Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S3 Ep136: Episode 137: Medical Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 31, 2023

Tonight’s fabulous opening story is ‘Just another Day on the Maternity Ward’ by the wonderfully talented Lucretia Vastea, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all: https://twitter.com/cvasiacru Today’s second terrifying tale of terror is the ‘I Was Paid to Test a New Drug, I Didn’t Expect This to Happen’, an original work by the wonderfully talented Richard Saxon, kindly shared with me via Dr. Creepen’s Vault so that I could narrate it here for you all, with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/SadTreacle8 Today’s closing tale of the macabre is the wonderful ''Welcome to the Psych Lab'', an original work by likeeyedid, kindly shared directly with me via NoSleep and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/likeeyedid/

Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right fortune pick is only available at BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager, Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you,

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. Oh, hospitals. We do so fear them, don't we? And with good reason in many cases. There's of course the fear of infection and sterility concerns. And of course we associate them with serious illness and death. And perhaps most importantly, there's the fear of the unknown

and the medical procedures that take play. Now, these fears are valid, but hospitals are essential for providing medical care and treatment. But sometimes things don't go as planned, as we see in tonight's three tales of terror. 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. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. just another day at the maternity wall.

The silhouette in the black cloak approached the entrance to the ER, sithe and all. It passed by an angry-looking nurse. I don't care. Call your mother or something. The nurse was squeezing a blackberry between her left cheek and shoulder. Her hands were occupied with lighting a cigarette. I told you I'm on duty today. He's your son too, remember? Her hands shook as she ignited the cancer stick. She was cold or angry or both.

I don't care. Lucas, figure something out. The black cloak entered the ER. Tulper, the alarm voice of Dr. James reverberated in the empty hallway. Get your smoke-sucking ass back in here. We need you. Shit. The angry nurse ended the call without saying another.

the word borrowed one long breath from her poorly lit companion threw him away and sprinted towards the voice on my way she yelled and indeed she was on her way to a doctor who never called her running straight through the cloaked figure neither of them felt a thing another presence made itself known ah grim old palp the cloak one turned to where the greeting a come from. You don't look a day over forever. The voice wore the shape of man, albeit shapes can be deceiving. The figure was surrounded by blue smoke. From the looks of it, the cigarette the nurse had abandoned wasn't being wasted after all. Tell me I still got it. Expensive leather loafers echoed on the clean tiles like their souls were made of lead. The air turned to the air. heavy as lead too, when the figure's black eyes came into view. The man was wearing a very

expensive suit, topped off with leather gloves that matched his shoes and, of course, a slick, black melon hat. His moustache was so perfectly rounded at the corners, one could swear he'd done it not at the barber shop, but the beauty salon. Tulpa! The man mimicked the doctor's voice. If I catch you smoking while I'm elbow deep in a mother again, I'll make you swallow it. The cigarette's stupid, not the fetus. The laugh that followed was haunting and unaccompanied. The Grim Reaper just shook his head and resumed walking towards the heart of the hospital.

A maternity war. Oh, come on, Grim. Don't be like that. The figure kept up pace with the cloaked one. Well, I see you're as chatty as ever. How long has it been? A decade? Three.

Have I seen you in Iraq not too long ago? The Grim Reaper stopped and shifted his hooded head towards a black-eyed nuisance. Oh, my bad. Must have mistaken you for one of their women. The wood of the scythe wept under the Grim Reaper's furious grip. Oh, come on, don't get touchy-feely on me now. You've been in the game for as long as I have. You must like this job a little.

Osiris, even though the female's voice reached them from the entrance they'd left behind. She sounded like she was, somehow, right next to them. Not all of us can find pleasure in our cursed raison d'etre. There's nothing wrong with mourning the loss of unfulfilled life under the excuse of universal duty. The woman approached them with a back so straight, she gave off the impression of having an iron bar for a spine. Her hands were folded beneath her bosom,

and the garment she was dressed in spoke, no, screamed, Mother Superior from the 18th century. She was the opposite of youth, but the way she carried herself made it clear that her death wasn't due for a very long time. Unlike the black-eyed man, her vision had been imprisoned by cataracts so dense, the white in her eyes looked bottomless and ardent. The poise that came off her was only disturbed by the multitude of scars. on her face and hands. Stab wounds. A lot of them. Mr. Reaper,

it's an honor to work alongside you again. Once she was close enough, the woman lowered her head in deep respect, and the grim Reaper mirrored her gesture. The one named Osiris scoffed and rolled his eyes. Oh, and here I was, hoping it would be a boy's night out on the job. And that should speak volumes on how reliable

the boys are considered to be, should it not. The woman then turned towards the Grim Reaper anew. Let me no disrespect, Mr. Reaper. The Grim Reaper waved his hand, letting her know that he didn't take offence at her words. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of working with Osiris either. Osiris grim. I am the most reliable one here.

You don't see me needing a death sigh of to get my job done. Speaking of death, Sives, where's yours, Atropos? Atropos raised an eyebrow and unfolded her arms from beneath her bosom, revealing scissors so intimidatingly look like platinum guillotine blades. Do not mock me, Egyptian, or it shall be the last thing you'll ever do. As Iris plays his right hand over his heart. Oh, Atropos, my dear, I knew you had it in you. if you ever decide against this line of work please do consider joining the theatre i'd rather join the theatre than the circus you were a part of you perfoon the grim reaper demanded them to quiet down by banging the wooden end of his side on the floor he turned around the bottom of his heavy cloak ruffling and twisting on the tiles in annoyance

Osiris and Atropos exchanged a quick look and followed their fellow death god to the maternity ward. The silence didn't last long, though. Tell me, my dear, how are your sisters? You three still doing your dirty work on that old spindle? Are you up with the times and invested in a sewing machine yet? Atropos bawled her fists. She looked like she was about to use her scissors for murder, the type of murder they weren't designed for.

Osiris was unfazed. Last time I had the pleasure of working in a team of three, it was with Odin and Orcus. Imagine the three owes and a massacre. Should be the title of an adult movie, wouldn't you say? Atropos groat. I'm not interested in hearing about your foul endeavours. Oh, are you not interested in knowing that we consider taking you and your

sisters out on a triple date. Osiris' mouth approached Atropos's face dangerously close. Oh, and I was adamant that, if that were to happen, I'd get you. The Grim Reaper stopped and faced his companions. Osiris chuckled and held his gloved hands up. Oh, come on, Grim, I'm just joking. You know how I get. But it wasn't Osiris' tactless flirting that made the reaper turn. They would reach their destination. Being the powerful entities they were, human barriers such as doors or walls couldn't constrict their movements, which meant that the unlikely Trio was already in the room housing the object of their goal. And in turn, the object of their goal was housed by something else. Or, to put it more clearly, it was housed by somebody else. She was

young and as loud as a fire alarm. Not to mention her sphere-shaped mill looked ready to burst. Tulper, the nurse from before, was one of the three nurses who were holding the soon-to-be mother down. The girl was hysterical. She was thrashing so badly the bed sheet she laid on was halfway on the floor. The doctor, the only one with the key to where the hard drugs were kept, had gone to get some, leaving her best assistance to take control over. the situation. Even though the lightest of the nurses had at least 30 pounds on the girl about to deliver, the mother was so pumped with adrenaline, all three nurses needed force and determination to keep her put. No, you don't understand, Tupor was trying to tell her, if you deliver naturally,

your chances of survival will drop to 20%. You need to have the C-section. No Chiero, streets the girl in full-blown labour. No, I hearro. Tupor threw the other two nurses a helpless glance. They both shrugged. Signora, my Spanish no is tan bianno, I think. The girl grabbed Tulpa by the collar and brought her face so close to her own, their noses were touching. The look in her eyes was one Tulp her knew well.

Tupil herself was a mother, and. And at that moment, she knew that she wouldn't need Spanish lessons to understand what the girl was trying to tell her. "'So, baby.' "'Tupa blink once. "'Yes. I mean, see?' And just then the doctor came back into the room, walking right through Atropos, with a dripping syringe in her hand. "'Miss Munoz, this will only pinch a little. "'Oh, no chiaro!'

The girl looked to the doctor, but was yelling. at Tulper. No let'ses to do it. No, I want it. Don't let her do it. I don't want to.

Don't let her. She tried avoiding the needle, but her power was failing her and the other two nurses were strong and unrelenting. Tulpa knew she should keep her mouth shut, but the despair she felt in her patient let her know that something

very, very wrong was about to happen. Dr. James, maybe you... But Tulpa already felt the girl's fingers go lax around her collar, dropping to her sides right as Dr. James put the cap back on the needle. All right, ladies, we've got an emergency C-section on her hands. Tulpa was confused. But she just said she doesn't want it.

