Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S2 Ep62: Episode 62: Pizza Delivery Horror Stories

Episode Date: December 30, 2021

First up we have ‘The One about the Pizza Guy’, an original, anonymous story:  http://www.creepypasta.com/one-pizza-guy/ Today’s final two stories are ‘The Pizza Delivery Diaries Vol.1: A Slice of Pizza from the Past’ and ‘The Pizza Delivery Diaries Vol.2: The Creature in the Street’ by Vinsanity 1972, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/Vinsanity_1972

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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. Creepin's Dungeon. Well, they say there's no such thing as a bad pizza. What a shame it can't be said for the pizza delivery experience, as we will see in tonight's stories. Later on, we have volumes 1, 2 and 3 of the Pizza Delivery Diaries. But before that, we begin with an anonymous story,

the one about the pizza guy. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of... caution. Tonight's stories 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. If you really want to hear about it, here's what happened. It was a long time ago when I was working at a local pizza joint named Peter Pizza. I remember clock watching, waiting for midnight to strike, so I could get the hell out of there. I didn't have any plans. I just wanted to go home and watch a movie, maybe smoke a joint before going to sleep.

I hadn't been able to fall asleep last night. I was tired and pissy. I remember hoping that the phone wouldn't ring, because that was exactly how it went in the food service industry. People called five minutes before closing time, expecting to get good service. Yeah, right. Peter, Pizza.

What the hell kind of name was that? The better question was, why had I applied there for a job in the first place? I was 25 years old, for starters. Most people my age of, I'm paying my way through school to fall back on as an excuse. But me? Shit. All I could say was, it's all I'm qualified for because I couldn't decide on a major when I was younger.

And now that I'm older and wiser, I realize that everything else is a fucking waste of time. Whatever. Apathy and I, we go pretty much hand in hand. Fourteen minutes until I could get out. God, I hated the customers. Or guests, as the management wanted us to call them. Yeah, guests my ass. being a guest required just a little bit of dignity

so the assholes that waddled into Peter Pizza would be referred to as customers I didn't work the front counter too much I'm not entirely sure which end of the stick I was getting because I usually clocked in as a delivery driver Paul the owner of Peter Pizza gave me 50 extra bucks a week to pay for gas which was more than enough

Paul was okay Definitely not my favourite person He had his moments of pleasantness though Tonight Wasn't one of those nights He had a stick up his ass for some reason or another And it had been there since we'd walked in the front door I could see it on his face

In his eyes behind his glasses I didn't know I'd arrived at work pleasantly stone and it stayed that way until now. I didn't really care why old Paulie was mad, nor did I care if he was going to feel better, not with 12 minutes left on the clock. Now, you can't just close the goddamn doors a few minutes early, can you?

I thought, rolling my eyes as I watched the second-hand tick, tick, tick its way around the clock. Paul was one of those bosses. The kind that would leave his front doors open for another 10 or 20 minutes past close. And I wondered why the turnover rate was so high. When you pander to the customers and not the employees, things are bound to go wrong. I sighed and reached into my back pocket to retrieve my cell phone. That was when the phone on the counter behind me rang for the first time in two and a half hours. Oh, fuck. I groaned.

rolling my head back. Suttlety and I, we kind of clash. I was pissed. It was ten minutes until clones. Asshole, I muttered as I picked up the phone and put the receiver to my ear. Thanks for calling Peter Pizza. This is Ben speaking.

I sat, turning my head slightly to look towards the office, where Paul was busy with paperwork. How may I hear? assist you this evening. Hey, I'm sorry to recall in so late. The guy on the other end said quickly. I immediately felt a little bad. He sounded polite, albeit a little anxious, a little uptight. Are you still delivering? You bet, I said. Oh, good, good, the guy said. Thanks. Would it be possible to put in an order for six large cheese pizzas, extra cheese? You bet. What else can I get you?

That's it, thanks. Address, sir? 1388 Alpine Drive. The big place, the guy said. Name? There was a hesitation. The absolute smallest one that probably wouldn't have been noticeable. But I was in a flage.

floor-picking mood. It didn't bother me. Not then. Robert. My name is Robert. Be about 25, 30 minutes, I told him. He thanked me again and hung up as I punched the order into my terminal. I heard Paul exclaim in the back. God damn it, he cried. Six goddamn pizzas? It's almost midnight. You could have closed early. I must have. under my breath. Then, with a sight of Paul. Right there with you, boss. The pizzas took 15 minutes to make.

Paul told me to head home after the delivery. He didn't feel like waiting around for me. I was just fine with that. I didn't even know where Alpine Drive was until I punched it into Google Maps at quarter after 12. I sat down in my Mazda and started the engine. waiting for the app to load.

You should reach your destination by 1240, Google told me. I tilted my head back against the seat and let out a groan. Should reach my destination by 1240. Yeah, that was just great. Thanks Google, I said. I kind of wish it would say, You're welcome, Ben. Or something cool like that.

But then again, Again, I don't know how comfortable I am with being on a first-name basis with the Samsung. The order total was over $70, though, including the delivery charge. That meant an extra ten or twenty bucks in my wallet, which was fine by me. Hopefully they weren't assholes who didn't tip. I shifted into gear and started heading for Alpine Drive. I wish we had a delivery zone that was smaller than 30 miles. Whatever. It could have been worse.

I don't know how stoned I was by the time Google announced that I would reach my destination in three minutes. I'd taken Highway 54 all the way south, and the drive had been quick and uneventful. I played Alkaline Trio and Blink 182 on the way because something's never get old, no matter how old you are. I wasn't really familiar with the area, and I was glad as hell to have GPS. After a while, the endless fields on either side of the highway had slowly turned to black looming forests. The trees were black shapes against the eternally dark sky, lit only by the cast of my headlights. I'm pretty sure that was the first and last time I was that far south on 54. Hmm, I'm all alone out here.

That was true and false at the same time. I'd passed three or four houses on the way. I saw them because of the lights, glowing faintly in the dark. I remember thinking it was a ten or fifteen minute gap between seeing each house, making me wonder just how many miles the residents were from each other. It was an eerie thought, the nearest neighbour being five or six miles away. My ever-wild imagination conjured up an image. I was dead in a bathtub, the shower head running over my naked and bloody corpse.

I'd fallen down, hit my head and died because there was no one around to report me missing. I shook my head and continued driving until I was directed to take a right on Carpenter Hooper Road. I ended up turning onto a gravel road. I sighed, passing a bullet-riddled speed limit sign, saying it was 55. through here. Are they serious? Who the hell went 55 miles an hour on an unpaved road? I coasted at a steady 40, keeping my eyes peeled for wildlife and random farm machinery.

I wasn't worried about other cars, because it had been 15 minutes since I'd seen one. It might have been longer. Yes. All alone. It was only five or so minutes until I reached the end of one. what looked like a driveway. The nav told me that I would reach my destination after I turned right. I obliged and continued up the driveway. I was searching for the house and couldn't find it. The map said that the house was on the left side of the road, but it wasn't. You have reached your

destination. No, I haven't, I said impatiently. There was nothing but trees on my left. So thickly nodded together that it looked impossible to walk through, let alone inhabit a home with modern conveniences here. I slowed down a little bit, and the bright beam for what could only be a porch light flared up in my rear-view mirror on the right side of the road. Google, you asshole. It took me a minute to do a successful 180, but he eventually started up the driveway. The driveway was paved, and a few moments after I pulled onto it, I was aware that my tires were no longer crunching gravel.

It had gotten very quiet, and this, for whatever reason, was really unnerving. I rounded a bend, and beyond the pine trees surrounding me, was the house. Whatever light I'd seen was off now, and the place was totally dark. The driveway looped around in front of the house. I slowed to a stop and parked, leaving the engine running out of habit. People keep telling me that my car is going to get stolen. Please, steal my Mazda. Did everyone leave?

Maybe I'd gotten the wrong address, or typed in the wrong one or something. The GPS had already been wrong once. No, the address next to the door was. was the same as what I typed in. I shrugged it off because it wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't a big deal then anyway, because that's how things go. The characters in the horror movie make those stupid decisions

because going upstairs to investigate that strange noise is what most people would likely do. It's part of logic because floorboards like to creak randomly and things fall over all the time. It's a security thing, though. we as human beings have to be certain that we're safe the idea of an intruder was a slimy thought

the word intruder even had a sinister feel to it hey plato your philosophies and anecdotes are adorable but your pizzas are going to get cold and you're going to be monson here in bum fuck I was tired my mind tends to wander when I'm tired slap happy I think it's called

I got out of the car and stood up straight stretching and listening for a moment to hear my joints crackle I let out a long breath and walked to the trunk to retrieve the pieces because that's because that's just how much I care about my job

and its valued customers that call just before clothes I took another glance at the dark house and rolled my eyes this was probably a prank call I was willing to bed a testicle that a bunch of assholes had picked a random address and sent me to it

they were probably all having a laugh right now I'm not trying to be over-emotional but that honestly hurt my feelings what a fucking waste of time I need a new job the pizzas were all in an insulated bag and I carried it lightly on my fingertips I'd waited tables for God knows how long before this,

and I'd developed a great set of four-arms and really strong fingers because of how often I'd hold heavy trays at plates. I balanced the bag without thought as I made my way around the car and up the driveway, towards the front porch. The sound of my shoes crunching over loose gravel and dead leaves was loud, and I felt isolated, a thousand miles from nowhere. There was no wind. The woods around me were quiet, and the only light other than the moonlight was the glow of my headlights.

I don't know why I looked up at the second floor as I walked across the yard. I was lost in thought, noting that the grass was long and in need of a trim. It was just a quick glance up that led to an attempt at looking forward again. I looked up again in a flash. I thought I'd seen the silhouette of a man in one of the upstairs windows But I marked it off as being a trick of the light I don't know if I want to meet the owners of a place this far out in the boonies The thought gave me goosebumps that I tried to ignore

I mounted the porch steps and walked across it Thudding and creaking across the floorboards I noticed there was no doorbell, and the curtains were drawn. I didn't give it a second thought as I knocked on the door in the tune of the theme from Star Wars. My roots at work had taken me to some really shitty places. This house looked fine, a little unkempt, but far from gentrified. I stepped back from the door a little bit, and waited for someone to answer, but 30 seconds went by, and then a minute.

