Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S3 Ep141: Episode 142: Stories of Death

Episode Date: October 11, 2023

We start this evening with ‘Every Single Passenger in This Train Is Going to Die’, a wonderful story By Mandahrk, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/Mandahrk Tonight’s final intriguing tale of mystery is ''The Good Die Badly'', an original work by cesly1987, kindly shared with me for the purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all, with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/cesly1987/

Experience a legacy that lasts at Dawn Valley North Lexus. Right now, Lisa, 2026, RX 350 premium package from just 638 per month for 28 months at 3.9%. Plus qualified Lexus loyalty guests, receive a 1.5% rate reduction for rates as low as 2.4%. See Donvalley Northlexus.com for details. A proud member of Wayne's Auto Group. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. Death. Scary for many because it represents the unknown,

the end of consciousness, and the fear of losing the experiences and connections with life. For others, it's the fear of the unknown and the uncertainty of what happens after death. There are common reasons why death can be frightening. All themes we'll see in tonight's two feature-length stories. Now, my dear friends, as ever, before we begin, a word of caution.

Night stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Every single passenger on this train is going to die. I can see the future. Well, kind of. That is to say, I can only see the future if it involves me being killed in a spectacularly excruciating manner. Now I didn't want this power.

certainly didn't ask for it yet it was thrust upon me without my consent as I was literally thrown in at the deep end and left offend for myself for what has surely turned out to be the world's most terrifying train journey where each carriage seems to have its own unique hell designed to torment us but I think getting a little ahead of myself let me take you back to when this nightmare first began I woke up with a start my body drenched in sweat yet freezing and shivering at the same time. Abnoxiously loud music from my phone blared right into my ears, making me wince even as my eyes rapidly fluttered to clear my hazy vision. Muffle grumbling rose up from the passengers around me as I fumbled with my phone, whose harsh glare ripped through the dark, burning my bleary and crusted eyes. My thumb slid over the slippery screen, finally shutting off the offending noise. Man, fuck telemarketers who call at 12.01 a.m. Oh, my bladder seemed like it was going to explode and shower my innards with uri, and so I swung

my legs around and jumped down, wincing at the strange crick in my neck. The train lurched as I landed, almost throwing me off balance and sending me careening into the old woman curled up on the bottom berth, but I put my hands on the seat above her and held on. Gingerly, I turned my head and looked out the tinted windows, to spot tiny balls of light bobbing away in the vast sea of inky darkness as the train rumbled and tore through the sparsely populated countryside. Just how fast was this going? Can it really reach speeds this high? I tied my hair up into a ponytail, slipped my feet into my shoes, and without bothering to tie the laces, began

shuffling towards the toilet. Curtains drawn, light switched off. Almost everyone was slumbering at this point in time. Well, almost everybody. Someone else was awake at this ungodly hour, rummaging through his luggage near the door on the other end. I ducked his feet jutted out from a berth above me and almost smacked me in the face, and continued walking towards the door that opened up to the space where the toilet was located. My hand was on the handle of the door when I noticed it. A squishing sound that rose up from my shoes as my feet felt like they were being

forcibly pulled down. I bowed my head and stared at the floor. From the tiny gap between the door and the PVC flooring, a bubbling, tar-like liquid was leaking out towards me. What the fuck? I pulled my shoe up and the liquid stretched and stuck to it like chewing gum, forming spindly little stalactites and stalagmites that joined at near imperceptible points. I put my foot down, squelching the liquid with a horrible sound

and prepared to swing the door open when even more of the liquid rushed out. painting my shoes with a thick coat of the darkest black I had ever seen. What in the world was happening here? I didn't get the time to contemplate on the weirdness of it all as the slow and steady stream of the liquid turned into a fiery jet, like water from a fireman's hose, crashing into my shins, making me scream, but more from a searing pain than the shock.

The thing was hot and it felt like my legs had been sprayed by a flamethrower. I stumbled backwards and almost immediately. Immediately a high-pitched screech exploded from the back of the coach like a gunshot and ripped through the narrow hallway. The man I'd just seen was now slathered with the black liquid, yelling and writhing on the floor, but only making things worse for himself in the process as his skin boiled and peeled off, leaving behind angry-looking red splotches which were quickly gobbled up by the black liquid. I would have thrown up if my body wasn't too terrified to do so. Curious heads popped out through narrow slits between drawn curtains to investigate the commotion