Dr. James was having none of it. She signed the papers when she got in and the circumstances aren't. giving us a choice now, are they? Smith, give me the... Yes, but she doesn't know any English, and we've been out of Spanish copies for months. How could she have signed it if... I don't care, tea. Dr. James breathed in and out as if she had all the time in the world. I don't care. I don't care. I've got a very scared and very sedated 19-year-old, and a baby waiting to take its first breath of air, lying here on this bed. neither of them is dying today. Did I make myself understood?

Little did the doctor know, three gods of death were getting ready to interfere with her plans. Nevertheless, the three deities lowered their heads in both shame and respect for the woman's determination. And even Osiris had an inappropriate remark to me. A baby. The day's mission was a baby, and the instructions were clear. Well, as clear as they could, they could, get in this line of work. A death god had one job per day. Funny thing was, the job itself made the death god more of a life god, seeing how more often than not they had to prevent tragedies from happening rather than provoke them. A job was usually one of two things. One, bring death upon a living target. Or two, prevent a dying target from dying. Easy enough.

But the tricky part was the job description. The job description was never straightforward. A death god always received a time, a place, a name, a face, and a riddle as instructions. Today's riddle, the one received by all three present death gods, was confusing and too open for interpretation to be of any real health. The end of all ends is nearer than near. should the sun not ascend before it's too late abandon all hope ye who enter here shall be ridden across the paradise gate

the riddle was part of the day's work and it was usually made of one verse sometimes too do not let fate have its way have been rephrased so many times throughout their careers some death gods were notorious for swapping riddles amongst themselves and see if they could do their jobs regardless. Now, the daily riddle wasn't exactly a provocation to mental gymnastics. Some death gods found it insulting even,

but, as daft as it was, that sure held ground and certainty for his executioner. Four verses, though. Sending two death gods on the same job was rare. Three was almost unheard of. It would have been plausible if they were sent in the middle. middle of a world war climax, but they found themselves in a maternity ward. This was one girl, not even a woman yet, on the verge of delivering a creature so vulnerable, even something like unwashed hands might damage it forever. So, why the four verses, why three death gods? What was

going on? Atropos was the first to break the silence. I don't like this. the other two didn't like it either this looks disturbingly familiar familiar indeed because the last job the three had worked on together was under the same exact circumstances except back then there were no nurses present but cattle no doctor but a friend of the mothers who held her hand throughout the pain and no syringes or fancy machinery but three wise men bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myr, for whatever good that was supposed to do. The three death gods last worked together on a hot night in June, a little over 2,000 years prior. And yes, it had been a night in June, although the devoted insists it was the 24th of December. People shouldn't have been fooled by the Imperian scripture. No matter of the age of mankind, no way. woman in her right mind was serenely carry out a pregnancy without ever having had sexual intercourse.

The archangel Gabriel never visited Mary to let her know what was going on. They just strategically placed his visit in the Bible, to make the heavens look less sadistic. Mary, the poor thing, tried killing herself numerous times before actually giving birth to the divine bastard, and on the night she brought him into the world, she punched and screamed, and thrashed around like a madwoman, just like the young sedated mother laying before the three gods of death now. You guys don't think... Osiris didn't finish that question. Both Atropos and the Reaper inclined their heads, letting Osiris know that thinking was all they were doing at this moment.

The Reaper nodded once. A warning would have been nice this time around. The sarcastic tone did nothing to hide the old woman's rising anger. Ziris led out a humourless chuckle. Or admit a fucking riddle. What was it last time? The mute shall speak, the lepers shall heal, the dead shall rise to walk about. The other two didn't react.

The nurses and the doctor were passing bloody tools of torture and salvation to one another, helping the sedated mother's child come to life. Osiris puffed once. So, today is not going to be a normal day on the job, is it? The Reaper and Atropos slowly turned to look at him. You know what I mean. Like we don't have to kill it in case it's born alive, yeah. The other two death gods exchanged a glance and shook their heads.

Osiris was a lost cause. Fine, be like that. I'm just making sure that, you know, we're on the same page here. Pardon me for taking, if the sun won't ascend before it's too late, literally. That verse also worries me, but I don't believe that the ascension involves his death. Not yet, at least. So, this is really happening. This is why the three of us are here, and not some other death gods.

We'll have to fight them off. just like last time i'm afraid so and just as atropos finished her sentence it hid them i smell a rat as iris took off his melon hat and placed it on the bedpost a whale erupted from the center of the room and happy female gasps followed it the sun was born alive and well atropos frowned and i smell a bitch well in death god talk rat was code for demon and bitch code for angel when jesus first descended it had been against his father's wishes knowing that he was both vulnerable and unattended for on his mortal journey representatives of both opposing forces had come for him on his first day on earth the angel to take him home and the demon to take him down

Her three gods of doom were not pleased, even if they weren't allowed to take sides. Atropos looked at the Reaper in a silent request for permission. The Reaper granted her permission with a nod of his hood. Atropos retrieved her scissors from her sleeve, cut a strand from her hair, and approached Tulper, the nurse who was just about to give the Messiah his very first bar. The old lady tied the strand of her hair around the nurse's wrist, and time, as man knew it, had stopped right then and there. All right, team, let's do this.

Given any other context, both Atropos and the Reaper would have rolled their eyes at that remark. Not this time, though. This time, more than before. The three of them had to be a team. Last time they got confronted with this situation, the demon and angel that were sent to retrieve the son of God to their respective homes were just as surprised by the presence of the death gods as the death gods were surprised by them. Last time the fight was easy.

Last time neither the angel nor the demon were of the strong sort, because every human baby needs a minimum of ten months before it can run on its own. Child of God or not. Last time neither party knew what to expect. They were all given just a... Time, place, a name, a face, and a riddle. He was waiting right outside the room, looking like a younger version of Aziris.

Expensive black suits, expensive leather loafers, slicked hair combed back. However, he had no black eyes to speak of, and his complexion looked so white and crisp, one might have mistaken him for an overly zealous paper-mache project. evening ladies mr reaper sir evening serpent spat ozius are you lost the demon chuckled funny i was just about to ask you the same thing the death gods formed a barricade between the demon and the entrance to the delivery room all three of them look ready to pounce should the demon decide to play dirty the creature was unfazed. His voice was thick as syrup and just as sickening.

Colleagues, friends, let's be civilized about this. He took a step forward. I don't think you can tell, but I'm kind of in a hurry. Osiris also took a step forward. Then hurry back without the baby. Oh, I'd love to, but you know that just won't do then make do the child stays with us whether you like it or not atropos also narrow the distance between herself and satan's follower the grim reaper didn't move but then again he didn't have to his scythe looked deadly no matter how close or far he stood the demon was still smiling but his cheek muscles contracted the death-god's could hear his teeth grinding in frustration. It's not his time yet. Says who? Look around.

This well could use him right now. It is not his time yet. He has to be taken back where he belongs for us. Under proper surveillance. Great tragedy will befall this world if he remains in this realm. That's not for you to decide. The neon light began flickering above their heads. It was not my decision, merely following orders.

As Iris whistled and expanded his territory by another two steps. Oh yeah, well, here's some new orders for you. Go fuck yourself. The demon charged. He was fast. He elbowed Asiris to the side and dash straight into the delivery room. cutting right between the Reaper and Atropos. His hand dove into his pocket,

but little did he know that death gods were fasting. The grim reaper ducked and tripped him with the blade of his side. The demon fell screaming, and just as he was about to get up and counterattack, a merciless foot stomped on his back, pressing his face against the floor. Next thing, the help had registered, was sharp, cold platinum at the nape of his neck.

I have killed before and I'll kill again. Do not test my patience, vermin. A drop of black blood seeped into the demon's white shirt, its stain spreading on the textile like a chromatic tumour. You... you wouldn't dare. Atropos smiled as she slowly and deliberately cut a wet, black line from the demon's neck to his temple, enjoying his gasps and squirms all the while. The demon's hand rummished through the pocket he'd reach for earlier,

but unfortunately for him, his action was futile. Looking for this. Osiris crouched down next to him, dangling a tiny crystal vial before his eyes. How? When did you? The death god inspecting the vial looked impressed. Oh, what is that?

inquired Atropos. Curse at water. And it's as cursed as water can get. The grim reaper shivered, and the demon made a futile attempt at wiggling his way out of Atropos's grasp. The old woman didn't budge. Hmm, from the sticks? Well, that one would only work on you, my dear. No, this one's for all of us.

