darkness. Pounding on the door, Alex cried out in fear, begging for freedom, but the old world wooden door held fast, not relenting to the boy's feeble attempts to break. it down. Alex screamed until his voice went hoarse, and then all he could produce was a pathetic squeak. Within the closet, which acted as Alex's prison, there was no sign of light. A darkness as thick as pitch enveloped the terrified boy. Hours upon hours of solitude in the endless void of shadow had taken its toll on him, scrambling his sense of time and reality.

Just as countless memories of days spent in the prison of the closet flooded Alex's mind, suddenly the imposing claustrophobic grip on him was gone. Quickly, he got to his feet, scanning his surroundings. Much like in the closet, Alex stood in a smothering darkness, that is, until he turned to see the azure glow of a fountain. An oddly out-of-place fixture in the dark, it stood tall and proud. Many gargots spewed glowing water from their mouths,

but made no splashing of water on water. Atop the granite fountain stood a figure, human in shape, but completely void of any features. No hair, clothes, nose, ears, not even any eyes. Just a wide grin, a row of bleached and jagged teeth splitting open the tightly pulled onyx-coloured skin on the face, an expression far too white to be anywhere near human.

In the faint glow of the luminous water, Alex could see the skin of the being's forehead split open with a sickening tear, putrid grey fluid leaking from the newly formed wounds. Splitting further open, the breaking skin revealed an inhumanly large eyeball, the size of a baseball, glaring, back at Alex. Before any words could be spoken, the solid footing under Alex gave way, plunging him into murky water, forcing him to hold his breath. Coldness gripped Alex, as he heard faint voices, though he couldn't make out what was said. Somehow, the voices seemed oddly

familiar. Several hands pushed against his face and chest, growing more frantic as time went on. Alex couldn't move to fend off the groping hands. They felt like they were gripping every part of him. A burning sensation grew in his chest as his lungs ached for air. Voices grew frantic and jumbled, like a crowd of people yelling over each other. Suddenly, the hands grabbed him all over, and Alex felt them pulling him through the water quickly. An overpowering force slammed him on his back at the bottom.

from whatever body of water he was getting dragged through. As quickly as it all began, the water vanished. And Alex took in a breath of stale, musty air. Looking up, he saw ceiling tiles and felt the cold, hard tile of the school hall floor. Many students were muttering to each other in tongues Alex had never heard before. Having pulled himself to his feet, he swung his head around to see all the students.

staring at him. Their gazes piercing straight through him. The stairs surrounded Alex. He could feel himself getting impaled by judgment as the muttering rose in volume. Through the cacophony of noise, Alex could make out one word. Face! His hands immediately shot up to his face. He felt something like slime, with bits of something floating in the ooze. With haste, haste, he felt something, Alex bolted to the restroom, which was, luckily, unoccupied, and once inside he flipped on the light. Horror struck Alex, as he finally saw what all the other students were talking about. His face was melting, much like a candle in front of a blowtorch. His skin turned a sickly grey and began to peel off his face.

His nose dangled from a thread of muscle as a rancid, oh. Rhoda filled his open nasal cavity. Though Alex watched in horror, he felt no pain. The decaying flesh of his face felt alien and wrong. Fingers dug into flesh and tore it away in a frenzy. Globs of decaying skin and muscle covered the porcelain sink in a grey fluid. His heart pounded painfully hard as he frantically clawed at his face. The same grey fluid oozing from between the muetting.

muscle fibres and dripping onto the sink. Vision in his left eye faded as the eyeball melted into a jelly, slipping from its socket and into the sink. Nails scraped against bone as the last remaining shreds of flesh melted away. Using his index finger, Alex pried out his right eye, and, with an audible pop, the eyeball was ejected from its home and fell down the drain. Alex's vision followed the eyeball down the drain into complete darkness. Then, once again, Alex stood before the fountain. The ominous figure was still standing motionless atop it. His hands frantically groped his face as an inspection, finding his features to be untouched, as normal as usual. Returning his gaze to the ebony figure,

Alex saw that several more wounds had torn their way through the being skin, revealing piercing eyes all over the body. From the head to the legs, no part of the figure's body was left untouched by the multiplying eye. A hole opened up under Alex, and he fell, landing hard on his back in a heap. Dazed, Alex looks around him and felt something familiar. Grain. All around him.