I knocked again, this time just three booming knuckle wraps that were loud and clear. Oh, fuck. I muttered, as I realized that no one really was home after all. What a fucking waste of time. I turned around to get back to the car and gave the house a fleeting glance down the steps.

I stopped when I saw a little bit of the car. when I saw one of the curtains on the first floor fall back into place, as if someone had been standing there. Hey, I called. Hey, dude, I've got a bunch of pizzas for you. I walked up the steps again. I was miffed, surprised, and confused all at once, because I was sure the house had been empty.

Why the hell were all the lights off? That was the big one, the question I really really. wanted to know. I wondered if it was a surprise party, but shook it off. If Robert or Stan or whatever his name was didn't answer the door this time, I was going to drive my ass home and throw each of those damn pizzas out the window along the way. I knocked on the front door again. Come on, man, I said under my breath. I then said loudly, Pizza guy. Then quietly. fucking waiting for you.

I gave it a full minute and turned around to leave, but as I did, the sound of footsteps inside the house made me stop. I turned around again and was about to knock when I heard someone say, Hey, sorry. It was a man's voice, low and pleasant, like a radio talk show host.

But it scared the hell out of me anyway. I wondered why he was talking to me through the door instead of just opening it. That's totally fine, I replied uncertainly. You, Richie? There was the slightest pause before he said, It's Robert. The tone in his voice, as he emphasized his name,

was a little weird, like he forgot it. I didn't think too much of it mostly because he'd already scared the hell out of me, but because customers I served were always strange, and sometimes like to use fake names when ordering a pizza, like Dale Gribble on the King of the Hill. I don't know why,

and I don't question why people are the way they are. You ordered the six large cheeses? I felt ridiculous, talking to this guy through the door, and a little uncertain. I was ready to run at any moment, in case things went south with the guy behind the door. Sirens weren't going off inside. The guy instantly struck a weird cord with me,

but not a threatening one. Yes, I did. Look, I know this is a weird question, but could you come around to the back door and meet me on the patio? I didn't answer right away. And maybe that's why he added? This door is all fucked up. I was waiting for you in the kitchen.

I thought I mentioned that on the phone. all I could really say was oh yeah okay had he told me that I didn't think so but I couldn't remember I'd been pissed about how late it wasn't everything but the order itself had vacated my mind I was a little unsettled

by how quickly he'd added that the door was busted now this is usually where most people would say I'd get the fuck out of there And I probably would have Until I realised that Paul would probably charge me The full fare for those lost pizzas I didn't feel like paying for them

So I walked down the steps again I started heading for the backyard Once again I heard the loud crunching of gravel Beneath my feet As I balanced the pizzas on my fingers The crescent moon above me Was my only

source of light, and it was no surprise that I nearly tripped over a rock the size of a softball that was hidden in the dark. I stumbled and almost fell, carefully writing the pizzas in my left hand. I heard something crunched behind me. A world around, and as I did, I caught glimpse of somebody peering at me from around the corner of the house. He must have seen me notice him, because he quickly withdrew and disappeared from sight. I started backing up, keeping my eyes on that spot. I had an unsettling fault. There had been someone behind me,

walking in step with me to avoid detection, until I tripped and threw him off. I was still walking backwards, but I was on the verge of walking forward and getting the hell out of dodge when I realized just how scared I was. I didn't want to go back the way I came, back to where I'd seen the figure. I couldn't help you think he was waiting right around the corner

and ready to grab me as I passed by. But heading to the back door seemed like an equally bad idea. I wished I'd never gone out of the car. I hadn't stopped moving and waltzed right into the backyard. As I passed through the gate, a set of motion-activated lights mounted above the back door turned on. I dropped the pieces in shock when the bright halogen lights washed over me and illuminated most of the backyard. I turned around wildly, expecting to see somebody standing behind me.

To my surprise, though, I didn't see anything but a fenced-in backyard that was flush against the woods. The grass was ankle-high and laced with various weeds, but I didn't pay much attention to it. The yard was huge, and the guy probably didn't have time to mow it. I was collecting the pizzas from the ground when I heard someone say, Hey, buddy. I turned around quickly and faced a middle-aged man. He was standing on the back porch with both of his hands held open at waist level, in an unintimidating gesture.

He looked around a little wildly and gave me a nervous smile as I jumped to my feet. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, he said, smiling sheepishly. Oh, it's just a heart attack, I told him, shifting the pieces around so they were evenly stacked. I'm really sorry if it's super creepy here right now. He said,

in a tone that made me feel totally embarrassed. I literally just lost power a few minutes ago. I don't know if he blew a fuse or if the generator blew or I don't even know. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. And to top it off, some asshole tried to rob my place the other night and fucking bust at the front door. He shook his head again and lowered his hands back to his sides. I'm sorry, he said.

It's been a really shitty night, you know. Yeah, I said, nodding. I felt really stupid. A man in front of me looked normal. He talked clearly and again, pleasantly. He was even wearing a light blue shirt, khakis and some kind of sweater tied around his neck. He looked like a rich snob the way he was dressed, to be honest.

Hell, his hair was even combed over, dushback style. And he struck me as the kind of guy who had never worked anywhere near fast food. Usually this meant a lack of courtesy towards people like me, calling it such a late hour and such. I wasn't quite at ease, but I never am on deliveries. People are capable of dark, dark things. A lot of the time we do those things for money. I maybe had 60 bucks on me. But people have been slashed to ribbons for much less.

Hmm. People have been killed for no reason at all. I know the feeling, I said as I squat it down to pick up the pizzas. I'm sorry, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand, then gestured his thumb at the motion light. This light would get me on an episode of Fear Like Neighbour, if I had neighbours. It scares the shit out of me every time a deer walks through the yard. I got the fence, but they don't care.

I slowly approached the man, who slowly approached me. It's like we were afraid of each other, or maybe just embarrassed of ourselves. He was actually holding the cash in his hand when I unzipped the bag and handed him the pizzas. He handed me two bills, both hundreds. Oh man, I don't have that much change. change on me? No, no. Robert said, shaking his head and taking the pieces. That's your tip for coming way the hell out of here so late. I know you guys were about to close. For a hundred and something dollars tip I said, it's fine, man, really. All I was going to do was go home and watch TV until I fell

asleep. It was the truth, but I tried my best to make it sound like it was something I didn't want to do. The tip threw me way the hell off. I'd been expecting anywhere between $1 and $20. This guy was loaded. Well, I appreciate it anyway, the guy said. Thanks, he'd been maintaining eye contact with me the whole time in a non-threatening way. More like a salesman than anything. He suddenly broke it and stared past me.

the woods beyond the backyard. There was a man standing on our side of the fence, barely visible in the darkness. I don't know why I whispered, oh shit. But Robert looked at me, concerned, and then back at the woods. Did he talk to you?

He demanded angrily. Son of a bitch has been scaring the shit out of us. The man in the woods nimbly hopped over the fence and proceeded our way in a slow and steady gate. Robert shouted, hey, in an angry tone and leapt off the porch. His shoulder-checked me as he ran past towards the fence. I told you to get the hell off my property. I stuffed the money in my pocket and started to follow him for whatever reason. He was walking fast, intent on getting to the man, judging by the pace.

He was halfway across the yard when the gunshot rang out. He stopped in his tracks and did a 180, sprinting back towards the house with his hands over his head. Get inside! Get inside! he shouted, waving wildly at me. Everything happened. fast. I was still wondering who the hell the guy in the backyard was when the gun fired. Robert grabbed me by the collar as he ran up the stairs, dragging me up and into the house with him. He slammed the door behind us and fiercely whispered,

Get down, before locking it. He forced me into a squatting position, and we crab crawled our way across a dark kitchen. He led me to a door and opened it. It was a black rectangle, absolutely dark. I was thinking that it led to a basement or something when Robert ushered me over the threshold and on to the top step. I stumbled over my own feet and nearly lost my balance, seizing a hold on the banisters to stop me from falling down the stairs. I looked back and saw that Robert was now standing up straight. We locked eyes for a bar.

brief moment. His face was expressionless as he brought his leg back and kicked me in the abdomen, hard enough to send me flying back into the blackness behind me. I didn't even have time to react, let alone time to scream. There was a moment when I sailed weightlessly in mid-air before I crashed against the angles of the wooden steps on my back. I heard wood splinter and in an order. And in an awful flare-up of pain. I felt something in my upper back crunch wetly behind my skin. I bumped down the last eight or nine steps in a violent series of somersaults, coming to an abrupt stop as I crashed shoulder first against the stone wall at the bottom of the stairs, landing on my chest. I opened my eyes and took a shuddering breath in. I'd landed on a dirt floor,

and a plume of dust had shut up when I'd crash-landed. It flooded my nostrils on my throat, and I immediately started coughing, which hurt my entire body. When I stopped coughing, I cautiously wiggled my toes and made sure I wasn't paralyzed from the violent fall. The first thing I saw was a stone-carved table

that could have only been an altar. There were dozens of unlit red candles on it, and around it. The table was spotted with blood. I was still trying to process everything that had just happened to me. It had been less than a minute since I'd walked into the backyard. I understood that I'd been tricked and ambushed. I was trying to piece together what the table was for and why there was blood on it.

I thought I knew, but wouldn't let the thought, form in my head. I heard some footsteps shuffling around upstairs as I slowly got to my feet. I was numb as I stood up straight, wondering why the coffin had hurt so badly. I heard joints crack and pop, but barely felt them as I began to look around the dirt room, drawn in and held wrap by the altar in the middle. I wouldn't allow myself to think about what the altar was for. I tore my gaze away and looked at the floor for a few moments, before I felt the muscles in my jaw give away, before it dropped open at the sight of hundreds and hundreds of footprints on the floor. Almost all of them were very small. Children's footprints.

I led out a shuddering gasp, and that was when I saw that Robert had made his way down the stairs and was standing in the spot where I had landed. It doesn't hurt, he said, grimacing apologetically, as he revealed the carving knife in his hand. I really wish there was another way. One that wasn't so messy. But what can you do right? I couldn't say anything. I wish I could say I was forming some genius plan, but I was drawing a blank. I'd broken something when I fell because breathing hurt pretty bad and standing up straight was worse.