while I cried and gritted my teeth to block out the mind-numbing pain and scrambled to my feet to get away from this thing. What's happening here? Look, he's hurt. Someone help him. What is that thing? Is that oil? It's hot. Get away from it. The liquid was starting to lash other people now. and the cacophony of screams which erupted forced others to wake up. I was about halfway back to my seat when a loud rumbling emerged from the rattling door,

drowning out the anguish-filled yelling of the victims of the liquid. The door groaned and gave way, flying into the air and crashing onto the floor with a loud clang as the liquid gushed in, flooding the compartment, reaching up to my knees in height. Sweat rushed out of every pore in my body, and my knees trembled, threatening to give out and send me tumbling to the floor as the liquid scorch my flesh, causing my synapses to fire like crazy, pretty much short-circuiting my brain. The liquid reached up to my waist now, melting my jeans and fusing the fabric with my sizzling flesh,

making my legs wobble like melted jelly. What's happening? Someone pull the chain. Stop the train! It's not working. I needed to get to higher ground or else I was going to melt and get swept up. away by this fluid. Seemed like others had the same idea as the chaos in the compartment seemed to be aimed

at getting to the top berths. With my hands quivering, I turned to my right and pump my weakening muscles to weigh through this bizarrely sticky liquid to climb onto a top berth when I noticed something from the corner of my eye. Some people were trying to help the man who was splashed with the liquid right after me.

To my horror, black, tendril-like projections so the liquid shot out of the surface of its ever-expanding pool, reaching the roof of the carriage before zooming towards the struggling group and wrapping around them like fiery boa constrictors. My mouth dropped open as I watched the hapless group get jerked under the pool of the liquid one by one, with loud splashes by things that bore a shocking resemblance to sentience. What the fuck?

And then it got worse, as my ears were assaulted by the nauseating sound of metallic screeching and blades whirring and slicing through flesh. A faint dash of red struggled against the overwhelming blackness of the liquid before being consumed by it as the group was cut to pieces with surgeon-like precision. A solitary head flew into the air, squishing against the roof and leaving a small trail of blood before plopping back into the liquid. Its wide, lifeless eyes rattling my soul.

The screaming of the people trapped here in this compartment somehow found a way to increase in volume. One woman, overwired with pain, collapsed onto the floor, her body sizzling and melting right before my eyes. I shook my head, move, move, move. With a Herculean effort I put my feet on the bottom seat and pushed myself up, soon feeling arms around me as the person on the berth above tried to pull me up. The body cried out in relief as it ended its contact with the fiery liquid, but it was short-lived.

The eyes of the person pulling me up widened, and before I even had the chance to think why that was, I was yanked back into the darkness, my head slamming against the bottom seat as the horrifying tendrils finally made their way towards me. My entire body was aflame. It felt like I had been dropped into a vat of acid. I could feel my very eyelids melting under the heat of the heat of the body. the liquid. Just when I thought I was going to die like this, the tendrils snaked around my body, reaching my head and forcing their way into my mouth. The liquid poured in, singeing my esophagus. The tendrils pulled harder and harder, and the last thing I heard before fading away

was the sound of my jaw cracking into pieces. The train lurched as I landed on my feet, almost throwing me off balance and sending me careening into weight. What? My heart hammered in my chest as images of my death flashed through my mind. What was that? Was it all just a dream? The horror I'd been through had felt far too real to have been just a dream and tears rolled down my face as if to reaffirm that fact.

A lump formed in my throat and expanded, making breathing itself an extraordinarily arduous task. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to come. down. Just a dream. Just a dream. Oh, how could it have been just a dream if I was out of bed and standing on my own two feet? If it wasn't real, then what in the world of these memories in my brain? Only one way to find out. With extreme trepidation, I put my head out and almost screamed at what I saw. Holy shit. It was all exactly the same. The same guy rummage. through his luggage, the same feet jutting out of the top berths some ten meters away.

The sound of the liquid bubbling and streaming through the gap is what convinced me. It was going to happen again. Without wasting even a second, I climbed back to my seat faster than anything I'd ever done in my life. And then I screamed my lungs off. The person opposite me shut up straight, looking around wildly to see what was happening. It was a woman who was looking at me with dimmed. disgust on her face. Don't touch the liquid, I shouted.

She looked at me like I'd grown another head. I didn't care. Everybody climbed to the top berths. Don't touch the liquid. She opened her mouth to ask me what was wrong with me, but was caught off by screaming, terrifyingly familiar screaming. That man must have been splashed by the liquid now.

The woman jumped down to check out the noise. "'Please don't!' I shouted. "'Come back!' She disregarded me, but only momentarily, and came running back when she saw the liquid and what it was capable of, her eyes wide with disbelief. The elderly couple below us needed help getting to the top.