The sticks, the Nile, and the Dead Sea. a deadly cocktail for deadly beings Ziris load his face to take a better look at the demon somebody did their homework eh go suck cock in hell you motherfucker Ziris laughed stood up and kicked the demon in the face so hard he got black blood on his expensive shoes

nobody noticed her entering the room until she stopped right by the nurses to look at the child. Seeing how the child did not belong to the human world, time had only stopped for the humans around it. The baby looked up at her, giggled, and reached for her with his tiny, chubby arms. The water in the basin he was suspended above

was already the colour of dark wine. Why, hello there! Osiris wanted to raise his hat, forgetting that it was already resting on the post of the bed. Please apologize for the failed welcome. We were occupied with your nemesis here. The angel turned to look at them. It was a good thing that time had stopped

and that humans were blind to her kind, for the angel's beauty would have brought the whole world to its knees. Her hair was the color of moonlight, though moonlight would pale in comparison. Her eyes were compressed galaxies, though galaxies aren't as lively. Manners have been under the impression that the likes of Da Vinci or Michelangelo reach perfection through their art, but that is because they'd never laid eyes on what perfection really looks like.

The angel in the room did not look like perfection. The angel in the room was perfection. Hey! Perfection looked at the unusual gathering by the door, her facial expression doing the talking on her behalf. is this bastard right? Is it really such a bad thing if the baby stays in this world? The angel gave Osiris a sad smile and took the child in her arms.

The red water in the basin splashed from left to right, and the baby was amused by it. We squealed with glee. Fine then, take him home. The demon wiggled once more, so Atropos got off of him and eyed him cautiously alongside the other two. death gods. The chalk-skinned one sprung to his feet and backed out of the room. Crawl. When the time comes, crawl you shout, the lot of you. The three death gods created the

barrier between him and the entrance to the room once more, stepping towards him as he stepped back, putting a safe distance between him and the angel carrying the baby. This is Nova. In the hour of need, you'll be begging for our help. Oh, marred my words, death rags you regret this bitterly yes summon your gateway and piss off before one of us loses their nerve oziris waved him off mockingly the demon sneered and turned speeding towards the end of the hallway the angel was walking tranquilly towards the opposite end of said hallway with the baby in her arms gathering her powers to open her own gateway the three deathguards watched them get ready to leave It was over.

Christ had been reborn, and humanity was to never know. The child had ascended before it was too late, just like the riddle said he would. The job was done, or so they thought. Something wasn't right, and the grim reaper was the first to notice. The grim reaper took two steps in the demon's direction, his grip on his death side so deliberate, one jerk of his upper frame,

and he would have beheaded, somebody. Osiris caught wind of his anxiousness and swallowed a breath of air he didn't need once he also saw what was troubling his colleague. Poppy, am I seeing things? Even with her bad eyesight, Atropos immediately understood what Zyrus was asking, and she was terrified. Angels and demons could only revert to their true forms once they were in their natural habitat. A gateway that would take them to their respective worlds usually showed one or two distinctive features of the creatures, though not the entirety of them. Death gods were very familiar with what gods and Satan's servers were supposed to look like, and that is exactly

why all three of them were positively flabbergasted when they saw the demon open his gateway. The demon had wings, and not the black kind, with tar dripping off of them. Oh! No. They were white and sparkly, and the gateway he opened was a diamond stairway that rose beyond the hospital ceiling and into the light, so bright even atropos could recognize the angel does floating in the air. Why is our rats a bitch? And it was exactly that question that snapped both the grim reaper and Osiris out of their stupor. Stop! The hospital wars vibrated from the impact of that voice. Even Osiris and Atropos were startled.

They'd never heard the grim reaper speak before. Ever! Not even a little, over two thousand years in the past when the angel and demon each grabbed an arm of baby Jesus and pulled him in opposite directions. The command wasn't directed at the angel, they'd confused for a demon. He was already gone, swallowed up by the light in the ceiling. The girl, with the moonlight-colored hair, listened. she stopped turn around the whole world was quiet save for the baby cooing turn around and turn around she did slowly defiantly more beautiful than Aphrodite had ever dreamed of being she smiled sweetly at the three gods of death and all three of them gasped in shock the tiny galaxies in her eyes had melted

into ignited charcoal. Red eyes. The demonic signature. Atropos looked like she wanted to hit somebody. Curses! And to add in a sort of injury, the sweet smile of the one they thought to be an angel turned into a full-blown grin,

showing an entire set of rotten teeth with spiders and earwigs crawling through the gaps between them. As Iris shuddered, Just as I thought you couldn't get any prettier. Give us the child. A grin never faltered and her eyes never moved as the ground behind her succumbed, turning the other end of the hallway into a burning, gaping pit leading straight to hell. The voice she spoke in was the stuff of nightmares.

Come and get you. And with that she threw herself into the pit. hit head first, with the baby held tight to her chest. The three death gods launched like clockwork. The grim reaper reached the hell's mouth first and jumped inside without a second thought. He hung on to the lip of the precipice by his feet, holding his side with both hands. Atropos and Osiris threw themselves in right after him. The old fate assessed the situation in a heartbeat and stopped her for by hooking a finger-holder

of her scissors on the pointy end of the reaper's side. Her other hand grabbed Osiris by the ankle, and just as she did so, a dreadful screech erupted from underneath them. I thought I heard my partner tell you to give us the baby. Osiris had caught the demon by her hair, and was screaming at full capacity to be heard over the screeching activity from below. You're not too good with following directions her the demon thrashed and wiggled and screamed like a banshee being burned alive her feet were kicking frantically making it extremely difficult for ozius to keep holding on to her and the Egyptian wasn't the only one who was in trouble atropos's hand was slowly slipping down her scissors ohsiris hurry give us the child

"'Go bathe in the gnar, you pharaoh asshole-licking piece of shit.' The grim reaper felt the gateway narrowing around his feet. Atropos was losing her grip on her scissors, and Osiris was up against the huffing and puffing pile of anger that was holding their day's job. "'Oziris! Give us the child. He's ours.'

"'Find an ork and make one of them your eyes.' Oh, you blood-eyed whore. A demon laughed at that, the skin of her cheeks ripping to expose all six rows of putrid teeth. Or I can just wait for you three to drop by. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, piercing through Osiris' black orb as best they could, given the angle her head was at. I've had death guards before, never in a forso. that did it the cloaked one snapped the grim reaper yanked his death side upwards with such force all four beings that hung from it were cataported back onto the cold tiles of the hospital hallway no sooner did she tumble on the tiles that atropos went back for the reaper to help him out of the pit mere seconds before it closed oh ziris screeched just as a

the old fake crouched down to help the reaper get up the foot stomp between her shoulder blades the demon was using atropos as a launching ramp to dive back where she'd come from at the very last second this time however the death gods knew better than to underestimate her both the reaper atropos were prepared for her last attempt at doing something stupid the old fake grabbed the demon girl by the almox the demon was so star her grip on the infant loosened and that's when the Reaper seized his chance to take the baby away from her atropus turned the help head around and witnessed all the fight leave her bird-like frame the gate all but closed around the demon her waist being the only thing that kept it open still please don't please I've looked up to you all my existence we love you down there color me flattened An atropos sunk her fingers into the demon's thoracic cavity and extracted the end of a piece of yarn.

The yarn was blacker than black and dancing with life. Please, I'm begging you, I'm just doing my job. So am I. Atropus snapped her scissors on the yarn. Life drained out of the demon in puddles and puddles of black smoke, oozing out of her every orifice, her eyes, her ears. her mouth. Even the bugs nestled within her oral cavity were fleeing in search of another shelter. Osiris clasped his fist together and hit the demon the head so hard, her cadaver sunk right

through the pipe to hell. And so the gateway closed, leaving nothing but man-made tiles, reeking of disinfectant in its absence. Osiris and Atropos collapsed next to each other on said tiles, Osiris was the first to speak. Oh, my kingdom for a glass of whiskey. Atropos, for the first time ever, agreed with the Egyptian. My kingdom for the whole bottle. And they laughed. What about you, Poppy?

You're all right? The grim reaper grunted. Yeah, you're all right, too, old pal. Atropos and Osiris looked back at the reaper. and watched him study the bundle in his arms. The baby was safe and sound. He was cooing and giggling like he was having the time of his life. Now what?

Well, he stays, I suppose, I mean, it wasn't so bad the last time he stuck around, so what's the worst that can happen? The Reaper walked towards the delivery room with the other two following suit. It dawned on them that, once they put the child back in Tulper's arms and let time resume its flow, the biggest showdown humanity had ever known would have passed without anybody being the wiser.

Mankind would likely register the divine intervention in thirty years or so and fabricate another Bible-worthy fairy tale regarding this day. But until then, the crisis had been averted. Osiris and Atropos, waited by the door as the reaper got next to the nurse whose arms were still suspended above the red liquid in the tiny tongue. The Reaper thought about replacing the wine with some fresh, warm water, but that would have been pointless,

seeing how the baby would, most likely, end up hyper-distilling it again. It was too soon for the humans to see it anyway, so he didn't bother. Come on, Grim, what's taking so long? The Reaper didn't respond. He just stood there, holding the giggling baby, and looking at the red liquid it was supposed to be washed him. Osiris and Atropos joined him,

stopping at his size to see what had caught his attention. The three of them were silent for a moment. Shit. Please don't tell me that. Blood? Yep. And that's when the three deities of doom finally took a better look at the baby.