Seeing the knife scared me to a point that I not only began a series of high-pitched moans, I also pissed myself. A stream of hot piss ran down my thighs and puddled around my chucks. I held out both hands, my eyes darting right and left as they desperately searched for an escape route. I was fucked. Robert was maybe six feet away and slowly closing in. There was the chance of me running to the right or left and trying to get around him, but I didn't think I would be fast enough. I smoked too much for starters,

and the fall down the stairs took care of the rest. I didn't want to die. I didn't have much to live for, not really. but that didn't mean my life was worthless. I thought I was a pretty nice guy. I got pissed every so often, but who didn't? I wasn't really hero material, but I wasn't at the villain end of the spectrum either.

I helped people when I could. I didn't bother returning clothes I just bought and decided they weren't for me. I donated them to goodwill because someone less fortunate could enjoy them. I held the door open for people and said, may I please and thank you. Robert stopped three or four feet away.

He smiled at me and it was genuine because I saw it touch his eyes. A smile had never made my blood run that cold. It doesn't heard Ben, he said, in a reassuring tone, even going so far as to raise his free hand in another non-threatening gesture. Trust me, this. This whole thing is beyond your understanding and mine. The magnitude, it's... You'll never understand.

And neither will I. All I can say is that you're donating your life to a beautiful thing, Ben. So just lay still and close those baby blue eyes of yours. I don't know why, but I started to get pissed right then. The fear was still there, but it was different somehow in a way I can't really describe. I hadn't done a fucking thing. All I'd done was go to work. Go to hell!

I hissed and spat at him as hard as my lungs would allow. Bloody saliva hit his face and ran down his cheeks. It ran over his lips and he slowly licked it away. For no reason, the altar caught my eye again, mostly the sharp corners. He started walking again, and I shifted left along the wall until I was near the corner. Robert's body tensed, and he lashed out with his free hand to grab me. He seized the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer, as he brought the knife down, aiming for my chest. I grabbed him by the forearm and shoulder charged him at the same time.

We stumbled backwards together until Robert's lower back roughly bumped into the corner of the stone altar. Fuck! He screamed, craning his head back. I heard the knife clatter on the altar, and Robert grabbed the sides of my head, his thumb searching for my eyes and tearing the skin just above my eyebrow. I went back with his momentum and then decided to go forward again, shoving him into the corner of the altar once more. He led out a pained scream as the stone corner dug into his tailbone this time. He lurched forward, reaching behind him to feel his back.

I charged him then. I don't know where the strength came from, but I don't really want to know. Never question a good thing. I sure as hell don't anymore. His back collided with the altar, and again he let out another pain shout, before he unexpectedly stepped forward and brought his knee into my chest.

I don't think I'll ever feel pain like that again. I saw stars, and screamed so loudly I saw red and black spots glittering in front of the stars. I was holding my chest in the abdomen with both hands, barely able to breathe when I saw Robert closing in on me taking long and purposeful strides I didn't think as I lowered my head and charged him with a headbut

with the last bit of strength I had the top of my head slammed into his abdomen I heard the wind rush out of his lungs and he flew back from the impact There was a low series of scrapes as his shoes lost their grip on the dirt floor. He lost his balance and fell back, shooting both arms out to steady himself, but failing. He met the corner of the stone altar with a wet crack, and a large spray of blood hit me in the face from a few feet away. I cried out and frantically started wiping my eyes with my forearm.

My vision cleared and I saw Robert, leaning up against the side of the altar. A hairy smear of blood led from the sharp corner to where his head was now. His eyes were bugging out and his mouth was hanging open. There was a growing pool of blood around him. Was he dead? He had to be. His head had just gotten split open like an egg. I quickly stepped past him, making my way for the stairs.

You're gonna fucking die down here. Robert crooned wetly in a sing-song voice, unseen from the other side of the altar. I heard more scraping and knew that he was starting to get to his feet. I saw one of his bloody hands reach up and grip the edge of the altar. I didn't stick around to see anything else. I gripped the railing with both hands and hauled myself up the stairs as best I could, trying to look in every direction at once. I could hear Robert shuffling around behind me, chuckling and panting wetly.

I reached the top of the stairs and looked around in a moonlit kitchen before hauling ass to the back door. The kitchen was empty, save a half-full bottle of cabinet on the can. counter with five empty wine glasses around it. A brief glimpse into the living room told me that nobody lived here, but it was the countless amounts of spider webs in the corners of the ceiling that told me that nobody had lived here for a long, long time. I heard Robert clunk on one of the stairs, calling my name. I reached for the knob on the back door and...

And... Boom! The window on the door shattered into a hundred pieces, as a bullet tore through them. I whirled around and saw a man standing in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, hoarding a hunting rifle in his hands. I was almost sure that it was the same man from the backyard. He jacked another round in and levelled it at my chest. I held both hands out, screaming.

wait, wait, no, wait, please, God, no! The man's eyes locked with mine, before he abruptly dropped his rifle and gasped inward one time, before he exploded. I stared at the spot where he'd been standing two seconds ago, and at the rifle on the ground. I was half thinking that he'd been wearing some type of bomb,

but there'd been no sound. except the briefest sound of pulverizing bone and ripping flesh. There was blood everywhere now, covering the walls and my body. I was still standing, frozen in place, with one hand on the doorknob. When Robert appeared in the basement doorway, one of his eyes was crooked, looking in every direction, while one was locked on me and full. of anger. He stayed silent as he started to walk towards me, and I don't think he would have known anything was wrong if he hadn't tripped over the dropped rifle. He stumbled briefly and looked down,

revealing the gaping hole in the back of his head. I could see his brain in the glimmer of the moonlight, silver-gray and pulsating. He righted himself and looked down at the rifle for a moment. What? Where did he... Robert spotted and then looked back at me. You. He trailed off and stared at me intently. Or at least I thought he was looking at me. He was looking past me,

almost the same as he'd looked past me a few minutes ago. I jerkily turned my head and saw what he was looking at. There were three yellow jackets on the door behind me, lazily crawling on the wood. I was prepared to move away when they flickered their wings and took off into the air. They flew into the darkness and were gone. Oh, no, Robert whispered, covering his face with both hands. Oh, no. What is that?

I asked quietly as the floor began to vibrate slightly. I was no longer afraid of Robert or whoever else was with him. The look of terror on his face told me that I should probably be afraid of whatever he was afraid of too. Why couldn't you just go to sleep? Robert whimpered and then both of his eyes exploded. Blood splattered on my chest and I turned the knob, pulling the door open. as all hell broke loose at 1388 Alpine Drive. Hornets flew out of Robert's bloody eye sockets,

and he screamed shrilly, reaching up to cap them off. The drain in the kitchen sink made a loud growl before sending out an endless surge of shit. I'm sure it was shit, that splattered against the ceiling hard enough to make a hole. The oven exploded in the fireball, And I saw four figures, all the size of children, and all burning like wildfire, emerge.

I heard the sound of children crying, but also the sound of them laughing, too. Robert turned in their direction, still screaming and trying to cover his eyes. He held out one hand in the children's direction. One of them reached out and took it, burning. his fingers off of his hand with an audible sizzle. I was still gripping the doorknob tightly, but I looked down when I crushed it in my hand. I was now holding an eye the size of a tennis ball in my right hand. It oozed blood and yellow fluid between my fingers.

I cried out and threw it into the kitchen as the walls began to split. shapes, wrapped in newspaper and bed sheets, emerged from the walls, most of them missing arms or heads. They briefly paused to look at me, or at least turned in my direction. I stared right back. They all moaned in unison before turning around and advancing on Robert as well. I heard a series of cracks and looked in the hallway towards the living room. and saw something bulging beneath the floor, tearing it up as it made its way into the kitchen, sending shards of wood into the air.

It was growling. He was screaming my name as it approached him. The floorboard swelled, splintered, and an unearthly black mass began to emerge. I couldn't take any more, and the fear broke. I threw myself onto the back porch, pulling the door close behind me with a loud slam. I stumbled into the railing, and Robert's screams stopped, but the growling continued. Lights out, Bobby. I whispered as I felt my way along the railing and vaulted down the stairs.

I could hear whines and moans now, amidst growls and snarls. I ran along the side of the house as fast as I could. There was no pain. My only thought now was my own fucking survival. Car was ten yards away, when the windows I ran past began to shatter outward like small bombs were going off inside. I cried out with each one and covered my head, never taking my eyes off of the car. The growling grew louder and louder, overlapped with weeps and moans and shrieks of damnation. Ben, stay with me. Ben, it's okay. Don't be afraid, Ben. Your father's with us, Ben. It doesn't hurt, Ben. I slammed into the side of the Honda with a cry of pain and patted my pockets from my keys. They weren't there. I madly felt myself up and down to

find them, trying to keep my eyes on the house. The window panes began to light up deep red, and a low-frequency humming seemed ever present in my ears. That was when I realized I'd never killed the engine, that I'd left the damn car running the whole time, because I thought it'd only be a minute or two. Fucking shit, I cried incoherently, albeit joyously, as I pulled the door open and dove inside, smacking the lock button down hard enough to crack the plastic. I didn't bother with the seatbelt. I mashed the brake and reached for the gear shift.

A man's body landed on the hood of the car, his face cracking the windshield, with a spray of blood. He gripped the hood, trying to pull himself forward. The top of his head was gone, and there was no brain inside, just blackness. He looked up at me and I saw that his teeth were missing, ripped out of his bleeding gums. Help me, please, he groaned, and something pulled him off of the hood with such force that he lost four fingers. I know because I found them later on, just beneath my windshield wipers. My passenger side window shattered. I covered my face with my arms, peering through the crack between them to see that the house was burning yellow and white. I could hear screaming and laughing, the sound of children crying. A growing roar was coming.

from somewhere. I didn't care. I punched the accelerator and the tires spun wildly against the gravel for a moment before getting traction. The car launched forward and I fought like hell to keep driving in a straight line. I only glanced back once to make sure it wasn't being followed and saw that the house was gone. There were a few floating embers. like fireflies, over the spot where the house had been, that disappeared as soon as I noticed them. I didn't slow down. I don't think I even checked the rear view after that because I didn't want to see anymore. I couldn't take it. I drove myself to the hospital and parked in a no parking zone just outside of the entrance. Through the plague-glass doors, I could see people, doctors and nurses,

and patients and janitors, and was never so happy to see them in my life. I killed the engine and stepped out of the car, only to have my legs give out underneath me. I collapsed to the ground painfully, but I couldn't make a sound. I didn't have the strength anymore. I opened my mouth to call for help, but nothing was happening. I was at a hospital, mind you, and I knew that somebody would eventually come out to help me. The key word there was eventually. It could have been minutes or hours.