It was a race against time. The liquid was already starting to pool beneath our seats, and the door was going to come crashing down any second. The door burst open when I was pulling the wife up, and the liquid flooded the compartment as soon as the woman helped the husband climb up to her seat, who groaned as his aged muscle stretched around his fragile bones. We sat frightened out of our minds, listening to the death-roads of people caught by the liquid and the oddly metallic slashing of the tendrils.

The black, tar-like fluid was only inches below the top berths when it stopped rising, and a suffocating silence descended upon the compartment, with the only sound being the sloshing and bubbling of the liquid. Everybody waited with a baited breath, wondering what was going to happen next. I gasped as dark tendrils leapt out of the liquid, latching onto my seat and missing my leg by inches before retreating. I backed up, my left hand bumping against something hard, right where my pillow should be. It was a leather diary, one that I'd never seen before in my life.

life. Again, what the fuck? This night just keeps getting weirder and weirder. At least now I know why my neck was so damn stiff. I flipped the diary open. It was blank, same for one page. The first one, which had a crude figure of the train, with strange labels on each compartment scribbled in the most atrocious handwriting I'd ever seen. But the thing that drew my attention more than anything else, were the words hastily scrawled on the top. Words that were full of panic. Words that screamed at the reader,

The train is trying to kill you. Do you want to live? Part two. As I sat gawking at the shabbily drawn niagram of the train in the diary, wondering who made it, why they chose to leave this with me and how exactly they seemed to know what was going on.

Well, the boiling liquid receded, leaving behind a trail of stomach churning violence. And despite the burnt corpses, melted flesh and torn apart limbs strewn across the floor, all the passengers collectively heaved a sigh of relief, such that it seemed the metal carriage itself had exhaled, deflating its metaphorical shoulders in relaxation. The departure of the murderous fluid ignited an explosive uproar which swept over the compartment like wildfire. People sobbed at the loss of their loved ones, cried out at the sheer inexplicable nature of the horror that had visited them, shouted irrational suggestions for what should be done next, and pig fights with each other to direct their rage at a more accessible target. But I was oblivious to all that, fixated as I was on the leather journal splayed out on my lap, scratching my head in confusion at what seemed to be an instruction manual.

The person who wrote this obviously wanted to survive whatever was happening. in this train but I was in such a hurry while writing this that I couldn't make head or tail of what the hastily scribbled words were trying to tell me. Consider this, for example, right below the diagram of the train were these words. One step backward, two steps forward, one step forward, three steps backward. What the hell does this mean? Was this a riddle of some sort? God, why couldn't they just leave instructions that were slightly clearer than this? What I wouldn't give for clear-cut rules and guidelines to follow to get out of this hell. There were some things that were a bit easier to understand, though,

like the eighth compartment on the diagram was labelled, burning liquid reached top berth. It had a fucked-up stick-figure pointing in it, announcing where we were. What are you looking at? The sudden appearance of that voice almost made me jump out of my skin. Instinctively, clutching my chest, I turned to my right and saw it was the same. the woman from the birth directly opposite mine, who, while I'd been busy pouring over the contents of the diary, had helped the elderly woman down and taken her place beside me.

Um, hi, I spoke weakly. Hi yourself, she replied, gently smiling, the action causing the mole on her chin to come tantalizingly close to her full lips. So, what are you looking at? Can I see it? She snatched the diary from my hands and began reading it before I could do so much of it. utter a disgruntled wine. What the fuck is this?

She asked, accusingly. Did you know what was going to happen here? Well, I had absolutely no clue. I mean, I did, but not because of this diary, which is not actually even mine, it just, well, happened to be on my seat. My voice tapered off at the end. Even I understood how ridiculous that sounded.

So, how else did you know about the demonic oil? She asked, her brow furrowing with suspicion. I, um, saw it. I saw the future? I bit my lip and muttered it half-heartedly. She stared at me with an unreadable expression on her face. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's true, I protested. I saw myself die. My jaw was ripped apart by that thing.

That vision was the only reason I was able to save myself. She shook her head as if she could. I didn't believe what she was about to say. You know, normally that most people would have you locked up in an asylum for saying something that insane, but these aren't exactly normal times, are they? And I'm certainly not most people. Who are you? I wondered out loud.