And there it was. Red pupils. not to mention there were two perfectly aligned bumps on the sides of his forehead to the death god's defence the incoming horns were still ridiculously small so they were very easy to miss he was the son of a god all right just not the god they thought he mentioned whiskey the reaper sounded tired atropos and ozias needed a moment to both appreciate what he was implying and to go over the fact that he'd probably spoken more words today than in his entire lifespan whiskey whiskey yeah whiskey sounds good whiskey sounds wonderful let's um you know go do whiskey

the reaper nodded he carefully put the antichrist back in torpor's arms and cut atropos his strand of hair from around her wrist, letting time go on as it should. The three gods of death left the delivery room, and could still hear the sound of women fussing over a sweet and innocent newborn on their way out of the hospital. As Iris even forgot his melon hat in his haste to get out of there. Well, it had been a long day at work, and if someone would dare ask how they fuck this one up so badly, the death gods would gingerly be. give arguments involving sticking riddles where the sun don't shine. The job was done, poorly,

but it was done. They were off the clock anyway, so the repercussions, whatever they may be, would have to wait. That brat was the human's problem now. He awoke, regrudgingly, the memories of the misadventures from the night before escaping him immediately. As he observed of the decrepit and run-down motel room he now found himself in, he figured that was for the best. As the events that put him in cheap roadside motels for the night were never the prettiest. No one was to be found in the concrete textured bed beside him, also for the best as they never turned out to be the prettiest either. He stood and began scrambling for his scattered belongings, ignoring the dull headache he was all too familiar with. He picked up his wallet,

expecting it to be empty. It was greeted with a giant wad of one hundred dollar bills. He was ecstatic. This was more money than he'd ever laid his hands on. But before he could begin pondering his soon-to-be numerous purchases of alcohol, drugs, and the company of women, a more important thought crept into his head. Where did this money come from? Although he wished to continue mentally adding every high dollar bottle of liquor and clean-cut, lab-tested, saron-wrapped, to his cart. A foreboding feeling of caution swept over him. He knew, however, his highly intoxicated and high-wired alter ego from the night before had acquired such cash was almost certainly through illegal means, and if that cash was stolen, he knew it was enough that someone

was looking for it. He began searching the room, not for his belongings, but now for clues. by the door sat a briefcase which seemed familiar and he started heading toward it when at the end of the bed he spotted an oversized and cheap-looking purse the kind that's usually accompanied by an even more oversized and cheap-looking girl so he for sure had the company of a woman last night but where had she gone he doubted this nameless and faceless girl would have left without her purse so he decided to look for her in the only part of the room he had yet to search, the bathroom. He found it locked, strangely from the outside, but, but expecting to simply find a passed out hook at all, he unlocked and swung the bathroom door open. The mistake he would very soon regret. Behind the door was the girl he expected to find, but not in the state he could have ever expected. She was sprawled out onto the floor and covered in blood, empty plastic bags, and broken glass. The once feeling of curiosity and caution now turned into an overwhelming sensation of terror. He slammed the door shut, not wanting the scene to be real.

He stood still for a moment, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts, pushing the ones that involved him being a murderer deep down. Before opening the door again, this time taking in every detail. The bright red of her hair, paired with the dark red of her blood, contrasted with the surprisingly clean and white bathroom. The broken glass on the floor was once a vanity

mirror above the sink, now broken and marked with bloody handprints. The only wounds he saw were on her arms. The gruesome cuts and scrap started at her fingers, and went all the way down to her elbows, leaving her forearms a mangled mess of torn and ripped flesh.

In her right hand she still gripped a jagged and nasty-looking piece of the broken mirror. On her face was an expression not of pain or death or fear, but of what appeared to be glee. It could have been rigged mortis, setting in, causing her face to distort, or his shock-stricken mind could have merely been playing tricks on him. But he could have sworn that the bloody, inflayed girl had a smile on her face. Well, he'd seen enough. to know that whatever had happened to that poor girl, she'd done it herself. He'd also seen enough to refresh his memory. They met him at a party and asked him if he was interested in trying

a new drug and being paid for it. Being already high, but coming down, and flat broke, it was a golden opportunity, and he quickly agreed. He'd been given the briefcase and was told it contained a new research chemical that they said had similar effects to that of LSD. which at the time was almost everyone's drug of choice. He was given the money and told to go to the hotel that night, where he would try the drug and in the morning he would call them and await further instructions and payment, which they said would be substantially more than the initial payment, to persuade against simply running off with the drugs in the month.

He'd agreed to the plan and took the briefcase and money. Luckily for him, he'd not spent the night. with a woman in a while, but now that he had a pocket full of money, that would change. He picked up the first girl he saw, and after purchasing a handful of his drugs of choice, took her back to the room. And this is where his memory went blank again. He must have had her try at first, or maybe she was just too busy with the other drugs. But after taking it, she must have begun behaving strangely or violently enough to warrant him locking her in the bathroom. where the drug took its full effect and caused her to enter into some drug-induced psychosis.

Well, all he knew for sure was that the research chemical was definitely the cause of the mess in the bathroom. And if he'd taken it instead of her, that would be him. He felt a pang of guilt for the girl in the bathroom. In a way he was responsible for what had happened to her. But he pushed that feeling down as well. After piecing the scene together and considering everything, he decided he quickly needed to get away from that motown. He finished gathering his belongings

and made sure to leave nothing to tie him to the scene. He had one foot out of the door when he heard it, shuffling in the bathroom. He should have left. He should have ignored it. Maybe he imagined it, but that pang of guilt returned. The shuffling sow meant that the girl could still be alive.

What with all the blood loss, well, he did. didn't know but he hadn't checked her pulse and if he left while she was still alive he'd be damning her to a certain death the guilt caused him to close the door and turn around he headed to the bathroom with the intention of quickly checking her pulse confirming she was dead and leaving but he didn't check her pulse she wasn't dead and he didn't leave as soon as he touched her her eyes flung open and grabbed him with what used to be her arm. Oh, she screamed in a painful and delirious state. Where is it?

She said as she threw him back with more strength than he would have thought possible. He quickly turned to scrabble out of the bathroom, but she was on her feet and then on top of his back before he could make it past the doorway. He felt a sudden and sharp pain in his side as she struggled on top of him. He felt it again and again. as he heard her continue to call out for more of the chemical. He pointed at the briefcase, and she quickly forgot all about him. He watched, as she sprung for it with ferocious intensity,

the jagged piece of broken glass still in her hands and now fresh with his blood. He saw her use her ragged and skinless limbs to pry open the briefcase. Feeling his strength leaving him, and pure terror overcoming him, He crawled towards the phone to call for help, not wanting to take the risk of going past the deranged half-dead monster by the dog. He turned cautiously to make sure she wasn't coming back for him and saw her taking bag after bag of the evil powder-like chemical substance. Entranced, he watched with a curious sickness.

She began stabbing and slicing at herself with a piece of glass, continuing her work on her arms and then moving to her untouched legs. With every stab, slice, cut, rip and tear of her flesh, she let out a scream, not of pain, but of euphoria. Watch that same wicked smile spread across her face as she tore into her tender thighs with broken glass. Now he understood. He gave up on the phone and slowly started crawling back.

Not towards the door, but towards the brief came. I just finished an evening shift. I was enjoying the walk home under a magnificent, almost full moon, that dimly illuminated my path ahead. In my hand, I held a bottle of Bordeaux, excited for the dinner prepared by my wife, Sarah. She'd already left me a text saying she'd almost finished up, and that my dog eagerly awaited my arrival,

tapping around on the floor in our home, wondering what was taking me so long. The road home took me past a riding school, with about a dozen horses spending their night in the adjacent fenced-in field. I frequently stopped by to feed them a snack, carrots or apples mostly, and as such we'd formed a sort of friendship. But, well, something seemed off that evening. usually the curious creatures would come trotting over ecstatic if they noticed me carrying food but instead of their neighing greetings they ignored me their eyes transfixed by the bright moon above i tried the usual clicking sound to attract their attention but they didn't even take notice of my presence and after a moment of staring up at the sky in a futile attempt at figuring out what they found so damned interesting I gave up and continued home. My dog, Hugo, a massive Labrador who still acted as a lapdog,

excitedly jumped up to greet me as I walked in through the door. He almost knocked me to the ground, barely allowing me to save the bottle of wine I held. Sarah Quigley came to my aid, hopelessly trying to pull him off, for a most impossible feat once Hugo had entered his aggressive cuddle mode. But after a few wet licks and some of the same, and poor marks on my off-white shirt. He calmed down thanks to the temptation of a promised dog snack, if he behaved. The horses were acting weird tonight, I said with a mouthful of pork chop.