I didn't know how much more my body was going to take, how much more blood I could lose. All these thoughts race through my mind as I lay on the ground, trying to scream and trying to get back up. I stopped moving entirely when I heard the click of my car's lock disengaging. The back door on the driver's side slowly opened up, and a leg clad in black dress pants and a shiny black dress shoe carefully stepped onto the pavement. Another followed. A man stepped out of the Honda. He was dressed in black, but there was something about him that was almost comforting. His presence was welcomed.

I never saw his face He closed my back door And stood over me for a few seconds Thanks for the lift kid He said pleasantly And stepped around me Out of sight I dimly heard him say

I think this gentleman needs some help He walked back towards me And then passed me in the opposite direction from this angle I could see him I watched him walk away into the shadows and the streetlights up the street I could hear him humming faintly melodically

I'd never heard that melody before and I haven't heard it again since I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and the way the accompanying voices sounded they belong to medical staff the man stopped halfway down the block down the block, pausing beneath a broken street light and looking up at the sky. A white-clad leg stepped in front of me for a split second, and the man was gone when next I looked.

His empty clothes hovered in the air for a moment, as if somebody was still inside of them, before collapsing silently into the sidewalk. A black mist floated up towards the sky, engulfing the dead street-lighting the dead street-lighting light for a moment before dissipating entirely. The light flickered a few times and then began to burn brightly. That was the last thing I saw before I passed out. Five broken ribs, a punctured lung, a cerebral and a cardiac contusion, and a fractured skull. Somehow I survived. People have made it out of situations with much worse, though. I've since quit Peter Peter. I haven't exactly gotten my life together as of yet, but I can say that I've been a whole lot happier since the night I was

almost killed. The police checked out the house on Alpine Drive, which was nothing more than a foundation that had been abandoned for three decades. One of the canine dogs started pouring at the dirt and uncovered part of a child's skull. An excavation of the site uncovered four children that had been missing for years. In addition to nine other missing people, they'd all disappeared under extremely bizarre circumstances. Some had been beaten to death, others stabbed, others unknown. The children had been burned alive, and the rest had been crudely mummified with newspapers. illness glue. I've had a lot of phone calls from family members of the deceased, thanking me for finally giving them closure. I don't know where they get the idea that I was the one

they should be thanking, but I was glad they could find the answers they were looking for, even though they only really got half an answer. I doubt I'll ever find the answers I'm looking for. And really, one question weighs on my mind, day in and day out. What the hell were those guys messing around with? And why did it hit your ride in my backseat? Think about your health for a second. Are your eyes the first thing that come to mind? Probably not.

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Visit specksavers.cavers.cai to learn more. I never in my lifetime believed that I would get a second job working in food service. Well, times were tough for my wife and I. My credit was ruined, and our finances were plagued with a medley of last-minute calls and emails must have postponed inevitable, a disconnection of some form. In my mid-forties at the time, I decided to get a second job delivering pizzas for a major local chain. It was a minimum wage job, plus any tips that I may acquire on any given night.

I had a reliable truck that was practically a second home for me. I can live in this truck. I used to proudly exclaim. It was the mobile tool shed, as I used to call it. It was complete with tools, first aid equipment, lights, power converters and a nice sized truck box to hold everything. I'd even drill a hole in the floor right below the driver's seat that had a hose and an attached retractable funnel.

The hose let outside under the truck. On long trips I'd use the funnel to urinate. I never had to make a pit stop anywhere. The sturdy solid V8 was perfect for any of the I'd put it through. It was a gas guzzler, however. I used to say that one could hear an audible glug as it greedily consumed gasoline whenever I hit the acceleration pedal. Well, enough about me in my background. Now, on to my story. I do not figure you'll believe my tale, but I assure you it's true and forever etched in my mind day and night. Aside from a healthy

fear of heights. I'm a man of few fears. I don't believe in ghosts, nor the unexplained supernatural, until about three weeks ago. Even the loss of my first wife and my best friend in the same year forced me to question the very purpose of my existence. No supernatural words from beyond the grave had ever graced me though. I was simply the most staunched skeptic I know. Spirits and ghosts of the weak-minded and paranoid fanatics to experience not me. I'm not a proud or arrogant man, just a skeptic. I also have no irrational fears. Having vivid nightmares as a child had hardened my resolve and purged most irrational fears from my brain.

So, my story starts on a typical Saturday night at the pizza place. having just left my full-time job with a major home supply warehouse. I often dislike my full-time job, but the benefits that it supplied my wife and I kept me a loyal and unhappy employee. The pizza place was a relaxing and easy job. I got along well with almost everyone. I even listened to my favorite creepy past generator while on my runs.

Again, it was a great part-time job. My fellow drivers and I would often talk about how we were stiffed on a run. We would converse about the strange and funny characters we would encounter. We would also compare our tips that we received as well. Now, this here story that I've shared left the other drivers in a confused, almost comical state of disbelief. But this is not a comical story that I had made up for the amusement of others. This is a story that changed my entire belief system,

in the unexplained mysteries of the supernatural. On this typical Saturday night, all of us drivers were trying to get the kitchen cleaned up before that last-minute rush. You see, customers can place online orders as late as 11.59 p.m. when the store closes at 12 midnight. This used to piss us off, because it would delay us up to one or two hours when trying to get out of there at night.

Well, this was one. one of those nights and my turn was up. I pulled the ticket and scanned over the order to ensure that every item and detail for the order was correct. As I looked at the ticket, I was immediately puzzled by what I'd seen. Weird names, addresses and numbers were, apart for the course, but this had me both confused and in awe at the same time. The order called for one place. The order called for one plain pan pizza with no toppings at all. Now, when I say this I mean nothing. No sauce, cheese, meat, veggies, just one cooked bare pizza dough.

That wasn't the bizarre part of the order. The instructions stated that the toppings will be applied to the pizza upon delivery and arrival. George, my supervisor, and I figured this to be some form of prank. It wasn't uncommon for pranks to occur in these situations. So I called the number on the ticket, and the man on the other line was serious and ensured that this was not a prank, and that a nice tip would be in it for me if the delivery was conducted properly. The voice on the line was that of a terse, middle-aged Hispanic man, who I found vaguely familiar. I told my supervisor, George,

that I would go ahead and take the run anyway. I thought again, from my first of my moment about the voice I just listened to. I still could not trace in my memory of whom it belonged to. I did, however, know it from somewhere. I then proceeded to pack the bare plain pizza up in the red canvas-insulated pizza bag that delivery drivers used to transport food items in. The man on the phone said to go to the drive through archway at the intersection of Park Street and Anders Road. We deliver pizzas in this area all the time. and I knew there was no archway of any kind out there. Well, or so I thought.

At this point, I began to feel a sensation of creeping unease, much like the sensation of swallowing a snow cone hole. I had a bad feeling about this whole thing. I then chided myself for my unease and paranoia. Besides, I told George, I'm very curious about this person, who it is and what kind of tithe. tips in it for me. Well, good luck, George said apprehensively. Call myself if you need anything.

We'll do, I said, as I left for the door, order in hand. Park Street was lined with tall oaks and various dense shrubs and undergrowth. Ander's road was a right turn intersection only that began at a stop sign. Go through the archway, the voice spoke to me and my thoughts. I was certain there was no archway there at all, because I'd been on this route numerous times and had never noticed an archway of any kind before. I pressed on along Park Street in my truck, playing the voice over and over in my head. Where have I heard that voice? I kept repeating to myself. As I began to approach the intersection that was stated in the instructions, I began to notice something faintly ahead. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head in disbelief at what I was seen.

the faint image of a drive-through gate began to appear. When I say it began to appear, what I really meant is that it was materializing like the tiny flecks of gold as they appear in a treasure hunter's pan while sifting sand in a creek. The closer I drove in the direction of the archway gate, the more of it would materialize. I abruptly stopped the truck, put on my hazard lights, and then look back to see if anyone was behind me, There was no one at all. I began to drive in reverse while keeping my eyes on the archway straight ahead. As I drove in reverse, the image began to slowly disappear. I got to see this, I said out loud, as I proceeded forward again.

When I reached the arch, it was fully materialized at this point. There was a gate that was slowly swinging open, revealing a dirt pathway that lay ahead. My headlights shone down the dirt road at a security guard directly in front of me. He held out his hand as if motioning me to stop. I did. How's it going tonight? How long... I began as the guard abruptly cut me off.

Driver's license, please. He barked. I knew he was no cop, but I handed him my license. He looked it over and handed it back to me. What's worth the attitude, dude? I retorted. He said nothing in response to my question. It's the last house on the left. Straight ahead, he instructed.

Oh, thanks. Remember to look up what a sense of humor is. I yelled out the window as I started to drive onward. I was exhausted and in no mood to put up with any shitty attitudes at this point, especially from some stupid security guard. I looked at my rearview mirror in front. frustration, but the guard and his shack were gone. I stopped the truck and got out to get a better look behind me. He and his shack were gone. I was feeling a bit freaked out at this point.

Hello? I yelled back. No response. An odd hissing sound was beginning to come from the trees and the bushes to my left. It sounded like. whispers growing louder and louder. I decided to get my ass back in the truck. I didn't want to know what was causing this strange whispering around me. God, where the hell was I? I proceeded cautiously in what turned out to be about three minutes or so, until I saw a sign that said Fourth Street. There was an odd assortment of homes to my left, A mansion of a home with two nine-foot-tall gargoyle statues was the first one I saw. Then a trailer home decorated with animal skulls and obscure tribal decorations at the patio. Then a modest one-story home painted yellow with a chain-link fence.