Tricia. She shook my hand firmly, but in a reassuring manner. Mayor, I replied. Well, Mayor, seems like we're on the same side, she said. a wriggling finger pointing at the two of us. I saw how hard you tried to get everyone away from that oil, so I'm choosing to trust you, even though I'm not entirely sold on your story,

particularly that part about you seeing the future. Well, that wasn't very surprising. So, if you're willing to work with me, then we can start trying to crack the mystery of this thing. She continued, oh, and fast, because that oil is going to come back right. She pointed at the five o'clock that was scrawled in a corner and circled five times. It's a cycle that repeats every five minutes, I said, the gears in my mind turning.

Then that leaves us with less than two minutes before the liquid reappears. So, what do we do? I'll go warn the other passengers and tell them to stay on the upper berths, she answered. Meanwhile, I suggest you keep looking at that page. Try and see if you can figure anything else out. She handed me the diary and hopped down like a rabbit, leaving me alone to deal with the confusing mess of squiggly lines that was this page. I heard her shouting in the distance, and then she was back, tapping me on the leg to help

get the elderly couple up on her seat. Strange how humans can quickly adapt to a change in their environment. The reaction of the passengers to the return of the liquid was a lot more subdued this time, and not a single one of us fell prey to its heat or its demonic limbs that grow up. around for anyone foolish enough to get close to it. The second attack of the liquid ended with a whimper, leaving behind a frightened but mostly safe group of people. It's the coaches, I whispered after things had returned to relative normalcy.

What? Trisha asked. The steps, it's the coaches, look, I exclaimed, pointing at the diagram of the train. They're numbered. They're the steps. Have to be. What do you mean? One step backward, two steps forward.

One step forward or three steps backward? It's talking about the compartments, I replied excitedly. You mean if we went to the compartment immediately to our back? We ended up going two coaches forward, she asked doubtfully. Exactly, some teleportion stuff as unbelievable as that sounds. And this one here. I jerked my finger at the first coach, which, like the five, was already heavily circled with arrows pointing at it. It's our target, I think. If we want to stop whatever the

fuck is going on here, we have to get there. She tapped the watch on her wrist. Then we better hurry up, right? We decided to push through the back door, as it seemed to be the safer choice. Like the stick figure in the drawing of the train pointed out, we were in the eighth compartment, that is, second to last carriage in the train. If we went forward, we could end up being thrown outside, as there really weren't three carriages behind us. So backwards it was, which had sent us two coaches forward if my assumption was correct. I would have certainly questioned my sanity for going along with something this dangerous, if only I'd had time to do so, but considering that we were on a lethal time limit, I ignored the warning bells going off within me,

clutched the diary tightly in my right hand, and followed Trisha as she slung her backpack over her shoulders, and strode towards the back of the carriage, where we found other people who had the same idea, arguing with others who believe that it would indeed be a stupidly dangerous thing to do. So the argument that I wanted to have with my conscience ended up being played out right in front of me. It's too dangerous. We don't know what's out there. Well, we can't just sit here and wait for it to happen again, can we?

What if you leave and that sets off something even worse? We'll all end up dead. we are going to die anyway if we don't do something to stop this Trisha passed mumbling Excuse me under her breath A rotund, bawding middle-aged man stepped in front of her His bushy moustache quivering with alarm You, he yelled

You're the one who warned us that the oil was returning How did you know? She shrugged, just a hunch Aren't you glad that it saved your life? His face reddened with reddened with rage. Where do you think you're going? Out, she replied with a straight face. I'm not going to sit here waiting for my turn to die.

Step aside. Well, he looked ready to explode when she cut him off. Look, that liquid is going to come back again in a couple of minutes, so we really don't have the time to be arguing here. Step aside and let us through. We'll let you know what we find on the other side. If you think I'm just going to let you go out. His eyes widened. when she pulled out a gun from her backpack and aimed it at him.

"'Holy shit!' I whispered, as everyone around her backed away in fear. She sighed. "'I know this makes me look very suspicious, "'but that's a risk I'm willing to take at this point. "'You all should run up to the top berths, hunker down, "'and the two of us will get back to you eventually.' "'I stared at her in shock. "'Come on, Mayor, let's go.'

"'She tugged my hand and dragged me outside. side. Where the fuck did you get that gun? I shouted after she'd slam the door shut behind her. The rumbling and rattling of the train was much more pronounced here, outside the air-conditioned compartment. How did you get it past security? Who even are you? She sighed. Listen, Mayor, we both have our secrets. There are things you don't know about me and there are things I don't know about you. You see, normally that would be a case for extreme suspicion between the two of us, but right now, with a situation as fucked as it is, we can both either take a blind leap of faith or sink down into the abyss.

What will it be? What are you going to do? Think fast because I need you here with me. Our conversation was interrupted by a cacophony of screams and warnings behind us. That liquid was invading our compartment once again. Yet here on the other side, there was nothing. It was as if the black tower had just magically appeared. beneath the door and started flooding the carriage.