"'Grain?' "'Realization hit him, "'and Alex knew he was inside a grain silo. "'One summer, when he was six, "'he had played with his cousins on his uncle's farm. "'While playing, Alex had climbed on top of the silo, "'trying to hide from his cousin by jumping into the grain. "'What he hadn't realized was that grain can act like quicksand,

"'and it engulfed him rapidly. Alex kicked and screamed as he sunk deeper into the dry grain. He heard his cousin's voice calling to him from a top of the silo. Each kernel of grain put a tiny amount of pressure on Alex, each trying to push him down. Altogether, they forced the boy deeper. Having flailed his arms, Alex tried as hard as he could to free himself from the impending prison, only succeeding in burying himself deeper.

Taking a final breath Alex's head plunged underneath the grain Now the grain Faded away to soil And Alex's eyes snapped open Only for him to be blinded by freshly disturbed dirt Clarity hit him As he clamped his eyes shut

Trying to wipe his eyes But his hands were held in place by the earth around him His lungs began to burn for air each attempt to draw in breath was met with more dirt. A chorus of voices screamed at him to escape, to go up. With burning muscles, Alex fought to lift his arms. Though it took all his effort, he managed to shift through the loose soil. Next came his legs, the dirt proving a formidable foe to overcome.

Slowly worming his way up, Alex could feel the surface just out of reach. And then, once again, Alex stood before the fountain, but with eyes of various sizes surrounding him on all sides in the darkness. The fountain ran grey with the same putrid fluid, pouring from the black figure that was now perched atop the highest gargoyle. All the statues in the fountain turned their heads in unison and stared directly at Alex, all yelling in alien tongues. A deafening cacophony of screams barreled into Alex, forcing him to clamp his hands over his ears. The floating eyes glowed red with hatred as the grin on the black figure grew wider and wider, splitting what remained of its face until the bottom jaw flopped open, revealing thousands of rows of undulating razor-sharp fangs,

extending all the way down the abyss that was its throat. Alex sat up in bed and screamed, flailing his arms in a cold sweat. Oh, come down there, buddy. A familiar voice sounded, and a door opened. Alex stopped and saw that he was in Red's room, lying in his bed. Turning, Alex saw that his best friend was standing at the door with a steaming bowl of what Alex presumed to be soup. you're all right buddy red inquired walking over to Alex and sitting on the bed you scared the shit out of all of us man you completely passed out

Alex rubbed his eyes as the hay started to lift from his mind he suddenly recalled that the night before he and his friends had tried that new C-9 crap bro I think you need to soar up a while that fucked you up you've been out for two days Red added, as he looked deep into Alex's eyes, checking to make sure his friend was all right. A rumbling sound came from Alex's stomach, malnutrition setting in. Yeah, I knew you'd be hungry by the time you woke up, so, well, I made you some soup. Red said, with a smile, as he handed Alex the bowl.

A wave of relief swept over Alex as he took everything in. He was out, out of that hell. Done with that trip. Maybe he should take Red's advice and sober up for a while. Could do him some good. Alex had thought this as he brought the spoon into his mouth. Then he immediately spad it out. Dirt.

Alex was eating dirt. The once mouth-watering scent of soup was replaced with the musty scent of soil. Alex blinked, and he was in. instantly back in the darkness, gasping for air only for his nostrils to be filled with more loose soil. He had never left his hole in the ground. He'd imagined all of the events in his friend's room. His lungs burned for air and his muscles ached from lack of oxygen. Panic set in, as Alex flailed in the dirt, digging his way up once more as his mind swam. Visions of moments flashed for his eyes.

The long night spent in the hole. The beatings his father never spared him from. The apathetic looks his mother gave him. That time he sewed his pants in class by accident. Walking down dark alleyways at night with homeless man following him. These, and many more, flooded Alex's mind as he fought for survival. He felt the cold evening air on his hand, as he broke to the surface, gripping stable ground as he poured with,

with all his might. His muscles began to fail him, deprived of oxygen and overtaxed from the effort. All thoughts slowed to a crawl, as a biting cold slowly enveloped Alex, drawing him deeper into a sleep he couldn't fight anymore. The sound of birds chirping, stared Alex awake.