Then another run-down trailer home, as well as a two-story home with two large pillars at the entrance. Then the house I needed to reach came before me when I saw a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of a little. the house. Goosepumps immediately went down my spine. It flooded me with disbelief and bone-crushing hatred. I felt like I was going to faint. The small two-bedroom home was just as I remembered it. My late wife's parents, Joe and Anita's home. The voice on the phone was that of my former father-in-law. I hated them for how they treated me. and how they disrespected my marriage to their daughter Melissa. Missy is what we call her.

Missy passed away three months after we wed due to an ingressive, insidious heart condition. She was taken by her parents from the hospital a day before she passed away. She was not at my side when she passed on. I was forever resentful of them because of this. The town that this house belonged to, was over 200 miles away. And I'd just driven up to it in a matter of minutes.

I was utterly baffled at this and began to question my own sanity. The homes that resided on this street were out of place and seemingly did not belong together either, as it looked like they've been here for years. An exciting curiosity began to arise within me. I'm about to be a part of something that makes No rational sense, I thought to myself. I checked my phone and there was no servers at all, no bars.

The reception of my smartphone was always crystal clear in this part of town. The temperature was very cool as the thermometer on my truck read 54 degrees Fahrenheit. But it was September in South Texas and my phone weather report said 88 degrees Fahrenheit. I had apparently crossed through some sort. of portal or dimension. I put the truck in park and stepped out and onto the dirt driveway. No birds or insect sounds were evident whatsoever. I stood there and stared at the house that had both haunted and angered me for over two decades. I needed closure and I needed it in a bad way. With pizza bag in hand, I walked silently to the door. My heart was pounding.

in my chest like a bass drum and my ears were ringing so loudly I could barely hear my own voice. I carried a machete at my side in its sheath. I spent an hour or so sharpening it to a degree of almost that of a straight razor. It gave me a slight comfort in the event anything turned, well, dangerous, I suppose. I also owned a nine-millimeter pistol, but didn't have a permit to carry it in a concealed manner. The machete would have to do, I suppose. I then took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I waited in apprehension of what seemed like five minutes or so.

Then the knob turned and the door opened. What I saw stunned me because it defied all logic and reason. There they were. Standing side by side, it was Joe and Anita. but something was definitely off. It took a second or two to realize what was giving me this feeling. They looked like they were in their mid-50s, just as I remember them, 22 years ago. The last time I saw them, it was the year 1995.

Surely they should be in their 70s at this point, or possibly even passed on. But they look just like... I remember them. I regained my composure. I have your order here. That'll be $19.35. I must have sounded so stupid when I said this. I wonder if they recognised me,

due to the fact that I'd grown two inches and gained about £60 over the past 22 years. The answer to that question was promptly answered when Joe spoke. Vince, you look good. I'd grown and filled out nice. nicely since 1995. You look taller, and it looks like you gained weight too. You remember me?

I questioned, with a tone of ambivalence. Of course, Anita said in that shrill tone that I always utterly despised. How did you... Did you ask for me specifically? I stammered. We have our ways, Anita replied. What do you... mean ways? What kind of ways? I asked, with visible frustration in my voice.

Never mind that, no. Anita snapped. I remember how she was always so annoying when she acted like this. How did you find me? And why? I asked in a slightly angered state. It will be explained to you when we begin the ceremony. Come in and meet our leader and savior. Joe said cheerfully. I gulped nervously. Some kind of cult leader, I figured. They were always so obsessed with the charlatan healers of televangelism of the 90s and early 2000s. The deep resentment I felt for Joe and Anita was changing to a form of confused dread.

Something inside of me, called it intuition, told me to go with them inside, and not to resist me. After all, here I was in an unknown place, where some sort of portal exists. I decided to be cooperative and go with them, inside with a pizza bag in hand. Kathy will take the pizza from you so she can prepare the topping for it,

Joe instructed. A mid-laced Caucasian woman smiled at me and took the bare pizza to the kitchen. Topping? Just one topping for the pizza, I asked. You'll know soon enough, honey, said a Jamaican woman from behind me. I'm Demetria, she said as she held out her hand. I shook it tentatively.

I'm Denise, said a heavyset lady with a warm smile to the left of me in the tiny living room. And Amy is in the kitchen preparing the pizza, Denise said. then there was a knock at the door and an elderly man with a boar cap on came inside hey there pete said demetria pete waved at everyone politely and cheerfully now we are just waiting on malcolm our leader said demetria i'm so excited for you guys chimed in these cheerfully while gesturing toward joe and anita it became apparent at that point, that they were to be the focal point of this ceremony, I thought. What's about to happen here? I can't be out on dispatch too long, I explained. Don't worry, huh? explained Demetria. You see, time stops in this place. I don't see, I said with visible apprehension and frustration.

What the hell is going on here? Take it easy. Malcolm will explain everything when he gets here. Pete calmly spoke, visibly trying to keep me at ease. At this point, an aroma of cooking meat began to fill the living room. He resembled the smell of seasoned pork or venison. It was making me surprisingly hungry as well. I looked again at my phone and it was still frozen. I was beginning to develop a cold sweat. and was fearing for my safety at this point. Everyone seemed nice and neighbourly enough, despite the feelings I'd displayed toward Joe and Anita,

who were obviously the focal point of this event. Then, in my peripheral vision, a tall man, adorned in a long, elaborate cape or gown, walked in. When I say tall man, I mean, he was about seven feet tall, like an NBA basketball player. The gown was of a beautiful, silky black design, with some of the most elaborate embroidery I'd ever seen. His hair was long and black, and tied in a ponytail that reached his waist. The man bore a striking resemblance to an enormous version of Jean Simmons from the rock root kiss.

The embroidery on the gown were those of an intricate form of hieroglyphics that I'd never seen before. On his head rested a headbound, encrusted with... What appeared to be rubies, emeralds and sapphires? Joe and Anita. His voice boomed over the cacophony of noisy conversations happening all around me. Joe and Anita went over to give the tall man her reverent hug. Ah, you must be Vince, he said to me, offering an outstretched hand that was the size of a tennis racket.

Um, yep, that's me, I said nervously, and shook his hand. He had the grip of an anaconda. Now, I like a firm handshake, but this was ridiculous. He was a truly massive mountain of a man. He was very plight and carried an authoritative poise that emanated from him like a lighthouse on a stormy sea. Let us all come to the living room. Malcolm's voice boomed in his powerful, deep way.

We will begin shortly, and you, my dear Vincent, will reside in the middle of the circle, instructed Malcolm. Joe Ananita will be inside the circle as well, facing Vince, he further instructed. Now, the circle that was prepared for this ritual was about ten feet in diameter and contained three triangles inverted inside of one another.

Inside of the smallest triangle and in the middle of the circle was a painted blue eye peering upward. Someone with a faithful, fair degree of artistic talent had painted this eye. It possessed a startling degree of realism that immediately caught my attention. Malcolm further instructed everyone to surround myself, Joe and Anita in a circle just outside the drawn one on the floor. Everyone was told to hold hands through most of the ritual. This was getting very creepy, and somehow I knew I was in this

for the long haul, whether I liked it or not. Pizza's ready, called Amy from the kitchen. Each person, including myself, was handed a paper plate with one slice of pizza on it. But why? I wondered as I quietly went along with everyone else. This was peer pressure on an entirely different level, I thought comically. The pizza had slices of what appeared to be in the shape of a pepperoni, but was clearly something else. It had a deep brown and burgundy look to it, and it was fried and looked crispy. It also smelled coppery and metallic, but not bad.

The following events that occurred can only be described as some kind of seance. And I was directly in the middle of it all. Malcolm directed me to stand with each foot on either side of the eye and was sternly told not to stand on the eye under any circumstances. I did as instructed and waited. I was in the dead centre of the circle and Joe and Anita were facing me inside the circle and Malcolm was to my left. Amy began to pour a line from a bag of pure sea salt

that surrounded the outside of the outer ring of the circle. Everyone gathered around the edge of the circle inside the salt ring. And this is when everything began to get seriously freaking crazy. Do not leave the salt circle until I say it is safe. Do you understand? Malcolm said to me, while preparing some other things under his gown. What? I began, until he gently put his hand over my mouth,

suddenly repeating loudly. Do you understand? As he repeated, staring directly into my eyes with his dark and almost black soul-numbering eyes, I said, fine, yes, fine, got you. I figured I was just going to keep my mouth shut from now on, wait to see what played out. Part of me was excited to be, well, part of something that was out of my realm of rational explanation. I might as well make the best of this. May I ask what the pizza slices for?

I politely inquired. And what do I personally have to do with this? You'll know soon enough, Dmitir replied, as everyone was seeming to avoid eye contact with me. Just follow any instructions Malcolm gives you, okay? Pete said. I said nothing, and just waited in nervous anticipation again. Malcolm began to chant loudly with his eyes closed.

He was chanting in some unknown language that resembled Latin mixed with some African tribal speak, or at least that's the best way I could describe it. Everyone's eyes were closed, except for mine. Something began to sound like that whispering I'd heard earlier while I was driving up here. The sensation of what I can best describe as an electric anxiety began to thrum in my feet, and then rose slowly up to my head. The feeling was like getting that unexpected high that you get from laughing gas at a dentist's office, but more electric in feel.

It was definitely energy, though. I heard a moist sound that sounded like someone with their hands inside a bowl of ground meat directly below me. The eye was looking around and searching the room, then finally resting its gaze on me looking down at it. "'Oh, no wonder he said don't step on the eye,' "'I said aloud for some reason. "'But no one appeared to hear me.' "'Malcolm continued with his chanting

"'as the room outside the salt ring "'began to fade into darkness. "'It appeared like we were in a cylinder of light, "'surrounded by complete dark. "'Forms and figures began to appear "'around the circle that surrounded us. "'Night-mare-ish beings. "'Creatures are, I don't know what the hell they were.

that they began to appear all around us. We are all being watched by these beings of all shapes and sizes like we were in some sort of fishbowl. I saw something that resembled an eagle with a snake-like head and reptilian cat's eyes flying around in and out of the light. Bipedal figures with a gaping hole for a mouth and no other discernible features

were walking and touching the circle. They were a pale beige color with red vein-like streaks coming from their gaping moors. A trunk of some unknown form rose from the sand outside the circle. It was roughly the size of a giant California redwood tree. It had a large, multi-jointed mouth, with ridges of shark-like teeth about three feet long. It looked like a demonic sea lamprey.