I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Should we wait for the liquid to disappear and get everyone out here where it seems to be safer? I asked. Depends. What does the diary say about it? She counted. I flipped it open, my eyes rocketing towards the spindly lines connecting two carriages in the diagram. Safe spaces aren't safe. This was the label above them.

I knew that because by this time I'd memorized. I'd memorize pretty much the entire page, but the comforting safety out here had deceived my memories. Well, that answers the question, doesn't it? I nodded. There goes my opportunity to relieve my bladder. If things continue to proceed at this pace, I'll almost certainly wet my pants. I looked longingly at the toilet, and then shook my head. He stepped through the flimsy metal frame surrounding the coupling mechanism that connected the two train coaches,

and suddenly my hypothesis proved to be accurate. There was an intense build-up of pressure in my eardrums which released with a painful pop, making my head feel incredibly dizzy. By the time I stumbled out near the door, I noticed that the scene was familiar, yet noticeably different from the one I'd seen from the other end of the trembling iron bridge.

This is it, isn't it? Trisha huffed, resting with her hands on her knees. Yes. I panted. We should be at the door at the front end of the sixth compartment in the train. Only one way to know for sure, she said as she swung open the door, which bumped against a hollowed-out corpse. He yelped as I saw the ghastly body with its ribcage opened up

and pock-marked intestine sprawled out around it. There are chunks of flesh missing all over the body, and a hole had been chewed out in its left cheek, revealing a gum full of missing teeth. His limbs had been similarly covered, and with bones and tendons exposed to the natural forces. We didn't even have enough time to process this as we instantly came face to face

with a terrified and angry bunch who gathered up and looked ready to charge us with a steel water bottle and long tiffin boxes. Back up, Frisha screamed, pointing the pistol in their direction. They obeyed, the jaws dropping at the sight of the gun. Who are you? One of the men snarled.

We came from the other compartment, I replied. What happened here? I looked at each other with fear and anxiety, clear upon their sweat-riddled faces. Tricia groaned. Our compartment was flooded with boiling oil that caught and dragged people to their deaths.

They gawked at her. She continued. So can we please move on and start talking freely? They started whispering to each other, which made her turn towards me. What does the diary say about this coach? "'And man. Hide,' I answered. "'Oh, really helpful,' she said before raising her voice.

"'Hey, how long ago did it happen?' "'What?' the man who addressed us asked. "'Whatever happened that led to this?' She pointed at the corpse at her feet. "'How long ago was it?' "'Almost five minutes,' he replied. "'Ah, fuck,' she swore. "'Let's go, Mayor. We're running through.'

She pushed past them, ignoring their outrage grumbling, and dashed down the length of the carriage. With me hot on her heels, with both of us shouting warnings that there was going to be a repeat of the hell they'd just been through, a hell that we weren't even aware of. Running down the carriage, caught glimpses of eaten out corpses, and curtains stained with blood. We were about halfway down when we noticed that the compartment was starting to get a little darker. Then screams erupted from everywhere around us. I slowed down and looked up at the light fixtures, with my heart almost leaping out of my mouth at the terrifying and disgusting sights.

A dark shadow had passed over them. A mobile clouded the colour of blackest onics that steadily spread its malignant influence, plunging the compartment in ever-deepening darkness. Thousands and thousands of the little insects had exploded out of the little gaps in the metallic structure of the carriage and were now swarming the place some of them note a lot of them fell down from the roof slipped into my clothes sending shivers down my spine as they skittered all over my back i gasped in pain as they bit down sending red-hot pain flooding through my system why did it hurt so much well i soon found out as one of them landed on my hand and sunk its little mandibles into my index finger the wound instantly bulging out as it filled

with pus and throbbed like a fucked up little heart. The blinding agony made me lose control of my senses, and I pierced my pants. What kind of ants were these? I winced at the pain, and the action made me look at my surroundings. The ants were everywhere, rushing out of every little orifice in the train, biting their merry way into any human they could grab onto. Covered in wounds, Trisha and I waddle over to the other end and pulled the door up. only to come face to face with a monstrosity that defied all laws of reality.