His eyes flooded open as golden sunlight poured through his window and into his room. Sitting up quickly, Alex felt around, feeling the clean linens of his bed. Was he out? For good? Was this yet another dream, just a figment of his imagination? Well, it felt really enough, though. So that was good enough for now.

Alex spent the next half hour collecting his thoughts, remembering the events of the previous night in vague detail. He honestly couldn't tell whether or not what he went or he was an hallucination or a dream. After dressing himself and grabbing his phone, Alex noticed he had a message from Redd. Hey, hope you made it home all right. Gee, last night was nuts, bro. Be sure to come round and grab your hat. With a sigh, Alex set out towards Red's house once again.

arriving at the shack and having knocked on the door Alex realised that Red wasn't home Using the spare key under a rock near the door Alex led himself in Man, the place was trashed Even more so than usual Broken glass and candy wrappers laid scattered all over the floor Painting an odd picture of what had occurred the night before

Spotting his hat on the couch Alex walked over and picked it up and then he stopped, frozen in place. Slowly turning his head, Alex looked out the back sliding glass door, noticing a large hole in the backyard, complete with scattered and freshly dug dirt. Alex's heart sank. That hole hadn't been there the day before.

Well, you think we'd learned our lesson by now, but for those of you who haven't onto our third tale of horror I was paid to test a new drug I didn't expect this to happen like sad treacle ate he awoke regrudgingly the memories of the misadventures

from the night before escaping him immediately as he observed the decrepit and run-down motel room he now found himself in he figured that was for the best as the events that put him in cheap roadside motels for the night were never the prettiest. No one was to be found in the concrete textured bed beside him, also for the best as they never turned out to be the prettiest either. He stood and began

scrambling for his scattered belongings, ignoring the dull headache he was all too familiar with. He picked up his wallet expecting it to be empty. It was greeted with a giant wad of one hundred dollar bills. He was ecstatic. This was more money than he'd ever laid his head. He was. He was hands on, but before he could begin pondering his soon-to-be numerous purchases of alcohol, drugs, and the company of women, a more important thought crept into his head. Where did this money come from? Although he wished to continue mentally adding every high dollar bottle of liquor and clean-cut, lab-tested, saron-wrapped substances to his cart, a foreboding feeling of caution swept over him. He knew however his highly intoxicated and high-wired alter ego from the night before

had acquired such cash was almost certainly through illegal means, and if that cash was stolen, he knew it was enough that someone was looking for it. He began searching the room, not for his belongings, but now for clues. By the door sat a briefcase which seemed familiar, and he started heading toward it when at the end of the bed he spotted an oversized and cheap-looking purse, the kind that's usually accompanied by an even more oversized and cheap-looking girl. So he for sure had the company of a woman last night. But where had she gone?

He doubted this nameless and faceless girl would have left without her purse, so he decided to look for her in the only part of the room he had yet to search, the bathroom. He found it locked, strangely from the outside, but expecting to simply find a passed-out hook at all, he unlocked and swung the bathroom door open. A mistake he would very soon regret. Behind the door was the girl he expected to find, but not in the state he could have ever expected. She was sprawled out onto the floor and covered in blood, empty plastic bags and broken glass. The once feeling of curiosity and caution now turned into an overwhelming sensation of terror.

He slammed the door shut, not wanting the scene to be real. He stood still for a moment, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts, pushing the ones that involved him being a murderer deep down, before opening the door again, this time taking in every detail. The bright red of her hair, paired with the dark red of her blood, contrasted with the surprisingly clean and white bathroom. The broken glass on the floor was once a vanity mirror above the sink, now broken a mark with bloody handprints.

The only wounds he saw were on her arms. The gruesome cuts and scrape started at her fingers and went all the way down to her elbows, leaving her forearms a mangled mess of torn and ripped flesh. In her right hand she still gripped a jagged and nasty-looking piece of the broken mirror. On her face was an expression not of pain or death or fear, but of what appeared to be glee. He could have been rigormortice, setting in, causing her face to distort, or his shock-stricken mind could have merely been playing tricks on him. But he could have sworn that the bloody, inflayed girl, had a smile on her face.