What do you mean weird? Sarah asked. Well, they completely ignored me, and just stared up at the moon. She gave me a concerned look, before glancing over at Hugo. That's all. Same thing happened as I took the dog out for some fresh air, just before you got back home. He wouldn't stop staring up at the sky. I had to drag him back with me. Well, that's different.

Hugo's clearly an idiot, I said as I gesture to our dog, laying with his snout half submerged in his water bowl, producing bubbles with each breath. Sarah giggled. We went about our dinner, doing our best to just enjoy our weekly date night with wine, dinner and a boring movie. The next evening, following work, I once again passed by the riding school, this time making sure I carried with me a bag of irresistible goods for the majestic horses. I figured they'd just been sulky last night, since I'd passed without a worthy offer. Yet, they still stared up at the moon. I stood by their fence for a few minutes,

clicking at them, holding out tasty carrots, even throwing some at their feet. They just kept staring. Their attention locked at the shiny celestial body above us. Eventually it started to get cold, and I headed back home. As I arrived, I found Hugo standing in our garden, eyes fixed at the sky, with Sarah desperately trying to drag him inside, all the while spouting profanities at our massive idiots. but he refused to budge.

Sarah, what's going on? This dumbass won't come back inside. She panted as she pulled at his leash with all of her falls. I bent down to pet, Hugo, hoping some love would convince him to move his chubby behind. He growled at me as I reached out my hand. Shocked at his sudden change in attitude, I bent down to try again, but instead of his cuddly self, He bit me.

Hugo. No, it wasn't a particularly hard bite, one that didn't even break the skin. It was still the first time he'd have any sort of aggressive behavior towards us, or anyone for that matter. He'd always been a peaceful, if not a bit docile, creature. Well, in anger, I grabbed his collar and started dragging him back inside the house. All the while he barked and growled in defiance.

We put him into his travel cage for the night and locked the door, so he could lay there and think about what he'd done. We went to bed angry, discussing what to do about Hugo's sudden outburst. Call a vet, enroll him in classes, so just take it as a one-time event. He always been the most loving being, so something was definitely off. Then, as we awoke in the morning, ready to give our dumb dog another chance. We found him laying still in his cage. He always, without fail, jumped up once he heard our footsteps approaching him in the morning. But on that particular day, he just laid it.

Hey boy, wake up, I said as I open the door. But he still wouldn't move. It didn't take long for the realization to hit me. Hugo was dead. He passed out at some point during the night. only seven years of age. We cried as we embraced his limp body in our arms. He'd been a large dog, but he'd never felt that heavy.

Reduced to a furry bag of meat with no personality inside. I called him sick to work. But my wife didn't get the chance, as they were understaffed. After she unwillingly left, I took the time to bury Hugo in the garden, telling him I forgave him for biting me, that he was the best dog any. could ever have that I loved. Following the burial at 10 in the morning, I cracked open a beer and decided to watch some television. Any distraction was a welcome gift. I flipped through the channels

filled with daytime crap until I stumbled upon a local news segment regarding the riding school. The very same one I passed every day to and from work. During the night, all of their 16 horses had fallen over dead. And, just like with Hugo, there was no apparent cause. It was like they'd just stopped living out of sheer willpower. I knew it had to be related, and feared the horses might have died from some sort of infection. Maybe one that I carried with me home and transferred to Hugo. Feeling more than a bit guilty, and with limited medical knowledge,

I called the veterinarian, half sobbing as I asked if, somehow I'd killed my own dog. The woman on the other end of the line sounded tired, exhausted from an overnight shift, and explained that no disease would carry over from equines to canines with a healthy human as the carrier. She continued to say that it was a city-wide situation, with pets and local wildlife falling over dead,

and no one could fathom why. Due to this, the city was about to order all pets to be kept inside, while they could assess the situation. But for us, it was all too late. Sarah came home in the evening from an overtime shift. Apparently quite a few of her co-workers hadn't turned up for work, even without calling in sick, and she had to stay behind to pick up the slat.

She brought flowers for Hugo's grave, and while she took a few moments to say goodbye, I cooked up some dinner, hoping to brighten the mood, if ever so slightly. as the past had reached the perfect aldente consistency and the sauce simmered in the pan. I realized that Sarah still hadn't come back in. I walked out into the garden to find Sarah at Hugo's grave. She wasn't there to say farewell.

She was simply staring up at the moon, unmoving, no care as to what was happening around her. Sarah, what are you doing? I asked, concerned. She didn't respond. Sarah, come on, I said, my voice getting louder as I walked over to her. Still, no response. I grabbed her shoulder, which caused her to violently flinch in shock, as if I snuck up behind to scare her. She seemed frazzled, but at least I'd gotten her attention.

Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I kind of spaced out there for a second. Is dinner ready? Yeah. "'What were you looking at, Sarah?' "'What do you mean?' "'You were staring up with the sky. "'Just like Hugo,' I said calmly,

"'as I realized how stressed out she seemed. "'No, no, I just zoned out.' "'She trailed off. "'It's all right, Sarah. "'Let's just eat.' "'We finished dinner in silence, "'and went to bed without discussing Hugo, "'nor what had happened to my wife.'

Something about her felt different, broken, but I couldn't decide whether she'd seen something in the sky, or if she was just distraught from the loss of our dog. I twisted and turned in bed that night, unable to rest, drifting in and out of consciousness, a dreamless sleep filled with nothing but worrying. At some point I reached out my arm and realised Sarah's part of the bed was vacant, a realization that quickly jolted me awake. After running through the house, calling out for her, I caught a glimpse of someone standing out in the garden, staring up at the sky. Sarah, what the hell are you doing?

I yelled as I ran over to her, ready to drag her back inside. But before I could even reach her, she collapsed to the ground. Sarah! I ran over to check on her. Although she was still alive, I couldn't get her to regain consciousness. Without further hesitation, and with trembling hands, I called 9-1-1, impatiently awaiting a response. It rang for a full minute, and there was no one on the other end to respond to my call.

Two minutes. Then three, and at the fourth minute of waiting, without an answer, I hung up, deciding I would drive her to the hospital on my own. I sped through our little town, noticing a few passed-out people, laying on the side of the street, all in various states of undress, nightgowns, naked, fully clothed, whatever the situation, something was terribly wrong. As we arrived at the hospital and poured into the drop-off meant for ambulances, I was shook by the oddly silent atmosphere surrounding the area.

Only a single doctor came out to assess the situation. Where the fuck is everyone? I asked as I carried my unconscious. wife out of the car. The doctor looked stressed, but not surprised, clearly overwhelmed by whatever had been happening during the night. He quickly looked over my wife, checking for any signs of consciousness. "'Come on,' he said finally. "'Let's get her inside.' The hospital seemed void of any staff, only operated by a minute skeleton crew, but despite the scant help. The lobby itself

had been filled to the brim with hospital beds, stretches and wheelchairs, all occupied by other unconscious people. What's happening here? I asked as we struggled to find a free bed. We, um, we don't know. Half the staff

simply didn't show up for work, and the rest are acting strangely, refusing to stop staring up with the moon. It just doesn't make any sense. He pointed to a few nurses and doctors running from patient to patient desperately trying to figure out what ailed them this is all we have left he said my my wife she's gonna be will she be all right i asked the doctor didn't answer it was beyond what any of them had ever dealt with and it clearly showed our town had been ravaged by an impossible senseless disease with an unknown cause I sat with my wife for hours, and by some stroke of luck, we managed to find her a room occupied by only five other patients, all apparently suffering from the same condition, none awakening

from their forced slumber. After a while, I decided to go get some fresh air. I needed to think, to come up with a solution, and almost three in the morning I ventured outside for a cigarette, the habit I'd quit years earlier. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. On my way, one of the doctors stopped me. Where are you going? Out for a smoke, why?

He shook his head in frustration, as tired and burned out as all the others. Look, just don't look at the sky, all right? I nodded and walked outside, staring at my feet for each step. As I inhaled the toxic smoke, I felt a smidge less horrified, and after three cigarettes, I'd forgotten why I'd ever quit. I firmly kept my eyes to the ground, the ambience is the building anything but the sky. Alas, in the window of the entrance, I saw the reflection of our bright lunar body, and that was all it took.

I looked up at the moon. It had been the one that transfixed the animals, my wife and probably all the other people suffering. During the past few days I spent a lot of time looking up at it, wondering what kind of mysteries had driven people from their health and sanity, and then, for the first time, I noticed something different. They hadn't been staring at the moon at all, but it's something beside it, something new. Next to the moon hung a massive black sphere, only visible due to the illuminated outline created as the moon reflected off of it. I could only barely see it, but nevertheless there it was,

growing ever so slightly with each passing minute. I should have been horrified. I should have run back into the hospital, but I couldn't. It was just too beautiful, perfectly spherical with shades of black surrounding its ever-growing aura. It was

hypnotic. I couldn't stop looking at it. Hours passed, and the moon descended below the horizon, replaced by a glowing orb of sunshine, taking the magnificent sphere with it. I only then realized I'd stared, unblinking and unmoving at the object in the sky for the entire night.

