Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S2 Ep99: Episode 99: Amnesia Horror Stories

Episode Date: October 6, 2022

Today’s first fantastic offering is ‘Amnesia’, an original work by Annanymetti 89, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/annanymetti89/ Tonight’s next terrifying tale is ‘Buyer's Remorse’, a wonderful story By Neil Ervin, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: http://www.creepypasta.com/buyers-remorse/ Our penultimate tale of terror is ‘Cashing Out’, a wonderful story By Dr Bob Smith, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Category:DrBobSmith https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Cashing_Out We round off proceedings with ‘The Girl in the Picture’, a story by Raydiant Won, shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:RaydiantWon

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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. Without realising that the past is constantly determining their present action, they avoid learning anything about their age. They continue to live in their repressed childhood situation, ignoring the fact that it no longer exists, continue to fear and avoid dangers that,

although once real, but not been real for a long, long time. Four tales of terror for you this evening. evening. Now, once ever before we begin, a word of caution. Note stories may contain strong language, upon the description, it's a violent, its horrific image. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. Plop. Plop. Plop. Why I started blinking, confused as to what was dripping on my face as a more cold, wet droplets I discovered were

dripping all over my body. My hand scrambled to find the ground. as I rolled over in the rain. It was cold and muddy. I remember my hands made the saturated earth squished below me as I found it. I was trying to figure out what had happened. A million questions racing through my mind in a single instance.

Then, as I forced a hard push off the ground, came my first inclination that something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Oh, Mother Hubbard, I exclaimed. The exclamation was one that I'd used since childhood when I realized just how seriously my foster parents took swearing. They really were the fire and brimstone type. They actually believed they could beat the Bible into me, or at least the evil out.

This world is evil, child, they would say, but you must do what you can to help people remain good, even if it hurts to help them. Oh, I held my hand to my head. A throbbing pain threatened to burst my skull wide open. but despite the vigorous pounding in my skull, I slowly pushed myself up, shaking from the cold and pain that made my eyes want to pop out, I started to look around. I was confused by my surroundings.

I stood a little ways in front of a small cabin with no discernible roads nearby. Only a long driveway that disappeared around a bend before being engulfed by the forest around it was visible as a means of exit. Surrounding the cabin and myself was a dense, dripping green forest, and dark night sky with a big moon hanging in the air. It was starting to peek out now that the rain had stopped. I remember saying out loud, Where am I?

I had no recollection of where I was or how I got there. Actually, come to think of it, I didn't remember much of anything at the time. I'd have some glimpses of my childhood and early teenage years, but I felt older. I was guessing myself to be at least late 20s, maybe even early to mid-30s. "'Who am I?' I asked myself. A small bit of panic came over me as I still clung to my pounding head, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Then a memory from when I was small came flooding back into the forefront of my mind. It was someone calling for me. "'Zan. Yes, that must be my name,' I thought. "'Zan!' I stammered around in a bit of shock before I noticed a bloodied rock planted in the ground where I'd just been laying. reactively I lifted my hand to my head sure enough it was covered in that same blood

now I don't know how head injuries work how you can forget so much but still remember how to speak writing guess as to what is happening when you're so confused and in pain but I remember thinking to myself I must have amnesia because for the life of me I had no clue about my surroundings how I got there or well even where I had worked and lived. The panic was burning now and out of instinct I clumsily ran to the cabin with

my head throbbing and started beating on the door. I beat my fists upon it as hard as I could and shouted loudly, making my head hurt even worse. Hello, please, I need help, I shouted. I could hear a TV was on inside and the voices of some show were loud and clear but nothing else. I pounded and shouted some more, but no one ever came. So, figuring I was injured and this was an emergency, I wasn't waiting any longer. I turned the knob and the door opened. I proceeded to walk into the cabin slowly, scanning the room as if to find somebody, but nobody was there. Hello? I said in a more mousy tone now.

In case the owner was there and was mad that I was in their home. but nothing so i searched around for a phone but didn't see one i was starting to feel tired due to my head injury but i knew that i couldn't fall asleep so i walked down the hallway to the left of the front room found the bathroom and started washing the blood off my head and hands god it was all over me though this must be a deep cut i thought noticing how much blood there was i finished cleaning the wound to the best of my disoriented abilities, and then went back to the kitchen behind the living room. I opened the freezer, and luckily there were some ice cubes left in a tray, so I pulled them out, grabbed a paper towel from the roll sitting on the counter, wrapped it, and placed them on my head.

I went and sat back on the sofa, looking at the clock, which read 8.02 p.m. I sat there thinking some more, and came up with a plan to wait for the owner of the cabin. to arrive back home so I could ask for help and that's when things started to take a turn for the worse i've been sitting on the couch for all of 10 minutes or so when i heard a voice laughing in a low sinister growl the room started getting dark and distorted to a scene of just horrid evil it's like when you faint and your vision blurs and dims as it narrows but i'm was fully awake. Rotting wood walls, disgusting bugs crawling around, dirty torn curtains and a foul stench of rotten fish and vomit now filled the cabin that I'd been in. How does it feel to know

you're going to die here? It asked. I was terrified and ran screaming to a rotten wooden table. I threw myself underneath it, wrapped myself in a ball and tried to remain as quiet as possible. so the source that the voice couldn't find. Some time passed, and I peaked a glance from the smallest opening my eyes could make, and was immediately perplexed. As I took in my surroundings, I realized I was under the kitchen table back in the cabin, and everything was back to normal. I caught a glimpse of the clock again.

It now read 9.24 p.m. My brain was scrambling to find an explanation as it ached, but was fully awake. "'My brain,' I said, remembering my head injury, "'that I was having an hallucination. "'Thank God.' "'The answer both calmed and terrified me, "'but I crawled out from under the table "'where I'd been hiding and plop myself down into a chair.

"'I took in the scene to distract myself. "'A jacket laid across the end of the table. "'Sold and pepper-shakers were neatly sitting in the middle "'by a centrepiece of fresh flowers. The honey-coloured wood was draught with a red and white tablecloth that had a pattern of apples on it and a plate setting set in front of every chair. That's when I realised there was a pile of mail in a holder leaning against the centrepiece. I didn't want to be nosy, but I was curious if I knew the person that owned the cabin,

and so I reached for a letter. Just then I heard a loud bang that sounded like a thousand-pound hammer, hitting the world's largest nail. I jumped and looked around as the sound was ringing in my ears. I didn't see or could sense where the sound had come from, so I got up and started looking out of the kitchen window. I looked, squinting through the glass, and didn't see the cause of the noise,

but something did catch my eye. There was a carport in the back of the cabin that was big enough for one vehicle to squeeze into, and there was a car sitting right there. This entire time it never occurred to me that the cabin owner might have been someone that had brought me here, but where were they? And who were they? Before I could even think to go check the mail on the table again, boom! A loud thunderous roar came crashing over me as the room started distorting again. The wars creaked and moaned as they transformed into the rotten, grotesque scene. But this time I could hear screeching metal sounds also as if someone was, if someone was. turning her crank and gears which were grinding with its force. A loud blood-curdling shriek let out from an unfamiliar woman's voice. It sounded like she was screaming from torturous pain.

Then I heard a low, growling voice again, laughing, scream as loud as you want. I actually prefer when you do. And then it became frantic with excitement. It was whispering, but loud enough for me to hear horrible things like, I'll be no quiet death for you, my dear. No, no, no. But die you will. Yes, you will die, but first.

Oh, it's scream first. You will suffer until your body gives out. I will break every bone, rip every piece of flesh, and burn each eye until there's nothing left. You will not see, speak, hear, or even feel any evil where I'm done. I was frozen in fear, standing in a rotten house listening to the noises that seemed to be coming from below me. I didn't want to move in case of the rotted wood either giving out or alarming the voice to my presence.

And so I stood there still. Feeling like a coward for not helping the woman scream, but knowing I was in no shape to do any good in my condition. So I listened for what felt like hours to this woman crying in pain as her bones were broken. I heard her pass out a couple of times, and each time the torture ceased until she was conscious and screaming again. My mind was so appalled when her skin started to be filleted off that I had to cover my mouth to not vomit all over the floor.

Even though I was upstairs and they were in what sounded to be the basement, I could still hear through the holes in the decaying floor, each piece being sliced and smacking the ground with a wet splat. Well, that ended too soon, I heard a voice say in disappointment. It was cold and heartless, as it spoke, and I thought to myself, what did I do to deserve this hell?