Well, he'd seen enough, enough to know that whatever had happened to that poor girl, she'd done it herself. he'd also seen enough to refresh his memory. They met him at a party and asked him if he was interested in trying a new drug and being paid for it. Being already high, but coming down, and flat broke, it was a golden opportunity, and he quickly agreed. He'd been given the briefcase and was told it contained a new research chemical that they said had similar effects to that of LSD, which at the time was almost everyone's drug of choice. he was given the money and told to go to the hotel that night where he would try the drug and in the morning he would call them and await further instructions and payment which they said would be substantially more than the initial payment to persuade against simply running off with the drugs in the money he'd agreed to the plan and took the briefcase and money luckily for him he'd not spent the night with a woman in a while but now that he had a pocketful of money that would change

He picked up the first girl he saw, and after purchasing a handful of his drugs of choice, took her back to the room. And this is where his memory went blank again. He must have had her try it first, or maybe she was just too busy with the other drugs. But after taking it, she must have begun behaving strangely, or violently enough to warrant him locking her in the bathroom. Or the drug took its full effect and caused her to enter into some drug-induced psychosis. Well, all he knew for sure was that the research chemical was definitely the cause of the mess in the bathroom,

and if he'd taken it instead of her, that would be him. He felt a pang of guilt for the girl in the bathroom. In a way he was responsible for what had happened to her. But he pushed that feeling down as well. After piecing the scene together and considering everything, he decided he quickly needed to get away from that motet. He finished gathering his belongings. and made sure to leave nothing to tie him to the scene.

He had one foot out of the door when he heard it, shuffling in the bathroom. He should have left. He should have ignored it. Maybe he imagined it, but that pang of guilt returned. The shuffling sow meant that the girl could still be alive. What with all the blood lost, well, he didn't know,

but he hadn't checked her pulse, and if he left while she was still alive, alive, he'd be damning her to a certain death. The guilt caused him to close the door and turn around. He headed to the bathroom, with the intention of quickly checking her pulse, confirming she was dead and leaving. But he didn't check her pulse. She wasn't dead, and he didn't leave as soon as he touched her.

Her eyes flung open and grabbed him with what used to be her arm. more she screamed in a painful and delirious state where is it she said as she threw him back with more strength than he would have thought possible he quickly turned to scramble out of the bathroom but she was on her feet and then on top of his back before he could make it past the doorway he felt a sudden and sharp pain in his side as she struggled on top of him he felt it again and again as he heard her continue to call out for more of the chemical He pointed at the briefcase and she quickly forgot all about him. He watched as she sprung for it with ferocious intensity, the jagged piece of broken glass still in her hands and now fresh with his blood. He saw her use her ragged and skinless limbs to pry open the briefcase. Feeling his strength leaving him and pure terror overcoming him, he crawled towards the phone

to call for help, not wanting to take the risk of going past the derailed. changed half-dead monster by the dog. He turned cautiously to make sure she wasn't coming back for him and saw her taking bag after bag of the evil powder-like chemical substance. Entranced, he watched with a curious sickness she began stabbing and slicing at herself with a piece of glass, continuing her work on her arms and then moving to her untouched legs. With every stab, slice, cut, rip and tear of her flesh, she let out a scream, not of pain, but of euphoria.

Watch that same wicked smile spread across her face as she tore into her tender thighs with broken glass. Now he understood. He gave up on the phone and slowly started crawling back. Not towards the. door, but towards the brief game. It always saddens me to bring events to the close, but not before one more story of the Macarber. I just broadcast the biggest Twitch stream of my life, but now me and my chat are scarred for life by spooky sea horror. I'm one of the biggest streamers on Twitch. I play games spanning all genres and my streams consistently get over 20,000