And it had made me feel happy. I spent the night unwillingly staring at the moon. My wife is still unconscious, but it no longer worries me. My only priority is the incredible sphere. Whatever it is, something awakened within me when I first laid eyes upon it. and I know in my heart when nightfall comes, I won't be strong enough to resist looking up into the sky to look for that black sphere. And that's why I'm writing this now, why I am still myself. Whatever you do, when night creeps over your home like a blanket of darkness, stay inside.

Don't look up at the sky. Hug your family. Enjoy your life. because whatever that sphere is, it's growing in size, and it's getting closer. I hereby declare that I have been clearly informed about the nature and method of the study, as described above. I voluntarily agree to participate in this study. I retain the right to withdraw with this consent without having to give a reason. I realize that I can stop the study at any time.

My personal data will not be viewed by third parties without my permission. Sign here. Ah, the same old blah, blah, as always. As a psychology student, I participated in dozens of these studies already. I even conducted two myself. One more boring than the other. Decades ago, some insane findings were found through psychological studies. Just think of the Stanford Prison Experiment or Milgram study on conformity.

Nowadays, nothing remotely interesting is possible because of all the ethical regulations you have to follow. A woman, maybe 30, with short black hair and a lab coat, welcomed me at the entrance of the social studies lab and walked me to the waiting room. Hi, I'm Judy, and thank you so much for participating in this study. Are you a student? she asked with a friendly smile on her face. I am, but I'm already in my third year,

so I'm not participating for credit, I responded. Oh, I'm about to finish my degree. The only thing left is my thesis and I'll finally be free. However, this means that I have hardly any time to work, so I could certainly use some extra cash. Watch a documentary at the lab, 50 euros or five credit points. Well, that's what the flyer had said. No, that's great. Then you probably already know how these things go.

The process today will be as follows. You will watch a documentary for one and a half hours to get a lot. with a different participant. After that, you will each be guided to your own cubicle, where you will do a few computer tasks and fill in a short survey. Your participant number today is ten. Please remember this number to ensure anonymity. Use these numbers with the other participant as well.

Please don't exchange real names. Do you have any questions so far? I had no idea. I'd be watching a documentary with a different person, but figured that it was probably a part of the study. To see how people interact in a setting like this, or who knows what. We must have some hidden intention with these studies. Now, sounds easy enough, I said.

After I signed the informed consent form, we walked to one of the rooms of the lab. Lab makes it sound somehow cool and fancy, but it's just a few boring rooms in the ugliest brick building on campus. The other participant was already sitting on the sofa inside one of the lab rooms, which reminded me of an old classroom without windows. Judy pointed me towards the sofa. I said hello and sat down next to him. There's some reason he seemed really familiar,

but I don't remember meeting him before. Maybe he just reminded me of someone else, I figured. He looked like an average college student, young, brown hair, guns and roses, t-shirt. The only thing that stood out to me was his extremely pale skin, which reminded me a little of myself. I never get a tan due to some weird blood issue that I was born with. The movie will start automatically in a moment.

Please pay attention, as you will have to answer questions on it in the next part. Judy turned the light down and left the room, closing the door behind her. What do you think this is all about? The guy whispered. Probably nothing. Maybe she's just observing us from next door, I joked. Oh, hey, that's my number, he said. pointed to my hand.

Hmm. The number nine was written on my hand with a sharpie. This is weird. I don't remember writing anything on my hand. If anything, it should be a ten, I said, slightly confused. It was pretty early and I was tired, but I would have remembered writing a number on my hand.

Maybe Judy secretly did that to screw with your head, he said, and laughed. The documentary started playing, and we stopped talking. I don't know if you. you've ever participated in anything like this, but it always feels extremely awkward. Adding a stranger makes it even worse. Maybe that's what they wanted. I watched the TV, but this documentary wasn't making any sense. It was just a number of frames of unrecognizable forms and colors, as if someone had run telitubbies through a blender, and it was combined with the weirdest music

I'd ever heard. Was this thing broken? I wanted to say something, but the number nine guy was looking at it really focused. Oh, what the fuck? Nine suddenly broke the silence. Did you see that? I could tell he was breathing more heavily. What do you mean? I was still whispering.

That? That looked really fucked up. Didn't you see that frame? God, was that real? Okay, never mind. Sorry, I think it just surprised me. I tried to focus some more. make some sense of this video that was definitely no documentary.

And that's when I noticed it. For a tiny second, there was a word shown. Oh shit, I blink too soon. It's a blaring on message or a prime. I kept my eyes open and stared at the screen. Another word, cerebrum, followed by more happy colours and then moors. Now, cerebrum had something to do with the brain, but what's more?

There again. Oh, fuck. Did you not see that? Those words, I asked. Words? No. The pictures. I mean, did...

That's when the TV suddenly shut off and the door opened. Judy was standing in the doorframe, smiling. This was the first part. Would you follow me to the cubicles now? with a weird feeling I got up and followed her. The three of us were standing in front of the doors of the open cubicle rooms. You'll be in room one. She looked at me, and you are number two.

The program is already running. Instructions are included in there. I went inside the tiny windowless room, filled with fluorescent light, and sat down behind the computer. The door behind me shut. Hmm, okay. This experiment feels a little weird, I thought.

But I only had to finish these few tasks, and then I could leave. Well, I imagined I'd have to answer questions on that unsettling film, but instead I was instructed to do some implicit association test. You will now be presented with sets of either words or pictures. If you associate the concept with something positive, press the left arrow key. If you associate the concept with something negative, press the right arrow key. Well, it started off pretty normally. Photos of flowers, storms, and clothes.

But then, it got weird. A smiling face. Left. A bloody knife. Right. A shattered building. Right. Free will.

Right. Left. God. Left. Left. Sacrifice. Left. Murder. Left.

Shit, this was going fast. Someone wearing a Venetian mask with blood stains. Right? The same person stabbing someone. Right. Again, the same person, looking straight into the camera. Right, right, right. What was this?

The masked person holding the knife to his own throat. I press left. I was starting to sweat. This didn't feel normal. It changed back to text. You enjoyed that. I didn't press anything. This was not normal.

Don't look away. I wasn't pressing anything anymore. More unsettling photos started to appear. A little girl biting into something that looked like an organ. A heart? Dozens of organs piled up. The girl, now wearing the mask and laughing. From that point on, it only got worse.

I saw things that I will never forget. Pictures so disturbing, I can't even describe them. Words I didn't recognise, but something inside me knew they were wrong. I felt like I was about to throw up. I got up, my leg shaking. I'd had enough. This study was sick. I stumbled back to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked.

Suddenly, the computer made a loud, shrill noise. The screen changed to another photo. It was me, wearing that mask and smiling. And then a photo of the other participant, number nine. Looking into the camera with blood all over his face. Another photo of me, holding a knife to my throat. What was going on here? here. I slowly walked towards the screen. I was feeling dizzy. Thank you for finishing part one.

We'll see you again when you wake up for part two. I realize that I can stop the study at any time. I had a hunch this wasn't true when I stood behind the locked door of the cubicle. I knew it wasn't true when I woke up in a strange hospital bed. You're awake. Oh my God. I've been waiting to talk to you for so long. You're like a celebrity. I slowly came to my senses. In front of me, I saw a girl sitting on my bed with a big smile on her face, but this smile didn't feel warm. It was the same weird smile that Judy had, like the Cheshire Cat. She was wearing a clean purple shirt and purple pants, which looks somehow familiar.

And then I remembered, that's what I was wearing in the photo where I held a knife to my throat. I looked down and noticed that I was wearing the same clothes, but mine were white. White as everything else in this room. Clean, sterile, except for the blood crust on my inner elbow. There was a syringe tucked to my arm. Bandage wrapped around it. I started panicking. I pushed the covers away and tried to get up, but I felt too weak.

Where am I? I mumbled. You're in the psycho lab, silly. Welcome back. her blonde hair looked thin her face pale but her smile only got bigger she must have been in her mid-twenties but the way she taught made her sound like a teenager ten that is so impressive there's only one other person that got so close and ten i interrupted her that's the participant number they gave me do they talk you about this did they do the same experiment to you my heartbeat was racing it's on your arm it looks permanent I guess this is your final one

congrats she was right on the spot that had said nine yesterday it was now a ten but this one looked like a tattoo permanent had that happened yesterday I felt extremely confused

my head was heavy I felt like throwing up and I was at the end of the study I did the task and That's the last thing I remembered They must have drugged me and brought me here There are some studies that they conduct in the hospital Where they test new medications or do sleep experiments

But this isn't possible I did not give consent to be drugged and brought to a creepy hospital There's no way the university would allow this This wouldn't get past any ethical committee And these people They had something awfully important mind. I had to get out of here. A thought hit me. Nine. Maybe they brought him here as well. What does the number mean? I asked carefully. I didn't feel like I could trust him.