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I'd be completely exposed to the villain once he, she or it, top the creaking stairs. I wasn't ruling out the super, natural right now because what had just happened could only be done by a monster human or otherwise i turned and started running through the decimated house trying desperately to evade capture the

commotion i'd created must have alerted the murderous psychopath to my presence because i then heard a loud angry growl and pounding footsteps followed i was lost in the house every door and window i could see in the dark place was boarded up and nailed shut it was close behind me now still on growling i shrunk down and screamed i was screaming and waiting for the inevitable when i noticed that i've been screaming for too long it should have gotten me by now i thought i opened my eyes just a bit and realized i was back in the safety of the cabin my heart was pounding and the whiplash of being thrown back back and forth between two realities had my head scrambling to figure out which was real. I was in a bedroom now.

Everything was dark except for the glowing red light of an alarm clock beside the bed. 10.45pm. Where was the owner of the cabin? I needed desperate medical attention now. Remembering the mail on the table, I made my way out of the bedroom towards the kitchen, and it was halfway there before I got a flash in front of my eyes. I was back in the dark house, but this time it was different. It was more like remembering something rather than hallucinating.

The flash was blurry and I couldn't make out any objects really, but the layout felt the same. I felt my skin was hot and damp. I remembered holding something heavy in my hands as I walked through the house. Questions raced through my mind. Was the dilapidated house rule? And if so, had I been there? a victim of its horrors may be god i hope not the view of the car entered my vision and snapped my mind back to reality the owner of the cabin still hadn't arrived so seeing how this was an emergency i could just borrow it

i thought to myself then i make sure it was returned safely for all i knew the owner was in desperate need of attention as well and needed me to go find help that i would later find out was entirely correct I ran to the car still dizzy from my head wound. Just follow the driveway and pick a direction. I'm bound to find someone eventually, I thought out loud. The door handle was in my hand as I pulled back and hopped in. Keys. Keys.

Where are the frock jam keys? Yeah, another phrase I used to hide my cursing. The keys were nowhere to be found, though, so I hurried my way back into the house before another hallucin. could overcome me. I was tossing things everywhere, desperately trying to find the keys, but to no avail. I checked the jacket pocket, and then my own. Nothing.

Well, it must not be my car, I thought. But then again, what's a little grand theft daughter when you're in fear for your life? I scanned the room nervously when a door caught my eye. I hadn't really noticed it before, but it was slightly ajar, sitting in the right-hand corner of the kitchen. I made my way to it and pulled it back. There were stairs leading down to what looked to be a basement and a horrible stench wafting out from below. I grunted as I covered my nose with my arm and slowly made my way down the steps.

I slipped down them cautiously one by one until the room came into view. I was horrified. When I reached the bottom I saw a scene that I could only describe as a high-budget Hollywood horror set. There, a little ways in front of me was a woman, I think, with her arms and legs bound to wires that were pulled tights. My eyes followed them up to the gears they were attached to, with a crank that sat behind them. There was no skin left on her body. Every bone was splintered and her eyes looked to be burned out. Oh, my God, I gasped.

This is from my visions. I wasn't hallucinating, I was remembering. My legs froze from the realization, but my eyes scanned the room in fear. There were more sinister devices and contraptions all across the basement. There, beside the dead woman to the left was a metal bed of sorts, with holes drilled into it like Swiss cheese. Beside the bed and the tray table was a box of enormously long nails.

I didn't need the owner's mind. to know its purpose was truly evil. To my right, all the way against the wall, was a tank of sorts with some kind of lines dangling down inside. I felt as though it was beckoning me towards it. My feet started to move. I reached the tanker could now make out the rusted metal chains piercing down through the water.

My eyes followed the chains down on their own. Something in my head was telling me not to look, but no matter what I did, they kept dropping lower and lower. I drew a sharp breath in as I gasped and lunged back when they found the bottom. The chains had run into a torso with wrinkly pale grey skin. Atop the torso was an unnaturally twisted neck

and a face staring right at me. Well, I guess it was staring, though it had no eyes to do so. It looked as if someone had scooped the cavities of the eyes and mouth, clean out with an ice cream scooper. And that image still haunts me to this day. Amongst all of the horrors in the basement, something caught my eye to the right of the tank.

It was all the way in the corner, directly beside the stairs. There was a work desk with a cork backdrop. It looked so clean and out of place from everything I'd just seen. I gazed at it, and a small golden object peered back at me. The key! I'd almost forgotten about it by this time, but I hurled myself towards it and snatched it up, turning to head with the stairs. Just as I headed for salvation, another hallucination started to distort my vision.

Remembering the monster that had plagued my visions, I swung myself under the rotten stairs and hid as quietly as I could. Nothing in my life had ever scared me the way this thing had. Not even my abusive foster parents made me cower in such fear. I closed my eyes as I heard it begin to speak to a man now strapped to the Swiss cheese table. Now now, it said, Don't worry, I will purge all of the sin from your body as well as your soul, my friend. The man screamed through the gag over his mouth and I heard him kicking, trying to break free of his bindings. You don't need to fight or try to hide it. We all have sin.

your wife had sin as well and just look how pure i made her the man led out a painful wine i wished that i was anywhere but where i was in that moment i looked away trying to find a way out to my right was a body hanging from the ceiling he had hooks protruding through his chest and just like the woman in the tank his eyes and mouth was scooped out to his left in the corner were a number of decomposing bodies with a white powder scattered on top. I assume this was for the smell but it wasn't doing shit for my gag reflex. The sight, smell and pain from my injury mixed together all at once it became too much for my stomach to bear. With a forceful heave, the context of what was in my stomach projectile out, splattering to the floor at my feet as I stayed crouched under the stairs. A few more heaves followed

before I wipe my mouth, exhausted. I was still trying to catch my breath when I felt something watching me from my left side. Weak, the master growled, though its face was just a dark blur. You always were weak. Ever since I found you in that foster home, all you've done is make me wish

I could cut you clean out of existence. Lucky for you, I need you to survive. My mind, was raw, trying to recover and wrap itself around those words as I heard banging on the steps above me. Just a couple, though. Whatever was climbing the stairs was wasting no time, flying up them hard and fast. The monster whirled around and cursed me for my distraction that had let its prey escape. It darted up the stairs in pursuit, and I quickly followed to retreat from the awful smell lingering in my nose. I reached the top of the stairs as I saw the monster's figure make its way hastily to the open door.

Come back, you filthy rat. Come back, no. Its sentence was cut short just on the other side of the door. The man had been waiting with a large wooden cutting board. He must have grabbed off the kitchen counter. He struggled the thing hard on the back of the head and then lunged it, tackling the creature. They rolled around in the grass for a bit, squaring off before one

and last tackle sent the thing down to the ground for good. Its head hit hard, splitting off of a rock in the ground. The man then got up and ran for his life down the driveway. I believe I was going into shock by this point. My vision was fading and my body felt weak. I fell on my hands and knees as I crawled towards the creature. Placing my hand on its shoulder and gripping tightly, I tugged it over and rolled it on its back.

The face, though, wasn't blurred. Oh, it had her face now. She was a woman, mid-20s to early 30s. As I knelt there in awe of what I was seeing, the entire body, face included, faded away and was replaced by blue and red lights bouncing off of the wet grass. Ma'am, the voice yelled.

Put your hands where I can see them. You're under a rest. is the place, put a smile on your face. Bet on the sports you love with Bent River Sportsbook. Take a chance! Must be 19 plus, available in Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you,

please contact Connects Ontario at 1-866-531-2,600, to speak to an advisor free of charge. I work on the day of my reconstruction. Groginess left my body like a rusted machine. The room seems to stretch for miles in my drowsiness, an eternal void that I lay in the centre of. I reached my arm as far as I could, rolling onto my side and grasped my cane.

It eased the pains of walking. I pressed atop the thin beam and stood erect, my knees still tired from their necessary rest. Upon dressing myself, I made my way to the front door of my creaking home. A deep breath, and then out I went into the world once more. The city blared with angrily honking horns, and cars zipping by, at high speeds. Not a day went by that I hadn't feared for my life at least once while walking

down these streets. The stench of exhaust and waste filled the air, intertwined with rich and welcoming aromas of nearby food stamps. The concoction wasn't necessarily anything to make someone hungry. I continued my way down the sidewalk. Video ads booming from billboards, taxi cab drivers calling out who stands with small televisions giloping information of today's vents all formed an orchestra of busyness in my ears. As I neared a crosswalk, a young woman clasped my arm. Wait, sir, you don't want to be run over. Here, let me help you across the street. I grumpily waved her away and continued forth at my own pace. I've been helped enough in my day, and that would soon be an issue of the past. After crossing the street, I rounded the corner.

A quiet pre-recorded voice chirping from an intercom drew my attention to where I needed to go. Getting lost was easy in this city, and sometimes I had no idea where I was going. The intercom yelled and barked self-promotion in a manner as cheerful as any likely overpriced establishment might. I found my way to the door and pushed it a gate. The space was very quiet and the air was stale with faint sniffles and coughs, breaking the silence, I miss the few people who sat in the waiting room. Hello, sir. How can I assist you today?