viewers. Oh, I love what I do. It's taken me many years to get where I am today and not a day goes by that I wish I was doing something else. Well, that isn't until the horrifying events of last Friday happened, which have shaken me to my very core and left me wondering if I'll ever stream again. The stream started normally. I powered on my face cam, loaded up my Twitch interface and then went live. My view account immediately jumped to two and a half thousand and within a few minutes was at ten thousand. Although this has been the norm for at least two years, watching that view account rise so quickly still makes my heart race inside my chest. It makes me remember all of those streams that I did back in the day when five viewers meant that my stream was popping off

and receiving even a tiny donation sent my head spinning through the clouds. Well, like greeted my chat and they made a big announcement. For today's stream I was not only going to be playing games of their choice but I was going to play them with randomly chosen subscribers. I wanted to do something special for my sixth anniversary stream and the positive response was immediate. The chat board started filling up so quickly with comments and emotes that they flew across my computer monitor faster than my eye could register. The event began successfully. I played a few matches of Overwatch with a guy who happened to be around my age, and who was hilarious, and then dead by daylight with a girl who just finished high school.

My stream quickly rose to 50,000 viewers, and might have even reached 100,000 had things not turned out the way they did. As it stands, the stream took a frightening turn while I was playing with the third subscriber of the day, a seven-year-old kid named Tanner. Hello, Dee, he said after joining my Discord server. opted to call me by my nickname instead of my streamer name. Hey, buddy, I said. I could tell immediately by the sound of Tanner's voice that he wasn't any older than 10.

For this reason, my initial thought was to discreetly find a way to dump him and then pick a different subscriber to play with. Well, it's not that I have anything against kids, I just felt uncomfortable streaming with somebody so young. I didn't want to do or say something that might upset him. I also wasn't sure how my chat was going to respond. I have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying or negativity during my streams.

The last thing I wanted to do was exploit this kid for my own personal game. When I turned my head to read the chat room, though, the comments were nothing but positive. Oh, he sounds so cute. Come on, Dee, play with him. Oh, I wonder what game he's going to choose. These comments and several dozen similar ones flooded my monies. within seconds of Tanner's voice ringing in my headset, so I knew that I had to play with him. If I backed out, then there would be an uproar.

I wish now that I'd listened to my gut feeling and dumped him rather than put myself and my chat through what happened later. Looking back, though, joining my Discord server might have been the best thing that Tanner could have done that evening, for it increased his chances of making it through the night. Welcome to the stream, I continued. Do you know what game you want to play? Minecraft. He gave the answer that everyone in the chat had predicted,

which spent them spiraling into awls and silly emotes. There was an innocence to Tanner's voice that made me like him immediately. I could tell that he was the quintessential kid, fun-loving, excitable, and quick to laugh. Ah, Minecraft it is then, I said. Let's boot her up. Okay. We were silent as we launched the game. I knew that as a professional I should be making small talk with him,

but I just wasn't sure how to go about bantering with such a little kid. I don't have any younger siblings or cousins, and my wife and I haven't reached the point yet where we've decided to have kids of her own. Luckily, Tanner solved this problem for me. Hey, uh, should we play in my world or yours? he said. Well, let's play in yours. I think everyone would love. love to see what you've built. All right. He sent me an invite. I accepted it and then spawned into his world. Oh, come and find me so I can give you a tour of my... His voice was interrupted by the sound

of shattering glass, which boomed through his headset so loudly I had to lower my volume. Based on the explosiveness of the sound, I figured that its source was close to his computer. Is everything all right, I said. Something just broke in the living room, he said. Let me check. I heard the muffled sound of him taking off his headset, then heard him quickly pick it back up and place it on his head less than a minute later. D, he continued, voice of frightened whisper.

There's a strange man inside my house, and he just went into my parents' room. The stress in Tanner's voice convinced me that he wasn't lying. I could practically hear the tears forming in the back of his eyes. I would have tried to comfort him if the phrases, Strange man and parents' room weren't ringing inside my head so loudly they were threatening to block out all reason. I felt like somebody had laced the Dr. Pepper bottle resting beside my mouse, paired with acid.

I was experiencing a bad trip, and this dream gone wrong was my own personal hell. Well, it was the realization that I was still maneuvering my character in Minecraft that finally snapped me back to reality. Here, a child was in the middle of experiencing a life-threatening event, live on my stream, and there I was mining a tree for its logs with my bare fists as a sub-wuf a lullaby pulsed gently through my headset.