It was a humanoid ant, so large its antennae scraped the roof as it walked on its thin, hairy legs. It had a face that was astonishingly human, stretching and struggling to fight against the ant-like features that threatened to overwhelm it. It brought its sharp, clawed hand up, its thorax rippling with emotion and sliced through Trisha, cleanlymouthed. cutting her into two halves, causing her organs to slip out and fall to the floor with a nauseating squishing sound, or before she even had the chance to fire at it. And it screeched, making my ears bleed and began stalking me. My knees shook wildly and gave out, sending me crashing to the floor. The last thing I saw was the ant-man grinning, its human-like teeth glistening menacingly

before it stabbed me in the throat. She swore, let's go, Mayor, we're running through. My breath caught in my throat, as I was once again slammed back into the past after experiencing the future in a nightmarish vision. I put my hand on Trish's shoulder, my grip vice-like in strength.

No, I stated emphatically, we'll never make it. Did you have another vision? I bobbed my head. Ant-man. Hide. Oh, damn. We should have erred on the side of caution and deferred to the diary. Trisha understood, and instead of barreling through, we decided to hide. We warned the others that the ant-man was coming again, and to our surprise, they believed

us straight away. I guess some people do make smart decisions in the face of impending doom. We bolted to our left, drew the curtains, and sat next to people who looked at us with curiosity and fear. It didn't take long for the ants to arrive, scurrying out of whatever little interdimensional holes they were hiding in and overwhelming every surface in the compartment. They began to bite every single sting as painful as I'd remembered from the vision, but other than a whimper here and there, you mostly stayed quiet. We couldn't say the same for the others in this compartment. Maybe they didn't understand the importance of silence.

the pain was too much to bear or maybe the fear overpower their faculties, but a lot of them screamed, and the ants zoomed in on that noise, devouring the coprits and leaving behind empty husks like the one we saw near the door. Then came the ant-man, its powerful legs scratching and pounding the floor. The screams would every now and then be interspersed with the powerful slashes of the hulking beast as it sliced its victims to clean pieces, like an experience butto-examines. He sat frozen in fear, the pain from the bites on our bodies all but forgotten as it clocked past us, his giant shadow crawling beneath the curtains and caressing our feet. Every second felt like an eternity, but even that never-ending time passed and the monstrous

critters vanished as fast as they come, leaving behind little evidence of their existence except broken bodies and destroyed lives. Trisha and I hobbled out of the carriage before people could finish processing their grief and began peppering us with questions. But not before telling them that the key to surviving this was to shut up and hide. Oh, Trisha groaned, gently caressing at Palsfield blister on her face. Just how many of these compartments will we have to clear before we end this? I didn't even want to think about that.

Part three. Our encounter with the Ant Man had shaken Trisha. far more than I'd initially realized. Faced with her own mortality, the facade of arrogant self-confidence she'd so carefully built up around herself had cracked, turning her white as a sheet. She leaned back against the door at the back end of the sixth compartment

and took a second to get her bearings even as the wounds inflicted on her by the tiny ants continued to throb disgustingly. "'Did I really die?' she asked, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief. I nodded nervously. The last thing I needed was for her to lose faith in herself and get us killed out here. She shook her head slowly.

It's because I'm not prepared, because I don't have proper supplies with me. I'm not normally this sloppy, trust me. I was about to voice my support for her when I noticed something on her forehead, a wound or a scar that pressed from beneath her skin and threatened to burst out and spread across her head. But then it was gone in a flash. A trick of the light, maybe. She breathed an action full of renewed resolve.

Let's go. I don't want to find out what the diary meant with safe space is not being safe. Maybe we should slow down a little, I said as I try to keep up with her. The bite marks on my own body left by those loathsome ants affecting my usual deep speed in a not insignificant way. No, it'll be fine, she counted. Wait! I yelled, pulling her arm to stop her. we're not going to rush this.

They'll end up getting us killed. Well, you can always see the future and stop this from happening, can't you? She asks sardonically. No, I don't enjoy being killed over and over again, I exclaimed. Tough shit, she shouted. Get over it. Every second we waste, more people get killed by whatever's causing this. We need to move.

Now. What exactly will happen if we're the ones who end up dead? I scream back. With my vision, we at least have a fighting chance, but it'll all be for nothing if we die. Well, what do you want? No more bum-rush in this, I replied. No more taking decisions without me, and we always do what the diary tells us to do. She looked at me, I mean, really looked at me, like she was acknowledging me for the first time.

All right, mayor, we'll do it your way. So what does your precious diary say about compartment number four? I rolled my eyes. It's not mine. You should know that by now, and let me check. My eyes scanned the page. Wow. Wow, what?