A woman said in a calm, reassuring tone. I made my way over, still unsure of my decision. Ah, yes, I have an appointment today at ten for reconstruction. A buzzer chimed and startled me, spreading a white chill through my body. What was that? I inquired nervously. She responded with the same calm, reassuring. voice. That means it's time for the next procedure. You must be Mr. Edwards. Please, right this way. As she began to walk away, she stopped, spun around and reached for my hand.

I'll escott you to your surgeon now. There it was again. Another need to help me walk. Thankfully, in just a few hours, I would be able to walk without assistance. The receptionist led me down the hallway through a door on the left. She walked. She walked. She walked. me into a cold room and asked me to wait before leaving. I was surrounded by that same chilling silence I'd become too familiar with. Dust found its way in my throat and I let out a small cough that echoed throughout the room. Suddenly, the door behind me burst open, lighting up all of my senses and shooting adrenaline through my body until I could feel it pulse in my ears.

I whirled my head around to better grasp what had seemingly broken down the door. Mr. Edwards, I'll be your surgeon this morning. You're wanting a reconstruction, is this correct? His tone seemed stressed and was mildly out of breath. In light of this observation, I realized I was holding mine. Yes, I heaved, releasing the air from my lungs. The surgeon shifted to his heels for a moment. Don't be nervous. This is a common procedure.

I adjusted my posture and shifted myself so I was facing him. "'So I have a few concerns I'd like to discuss before we... "'As much as I'd like to talk about your concerns, "'I have several more patients waiting on me. "'It's a cake-woggy. You'll be fine,' he nonchalantly reassured me. "'It became evident that this surgeon had no patience for patients. "'Come on, then. We'll get this over within no time. This way.' He placed his arm around the lower half of my shoulders and helped me to the operating room.

The doctor asked me to lie down. The bed was made of cold leather that stuck to my arms, and its length felt just a bit too short for me, so my feet dangled off the end. I fluttered my feet like a tyke. The surgeon made his way to me and placed something over my nose and mouth. This will make things go quicker for you. Take deep breaths, and we'll see each other soon.

I heeded his orders and breathed in, filling my lungs with air and released. I took another in and then another release. My efforts to do this task became more and more cumbersome with each breath. I grew light and began to lift off the table into nothingness. My thoughts grew further and further apart, and I almost forgot why I'd come here. Then I remembered, and my face melted away into a tiny smile. My mind went black.

A low murmur slipped its way in through a crack in my hearing, like a small mouse cautiously on the prow for a snack. The sound ceased. The same murmur oozed out into my eardrums, louder, longer this time, somewhat forming a rhythmic beat as it went. The sound halted once more. Then came the murmur once again, but this time it was audible. I felt myself come back to life.

I could feel my entire body again, and I remembered everything and why I was here. I began to shift from excitement. but I felt a warm hand rest easy on my shoulder. It was the sergeant. Mr. Edwards, Mr. Edwards, there he is. Now I need you to stay relaxed. You've been out for some time.

I need to go grab some antibiotic solution for you to take home. Try not to move or mess with your bandages while I'm gone. It'll only be a minute. He stepped out of the room, and my patience wore thin immediately. I sat up and began working to remove the bandages. I wanted to see it. everything. I wanted to see how successful the procedure had been. As I unwrapped the bandages, I felt small nicks and pricks from the adhesive used to hold them in place being pulled

and unstuck from my skin. After each revolution of the wrap being removed, the more excited I became. I finally made it to the last revolution. I paused and took a deep breath, closing my eyes tightly for the big reveal and slowly healed it off. I opened my eyes and, Oh, my God! Tears crashed waves onto my cheeks. Everything was perfect, so vibrant and radiant. I'd had no idea what colour meant until this moment,

even though I didn't understand how it worked, it was utterly magnificent. I looked down at my body, my hands and feet, my arms and legs. I looked so weird, not what I'd expected. I stood up and began wandering around the room, examining everything I could, or at least felt was safe to touch. I reared my head around in every direction until my heart dropped into my stomach. Is that me?

Time stopped as I neared the mirror and looked at who I was, my salt and pepper hair, a slight crook of my thin nose, my dark eyes, the strangest coloured lips, and the ears aside my head that had been my best friend since I was born. Well, to be honest, I think I look pretty good for my age, but what did I know? I'd never seen anyone or anything before. Attractiveness was just an idea and feeling to me. I knew things felt pretty, but that's different. The surgeon wasn't back, and I didn't feel any negative effects. I merrily made my way into a dim hallway.

And the moment I did, what I saw will ring through my soul and memory for as long as I can bear to stand it. Shivers shot down my spine. I couldn't move, petrified with fear. Before me was a creature sprawled across the floor as still as silence, watching me. There had to be a demon or apparition of some sort. What was this foul being? Why was I not told about this? is this why the surgeon was taking so long?

God, if it devoured that poor man? Was I next on the menu? Took a half step forward, and as soon as I did, the creature grew larger, as if ready to attack. My jaw dropped, and I nearly stumbled to the floor from shot. I regained my balance, leap back into the room and slam the door. I pressed my back against the thin barrier and weighty. Nothing. What madness!

was this. I shut my mind off for a second, suppressing my overwhelming fear. I couldn't just stay there locked up in that room forever. That would be ridiculous. I had to make a run for it. I grabbed a shimmering tool from a nearby tray. It was short with a rough grip and tipped with what looked to be a very sharp small blade. This could do some damage if it came to it. I gripped it tight and made my way toward the door. I gathered my thoughts and played the situation through. my head. When I felt ready, I burst through the door. The creature rose from the ground once more as I entered the hallway. I leaped into a gallop, throwing the blade at it. Too panicked to see if I'd hit my mark, I rounded a corner and burst through a door, ramming it into the surgeon's face,

sending an ear-shattering crunch through his nose. My God! Oh, my nose! The surgeon belted, dropping the antibiotics to grip his face. Move, everyone out, run before I get you too. As I yelled, I caught a glimpse of the nurse who'd helped me previously. Oh, she was gorgeous. Her skin was flawless and her hair was of a miraculous colour. I was so caught off by the nurse that I stumbled over a seat. The room of patients stared at me, wide-eyed.

What are you waiting for? I cried. It's coming. As I smashed through the front door, I went nearly blind from a light in the sky, casting its piercing rays down into my newborn eyesight. This must be the sun. I winced, shut my eyes, and covered them with my hands. I stumbled around for a moment, disoriented, frequently opening and squinting my eyes, trying to get them to adjust.

A man made his way over to me. Sir, are you all right? You need help? No, I'm fine. It's just so damn bright out here. I waved him off as the sun beat down on my face in front of me. I was starting to be able to see again, and as soon as I made that realization,

I remembered how I got so disoriented in the first place. That thing. My heart skipped into my throat, and I began running again, hopefully in the direction of my home. I wasn't even sure where that was with this new sense to rely on. I do my best to listen for the landmarks I was familiar with. I was too afraid to look back for fear of laying my eyes on that monstrosity again, its image still printed in my brain.

I remembered its faceless body harboring pure darkness with long, thin arms and legs that shivered and contorted into strange intervals. It seemed paper-thin, so there's no telling where and when it could pop up again. I decided to take a chance and peek behind me to see if it was still in pursuit. I struggled to swallow my terror as I panted. from my sprint. Began to rear my head back slowly, and I fully regretted my decision immediately. Behind me was that hideous entity, barreling towards me, nipping at my heels,

flailing its arms and legs across the floor, reaching to grab me at every given opportunity. The surge of icy, cold white seared my entire body in waves as I lost all control of all rational thought, and only did what made sense. and survive. As it began to near a busier part of the city, I came upon a clump of pedestrians. The closer I got to them, the more dread befell me. It made no sense. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Before me, amongst the crowd, were nearly an equal amount of these creatures looming around the pedestrians, latched onto them, seemingly controlling their every move. There were too many cars passing through the street to cross, and there were no alleys to veer into.

I braced myself, then sprinted harder and leaped through the crowd, shoving people aside, hopping over countless puppeteers of darkness, hearing derogatory barks from strangers behind me, until aches began to ripple through my legs. And then I saw it across the street. My apartment. Beautiful and almost angelic the way it was lit by the sun, lowering from my own. its perch in the sky. I knew it was mine because it was just a matter of feet from the new step. Without thinking twice, I bounded across the street, dodging cars with blaring horns.