Well, the shame I felt at my selfishness, and forever caring so much about view counts and the fickle comments of my chat still lines my throat to this day. I close down, Minecraft, yank my hand. away from the mouse and then place my focus solely on the microphone in the sound of Tanner's voice. Everything else that I normally cared about while streaming, I buried under my desire to help this innocent kid who probably fell asleep every night watching my YouTube videos on his iPad. Doing my part to save his life was all that mattered.

Tanner, I said, you need to call the police immediately. Are you by a phone? Luckily, my voice came out steady. I was afraid that it would come out shaky, given the adrenaline pumping through my body like a drug. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the comments of my chat room whizzing across my monitor like a broken slot machine. I did my best to ignore them.

My phone is in the living room, he said, voice just above a whisper. I could tell that he was only moments away from crying. Don't worry, buddy. I'll call the police for you. is there any place you can hide? Where are you inside the house? Are you in your room?

Yeah, I'm in my room. His tears had started falling full force, making his voice sound nasally. The distant scream of a woman erupted in my headset. The scream sounded painful and guttural, as if whoever was making it was having their vocal cords torn out one thread at a time. And for one of the only times

that night. The chat became completely still. You need to hide now, Tanner. Is your headset wireless? Yes, sir. Good. Take it with you and crawl under your bed. For the next few moments, all I could hear with sniffles and the rustling sound of Tanner sliding under his bed. I'm here. Are you safe? Yes. Okay, good. Stay put. I'm going to call the police. But first, I need you to tell. I'm me where you live. Luckily he knew his exact address, and I wrote it down using the pencil and paper I always keep in front of my monitor as soon as the words left his mouth. Good job, buddy. You're doing great. Hang on for a second while I call the police right. Don't take off your headsets. Don't leave me alone, Dee. His voice was so laced with so much feeling as he said this

that for a moment I felt tempted to ignore the police and stay right there in the discourse. server with him. This feeling quickly passed, though, has another scream, this time from a mail, exploded through my headset and sent the hairs on the back of my arms shooting into the air. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. This will just take a moment. Stay where you are. I quickly looked up the number for the police station in his city, which was in another state, so I couldn't just dial 911, on my computer and then pulled out my phone and gave them a call. "'Police department, please state your emergency,' said a woman's voice in my ear. "'I told her the situation as few words as possible.

"'She paused for a moment before speaking, "'presumably looking at whatever resources were in front of her. "'Our closest officer is thirty minutes away,' she finally said. "'He'll be there as quickly as he can.' "'Thirty minutes!' "'It was then that I realized how truly secluded Tanner's house was from the rest of the city. From my initial scan of Google Maps,

I typed in his address on a fresh tab while I'd explain the situation to the dispatcher, I could see how rural his neighborhood was. I doubted that it had a local Walmart, much less a regular police presence. The closest house was probably ten acres away, and the next one, Miles. Yes, said the dispatcher.

You heard me correctly. Is Tanner still online? in the chat with you? A rare slip-up and understandable given the unlikelyhood of the situation. I'd heard of other stream was getting swatted before, but this made even that dangerous prank look like Charles' play in comparison. Yeah, yes he is.

Good. Is he still safe? He should be. I told him to hide under his bed. Tell him that a police officer is on his way that he needs to stay hidden until he arrives. I put my headset back on and relayed Tanner her message. He responded with a tear clogged. Okay.

And then I lifted my phone back to my ear. Right, I told him. Thank you. From here on out, I want you to stay in the chat with him. Put me on speakerphone so that I can hear what you're saying, so that I can advise you should any new developments occur. On the moment the word speakerphone had left her mouth, I cursed myself in my mind.

Why hadn't I thought of that? Here I was surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of gaming equipment and I was too stupid to think of utilizing a technology that even my 80-year-old grandfather could use. I hit the speaker button, placed my phone in front of my keyboard and then nuzzled my headset back over my ears. The sound of Tanner's shallow breathing greeted my flesh.