She seemed too okay with this situation, but I had to find out as much as I could. Jeez, did she forget everything? Well, that's your trials. I have two. Look. She held her arm in my face. which had the number two tattooed on it. Most people are twos or even once. Some threes. I'm actually happy I'm a two. It means I'll get my treatment soon. And after that she jumped up and walked back to her own bed.

Ten trials. Had I been here before? You said there's one other person that got close. Yes, it's ten-nine. Can you please stop asking stuff now? The creepy smile, finally disappeared from her face. Instead, she looked dead serious. They're in a different wing, they can't have high numbers talk to each other. Now, shh. And after that, she turned her face

away from me and lay down in her own bed. So the number on my arm had something to do with trials. Was this the tenth time I'd been here? I collected all my strength and got up. number two seemed to have fallen asleep carried my body over to the window and looked outside everything looked awfully normal the sun was shining bright there was a big green lawn with a small pond in the middle on the other side

there were big houses that looked like family homes the whole street looked like a regular part of town though I didn't recognise this district maybe they brought me to a different city I started shaking more God, why was I feeling so weak? I looked over to the houses, and the eyes of a person met mine. It was an older woman standing in one of the windows.

I waved, cried, hit the window, but she showed no reaction. Finally, she smiled, that Cheshire cat smile, and waved back in the most calm way possible. I broke down in tears. I felt like I was sent to a different, universe where everyone was bizarrely happy. I had to get out of here. I couldn't wait for part two of this experiment

or for some treatments, especially not after those photos. So I made my way to the door. Oh please, please, please don't be locked, I muttered to myself. It opened. The feeling of relief rushed through my entire body. Well, that changed quickly when I heard two shouting, help come back followed by a hysterical laugh an alarm went off red light filled up the surroundings but i couldn't stop now i was standing in a hallway with more closed doors probably more hospital rooms

from the end of the hallway i heard some commotion someone was on their way i'm afraid to run into them i opened the next best door i found myself in another room that looked just like mine i closed the door behind me and held my breath. She ran out. She has to come back. I heard two's muffled voice behind the door. What do you mean? She walked out.

Increase her dosage and then... The rest I couldn't understand, but I knew who it had come from. Judy. Then, silence. They'd moved on. I walked over to the hospital

bed in the middle of the room. There was only one person in here. Well, that's if you could still call it a person. This man looked completely drained out, as if there were only skin and bones left of him. He was wearing the same purple pants, but his exposed chest was full of cuts. Some stitched up, some with bloody crusts.

On his arm there was the same tube tattooed, and next to it this sign. But the most frightening part was, his face. He was wearing the Venetian mask. Tears of desperation filled my eyes. I was certain he was dead until his chest suddenly moved up, his ribs sticking out even more. He was breathing. I jumped back when all of a sudden his eyes opened and his mouth formed a smile. That same sick smile. Follow us. And with that his eyes closed again. I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had something to do with this.

I'm sure it was him I'd seen on the photos. And I had pressed left. I had to get out, get help. I stumbled back to the door. There was no noise coming from outside, so I carefully opened the door and walked out. Oh, there you are. Hope you're ready for part two now. Judy.

She was standing right in front of me, looking joyful as always. There was no way for me to escape, I realized, and two male nurses moved towards me. I thought about fighting them, finding a way to trick them, but I realized there was no hope. But I was too weak, and there were three of them, so I followed them, follow them down the hallway silently, crossing more rooms which I could only imagine were containing more participants. I numbly followed. Followed them through this gigantic, sterile hospital, until we walked. walked into a room that felt completely out of place.

It was beautiful. Old-fashioned movie theatre, with red satin chairs and a screen as big as a wall at the end. The whole theatre was empty, except for one person sitting in the front row. The men led me to warn him. From the back, I couldn't recognise anything. But then, I saw his face.

Bloody, beaten up. In his arm the same syringe. Number nine. Her eyes met but his looked empty, absent as if something had drained the life out of him. I tried to speak but didn't know where to start. Then I saw Judy standing right in front of us, behind her the big screen. What did you do to him? I shouted. Now now, let's all stay calm here, all right.

He did this to himself. We never heard our participants, especially not the most valuable. once. And now, quiet. I'm about to start with my speech. I could swear her smile disappeared for a second, but there it was again. Welcome to the Cyclair, she continued in a cheerful voice. Or should I say, welcome back? She turned to me and winked. It was quite the trip, wasn't it? Oh well, you don't remember. Her laugh echo throughout the whole room. let me just say that you've been the most toughest of nuts to crack so far but we would not expect any less from you

our two alphers most of our participants are well let's say more simple-minded one or two trials and they give themselves over entirely but this is about you I can't wait for us to start the next part the next chapter are you ready for the show stop stop. I want out. Please, let me go. I whined.

Oh, Judy sighed. For the first time, she looked irritated, almost angry. Really? You made it so far, past so many rounds. And now, of course, you are always free to go, but think of all the progress you've made. Progress? What are you talking about? I stood up from my chair. I don't ever remember coming here. Well, you did.

You came here nine times. Nine times you decided to stop and leave at some point. But you always came back and you will again. We have your blood, after all. You saw the photos. We control you. Own you. Of course, you could just save yourself the trouble and...

I want to go! I shouted and looked over to number nine. Come with me. We need to find you a doctor. I tried reaching for his arm. His eyes met mine once more. His gaze even more hopeless now. He looked at Judy and shook his head. I want to see the show, he whispered.

Don't worry, love. We have enough doctors here. We'll take good care of him. Now off you go. Next time you can skip part one, just come straight back here. We'll keep your bed warm. I hereby declare that I have been fully informed about the nature and method of the study, as described above. I couldn't believe they just let me leave. No fighting, no discussion.

They just opened the door and I walked out. Of course I knew it couldn't be this easy. There was a brief moment where I wondered if I'd imagined all of this, but as I stepped out of the door of the hospital and breathed in the fresh air, I knew this was real. I could feel it. I walked out carefully, too scared to make sudden movements, wondering if this was still part of the experiment. I felt like a rat in a cage thinking it's free while scientists are looking down on it, measuring every little decision.

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't comprehend. Why would they let me go? Why had they let me leave nine times before? Why did they not wipe out my memory? I had to get answers, figure out the purpose of this. study but first I needed to get help it was already getting dark when I left the building I tried to find some sort of orientation but I was so tired and weak I had no idea when I'd last eaten or drank anything my best choice was to walk to one of the homes hope some you will let me use their phone and not think I was some kind of lunity all houses were lit up so

I walked towards the closest one and looked through the window a family was sitting around a table inside about to have dinner. I rang their bell impatiently. Once, twice, three times. Nothing. I could clearly see them inside. I could even hear the bell, but they showed no reaction. Feeling a little creeped out, I made my way to the next house where exactly the same thing happened. At the third house as well. That's when I realized I had to get further away. I don't know if They put something in the water or what happened here, but everyone seemed to be a mindless zombie. They had photos of me, where I did things I could never imagine doing. I had more control than I want to admit.

I had to get far away. And so I ran. The anger seemed to give me strength I didn't realize I had. I kept running until I saw another light in the distance. It was a cafe. When I got closer, I noticed there were a few people sitting inside. chatting and drinking while the server took orders. It seemed normal.

Not normal like the maniacs in the homes, but genuinely normal. I stopped myself from running inside. First, I had to calm down and think. They seemed normal, but I didn't. I was dressed in white hospital clothes, had a syringe stuck to my arm, and was about to burst in

and talk about some organ-stealing cultist hospital. I needed a couple. come up with a somewhat believable story. Otherwise, I would just end up being sent to the nearest hospital and that was the last thing I wanted. I removed this syringe, took a deep breath and walked in. Well, is everything all right? The gentleman at the counter asked, with a worried tone in his voice. Hello, I hate to be bothering you like this, but I was just walking home from my work at the hospital when I was robbed. They took my bag and even my shoes. Could you make me a little bit of my own? Could you we call the police for me. Well, I knew this sounded weird, but it was all I could come up with.

God, that sounds awful. Of course, it's no trouble at all. Have a seat. You look exhausted. Gonna get you a glass of water? He said, and for the first time today, I felt like a sore person with a real smile. That would be really nice, thank you. So I waited for the police, starting to feel more relieved. As I turned around and looked at the other guests. and their smiles. They were all staring at me. One of the guests stood up and walked over to me. Tanner, why are you here?

Are you dumb? Go back. You deserve it. Go back! The other guests shouted in unison. A friendly man behind the counter was nowhere to be found. Where did he go? I slowly stood up. I had to get out of here. That's when I saw the police car parked out front.