The left headlight of one car nicked my hip, and I spun out of control, tumble weeding to the asphalt. Watch where you're going, Jackass! shouted an angry woman from the driver's seat of the car. Before I could give the demon a chance to catch up, I hopped up to my feet and rushed for my apartment. I scrambled for my key, unlocked the door, shoved it open and slammed it behind me, locking it as fast as I could. It was incredibly dark, but safe. There were no bulbs in the fixtures, as I didn't have any friends or family that visited, so I never had useful. It was an old apartment, I'd been there for many years. For my protection, I'd asked the landlord to add a layer of brick to my windows to prevent intruders from praying in an old blind man.

I already knew my home by heart, so travelling through the darkness was second nature to me. I waited until my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Neat thing, eyes, how they can do that. My brief moment with sight was only a memory for now, but what I remembered still glow bright and vivid in my mind. Colors with their vast variations, the shape and form of all things that were once only felt sculptures in my imagination, my eyes sensitivity to light being so new,

and oblivious to harm's way, and the fascinating glimpse of myself in what I truly was. It was overwhelming, to say the least, but wonderful to know things now that I thought I never would. I cautiously scouted every area of my apartment to be sure I wasn't in any danger, all clear. When I felt calm again, I made my way to the bed. Once I reached it, I realized I'd left my cane back at the surgeon's office. The fact I no longer needed it was a comfort and thought, but it didn't last long, upon him quickly remembering the nightmare that these eyes had brought with them. Was this normal life for people?

Have these things always been here, and I just didn't know it? The thought made the hairs on my neck stiffen. This was not how I'd imagined life would be like with vision. This is not what I wanted. Always being watched. Always in danger of being ripped apart or controlled. I had a well-stocked cabinet of food. I decided to stay indoors for a while.

Two weeks had passed since my last outing. The irony of it was that I remained in total darkness for this entire period. I'd grown weary of this existence, but the gravity of the events following my surgery was essentially a thing of the past. I knew it was still out there waiting for me, but I knew I was safe inside. A week later my food supply was nearly exhausted. My heart was cold and my sight was moot.

Years of saving for this surgery, only to be rendered useless inside my own home. Decided to make a deal with myself. If I was going to go out there and die on the spot, or have my consciousness sucked out of my brain, I would no longer live in fear. I would become the oblivious, and I would never see it again. My wits' end had arrived as well as a solution. I would cut out my own eyes. Yes, that was it, these twin curses.

I stormed to the front door. I stopped and thought to myself, if this thing is there, then let it be done at my decision final. If it's not, then maybe I am really just fucking crazy. I wasn't sure which result I preferred. I unlocked the deadbolt, ripped open the door. Light billowed through my apartment once again, sending my eyes into a stinging frenzy. The sun was nearly directly in front of me, filling in the sky, as if it had been waiting to greet me all this time.

I raised my eyebrows high and blink rapidly, getting my eyes to adjust. It was incredibly hot out, and the air was thick and humid. I could feel a bead of sweat start to form just below my hairline. When I could see again, I scanned out around me. My senses were as sharp as a knife. I was ready to see that demon gnashing at me. Nothing. I took a step forward onto my stoop and scanned.

Still, nothing, and no one in the vicinity. Had this been some sort of invasion or a major emergency that I'd naively took as normality? I saw some people on distant street corners and sidewalks, but couldn't determine if there were creatures among them or not. Completely lost my mind before. Maybe this was a side effect of my new eyes. I didn't give the surgeon any time to explain anything. That was stupid of me.

But it seemed clear. Perhaps it was over and I was free, hopefully. I felt a blanket of relief lay over me and I sighed as if a heaviness were lifted off. I hopped down from the stoop to the sidewalk and began making my way down the street. Before I took four steps, I noticed something in the corner of my left eye next to my apartment. I froze. I could barely move my head.

I was shaking so much. I slowly creaked my neck to the side, and when I saw it, my eyes began to well up with tears. I tried to scream, but I couldn't even breathe. I was so taken aback by what I saw that I forgot how to function. There it was. Plain as day. next to me but this time was different it was latched on to me like the others I'd seen in the

crowd weeks ago game over this was the end I finally took in a deep gasp and let out a loud shrill cry that drew everyone's attention I collapsed to my knees shouting and fumbling over my words uttering pure nonsense this was it no more I'd made a deal I looked down at my hands and stared holes through my fingertips. They taunted me, forcing me to keep my up. Rage filled my face, contorting it into a violent grimace. He slowly drew my hands closer. I crawled my hands up my cheeks like spiders

and mashed my fingers into my eyes as hard as I could, trying to reach behind my eyeballs to pluck them out. The pressure on my eyes was sickening, the pain was excruciating. I dug my nails in. My eyes began to stream tears of blood. I stayed strong, dug deeper with my nails, sending piercing, searing pain into my pockets. I screamed even louder than before. I kept cloring, but the pain grew to be too much, and I had to stop. I shook my head violently, trying to stay lucid. Damage was done, but my vision still had blurred bits and fragments remaining. The sight was a plethora of swirls and colour blending into abstraction.

I began again, even more carelessly than before, like I was rummaging through a box of expired fruit, soft and filled with mush. I couldn't breathe anymore, my thoughts were non-existent. I was nothing but agony. It felt like I'd shoved a whisk into each orifice and set it to high. And with one final movement, I gripped whatever chunks of my eyes were left, and clenched my fingertips until they burst into a group between them. I was once again welcome back to the dark void.

I had been cradled in my hole, but my nerves were fried. I was going into shock. I could barely hear the voices waving in and out around me. And I heard an old woman's voice break through. Oh my God, what have you done? Why? I whimpered out a response. I was blind. I had surgery, but the creature.

is following me, following everyone, they're always there. I pointed in a circle around me because I'd lost my sense of direction, wasn't sure where the demon was lurking. What I heard the woman say in response hurt me more than the macabre infliction I just induced upon myself. Oh, you poor thing! Her voice crumbling with pity. That's just your shadow.

The more she elaborated, the more my heart. heart sank until her words buzzed out into a cloud of loud ringing in my head. Even though I was crying, all I could do was blee. Bob Williams knew when he woke that it would be another perfect day. April had brought him an espresso coffee in bed, made just the way he liked it. After his brain was moving at full speed, Maria and Anna, his two daughters, entered their hair in perfect golden pigtails and dressed in their school uniform. Love you, Daddy. Hurry, children, April said,

hurting them to their family car, which drove the children to school. He went to the bathroom to clean up, smiling at the crisply ironed, pressed US Public Health Service shirt that was waiting for him. After showering and shaving, he grabbed his briefcase and headed into the kitchen.

April was flipping through recipes on her tablet. He kissed her gently. Hi, gorgeous. He told her. told her, you are the most perfect wife in the world. She handed him his kale banana protein smoothie and a large travel mug. I wanted to make you a field day extra special. What would you like for dinner?

Every night with you is extra special. Surprise me. She smiled slightly. Oh, I intend to. As soon as the children are in bed. He saluted the flags that hung from his house. He really wanted to flip them off, but the uniform code of military justice had no sense of humor or mercy.

A robot automatically raised and lowered the flags. He hated it because he too was just another robot owned by the public health service and controlled by the state computers. He sat in the doggy van as it drove him to his destination.

That's what the girls called it. It only had one bench seat in the front but there was a security partition between the front seat and the rear compartment. That made it perfect for taking Thor and SIF to the dog part. The office computer had chosen and downloaded to his tablet, the same as any freshly commissioned Ensign. Most captains over field divisions stay behind their desks,

but Bob believed in leading from the front and tried to spend one day a week in the field. His morning cases were at St Mary's Regional Medical Centre. Some of the doctors at the staff entrance gave him nervous glances and hostile stairs, and he was used to it. The hospital security staff waved him a round. around the line. He smiled and thanked them. He made the doctor's nervous when the metal detector sang. "'Bob, how are you?' said Dr. Chan, the chief of psychiatry at St. Mary's. "'Allen,' Bob said, extending a firm handshake to his longtime friend. "'Hey there, how are you? How are

me and the kiddos?' They stepped into the elevator. Bob punched the floor to oncology. "'Ah, great. Angel won the statewide high school poetry country country country. Yeah, Maria told me, she was excited for her. As he stepped out of the elevator, Bob felt pangs of envy for Alan's perfect children and illustrious career. Then he remembered he had to accept life on life's terms, and to be glad for everything that his friendship with Alan had given him. Friends help friends.