Touch wood. Get fucked. Whoever wrote this as a terrible sense of humor. Getting to the front door of the fourth compartment was as nauseating experience as the first time we'd jump through space. but recovery was much quicker this time and we were ready to encounter the coach after less than half a minute touch wood get fucked trisha whispered like it was a mantra

let's see what this means she pushed the door open again and we entered a forest there's um really no other way to put it thick trunks of rootless trees of varying shades of brown had pierced the solid metal frame of the train and well in their way through the entire length of the counter turning the place into an intricate, nigh, unnavigable maize of wood that sprouted innumerable branches that merrily stabbed their way through padded seats, suitcases, and even unsuspecting

humans, whose blood only served to feed the demon tree, as on the wood close to every corpse, bloomed a giant crimson red flower that twitched ever so slightly, like someone moaning after a scrumptious meal. Leaves, some fresh and young like flattened emeralds, some wilted an age like dried cow dung, desperately clung to the tree as they fluttered in the dusty wind that came gushing in through the myriad holes in the train, which continued to traverse the arid countryside at an impossibly high speed. This can't be real, I mumbled under my trembling breath. You're right, Trisha replied just as softly.

I don't think the diary was being literal. So, what do we do? I asked. Wait for the clock to run out? Let's find out how much sands left in the hourglass first. She replied before shouting, Hey, anyone's still alive? The only reply we got was a thick log of wood which shot across the compartment like a bullet,

right in front of her face before embedding itself above the glass window. Long greenish vines quickly followed, tying themselves to the piece of wood before, expanding and becoming a generic part of the sentient tree. I clamped my mouth of my hand and preemptively muffled the image, involuntary scream that threatened to rip from my throat. I guess we'll just have to wait this one out. Tricia muttered nervously.

Safe spaces aren't safe. And that was when we found the terrifying truth of that statement. A bone rattling raw boom from somewhere behind us, rooting me to the spot and causing cold sweat to gush down my forehead and into my eyes. The world around saw a freaking bear standing on the metal platform above the coupling connecting the two trembling train coaches. He was big, much bigger than any bear I'd ever seen, with bloodshot eyes and thick fur matted with gore.

The train groaned and shifted as it took a step in our direction. Tricia swore as she pulled her pistol up and fired at the bear, who just shook off the bullets like it meant nothing to him. Oh, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, I thought, my heart quickly sinking into the said metaphorical ocean. is this it? Is this how we die? Even a vision can't save us from this. Wait. A light bulb went off in my head. It's warmth flooding me with energy. Let's go in, I said excitedly. I have an idea.

What? Tricia screamed as she popped off the last couple of shots in her magazine, which she promptly, and with extreme fluidity, changed in a flash. Meanwhile, I tore out a page from the back of the diary, crumped it up into a ball and tossed it at the monstrous tree somewhere to the left. As soon as the wood attacked it, with a sharp crack, I took a step in, avoiding touching the tree with utmost caution. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for the attack, which never came. Yes. It worked. I didn't know whether it could only attack one target at a time or whether it just can't sense too stimuli closely spaced together, but considering that our lives are on the line, I assume the latter. After quickly telling Trisha about my plan, we began moving

in, one carefully placed step at a time, leaving the bear snarling at us right at the doorstep, and tearing page after page from the diary to distract the monstrous trees we moved deeper into the compartment. The progress was slow, and it almost took us half an hour to get to the midpoint. My visions helped us a lot. Every misplaced step, every stumble resulting in a painful death that, although we avoided, ended up leaving a scar in my memory. I sure it'd take a lifetime of therapy to get over all this trauma, but living long enough to deal with that pain would be a blessing in itself. This is exactly like that scene from Ocean's Twelve, you know. Tricia remarked, her body contorted into odd angles at my instruction to avoid hitting the woods. I grinned, thoroughly enjoying the first moment of levity since this started.

As we reached the end of the compartment, I realised we hadn't come across a single survivor in this carriage. Everyone here had been murdered by the sentient tree, with beautiful and yet vile crimson flowers blooming on every single seat in the coach. Is this how it's going to be from here on? Well, the monstrous traps are waiting for us going to get worse, the closer we get to our destination. I hope not because the next one we'd be hitting was compartment number two. So, what horror awaits us next? Trisha asked as she stretched her tired muscles after we'd exited the forest in compartment number four.

It's not real, I replied. Great, hallucinations just what we need. She said running her fingers through her luscious hair. We'll have to double back to five when we get to two, right? I nodded. Yes. One step forward, three steps backward. One step backward, two steps forward.