I ran outside towards the officer. After talking to me for a little while, he offered to give me a ride to the police station where I could make an official statement. I decided that this was the best option for me now. Once there, I could call someone I trust it. You know what? You don't look like you've been robbed,

he said as he started driving. What do you mean? I was worried he might think I broke out of a mental interest. institution. Well, I don't see any cuts. That's when I noticed the number on his arm. Three. Welcome back. Police again, I guess. I prefer the times she called your friends. Oh, the look of desperation and betrayal when you realized you couldn't trust anyone. Judy was already standing in the front of the hospital door, waiting for me. No words, she continues.

Okay, well, you can stay out. or come back in and we'll have a little chat. There is no escape. No way out. Not until I know what is going on here. We were back in the theatre, this time just the two of us. Did I come back to this hospital every time? I asked. Yes, but we sent you home afterwards to start over. With part one of the experiment. Yes, we wanted to change variables. See what happens. The first. first time you were alone. You watched the documentary and felt so sick that we had to send you home immediately. Of course, you forgot everything about it and signed up again. After you see it once, there is no going back. She wasn't even smiling anymore. What exactly is the documentary about?

Anything you wanted to be. Have you ever heard of subliminal messages? Yeah, messages you don't consciously notice. Well, they're supposed to have an effect. on you, but it's so bullshit. I mean, like the drink Coca-Cola eat popcorn experiment. She laughed. Almost. Yes, those studies were bullshit. You don't buy more popcorn just because of a secret message embedded into the film. Subliminal primes lead humans to certain actions, however, when the message is goal directives. Imagine you are extremely thirsty, and you see the Coca-Cola message. You won't consciously notice it, but if you get a choice, between drinks, you will automatically pick the coat.

It's just supposed to be a freaking school lesson now. She laughed out again. This is why you're my favorite. So cynical. You don't get the point, though. The messages work when they're in line with your urges, your needs. We planted ideas in their head with the documentary. Ideas that were matched with their deepest wishes.

Then we showed them how to fulfill them. I was getting angrier by the second. So you're telling me that the people here want to kill themselves and give you their organs. They don't want to give away their organs. Don't be silly. They want to give away their minds. Those people, they don't want to make choices anymore. They're used to floating through life, always on autopilot.

All they use is system one, the first system in your brain. They don't need arguments or logic Just a push in the right direction Our messages work like wonders on them They're ready to give themselves over So what if some give us complete control of their bodies Still their choice You fucking bitch

It's not a choice Where's the difference in falling for some advertisement on TV The choices are there All we do is give them some guidance How can you compare murdering people but with falling for some shitty ads. We're not murdering anyone. As I told you before,

everyone is free to leave whenever they want, but they're happy here. And the mask? The knife. That was your idea. I loved it. When you came here on trial five, well, not explicitly,

but that's what we found when we look for your deepest wishes. You're a psychologist. Try to analyze it. not this hostility again. See, we perfectly match everything to our individual participants. Some work better with visuals. Some work better with symbols. Everyone is different.

As I said, some give themselves over entirely. They just want to stop thinking, these are omegas. Others want some kind of purpose, so we give them work to do. As with our lovely police officers, all the friendly staff at the university, we call them ab-baders and then there's the most elite group the alphids they like to take control and with that she pointed towards the door nine walked in i don't know how they did it but you look completely okay again healthy happy even i looked over while i heard judy continuing her little speech the messages are only the first step we can show you everything else if you decide to stay. There's only a very small group that won't give their mind over.

Do you know how long it took me to get the two of you? Oh, I need you. Together we can change everything. I know you don't completely understand yet, but we're making this world better. This is sick. Why would all these people just comply? I... Finally, nine spoke. There is no option out. All you can do at this point. is to enjoy the show. At least we get the better view. I voluntarily agree to participate in this study. That was it, and she knew it. The number was tattooed on my arm. My last trial was over, and I was a part of the psych lab now. Now it was time to take the control that I deserve. There was an alpha, after all. But first, I had to get through this show.

You know, it's not that difficult to deceive people. You just need to understand them, get inside their heads, and you can nudge them towards changing into anything you like. If you make them feel like they're part of an elite group, they'll start depending on it. If there is an authority, they will follow without asking questions. Next, you give them a role, a purpose, and you make this a part of their identity.

What if you had something to distinguish them from, mothers, like put numbers on their arms. Have you ever taken part in an initiation ceremony? Like hazing for a fraternity? You wouldn't go through the humiliation if you didn't really want it deep down, right? After breaking your will, they will get your eternal loyalty. They make you do horrible things, but tell you to remember that they're always voluntarily. It's an illusion. The choice is an illusion. They tell you there's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong with your blood being taken from you. Try this medicine. It will make you feel

amazing. We'll give you some of this every time you help. Doesn't it feel nice to help? But it's not helping you. Only then. Of course, not every person will fall for persuasion or deception. We're at our most vulnerable

when we start spacing out. Do you sometimes go to the kitchen and forget why? Say, but then you realize you actually heard what the other person person said, or sit in your car and reach your destination even though you weren't focused on driving at all. If you make sure you're conscious, make your own decision, then you can shield yourself from the manipulation. Do you remember why you came here? Why you're doing this? Why

you're looking at this? When was the last time you made your decision? You are different? You're not numb yet. Be conscious. wake up wake up wake up you don't want to be here you never wanted to you are intelligent you understand how this works

you can break out well I tried as much as I could to talk over the music coming from the speakers of the theatre to get into his head but he wasn't even looking at me his eyes were glued to the screen hypnotised This is probably the reason Judy had left the theatre.

Whatever is happening on that screen, it changes people. It is why I had to keep my eyes online and under no circumstances look at the screen. The sound was drilling its way into my brain, even through the napkins that I stuck in my ears. Luckily, I come prepared. While the gentleman at the cafe was talking to the police and the guests were watching him, I quickly grabbed a knife from behind the counter. That's what happens when people don't think for themselves anymore. They get careless.

And Judy was the most careless one with her arrogant attitude. Of course, this show had worked the last time, so I couldn't completely blame her. I had to be fast. So I got the knife out and held it to his throat, ready to cut. The screen turned black. The movie was over. She screamed when she stepped into the theatre. seeing nine one of her beautiful alphas lying there on the ground in the puddle of his own blood

must have surprised even a cold-ass bitch like her the first moment of shock quickly turned into euphoria she stared at me while i was sitting peacefully on one of the chairs the blood smeared on my white hospital gown not showing any sign of remorse ten is higher than nine right he was weak i am not I won. I said, come. Leave us alone, she directed at the two nurses behind her. A hysterical laugh escaped from her mouth. I told you you were my favourite. He'll do great here. We will. She was hunching over his body, looking for an indication on how I was able to conduct this brutal murder. So distracted, that she didn't notice the knife that was being stabbed into her gut. again and again

as I said before distraction can work wonders you're right she was an arrogant bitch so what do we do now nine pushed Judy's lifeless body away from him and slowly gone up I'm a little dizzy after losing all this blood

you know how villains always give away their entire plan they are so proud of what they come up with that they have to share it As we know from basically every superhero movie, that's their biggest misstep. That's how they lose. Judy was so proud that I'd come back that I was defeated and would never leave this place. And so she told me all about her vision, how she had run this entire operation on her own, slowly building up an army of sheep.

She would brainwash them into thinking they were part of the glorious new life, part of a new era Except None of them were using their own minds They were her little puppets The useful ones Worked for her The less useful ones were harvested

Selling organs is quite a lucrative Business and slowly she'd taken over The entire town But she needed to grow Branch out and for that she needed help So she came up with a plan to recruit A new puppet master Two had made it

far enough. Now it was up to them to decide who would be the number one. Except, I didn't want to be part of her team, and neither did I, or Josh, after he woke up from his hypnosis. There are different ways to convince someone with facts, but most people won't even listen. Something else you can do is to evoke a strong emotion in them, like fear. Then you take it away, and just like that, the action that your body was getting ready for isn't necessary anymore, creating a void, a moment in which the brain isn't active, the perfect moment to get to the subconscious and influence someone. He was certain he would die in that moment when I held the knife to his throat. When he didn't, all I did was step back and ask for his name. He seemed to snap him out of the trance.

At least we used the syringe and didn't cut you up. You should feel lucky. I answered. He was right, though. What was next? How are you planning on getting out? The hospital is filled with her followers, he said. Just look at our arms. We're the highest numbers now.

They'll follow us. For now, all I know is that I won't use this place to take away the organs of innocent people. They deserve better. They may not understand what's best for them yet, but whatever it is, I'll do a better job than Judy. Sometimes you can't give people a choice, not if you truly want to make the world better. But, well, that's something I'll need to test.

If you'd like to help, I could certainly use some participants. 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 favour 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.