Bob always repaid that friendship. Bob's first case of the day was Francis Anthony Chernvinsky. Tony was an Afghan war veteran who'd served with the first. distinction for 40 years with the Reno Police Department. Now he was a dried husk, lying in a hospital bed with stage four pancreatic cancer. Only one final gift was possible for Tony Chavinsky, and Bob intended to give it to him. As per the law, the computer notified Tony's closest next of kin. Angela Grabovska sat, holding her father's hand. Bob was a consummate professional who always studied the immediate family before going in.

understanding their circumstances made it much easier to relate he went to tony and looked into his dull eyes how are you doing bob asked using his disarming texas drawl to the maximum pain make it stop that is what i am here for please mrs grabovskar said glancing at her father may we talk outside decision. But I'm not ready to see my papa go. She squeezed her father's hand. There must be some way besides this. There is. If your father sent me away, I'd be required to do so unless he called me back. Think of what will happen. As much as your father's medical expenses are, we estimate he will exhaust the health care savings fund he earned over a lifetime in less than four months. Based on our experience, we think he'll live for seven months. If you as an ex-of-kin accept responsibility for him

after those funds are exhausted, then you have to pay for his medical bills. But I want my papa. That's very selfish of you, Miss Glabasca. Please think of your children. You have two fine daughters. Their teachers say both girls want to go to college. You're behind on your house payments. If you pay for hospitalization through the bitter end, you'll lose your house and be bankrupt. accept this final gift from your father let him cash out what's left in his medical fund will pay off your mortgage so your children can live with you at home and get their college education she held her hands over her face this shouldn't be happening no it shouldn't your father was a good cop and a faithful party leader he loves you and he loves his country let him have a hero's death not for you to sentence

him to months of slow torture. One final sacrifice to crown his life and give your children a chance at life they deserve. Stop the pain, he coughed. Now! She looked at her father and then at Bob with sad resignation. Mrs. Krabowski, is there anyone else here who would like to attend? Let me get the girls.

When the two of them were alone, Bob double-checked his record. order. Everything had to be done legally and properly. Tony Chivinsky, do you want to cash out now? Yes. Now, how do you want your cash to be distributed? Angela's house. Pay it off, give her the rest. He struggled to speak, then took a breath. My funeral. You will be given a full state funeral with 21 gun salute and bagpipes

and internment in the field of heroes. My monument, life size, I guarantee it. The police one carrying the little girl, my face in Angela's. Bob nodded. Of course, perfect choice. Angela returned with two girls in the latest ugly teenage fashion. Both had tears in their eyes. We love you, judge you, they said as they hugged him.

I love you, Tommy said. Time to go. One girl turned to Bob. Will it hurt much? Bob unwrapped a package of two syringes. Not a bit, he said as he injected the first hyperdermic into the IV line. Within moments, the pain left Anthony Chivinsky's face. He looked peaceful. My duty is to end suffering. Your grandfather is now in a deep coma. He pulled the syringe out and administered the next one. The monitors in the room ran. A nurse came in and switched them off, checked her patient and noted the time. His morning was successful. With a sense of perverse pride, he released four people from their suffering and eliminated the risk of them being a financial burden to the state. As he ate April's avocado sprout sandwiches

and filled out the paperwork. Bob pondered his next article in public health reports. Voluntary conversations among low-income substance abusers. Publish or perish, they say. Well, he wanted to give April a rear admiral's mansion. Consuelo had been invaluable, but Bob didn't want his wife scrubbing toilets. It took less than half an hour to get to his next destination. Lois Allen Elementary School in Sparks, the worst school in town.

The student's name was Miguel Garcia. Bob called to verify with the principal that Miguel was on campus. Principal Pacheco and Manuel's teacher had opened the service request. After reading the file, he wondered why they'd waited so long. The meeting was in the classroom with Miguel's teacher, Mrs. Torres. Her class had let out. All the students had left. Bob paced back and forth.

He hated interventions. As Bob nervously circled the room, Miss Pacheco sat at Mrs. Torres's desk, idly playing with her bleached blonde hair as she flipped through messages on her phone. Mrs. Torres quietly sat in one of the small chairs, nursing a spectacular black eye. She looked fragile and depressed. Eventually two schoolguards wrestled Miguel through the door. One guard's name tag red Martinez and the other red Cooper. Most school guards were retired military, trying to get easy money, or newbies looking for experience so they could enroll in the police academy.

Martinez was the former, while Cooper was the latter. Neither was up to the task. Miguel kicked and snapped at the guards as he growled and shrieked like a beast. A toothpick-thin woman with dank, patchy hair pounded on the guard's second-chance vests as she followed them. What is this? She said in Spanglish. advertising to the world her lack of education as well as her decayed meth-mouth. The principal said I was to come. What are you doing to my Miguel?

Sit down, Bob said firmly. His Spanish had the accent of a professor. You can't do this, she babbled. Let Miguel go. Bob nodded. The guards released him and withdrew to the counter behind the teacher's desk. Cooper rode up his sleeve to inspect a bike mark while Martinez rubbed his shins. Miguel sat, rocking back and forth as he played with his phone, seemingly oblivious to everyone around him. Miss Garcia, the public health service was called in because of your son's violence against school staff. This school year he has been suspended three times. In the latest incident, he broke Mrs. Torres' nose.

We've turned a blind eye to his bad behavior in abysmal academic performance before, but he is a menace to society. He has been ordered to be transferred to a re-educated. education center. You can't take my baby. She screamed with horror, eyes darting around the room frantically. Everyone knows what happens there. They go in, but they don't come out. Her eyes had the look of complete desperation.

He's just sensitive. You have to understand him and give him more time. Bob sighed. He sincerely felt sorry for McGuwell. The kid didn't ask to be born a sociopath, and his mother couldn't stop loving him. But Bob couldn't let his feelings sway him. His professional duty was clear,

and he knew the impact on his family if he deviated in the slightest. No more time. McGwell's brutality and aggression prevent other children from getting the help late. Please, a different school with new teachers. He will do better. Ma'am, the state's computers predict a greater than 99% chance that he will murder someone within the next 15 years. based on that in his proven history of violent behavior

Miguel must go to a state re-education centre No she shrieked grabbing for Bob only to be restrained by the guards Let me go Without any warning Miguel snatched a heavy Martinelli's cider bottle That had been a decoration on Mrs. Torres' desk He smashed off the end And savagely slashed at Martinez's throat

Leaving the guard with a gash that ran from his ear to his collar instinctively the guard let go of the woman to stem his bleeding bob drew his service pistol drop it now mcwell stabbed at cooper who frantically tried to defend himself with his riot stick the club and an itty bity can of mace were all that washoe county school district allowed their guards to carry cooper struggled to control mcwell's mother as he defended himself from miguel he was fighting for his life and the growing red stain on the sleeve of his uniform proved that he was losing. Bob fired twice, puncturing Miguel's head with one shot and destroying the classroom's smartboard 3D interactive display with the second. Miguel fell backward, a large hole in his head. Bob knelt over to check Miguel, but there was no pulse.

He stood in a daze, then shut his wide, unmoving eyes and absent-mindedly hoisted his weapon. The loud blast left his ears ringing. He barely made it to the sink before his stomach heaved and violently emptied. It wasn't the first time he'd had to use his pistol on the job, but it always made him sick. Cooper released Miguel's mother. She knelt by her fallen child. You monster! she cried, then leaped onto Bob and smeared Miguel's blood on his neat white uniform. His blood is on your hands. You murdered him.

Despite their injuries, the guards were men. managed to cuff her and toss her to the floor. She lay next to her son, tears mixing with her son's brains and blood on the lillonium floor. Holding his wounds with both hands, Martinus turned to Bob. You saved my life. Thank you. You did, said Cooper, squeezing the injury on his arm. Principal Pacheco put her phone down from calling 911 for the injured guard. An ambulance is on the way. Nurse Kelly's coming. She looked bob straight in the eye. Who's going to pay for the smart board you shot?

We don't have the money to replace it. I'll buy a new one out of my own pocket. He sighed, knowing that the money would have to come out of the family vacation fund. The principal nodded. Good, yes, yes, then. You were the hero that saved everyone from that monster. Nothing else could be done. Isn't that right, Mrs. Torres?

Mrs. Torres was trying to bandage Martinez's gash with the little classroom medical kits. By now she had broken down into heaving sobs, but she nodded in sad agreement. I will tell them, McGwell's mother shouted as Cooper sat on her to keep her down. You can't hide the truth. You are a murderer. I will kill you for this. Bob shook his head as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and reported the incident to Angela, his administrative assistant. Two cans of Dr. Pepper washed the bile taste out of Bob's mouth. By the time he left Lois Allen Elementary, he had ordered Principal Pacheco, a replacement smart board, and had cleaned up the mess.

The coroner, or McGuil away, for disposal. His mother had been taken to jail on the charge of assorting and threatening the life of a federal officer, discharging his duty. If her drug test came back positive, she'd go to the re-education centre at Earrington. even though both the police and vice-admiral goswami in los angeles ruled that the shooting was justified bob felt sick then he remembered why he worked for the u.s public health service he loved his family more than he hated his job he was late getting home before he even got out of the van thor and sift chirped their happy bark frantically dancing tales and the smell of lasagna greeted him when the day went well April cooked to keep him on his diet. When days were awful, she made lasagna.