I was paralyzed with fear and awe at the same time. I remained perfectly still, and my head was looking all around. Smaller creatures are flying so fast and bouncing off of the boundary like some forms of exotic insects to a lamp on a hot, humid summer night. My scepticism at this point was dissolving like a sugar cube in a hot cup of coffee. Malcolm spoke loudly. Let le Pacto de Sangre begin. My Spanish was shitty, but I knew it meant some kind of blood ritual. Everyone began to eat their pizza, and I was directed to do so too.

The familiar taste of the buttery baked crust filled my palate. But there was also the salty iron taste of the topping. Well, I've had some blood sausage before, and figured that this was what that was resembling, only slightly better tasting, like a pork taste. The aftertaste reminded me of when I was a child and put a penny in my mouth, that metallic coppery taste. Malcolm procured a shallow saucer-shaped bowl, pruning shears, some olive oil with some of those same hieroglyphs on the bottle, and a book of matches. He had a second pouch with seven syringes of some form of medication. Before I could ask what everything was for, I felt a pinch as a needle entered my jugular.

I felt a rush of narcotic fluid in my system. Demerol, possibly, maybe morphine. I was guided to sit down on the floor and saw everyone else do the same. Malcolm, in one skilled, decisive motion, grasped my left hand, and then cut my pinky finger off with the shears. causing a slow spout of blood, like a slow, defective drinking founting flowing into the bowl with the severed finger. He touched the stump with an ornate amulet, and the wound was cauterized. The pain was dull and sudden, but distant and dreamlike.

I was in shock and disbelief, as I watched Malcolm repeat the process with each person in the room. blood spurs, cries of pain, and laughter began to fill the room. The blood splatter covered many of the faces in the room, as they were all drugged and sedated, but awake. Malcolm poured the sacred oil into the bowl of fingers and blood, lit a match and tossed it into the bowl. The flames lit immediately, and lasted for about three seconds, and then the bowl was empty.

El Pachto de Sangre is now complete, and the sacrifice has been granted, Malcolm shouted. At this point the eye began to emit a green mist. We welcome the beloved departed to come before us, he chanted. Slightly above the mist, a ghosty figure began to form right in front of my face. My jaw dropped, and I'd said something like, No, no way, in my days' state. It was Missy, my late wife. She looked like she was when she was in her best condition.

Her apparition said. She always said that to me. I began to feel tears fall from my eyes, as I said. Missy? She leaned forward and spoke into my ear and said that I was about to be sacrificed and killed, but I could escape as soon as the boundary began to disappear and the outside room started to reappear. And then she was gone in the blink of an eye.

Now Joe and Anita can see their lost daughter at any time, Malcolm said, as he looked up with his eyes closed. So this was what this was all about. I was spirit bait, I thought. The thought came to me in an instant. I'd had two spinal surgeries and, had a strong tolerance for narcotic and opiate chemicals. Everyone, including Joe and Anita, were in a drunken, dazed stupor.

When I was coming too, already regaining my bearings faster than everyone else. Malcolm was cleaning out the scene, as the room slowly began to fade very gradually back into sight. I pulled out my machete and thought to myself, Now's your chance. everything that occurred next happened all in the span of about five minutes but seemed like half an hour

I waited for Malcolm to turn his back to me and when he did he bent over to pick up something I kicked him right in the butt and sent him tumbling forward in an awkward thump and I bolted for it right then without looking back Dmitria's voice drunkenly rang out he's getting away he won't get far

Malcolm said and smiled deviously he laughed I began to run and stagger as well because I was still a bit medicated but the door was unlocked I made it to my truck without anyone pursuing me which both surprised me and

confused me at the same time I jumped in started the truck up and smiled I had never been so grateful to get back to familiar ground I flawed it. I saw the gate ahead, and then I saw two enormous figures running right at me. Oh shit, the gargoyles!

They moved with an unholy grace and were magnificent in appearance. Giant humanoid figures with three-toed, clawed feet, and hands the size of basketball hoops. Their heads look like the heads of a bat, with toweringly torrent, ears and enormous glowing red eyes and twelve-inch tusks jutting from their lower jaw. They were identical in appearance as well. They were side by side, about 20 feet apart in the clearing before the gate arch. I began to veer to the right, in hopes to fake both of them right. Only one of them fell for it. I passed one of them, and the other one I struck head on doing about 30 miles an hour. slightly to my left as it grabbed and tore off my rear view-side mirror and burst the driver's side window.

My nute shards of glass sprayed shrapnel and a left a dozen or so small shallow cuts to my left cheek. I could feel the rivulets of blood on my cheek from the impact. My truck began to slow and skid to the right, but was still going somewhat forward. I knew that if I was stopped, I was dead meat. Joe and Anita would get their sacrifice. I was not about to give them the satisfaction. The giant clawed hand groped and tore my shoulder, ripping it from the steering wheel.

I was able to get it back on the wheel, however. It had sprayed my blood all over the windshield inside in a cascade of red dots. I could feel the burning flesh wound bleed steadily, but not too alarmingly, thankfully. I could take pain. pretty well, better than the average Joe. I then grabbed the machete and with all the adrenaline-fueled strength my right hand could summon up, swung it at a 45-degree angle at the gargoyle's upper wrist.

It dug in about two inches. I heard a muffled roar at that point and felt the gargol release its grip. The truck regained straight motion again when I felt an immediate decrease in speed and my tires began to spin. I was now dragging two garcoils and was down to about eight miles an hour. I slammed the truck into reverse and floored it again, feeling the impact of one of the creatures as I saw it fall back. Again, I put it in drive and hit the gas and was now moving unhindered and shot through the archway with a roar. I stopped to look back and I somehow knew that I was safe at that point. One of the hands of one of the creatures breached the arch, and I saw it literally burn and disappear in a cloud of smoke. It roared and retracted immediately.

After that, I never looked back. The restaurant was a mere five minutes away from where I was. I arrived at my usual spot and looked down at my hand, surprised to see that my pinky finger was still there, my shirt and shoulder intact. I walked back into the restaurant and looked at my phone to notice that from when I left with the pizza until now, only 11 minutes had passed. Time stops here, I remember someone saying. I laughed out loud when I realized this, and George came over to me and said, How did it go?

Get a good tip? I was laughing and shaking my head and said, Long story, dude. Long story, you got back pretty quick. How long can it be? He laughed. And I said, well, let's just say, I was in some form of a time capsule, I explained. George asked again.

So, what happened? I asked him if he was a superstitious man. And he said, yes, I am. About four days went by, I'd shared my tale to a few of the drivers with comical disbelief as a response. Since then I've done countless hours of research about what happened to me and what kind of rituals these were. The pizza I ate was the ground-up prepared preserved remains of Missy's heart. The man that performed the bizarre cannibalistic ritual, Malcolm, was just an alias. His real name was Dr. Arturo,

a professor of forensic anthropology at a prestigious university. He was suspended and then released due to unorthodox practices of ancient blood sacrifices and rituals. He had a compound and a following of around 85 people, including those of my late wife's parents, Joe and Anita. As for how I was found and how the portal was created, those are still mysteries to me. I realised that hate is a strong concept that has influences beyond human comprehension, and I was almost the victim of this hatred on a level never thought possible before. I try to tell others that evil does exist, as well as spirits and supernatural realms that cannot be understood or properly explained.

At around the four-day mark, I received a package in the mail at my apartment. It was a small box about the size. for child's shoebox. It was wrapped in plain brown paper with no return address. Inside was five bundles of crisp hundred dollar bills in quantities of ten per bundle and a plain white note that said, your tip, and the faint scent of my late wife's favorite perfume called calyx arising to greet me. I smiled. Thank you, I said out loud. I never did speak about this to anyone again, that is, until today. Now it's off my chest, and it's time to move on.

After all, I have more pizzas to deliver, and this means, well, more bizarre and fascinating tales to come. Common legend among truck drivers is that of the Black Dog. If one is seen on the road, during a particular long trip, It has ominous implications. As pizza delivery drivers, we have a similar story that circulates around as well. There are days when we are running deliveries well into the night, sometimes as late as till 1 a.m. It's not uncommon to see deer, dogs, cats, raccoons and various other animals

cross the streets in front of you in the late hours of the night. Several drivers and I have reported seeing the mountain lion or the bobcat during very tiresome long late nights. The black rats, that's another phenomenon that I have experienced as well as the other drivers. This entails seeing black shadow-like figures that resemble rats running alongside of the vehicle in your peripheral vision. I have a story about a unique encounter during the wee hours of the night that happened to me on a particularly long and stressful night toward the end of a 14.

hour shift. It was insanity. Order after order kept coming up on the screen. Jeez, when are we going to catch a damn break? I said, rolling my eyes in frustration. These half-price internet orders are kicking our ass, I laughingly exclaimed. No shit, James said. He was one of the other drivers that I get along with pretty well. Oh, still on for some night fishing? I asked. Fuck yeah, he cheerfully replied. Hey, I'll bring a 12-pack this time, he said. You said that last time, Goop, I joked.

Well, sounds good to me, I replied, though. It was pretty exhausted when fatigue was creeping in insidiously. I was beginning to feel dizzy, and my eyelids were getting heavy. I was already running out of energy from my second wind a renewed burst of energy that I received after the initial wave of fatigue sets in. I was hanging on six hours of sleep in total within the last 48 hours. Well, I printed the ticket out for the order and it was for a familiar dark stretch of street that I delivered to many times before.

Contor Road was a curvy stretch of road wound to and fro in sharp hairpin turns. It was a heavily wooded pathway, with large boulders along the roadside scattered in random locations. This was a very attractive and scenic route during the daytime, but downright eerily spooky at night.

There were no street lamps at all, and the luxurious homes were scattered about far off of the main road. So I was driving along Contor Road. when I saw three deer canter out of the woods in front of me. Then I saw two more running behind them at a faster speed. Suddenly, out of the bushes, what appeared to be about nine or ten more deer began to sprint out into the street

as if being pursued by something. I braked to a near stop to see what was going on. My headlights saw a long and low black figure of some kind of animal that was carrying an entire deer in its jaws. I froze when I realized that whatever this thing was, was carrying a buck in its jaws that had to weigh over 130 pounds. Jeez, what the hell is that? I said aloud as I watched it carry the buck by the neck into the woods and then disappear.