He sounded like a small and wounded animal, caught in the middle of a railroad track as a freight train came hurtling towards his head. "'Hang tight, buddy. "'The police office is coming as quickly as she can. "'You're doing great.' "'Thank you, Dee. "'I always knew that we'd be friends.'

"'Before I could respond to such a touching remark, "'a scream so guttural, "'ripped through the headset "'that I nearly reared back in my chair. "'Are you okay?' "'I said, trying to keep my stomach acid "'from rising into my chest. "'They're in the living room now,' he said.

voice almost a sob. I think he's killing them. Several more screams burst through the chat. He's killing them. Okay, keep your voice down, Tanner, or he'll hear you. My command was greeted by whispered sobs. I imagined Tanner's voice shrieking in my ears as he met the same fate as his parents

and sped along the officer's patrol car in my mind. Another volley of screams berated my headset, flooding my ears with a twisted crescendo of guttural yells. These screams seemed to go on for an eternity, and then my headset went silent. Several agonizing minutes later, the dispatcher's voice sounded through the phone on my desk, telling me that the officer had just arrived at the front of the house.

This news came much earlier than the initial estimate of 30 minutes, and filled my body with joy. Keep hiding, Tanner. I said. That police officer had told you about just pulled into your driveway. He's here to help you. Okay, Dee. A few moments later, the sound of gunshots burst through the headset, followed by another round of scream. Terror gripped my lungs at the sound. Coming in, guns blazing like that, I'm sure, hadn't been in the officer's plan. Something must have happened. My guess was that he'd been ambushed, and I desperately hope that he'd been the one to come out of on top. What are you hearing now, Tanner? I said. He was silent for a few moments and then said

something so horrifying that it's haunted me to this day and will continue to do so until I'm old and grey. The man just said, dumb F-word cups. Their heads don't come off like they used to. I slump back in my chair, blood draining from my face like water down a drain. I'm sure if I would have looked up at my monitor, I would have seen a ghost staring back at me. My already sky-high stress levels went plummeting into the stratosphere, and I couldn't tell up from down. Their heads don't come off like they used to. Dumb F-word cops? The sound of Tanner's hoarse and innocent voice projecting the words of such a sadistic man

will echo for an eternity in the darkest chambers of my mind. So horrified was I by the thought of what had happened to that poor police officer. Tears nearly filled my eyes. Now wasn't the time to let my emotions get the better of me, though. Given that there weren't any other cops in the immediate area, I knew that I was the best positioned person to help Tanner escape this situation alive, and, as much as it frightened me to think about, in one piece. Just sit tight, Tanner, I said.

voice almost as hoarse as his. I'm going to find a way to get you out of this, I promise. I trust you, said Tanner. He'd stopped crying long ago. I could tell he'd fallen into survival mode and respected him all the more for it. Although he wasn't my kid and I'd only known him for such a brief time,

my newfound responsibility towards him made me feel as if he'd been born into my arms. Okay, hang on for one second. I need to talk to the woman on the phone again, okay? Okay. I took off my headset and leaned in closer to my phone. Are you still there? I am.

The officer you sent is dead. Are you sure? How do you know? Tanner heard him get rearheaded. And you have no other way to say it. I can hear the man who killed him talking to himself about it in the living room. Jesus Christ. Hearing this brief comment from the dispatcher filled me with almost as much dread as the thought of hearing Tanner's last breath billowing from my headset.

For it was the moment that I realized just how much of a dangerous turn the situation had taken. If a professional police dispatcher who dealt with emergencies daily was shocked enough to make such an out-of-character comment, something truly extraordinary is taking place. I've sent a SWAT team on the way, but it'll take them at least 35 minutes. to get there, and this time when I say 35 minutes, I mean it. We were lucky that Officer Brunswick was able to arrive at the scene so quickly, the SWAT teams arriving from town, which is a lot slower going. I pictured Officer Brunswick's body, lying in the middle of Tanner's living room, bloody and headless, and thought that he was anything but lucky. What do we do then? He doesn't