And this was definitely a lasagna day. Are you all right, baby? He nodded. It will be all right. Thor leaned against Bob and put his head in Bob's hand. Maria and Anna joined the group hut. Eric ran in, running circles and hands flapping. Daddy's home.

Daddy's home. Bob looked down at his son's law. long, thin face. Except for those huge ears, he looks so much like his mother. I got some bad news, kids. Bob said. Or what? The girls asked. I don't think we can afford to go visit grandma this year.

Daddy broke something expensive at work and had to pay for it. He turned to April. How was Eric today? No seizures. I think the new medications are helping. Consuelo spent the day on his speech and in behavioral therapy. Bob smiled. As long as he stayed on the job, everything would be all right.

He was so fortunate to be able to get Consuelo. She'd been an autism specialist before the New Order eliminated that job. His position allowed him to expense her as his full-time servant. As much as Consuelo helped Eric, April didn't mind doing the house well. With friends like Dr. Chen around town, Eric got his medications under the radar. even if Bob had to do wet work every day he could sleep knowing Eric was safe and the girls wouldn't be sterilized

he hugged his family close we are good people we always sacrifice and try to help others sometimes things don't go our way but they'll work out in the end Genesis for a while now this picture has been floating around on the internet you've probably seen it by now a photo is a simple black and white grainy still

of a young girl in the woods. The girl has a dark shadow over her face and is posing in a strange standing position. There's been some debate as to whether she's running, jumping, or simply posing for the camera. The story surrounding the photo has only added to the intrigue. Apparently this photo was discovered on a trail cam in Cambridge, New York. If you don't know, trail cams are specialized equipment

used by hunters, researchers and farmers to track game and other wild animals. These cameras are made to snap a picture when a motion sensor picks up movement in the lenses you. The landowners had set up the trail camp for hunting purposes. There are people on the internet who've latched on to the idea that this picture is of a long dead girl, that this picture is of a ghastly presence. Others yet wonder if this is just a girl and why she might be alone in the woods. Police have gotten involved to find the identity of this child.

Well, this afternoon I saw the picture while screwing around on Facebook during my lunch break at work. When I saw it, I froze. I knew who was in the picture. It was a face I hadn't seen in years. I left work early. I had to call my mum and get the facts straight, but maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm on my fourth shot of Malibu as I type this out. The booze helps. After all, what else can I do but tell a bunch of scary story junkies what I have to say?

Nobody would ever believe me anyways. Nobody I told believe me. Well, I'm rambling again. I'll take it easy on the sauce until I finish. My name's Rebecca, but everyone just calls me Becca these days. I grew up in Coila, a small township within Cambridge, New York. Compared to the hustle of my current home in Manhattan, Coiler was a hole. I'm pretty sure more people live in my apartment building than lived in all of Coiler. My best friend was Zoe. Zoe was fun, brave and so adventurous. God, I haven't thought about her in years. You could probably say Zoe was my first love.

Of course, at our age, I was too young to see it that way, but isn't that how you always see friends from the past? They're a grainy photographing of mine's eye, a caricature. You remember all of the good and ignore the bad. I was 12 years old on the last day I saw Zoe. Every small town has rumours. Coiler was no different. In the late 1980s, the rumour mill was spinning stories about a satanic cult. If you've ever heard a cult story, I'm guessing you have.

Then these stories were nothing too shocking. rituals in the woods and animal sacrifices evil chance overheard in the trees these were the story spread from child to child and unbeknownst to me at the time adults as well now supposedly a cult had taken residence in a house in the woods around cambridge and coiler and were privy to these and more depravities the word on the playground in elementary school was exaggerated to the nth degree according to my old friend ricky davis these cultists were taken to take children and molester them. I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad. After they were done, they would kill you and use your blood to make cranberry juice, the worst juice of all, according to Ricky. I know this sounds silly, but you have to understand this was what we thought about these supposed cultists at the time. We were kids in the 80s in a small town. We had no internet. We were much more sheltered to the realities of the world than today's kids. If I'd had

even a clue as to what was really out there. Well, I'm jumping ahead again, back to Zoe. I met Zoe about a week before kindergarten. The family had just moved from Manhattan to settle in a quiet community. The house they settled on ended up being right across the street from my house. Being the same age, Zoe and I became fast friends. We stayed over with each other, ate dinner at each other's houses, and did virtually everything together. By first grade, our parents would joke that I shared a pair of daughters. In the summer of 89, we were both 12. It was a summer between fifth and sixth grades, big year.

We were headed to middle school. This year would be all about lockers and class schedules and puberty. Zoe and I were so close by this point that we weren't too scared. Transition meant change, but we had each other. We were taking four of our seven classes together, we were excited to see what was in store. The week before school started back up, we were more worried about how to make the best of our last week of freedom than we were about school. Of course, at this time, the cult stories

were as big as ever. On the Friday before school was scheduled to start, I awoke lying next to Zoe in her bed. She was still fast asleep. I remember watching her sleep and thinking about how pretty she was. There was a time when it wished Zoe were a boy. A part of me wanted to kiss her and it would have been so much easier if she'd just been her boy. Zory was my best friend. Looking back, I guess it's only natural I felt that way. It was a very confusing time in my life. As I lay there, a clatter came from downstairs.

Zoe had a big family, two brothers, two sisters, and a dog. All that, in addition to mum and dad, and they were seldom much quiet time in Zoe's house after 7 a.m. So he slowly opened her eyes and looked at me. The morning sunlight from her bedroom window swam through her dark head. Creeper! Zoe yawned at me. I scoffed at her. I was just trying to wake your lazy butt up with the power of my eyes.

Did it work? Eh, she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Something like that. Hey, I said nervously. About what we talked about yesterday. We don't have to, but nobody will care. and let that little dog Ricky get one over on us. No way.

Quit doing it. We got up and went downstairs to enjoy our breakfast of champions, frosted flakes, and got our day started. We already had our day planned. The previous day, we'd run into Ricky Davis near the school. Now a few years older than his cranberry juice hating self, Ricky had evolved into something of a class clown. He and his core friends would always prank and dare people to do it.

stupid things. It wasn't a bad guy, just a little obnoxious. While we were strolling home from the nearby candy store with quite the candy hole, Ricky saw us while riding his bike and made a bee-line for us. Hey, did you guys hear? he asked us, slightly out of breath from his stressful peddle. We found the house. Confused. So he asked, what house? The cult house, Ricky exclaimed. No way, you're full of it, I said. I did, really. Yesterday morning my dad and I were hunting,

and we saw this old house out there. Well, it was really huge, but it was not like it was falling apart. My dad said he saw footprints lead into the house and we should leave it alone, but it was totally the cold house. He shouted this last part. So he eyed Ricky skeptically.

So you saw some old house and it's just supposed to be the cult house? I don't buy it. Think about it, Ricky pressed. An old house in the woods, lots of footprints. Oh, it has to be the cult house. You guys have to go check it out. Ricky seemed really thrilled by the concept.

I was a little more wary. So you want us to go to some stupid nasty house in the woods and waste our time making you look stupid when it is in the house? No thanks. he snickered if you girls are scared just say so and with that comments

I knew we were going Zoe was a lot of things she slacked on homework she didn't like to do her chores and she'd even be known to get mouthy with teachers from time to time but nobody called Zoe chicken

Zoe never stepped down from a challenge look Zoe said almost angry if you want us to go look at your stupid house and prove you wrong, then we'll do it. We'll do it tomorrow. We aren't scared. Zoe puffed her chest slightly. I, on the other hand, was less infused. I thought we were going to go to the mall with your sisters tomorrow. Oh, come on, Becca. We can get ice cream and pretzels any time. Besides, this moron needs to be taught not to believe everything he thinks he sees. Zoe never bought

into the whole cult story. Her dad was a history professor at a nearby college. His personal motto in life was, question everything, something which had definitely rubbed off on her. When she'd heard the cult stories, her dad had told her that many small towns make up stories about things that go bump in the night, but these stories seldom have anything of merit. As though he saw, the stories, there's nothing more than pure baloney. I was less rational about the cult stories. Looking back, I think if you had asked me directly,

I would have said I didn't believe the stories, but they still freaked me out. I was comfortable not another. While I did want to hang out with Zoe, I didn't want to go into those woods looking for a cultic sight. Oh, but, I started. Ricky interrupted me. Hey, if Becker's too scared, I can go out there with you.