I was the city zoo nearby, and I began to wonder if a big cat was loose. But, wow, this was no cat. It was long and low, no more than three feet off the ground. It was about eight feet long and appeared to have an enormous head and six legs, or at least I think it did. I carried a powerful handheld spotlight that I used to spot addresses in apartment buildings at night. I drove forward and saw a clearing. I directed my spotlight toward the clearing, and saw the dead deer.

It was already torn almost entirely in two. I could see the blood and entrails scattered about. Whatever had taken this deer had to be enormously powerful to tear up an animal this size in a matter of seconds. My heart thudded in my chest and my ears were ringing at this point. I pointed my light around the edges of the clearing,

not daring to get out of the truck. I'd obtained my concealed firearm license and had my loaded 9mm in my hand as well. Then, coming out of the clearing, was the creature I'd seen. My jaw dropped, and my entire body was absolutely petrified with fear. My firearm gave me a little comfort at this point. The appearance of the creature was only part of the horror that I'd stumbled upon. Now, as I'd stated before, this was definitely no escape lion or tiger from the city zoo. This was a creature that more likely resembled an alligator or crocodile in body,

but with six legs that were more like a giant centipede's jointed legs with claw-like hooks. The head was the most ghastly part of the creature, as if the body weren't dreadful enough. The head resembled a bizarre amalgamation of a griller cross with a wolf The eyes were enormous and bright white with compound multifaceted pupils His eyes were full of an intelligence that bore into my own eyes Like it was looking me over His gaze had a hypnotic effect on me And I felt as if I couldn't turn my eyes away from it

It had a tail that resembled a scorpion's tail, but flattened out and low slung. The colour of the creature was a beautifully terrifying, glossy black hue. And the teeth, the teeth were shark-like, and very long and thick, and surprisingly white in colour. I was frozen and yet captivated by the creature, and couldn't tear my gaze away from it. It finally turned round and grabbed something else from behind the clearing, but this was no dear. Holy! I blurted out, as I saw a human torso, well, part of one. The head was gone, and one of the arms and both of the legs were missing, seemingly torn off.

The tattered and torn remains of what appeared to be a jogging suit clung to the remains, which were covered with blood and gall. Bone and organs and skin were torn gruesomely all over and hanging from the remains. The creature was consuming its meal in tears that could be heard from 20 to 30 metres distance. It sounded like tearing wet fabric, truly nauseating.

I immediately called 911 and began to explain exactly what I was seeing. The man on the line said to stay put. Help was en route. I was also instructed not to leave my vehicle for any reason until help arrived. Roger that, I said with a bit of sarcasm. I wasn't going anywhere. Within a matter of five to seven minutes, there were two army Black Hawk helicopters cruising very low, and then three military personnel vehicles were on site within 15 minutes. I saw four men in what appeared to be full tactical gear surround the creature.

The creature began to turn its head and thrash about before one of the men hit it with what appeared to be a grenade launcher type of gun. It launched a large dart the size of a baseball bat to the side of the creature. Within 30 seconds it had gone still and was being manoeuvred onto a sling of some sort. I was escorted to one of the vehicles and was told to get in. Why do I need to get in with you guys? I asked confusing them. We'll explain when we get there, a woman in tactical gear said, as I was riding to a football field park area. One of the Blackhawks was waiting for us to arrive. I was helped into the chopper and sat in the rear.

Where are we heading to? asked, I need to check into work, to let them know. I began, but was caught off when the female lieutenant named Garrison said, Already taken care of. You're going to be with us for a day or so. Where are we going? I yelled over the noisy cabin of the Black Hawk.

Can't tell you, classified. A male sergeant named Cumming said in response. The trip will take. about 90 minutes, said the other sergeant named Calderon, who was shorter in stature than was dark-skinned. We arrived at some form of military medical facility, where I was escorted into a room with two military nurses and a doctor in a long, white lab coat. They were looking into my eyes with an instrument, and then injected me with a syringe of some unknown chemical. It burned like fire as it entered my bloodstream, and I felt like I was done. I was

doped up with Demerol or Diawu did. My eyes were burning at this point. I was given a mirror to look at my eyes. God, I was totally shocked at what I saw. My pupils were gone. What in the living hell is good? I began. They'll return to normal in a few hours, the doctor said.

I'm Dr. Alderson. He extended his hand. Call me, Vince. I said and shook his hand. He was a tall, thin man, but not gaunt in appearance. I am the doctor of infectious diseases here at this facility, and all I can tell you is that we're in a covert underground facility in the state of Louisiana. Do you remember feeling a form of hypnosis when the creature looked at you?

He calmly asked. Yeah, I did. For about 20 seconds or so, I think. I replied. You were lucky, he said. Most of the people we treat after encountering this creature have some form of permanent eye damage, he explained. What is that thing anyway?

I asked. Can't disclose that info, he replied. I sighed in frustration. Figured you'd say that. Is there anything at all you can tell me? I asked with a tone of frustration, only that it was a classified biological discovery from the remote parts of the Amazon rainforests.

People and animals in a small town were going missing, he further explained. Everything from birds, alligators, snakes, monkeys and even people were coming up missing. I've already said too much. Look, take these pills for a week, one per day with your meal. Your eyes will be.

return to normal within the next two or three hours. Dr. Alderson instructed, just like that, I was back on the chopper and heading back to the field my truck was parked in. You can discuss this with others if you'd like, as we didn't give you any classified information that would create any clear and present danger, Lieutenant Garrison instructed. But if you notice any strange symptoms or feel anything out of the ordinary with your sight, call this number. Do you, not call 911 all the police, understand. Yes, ma'am, I replied as she handed me a business card that was black and had a Department of Defense logo on the card and Lieutenant Garrison's number on the back. Two or three days

went by without any odd symptoms at first. I did, however, begin to have a strong sensitivity to light, and my night vision was improving. My eyes began to change colour to a light snowy blue. This garnered quite a few comments and questions about what type of contact lenses I was using, or, well, hey, what's up with your eye colour? Things like that. I call the number to report the changes in my eyesight that had begun to occur. In response, I was repeatedly sent a bottle of pills to suppress any further changes in my eyesight. To this day, I remember the haunting gaze of that creature like it was yesterday. It will forever be etched into my brain. So, I still deliver pizzas, but I don't need a flashlight very often anymore. Well, as I conclude the tale of this experience,

I have a new respect for dear crossing signs now. I know it's, ah, here it is. I said aloud to myself as I retrieved the black business card with Lieutenant Garrison's number from my man purse, or Mers, as my wife called it. I pulled out myself her and dialed the number. Lieutenant Garrison here, the terse voice on the other line responded. Oh, hi Lieutenant, it's Vince again. Hi Vince. Ready for another refill? She asked. Yeah, I suppose so, but something's different, I said, apprehensive. I can't even leave the house without the light causing me a lot more discomfort than before. Not even the sunglasses are helping much now, I further added.

Really? Anything else I should know? She asked. Well, yeah, I'm seeing in the pitch black darkness, as if it's mere twilight. I'm able to see vivid colors as well, but only at night, I explained further. I looked at the bottle of Morphox, The medication given me to suppress these symptoms. I only had one pill left. I guess my body's developing a tolerance for this stuff is all I can think of, upset.

Okay, go to Churchill baseball field at 0,800 hours on Saturday. We'll have a chopper standing by to pick you up. I'll make the necessary calls to free your schedule, instructed Garrison. Okay, I'll be there, I responded, and then turned off the point. call. Now, I'll try to explain the events leading up to my call to Lieutenant Garrison. I had an encounter with a creature or some form of living entity that was not of this natural environment. I stumbled upon and made eye contact with this horrific creature. It resembled a chittinous black on excaligator with scorpion's tail and an enormous head that resembled

a gorilla crossed with a wolf. And his eyes were the strange. thing. They were pure white and multifaceted. The creature's gaze met mine for about 20 seconds or so. The feeling at that moment was hypnotic. It had frozen me in place for the entire time it looked at me. And this is when I began to change. And it all began with my eyes at first. They began to turn an icy blue instead of my normal green eyes. My night vision always been mediocre to port most of the time, but that had changed. I saw night time as if it were mere twilight. The experience of looking about in my truck outside. In the middle of the night was a surreal experience to say the least. Everyone has the impression of driving

around at night in their mind. Street lights on, car headlights zooming by. House porch lights lit sporadically throughout neighbourhoods. Nighttime runners with reflective gear on, as well as cyclists with their strobe-like headlamps to alert drivers of their presence. Imagine taking a typical city night and seeing it as if the sun were out. Well, that was what I was experiencing. Things happened at night that did not normally happen during the day. People sneaking about mischievously.

Cats active all over. bat zooming around to and throw armadillo skunks raccoons possums all out in the open to sea i even witnessed a group of what appeared to be teenagers laughing and joking around gleefully puffing on cigarettes and vape pipes the regular side of nighttime activities seen as if it were day was an interesting thing to experience to say the least but daytime was a nightmare no pun intended i wore a hoodie with these super dark rayband sunglasses that were given to me by the doctor that first treated me and this was my daytime apparel when i was at home i had everything dark so i wouldn't suffer too much my sleep cycle was turning upside down now and i couldn't go to any work for a while thankfully The government guys that had been treating me were compensating me more than enough monetarily to make ends meet, so my work absence didn't concern me too much.

I began to go for long walks at night and was really enjoying myself. This all changed, of course, when the pain and swelling began in my eyes. My eyes were always dry and needed drops constantly, and they felt like they were growing in size. I'd look in a mirror and see that my face was looking more and more like a caricature of myself. My eye sockets and eyes were growing in size. And that's when I decided to call Lieutenant Garrison again.