have that much time. You need to tell Tanner to flee the house the moment he has the chance. His house is in a densely wooded area. He can take refuge in the trees until the SWAT team arrives. Ask him if he has any windows in his room. Okay, good idea. I grabbed my headset from its place on my desk and then threw it back over my ears. You still with me, Tanner? Yes, sir. The way he sometimes called me sir was so endearing that it only made me like him and fear for him even more okay you need to run out of your house the moment you get the chance and hide in the woods until more policemen get there i know it's scary but you have to trust me are there any windows in your room no tanner's answer made me place my head in my hands. What kind of room didn't have any windows? I don't think I understand. You said you're in your

room, right? Yeah, but my room's in the basement. Of course it was. At this point, I couldn't see any variations of this situation that ended with Tanner leaving the house alive. He might as well have been stranded on the moon for all the good anybody could do for him down there. The thought that he might get pulled out from under his bed at any moment, screaming bloody murder, before the sadists slashed him to pieces, burdened my every breath. Before I had a chance to consult with the dispatcher about this new development, Tanner's whispering voice once again greeted my ears. He's looking for me, Dee. I can hear him walking around upstairs. He keeps saying that he's going to find and kill whoever's hiding from him. My heart just about leapt through my

chest. Once I took a breath, I thought about it, though. It made sense that the intruder now knew that there was somebody else inside the house. For why else would a police officer arrive at the scene, gone drawn unless somebody had reported him? Everything's going to be fine. Just stay where you are. More help is on the way. You don't understand. He's coming down the hall towards the basement. I can hear his footsteps getting closer. Tanner's voice started speeding up. I have to do something, Dee. I can't stand on my bed.

He'll find me too easily. I heard the sound of thumping footsteps approaching through my headset. Oh my God, he's at the top of the stairs. He's... I heard the rustling sound of clothes sliding across carpet. Tanner! I shrieked. Tanner!

The cacophony of a body tumbling to the ground. raised my eardrumbs. I heard the sound of a knife splitting flesh, and then a scream so guttural it made all of the previous screams I'd heard that night sound like laughter, and nearly passed out in my chair. I felt like my heart was being torn from my sternum, and I really just heard what I thought I'd heard. At Tanner, that innocent little boy who just wanted to play in Minecraft with his favorite streamer, really just been massacred in his own bedroom. I couldn't stomach the thought. This couldn't be happening. The universe couldn't be so cruel as to rob this innocent child of his beautiful life. Just as I'd given up hope that I would ever hear Tanner's

voice again. His voice rang out, loud and clear, through my headset. I got him, deed, he said. I tripped him as he came down the stairs and then murked him with his own knife just like you would have done I looked over at my monitor and through the thousands of Pepe hands and poggers I could see whirling across the chat at a nauseating pace my eyes locked onto one word

which stood out among all the emotes like a signpost glowing through the windows of a speeding car justice well as proud as I am of Tanner for taking the situation into his own hands and ending the life of that miserable wretch, I am having difficulties fighting myself again after such a traumatic experience. The memories of that stream haunt me daily and plagued my sleep with brutal nightmares. It's not the sadist that haunts me, although I think about him a lot too,

but the prying, invisible, 50,000 pairs of eyes that were watching the events unfold in real time, through my stream. They'd loved every minute of it. It was the best dream they'd ever seen, and probably ever would. It was this thought that caused me to have a realization. They'd watch the same thing again if they were ever given the chance. If it happened in a different time, in a different place and to a different kid, they would drop everything they were doing and glue themselves to their computer screens, as if they were watching an episode of Game of thrones. After my experience that night, I learned that human beings flocked of violence, just like junkies in desperate need of a fix. They search for it on the dark web, they buy it on

discs, they read about it in books, and sometimes, if they're lucky enough, they even watch it unfold live on Twitch. In this way, I've learned that we are all like the sadist. We might not act on our violent impulses, but we revel in them nonetheless. We need the tanners of the world to suffer. But without them, what else is there to entertain us? And that's why, my friends, the biggest dream of my life scarred me for life, and why I will never stream again. Four fantastical tales of distorted reality for you this evening,

for your listening pleasure. I do so hope you enjoyed your time with me and that you'll do it again next week. Until then, a very, very sweet dream. Some bye-bye.