This got to me. Ricky was one of the few black boys at our school. maybe it was because of this that a lot of girls liked him I always heard girls giggle about their crushes on Ricky years later Ricky would go on to be the captain of the high school baseball team and will go through girls about as quickly as he went through baseballs yeah he was that guy

I didn't realize why at the time but I wasn't okay with Zoe being alone with Ricky in the woods I'm not scared Zoe and I are going to go out there and you're going to feel like an idiot once this gets out and then it was settled. That night I stayed at Zoe's. We were up late into the night, looking at the map Ricky had eventually drawn us

and planning what we'd need to bring with us into the woods, mostly a few basic survival items and junk food. It was an unusually cool morning for mid-August, so he bundled up accordingly. The local weathermen forecasted cloudy skies and cool temperatures for the weekend, much to the chagrin of Zoe's parents. After finishing our breakfast, we headed out to the school, just up the road from our houses. According to Ricky's map, the woods behind the school would be the best place to start.

At the school, we stopped under the moonlight to be sure we had everything we needed. The moonlight was another local curiosity. Next to the school in the parking lot was a huge light post that had been in store years ago. Due to some electrical malfunction that I really didn't understand, it glow brighter than surrounding lights. Due to its near-blinding intensity, it had been dubbed the moonlight by the locals. As we walked from the moonlight through the open field separating the brownstone school building from the tree line, I felt uneasy.

Now, Coiler is a small place, as I've mentioned. It's normal for people to be out walking dogs, gardening, mowing and so on. There was none of that. Nobody was around. No kids on the playground, no teachers going back and forth from the children. their cars while preparing classrooms. Nothing. I suddenly felt alone. I quicken my pace to make sure I was side by side with Zoe. She made me feel safe. The woods in Coiler are much the same as the woods in your hometowns. Lots of fallen trees, worn pass from decades of playing kids,

beer and liquor bottles and condom wrappers left over from nights of teenage debauchery. Typical. From the map and Ricky's testimonial, we estimated it would take about an hour and a half to get to the house, if it was really that. Well, I was by no means an expert. I'd been hunting with my dad and uncle a couple times. In my 11-year-old mind, I was pretty sure I knew the woods well enough to get us there. While walking through the woods toward the house, we talked about what you'd expect a couple of pre-ting girls to talk about. What movies did we want to see? Which girls would we hope wouldn't be in our glasses?

How would we rub it in Ricky's face when we proved him wrong? Eventually our mind started to turn towards the cult story. Did you hear the rumour that Principal Van Drason is in the cults? I asked Zoe. Zoe laughed. Yeah, and so is the librarian. Oh, and the janitor, Mr. Nick. My dad, too.

Really? Your dad? I laughed. Who said that? That bitch, Lisa. She had the nerve to say it to my face. She said the only reason I have a nice house is because my dad is in the cult. Forget her.

She's just jealous because her mom's a waitress. Ouch, Bex, that's cold. We both burst into a fit of hysterics. In our minds, if they really were a cult, none of these people would be in it. Every few months a teacher will give someone a bad grade or a write-up, and within hours that teacher was suddenly the cult. leader. Rumors would spread for a while before a new target was eventually found. This is what really made the cult stories so scary, the fact that anyone could be in it. There were always

rumors being spread. If stories were to be believed, just about everyone in town had been a cultist at one point or another. If a cult really did exist, it was formed by everybody and nobody. About an hour and 40 minutes in, I realized that the forest was a little bit of the forest was a little bit of was subtly changing. Gone were beaten paths and the abandoned refuse of our elders. I noticed how clean the area was, not just free of trash, but free of typical forest debris as well. It was as if the area had been picked through numerous times for fireworks. Twigs, sticks, leaves, most of these things were just gone. I was just about to tell Zoe went, Jesus, he was telling the truth.

It took me a moment before I realised what Zoe was talking about. The heads, through a clearing, was a structure. Wordlessly, we walked forward to get a better look. The house was not as large as I'd pictured. From Ricky's description, I imagined this huge, sprawling mansion. What we saw, while large, was much more modest than my imagination. had led me to believe. The simple two-story house seemed to be only slightly larger than my own house.

The windows that weren't boarded up were long since shattered. The colour seemed to have once been a pale blue, but much of the paint seemed to have chipped away, revealing splintered wood. There was no front door. It looked a lot like the old house from Leave It to Beaver, if that house had been abandoned for decades. In front of the house was the large fire pit. Well, damn, Zoe said.

Yep, I responded. Well, he was right. What do we do now? I guess we can go inside and look. Looks like the coldest aren't home. She smirked. Zoe, we came. We saw it.

It's really here. Can't we just go? This is really freaky. No way. We came this far. We at least need to find a souvenir to prove we did it. Maybe you're positive nobody's here, but I'm not. I could feel my heart pumping.

I couldn't explain why, but I was terrified. Every adult had always told me that the stories of a cult house in the woods were just stories. But here it was. Part of me was afraid that at any moment someone would jump out and grab me or Zoe. Oh, damn it, Bex, I didn't hike through the woods for nothing. Do you want to sit out here like that? a baby fine but wow I'm going in she turned away and started into the house as I stood there and watched her walk away I felt my dread deeper I was afraid of being alone but I

was more afraid for Zoe my best friend was going into certain doom and I couldn't stop her I wanted to cry Zoe please I shouted so he stopped and turned around to look at me with anger in her face. I fell a tear run down my cheek. I'm really scared, please. I trailed off. Zoe saw the look on my face and sighed. Her face softened.

She looked back at the house toward the porch. Sitting on the porch was a smooth black stone. Hey, look at this, she said as she bent over to pick it up. Do you know what this is? No I wiped the tear away Well this looks like a pretty good souvenir Can't let's get going back

I smiled Relieved as Zoe walked up to me She pulled me into a hug And apologised I felt her warmth against me It felt good For a minute we just stood there And embraced

Hey I quickly let go of each other And turned her heads toward the sound Faster than I thought possible, Zora's hand had darted down and found my own. She squeezed hard. Just ahead of the house, we heard a heavy trudging through the brush. Through the tree line in front of the house stepped a man. He was a huge burly man with large arms.

His tattered New York Mets cap hid dark hair. He wore faded, muddy jeans, a red flannel shirt and a scraggly beard. left hand, balanced on his shoulder, was an axe. I felt the colour drained from my face. The cultists, they were here. Their axe was the last thing I'd ever see. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I felt my hand tense in Zolese. A pounding heartbeat echoed into my palm. The woodcutter met our gaze and quickly tossed the axe into the dirt. Oh no, no girls, the man said with his I was flat out. It's okay.

I won't hurt you. I was just clearing some brush out here. Collecting wood, that's all. Really? It's okay. So his grip loosened slightly. Then she sighed and let go. It's okay.

You just scared us. What are you doing out here? The man laughed. What am I doing here? I own the place. I'm fixing it up so I can rent it to campus. What are you doing here? we awkwardly explained why we'd come out this far, telling the man about Ricky in the cult house.

The man listened patiently, chuckling whenever the cult came up. Well, ladies, I can assure you that this is not a cult house. I'm a godly man, the man said after listening to our story. Look, I said, we're sorry, mister. We didn't mean any harm. We just wanted to see for ourselves. We should probably get going before our parents were. in my head I cursed Ricky he probably met this guy too and sent us out here to mess with us

the man smiled ah you two seem like good girls why don't give you a ride home it's only a fifteen minute drive to town no I said that's okay we know the way oh I'm sure you do just tell me one thing the man said Are you both virgins?

What? Zoe asked, shots. Virgins, the man repeated with a smile on his face. Have you fucked anyone? I turned away from the man to face Zoe, who looked appalled. Before I could respond, I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head before the world faded to black. I awoke after what must have been hours. It was dark out now, my head ached immensely. I was on the ground, tied up around my wrists and ankles with thick rope.

I looked around and realised I was still next to the house. From behind I could feel the warmth of a massive bonfire. Flipping over, I saw the largest fire I'd ever seen. The tips of the flame were taller than the house before it. On the other side of the fire was Zoe. She too was bound. She was awake and looking at me with a horrified look on her face. I immediately thought back to my backpack that I brought with us.

Zoe's dad insisted we'd bring a pocket knife if we were exploring in the woods. Zoe, it's okay. Where's my pack? There's a... Zoe cut me off. Becks! Tears poured down her face. She wasn't looking at me.

I turned around. In the dark, I hadn't seen them before, but now they were all I could see. A dozen or so figures stood at the tree line. Each person wore a long black cloak with black gloves. They were all identical, say for one feature. Each wore a nearly identical mask. They were white, expressionless masks. The only thing setting them apart was red.

Several of the members in the back were all white masks. The rest had varying numbers of red dots painted on theirs. As they grew closer, the cultist's masks had more red dots. However, the one standing closest to me, well, that mask was completely blood red. The robes they wore hid their features well. Some were tall, others shawls. Some were heavier than others.