I was at the baseball field about five minutes early and I immediately heard it. The Black Hawk helicopter was touching down already. This must have been one of those pavehawks the military had for night and stealth activities. It had the sound of a helicopter, but was very much muffled and quieter, kind of like a gun with a silencer or something like that. It was technologically modified for quick, stealthy operations. I was escorted into the cabin where I saw Lieutenant Garrison and Sergeant

Caldard. They had night vision equipment on their heads as they greeted me, and they shook hands with me. I returned the pleasantries. I could see everything in the cabin like it the daytime. The windows were blacked out except for the front windshield. In around 90 minutes or so, we were at a bunker-like underground facility. I was escorted to an office that was dimly lit and was told to take a seat and make myself comfortable. I smelled fresh coffee. I saw a pot full and some pastries. I was hungry. as hell and helped myself to two bare claws and a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. The pastries were a little bit stale, but the coffee, well, that was legendary, strong and smooth.

I'd heard Army Coffee was some of the best and strongest, and I had three cups greedily. I lay in a recliner and paid angry birds on my phone for a while, before the door opened and three people entered the room. I recognised Lieutenant Garrison and Sergeant Caudron. But the third was a man I did not recognize. I'm Colonel Daltry, the man said, as he gave me a firm handshake. Call me Vince, I said in return. Very well, Vince, he said. Colonel Doughtry was a stout man in his early 60s or so, and an impeccable health.

He had dark, sod and red, sod and pebble-cut hair, and captivating blue eyes. He carried an immense amount of authoritative. with grace and trained humility. I could see he was a very decorated man as well. I bet you have some questions for us, Doughtry said politely. Well, sir, I suppose I do, I replied. So, what's next for me in my situation? I asked. Doughtry gestured to Sergeant Caldron.

We need your help. There are some risks, but we will have armed personnel backing you up, so you'll be safe, Caldron explained. We cannot disclose where you'd be going, but you will know what you need to know as all this plays out, Garrison explained. If you choose not to help us, we can have you on a Blackhawk and back home within two hours. Colonel Daughtry explained. You'll be administered a more potent form of morphinex. And that'll be that, he added.

If you choose two helpers, the mission will take about three days, maybe four, and you will be nicely compensated, Dautry explained. The choice is yours, Caldron added. I thought for a second how much I admire our military and how I wished I could be a part of it, and this made my decision an easy one. I'll do it. I eagerly said with a thumbs-up motion.

Your country and all of us appreciate your assistance on this son, Colonel Dautry said. Sergeant Cardron will show you to your quarters. We'll leave at 0,600 hours, so relax and get some sleep, Daughtry said, as he shook my hand again and left the room. This was the beginning of an unforgettable adventure that changed my life. I'd slept only sporadically that night and spent most of my time watching TV in the dorm room like sweet. I was both excited and scared at the same time.

A gentle knock at the door came at 0.500 hours, and I was given a black shirt, black hoodie and black sweatpants. They were clean and well pressed. I was ready to go. I was escorted to a C-130 or ready to go, and we were born at 0-600. dead on. There were no flight delays in the military, that's for sure. I was in the back of the aircraft, where it was the darkest and most comfortable. I wasn't told where I was going, but I knew we were heading south, according to a compass I'd seen in the cabin somewhere. The flight took the better

part of eight hours or so. We landed in a covert airstrip that was somewhere tropical. It looked like the rainforests of the Amazon. The temperature was warm and impossibly humid. The camp we were at was a clearing of about a quarter mile square. I was led to a one-person armored vehicle of sorts. I'd never seen a vehicle like this before. It was a boxy, van-like thing that looked like it was heavily armored with a bulletproof viewing window. This is what you'll be driving, Sergeant Calderon instructed. Driving, I asked, totally confused. He perceived. He perceived. proceeded to show me how to operate the vehicle and it proved to be fairly easy.

The tyres were made for off-road work and it was fairly easy to drive. It wasn't very fast, but it didn't need to be. It was armed with a semi-automatic cannon that shot golf ball-sized depleted uranium shells. I had 12 rounds already set in the chamber. The two-way radio was positioned right in front of me so I could communicate with the other officers and soldiers. It was like a mini tank of sorts. The operation was to occur in the dead of night and my eyesight was to be used to relay verbally and photograph whatever I saw. Their night vision equipment had proven ineffective because what I was looking for just screwed up

their night vision systems. They needed me because of my, well, my newfound visual. talents. There was a gate that was guarded by four armed guards that were heavily armed with tactical gear and heavy rifles of some form. Just past the gate was a peculiar shadow-like opening. It looked like a ripped opening that led to another place. It was a portal. Just past the portal, there were alien sounds that were coming directly from it. I was in awe at what I was witnessing. This portal led to the unknown, the uncharted. It was a new discovery, and I was going to be the first to see it.

Okay, it's go time, the old lieutenant garrison over the con system. I started up the vehicle and began to drive forward toward the portal. Stalker 1 is on the move. The male voice sounded over the radio. Stalker 1 was my handle for the duration of this operation. All sets, Stalker 1. Everything running right? Cordron's voice sounded over the radio.

All is go, over, I responded. Everything was happening so fast, I just hoped the crash course I'd received from Sergeant Caldron was enough to get the job done. I turned on the camera and flipped up the red switch, arming the cannon. I went forward for about five minutes. The suspense was so palpable

you could cut it with a knife. What happened next was unforgettable insanity. Across the threshold of the portal. The portal was about 16 feet high and 10 feet wide. How was this opened? I asked over the comp system. We don't know, Garrison replied. We discovered it after reports of local villages being terrorized by creatures that were unrecognizable. My mind shot back to the creature.

that I stumbled upon in South Texas. How did it get to South Texas? I asked. Not sure. We think, however, it was an escapee from a research facility operating outside of our military. Cordran replied. Well, that's not a... I started to say, as I abruptly stopped and saw something ahead.

I have something, I said over the radio. My night vision was very... accurate at this point and I could see a figure coming out of the forest within the portal. They looked like a lobster the size of a polar bear. He was moving slowly on multiple legs and as it got closer I saw it was more like a scorpion but upright in stature. He was standing on two legs and giant antenna were feeling about as I kept moving forward. As I got closer I realized I was on a beach in this other world.

and this was some kind of abominable lobster scorpion creature in front of me. I hit the camera and it snapped some photos. Then it spun around with lightning speed and shot out sand right at me and I could see the spray hit the windshield with an audible shish. It retreated into the brush and then I saw something else coming at me. It was ghastly in appearance and almost undescribable. But, well, I'm going to try. Picture a tortoise shell, the size of a car but round.

Under the shell were two eyes on stalks coming out above. The mouth of this thing was more like a cavernous hole with tentacles pointing outward. Each tentacle had a small jaw that looked like a mouth of a cobra. And it was charging now when I snapped some pictures as it was approaching, or should I say, attacking. And that was my first mistake. It hit my vehicle with tremendous force and there was smoke immediately coming from it. I didn't see any warning lights though and I was still in forward motion. The creature rounded me with a speed of a running rhinoceros. I set the targeting switch on and pulled the trigger. I felt a thumb as the cannon fired.

The creature took the hit head on, and the impact caused it to blow into two halves. The explosion sent greenish-white gore and viscera high into the air and onto my windshield. It was smoking, like it was lava or something. I pulled the windshield cleaner, and a jet of water shot out and cleared my viewing window, enough so I could see. There were three more of them. We've got company, I yelled as I saw two armored personnel carriers drive past me and into the foray. One of them was being charged by two of the creatures at a speed of nearly 30 miles an hour.

I locked onto one of them and fired again. An eruption of gore once more shot into the air as it was wounded but not dead. The remaining one charged me again and collided with tremendous. as force. I was hurled around inside the cabin, and I felt my arm collide with the inside hull. The pain was intense. My right wrist was broken at very least. My forehead was also bleeding into my eyes. I'm hit! I yelled into the radio. Help is on the way, Stalker 1. The voice responded. I was getting lightheaded and dizzy from apparent blood loss. A red fuel supply I went on.

Something's wrong with my fuel. I think I'm losing fuel. I yelled over the radio. Fall back, stalker one. Fall back! Lieutenant Garrison's voice crackled over the radio. I snapped several more shots

as I was trying to get as many picks as I could. One of the personnel carriers was hit and two of the men were killed gruesomely. They were torn to bits in a matter of seconds. There was gore and bones and guts strewn out all over the sand.

I continued snapping photos of as much of the carnage as I could get. But I couldn't get the vehicle turned around due to the fuel tank. I started to say a prayer, asking for forgiveness for my sins. I was so sure that this was the end for me. Four more of the creatures were approaching from the west, as well as two of the giant scorpion lobster things. the scorpsters were consuming and scavenging the gore and bones of everything that had been killed I'm dead in the water guys I said as my consciousness began to fade

tell my wife I love her was the last thing I said as I felt the impact and everything went black the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed and bandished up doctor came in and said oh you're awake he was fairly young and a little bit chubby in appearance but seemed very competent i survived i asked laughing

you were very lucky they got you just as your vehicle was toppled over the doctor replied can i talk to kern of adultery i asked sure can it was just outside the room the dog said. Daughtry walked into the room,

looking a bit disheveled and sleep-deprived. Colonel, I'm so sorry, I began as he held up his head. You did just fine, son. You got some good intel out there. How many did we lose? We lost Lyndon and Calderon, he said. We brought in two tanks with incendiary weapon

and level the whole area. We killed many more of the same. those damn things. We also got shots of several other creatures when we got there with the tanks. I felt a wave of sadness of the news. Caldron was there for me and he had

my back out there. Well, you have a broken wrist, three cracked ribs and a minor skull fracture, the doctor said. And a concussion to top it off, added adultery. While the tanks were out there, the medevac team pulled you

out of the wreckage. You lost a lot of blood, but your pulse was steady. My pain wasn't bad due to a morphine drip of my disposal. I had the dark shades on as well to protect my eyes. We've instructed and prescribed a modified version of morphux called morphinex, the doctor told me. He said that my eyes would return to normal in about a week or so. Well, I was back home and healing quite well from my injuries. My eyesight was almost normal now after a week and a half of being home. I was just coming home from dropping off my truck to get some body and electrical work done. My earnings from the mission had been enough to get my truck decked out with bigger tires and a lift kit. I had a new

paint job as well and still had some left over to put into my always empty savings account. Well, in a while, I'll be back to work delivering those pizzas for all those hungry customers. After all, life goes on. And so do I. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again. same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more.

Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.