Several even bore the unmistakable curves of women. However, no identities could be discerned from this. The one with the Red Mars stepped forward. Brothers and sisters of the knighthood, our time is now. He spoke in a deep voice. He was tall, but not the tallest among them. Even under his billowing robe, he seemed very thin. We, the knights who have promised ourselves to the mighty king of darkness,

have come to make an offering to outlawed. Hail day on. The rest said in unison. I started sobbing uncontrollably. Fear took me completely. Behind me I heard Zoe pleading for them to stop. She kept saying she was sorry and that we wouldn't tell anyone. I couldn't muster the words to agree or disagree.

I was lost in my own horror. The leader paid us no mind. and continued. These beautiful ones shall make a glorious sacrifice for the coming of our lord of the woods. Hail day! The group converged and circled around us in a loose circle. We have an offering to you, O Lord.

In unison they began to chant, in almost sing-song fashion in a tongue I didn't understand. Caesemines, dominant, dominionous, Our most of temer, exusciped benedictionem, unculte, dominionus primar. If you've foes satiare, se praeeprae, amboulets into us uske in Italy. It's continued, again and again for minutes, more hours or days. I was lost to it. The rhythm took me.

But almost compare it to being drunk. drunk. My head swam and it made me feel tired. When the chanting eventually did stop, the group cried out one final time in unison. With everything that had happened thus far, this was the most horrifying event of my life or anyone's life. I lay there listening to their chants, knowing I was going to die, knowing Zoe would die. That's a terrible realisation for any 12-year-old to be faced with. But what happened next was worse. Done with their chanting, the cultists were ready for us.

They looked. I'd like to hope that everyone who is hearing this is an adult, but regardless, you're not stupid, and I'm not going to sit here and spell it out. Needless to say, every one of them took turns using us in every way. imagine more the men the women all of them I tried to fight it at first I think Zoe did too but after a while the futility of it all set in and I just waited for it to be

done and eventually it ended afterward the man in the red mask walked over to the house and procured a black goblet he walked over and ordered me to drink from it I probably should have resisted thought struggled something but I had nothing left in me to fight with I was nothing I lay my head forward and sit the vile black liquid tasted like rotten eggs mixed with fire like we'd burn me from the inside the pain was maddening worse than anything I'd ever felt I was dying I knew it was finally dying I vaguely remember hearing Zoe scream my name as the darkness took me.

I was still screaming when I lost consciousness. Pinnacle, when I awoke, I heard sobbing. My head ached and my throat burned. I looked around to gather my surroundings. The remains of a small campfire lay before me. He told me how it was his bride. I looked over to see Zoe sobbing into her knees. I had no idea what she meant.

I just laid there watching her, confined to my own thoughts. I felt useless, used, dirty, I was nothing. I realized we were no longer in front of the house. The area looked more like one of the campsites littering our woods, and it was still dark. Zoe, I started, but I had nothing to say. I realized how cold I was. I slowly stood, completely sore and walked over to Zoe and put my arms around it. She finally seemed to realize I was there, held me tight and cried.

To this day I have never heard or felt such anguish that was in that clearing that night. She cried, then I cried. We must have sat there holding on to each other for hours before we finally mustered the courage to stay. Upon examining our surroundings, I realised how dark it was, how alone we were, at least I thought we were. At the other side of the dead campfire was one of the robed figures. He was laying with his back rolled against a large sitting log. He cautiously approached the figure, and we inspected him more closely.

We saw that the man's rib cage had been torn open. The inside of his chest was completely exposed. his face bore a solid red mask and if i had seen this gruesome sight only hours ago i would have screamed i would have cried but i was not the same girl i'd been hours ago i was nothing i became aware that zoie was holding my hand i looked at her and she seemed to have regained some of her strength okay she asked yeah i responded Let's go home. Having been in the woods a lot, I had a pretty good idea of where people liked to camp. This gave me a rough idea of where we were. I picked a direction and we started walking. For about half an hour we just walked silently, hand in hand. Eventually I heard Zoe say, I'm so sorry I dragged us out here, Bex. We stopped and I faced her. I wanted to scream that it was her fault. I wanted to scream that it wasn't her fault. But I had nothing. I was nothing.

Instead, I just said, all right, shortly after that, through the brush, we saw a huge bright light in the sky. The moonlight. I could hear Zoe's smile as she said it. Then I heard it. It started as a noise off in the distance. Crunching, crambling, pounding. It sounded like some large animal was charging through the forest straight at us. We didn't wait to see it. I looked down and took Zoe's dark hand and started running harder than I ever had. After our ordeal, I didn't think we could run like that anymore. We charged recklessly through the brush, but despite our haste, the stomping behind us, grew louder. The pounding was now accompanied by a monstrous roar, a raw which would send beasts of any kind fleeing in terror. The moonlight grew brighter. I could see the edge of the tree

line and feel the heat of hot breath against my neck. The rancid air smelled of rotten eggs and fire. I burst forth from the woods like a swimmer out of water gasping for air. I kept charging forward with every ounce of my strength before, collapsing under the gorgeous majesty of the moonlight. At that exact moment, I thought, I'll die here. The sound had stopped. I just lay there panting. I was cut and bruised from my charge through the brush.

I was bleeding. We had experienced the worst trauma imaginable, but Zoe and I have made it out alive. My hand was empty. Zoe, I asked through panting breaths. Zoe! I looked around, but she was nowhere.

Zoe! Though I couldn't possibly cry any more tears. I was nothing, after all. The tears started to come freely nonetheless. I stood feebly. The woods, I thought. I started to walk toward the woods to find Zoe when I saw it. Just inside the tree line was a massive silhouette, easily 15 feet tall.

The shadow seemed to be heaving, exhausted from its chase. Right in the spot where eyes would be were two glowing red orbs. His eye. And those deep crimson eyes, I felt pain. I felt longing, anger, suffering, hatred. But most of all, evil. Whatever this creature was, a demon, a god, the devil himself, he wanted me. I felt the pull of its lustful desire for me at a time when I should have had no understanding

of what that meant. I was not meant to escape. I stared for about a minute, cursing whatever it was that stood in front of me, hating it. However, faced with this evil, forth the depths of hell, I was filled with even more terror than fury. Suddenly, the entire tree line flashed red, then blue, then red again. I had a car pull up and screeched to a halt behind me. I turned to see a police car.

I looked back at the tree line, but the shadow was gone. Denalment. Zoe and I had been gone for three days. In that time, the towns of Coiler and Cambridge had been completely upturned. Police from neighbouring cities had volunteered to come and help find two missing girls. After I was found, I was taken immediately to the hospital. It was questioned by police, my parents, detectives, Zoe's parents, and more police. I told them everything. They did not have the strength to hold back. Ricky, the house, the attacks. Waking up next to Zoe,

the beast it wasn't until two pieces of evidence we discovered that my story gained some tiny shred of credibility first my rape kit came back positive second a heavily mutilated robe

body was discovered at a campsite in the woods his identity was never uncovered and they never found Zoe it was eventually determined by the police that a group of cultists had kidnapped and raped to innocent girls. The group then killed their leader, left one girl for dead and then stole away with the other. It told me that I never saw Zoe after our assault and I certainly

never saw a beast. It was all made up to cope with a trauma. For a long time that was the story I believed. With my shattered mind I created a horrible story to cope with losing my best friend, a story where I'd one last chance to say goodbye. A story with a monster. I spend a little time in an institution to regain some semblance of a mind. I spent years in therapy as well. Hell, I'm still in therapy. Between vivid flashbacks, PTSD and night terrors,

I'll probably spend the rest of my life in therapy. It's been almost 30 years and I haven't talked about Zoe since all those. those years ago. Sure, the people in my life know the rough details. I was kidnapped by a crazy court. I was raped. I was nearly killed trying to escape. I haven't told them about Zoe, though. Not my wife, not my therapist. Certainly not my kids. Nobody. It's not as though I'd forgotten her. It's just too painful. I honestly hadn't thought about her in years, at least not until I saw that picture of a little girl in a photo from Cambridge. I can only guess what you're thinking now.

What chased you two through the woods? If you were gone for three days, what happened during that lost time? Why would Zoe's childhood self-appear in the picture? What if Zoe's spirit is trapped in the woods waiting for you? What if Zoe is still alive? I wish I could go back and find Zoe's spirit in the woods. there were so many things I'd tell her I would tell her that I didn't blame her

that it wasn't her fault I could tell her how I really felt about her I could hug her one more time but I can't do that I can't because Zoe is dead Zoe is gone and she has been for a long time that isn't Zoe in the picture it's me

me as I was when I was 12 years old in those woods it's a sign seeing that picture made me see the truth I wasn't meant to escape he wants me back 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.