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arriving at the window door to compartment two. So we just have to walk back to get to five, don't we? Trisha asked. Doesn't that mean we won't even have to enter two? That's how it should work, yes, I replied. If we walk from two to one, that is, to one step forward, we should arrive back at five. So that's what we did, only to hit a wall, a literal wall,

or be it an invisible one that halted our progress, Looks like we'll have to enter two, and then exit out the same door to actually trigger the transportation, I guessed. We double back to the door to compartment two and tried to peer through its window, but we couldn't because the area beyond was completely shrouded in darkness. I took my phone out, switched on its flashlight and swung the door open. The light feebly pushed back against the dark, but couldn't even make a slight dent in the overwhelming blackness of the coach. I sighed and took a step forward, only to find myself in my childhood dining room, where my mother was sitting with a smile on her face and had my favourite meal,

Amritzari Kulchers, displayed invitingly on the table as bright sunlight stream through the windows, making my mother's beautiful face glow with a golden hue. Hey, ma'am, she said, her voice as musical as I remembered. How are you, baby? not real not real not real aren't you hungry she asked her brown eyes twinkling food's gonna get cold you know she's dead she's dead she's dead i tried to tell myself to run away that this won't end well but my feet seemed to move of their own accord and soon i was digging into the food without a care in the world how could it not be real i could smell the food taste its spice on my tongue feel the same sun stinging my skin. How is this not real? And even if it isn't real, is it all that bad?

Why couldn't I just stay here? Why is the outside with its unrelenting demonic horrors any better or any more real than this? Your dad's coming home, mum said, shattering my hearts with that statement. No, no, don't go there. He really wants to talk to you, she added. He does? I asked. "'Really?' "'No, no, he doesn't. He can't. "'Because he's dead, too, remember?' "'Even after what happened,' I asked weakly. "'My voice raspy, on the edge of breaking down.

"'Honey?' "'Mam put a hand on top of mine. "'Of course he does. "'You don't really blame yourself for what happened, do you?' "'I looked away guiltily. "'Because you should.' "'My eyes shut up, watering with hurt, at what she just uttered.

Excuse me, I croaked. You should because it's all your fault, isn't it? The saccharine tone of her voice made that sound even more fucked up. I watched, stunned out of my wits as she casually brought a stainless steel fork up and stabbed me in her hand with it, nailing it to the wooden table,

which began to stain with my blood. And had a piercing screech as agony rushed up my nerves. It's all your fault. false, you die, cunt, she thundered. Her voice morphing, layers both high and low-pitched, settling on it, making it sound disjointed, inhuman and demonic. You remember what happened, don't you? Well, please, I pleaded. That night you came out, announced how fucked in the head you were, how it broke your loving father's heart, how we drank that night, how we crashed

the car. Her face began to warp as her teeth fell out. Eyes sank into the skull and cheeks puffed up as her hair began to wobble from her skull. You killed us, you bitch. She twisted the fork, making my eyes water with the pain. No, no, no, but you didn't die, did you? My torture continued as my mum's face snapped and popped, as it transformed into that of my father, as I'd seen him moments before his cremation.

You survived, like the abomination you were. are. You should have died that day. I started to viciously tear my hair out of my skull as my tormentor hurled insults at me, each and every word measured and sharpened, tailored to carve a piece out of my soul. Stop, stop, I begged, but the relentless verbal assault continued unabated. I don't know how long I suffered through that torture, but I'm pretty sure I was on the brink of losing my sanity when Trisha invaded my personal hell, shot the thing pretended to be my personal hell, shot the thing pretended to be my parents in the face and drag me out of compartment number two. It was down on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, having lost all sense of time, and hell had

even forgotten who I was, where I was stuck and what I should have been doing, when Trisha slapped me across the face, hard. I can't tell you that wasn't real, she said, holding my head in her hands and staring into my eyes, because you know it wasn't, but that doesn't make it any less real. does it? We know that your family would never say that shit to you, but their voices still echo inside your head right. But, Mayor, we can't dwell on that, understand. Not now. Please, help me end this. Help me stop whoever's doing this, okay? I wipe my eyes and nodded vigorously. She smiled. Good girl. Now, come on. There's still two more compartments to go till we reach the

end of our journey. Part four. My parents' voices still reverberated inside my skull as we stood outside the door to compartment five, ready to confront whatever fresh hell the train had in store for us there. The horrors we just witnessed had taken its toll on Tricia too, if her ashen face and trembling hands were any indication, but I could see she was putting on a brave front, and so I felt obligated to do the same. I agreed with her. First we needed to find a way to put an end to this nightmare, then we can take all the time in the world to ponder on our experiences here. Mosh pit, I said as Trisha glanced at me. She nodded and opened the door. As expected, there was pandemonium in the carriage, but a quick scan with my eyes showed no signs of the

supernatural. Maybe we'd arrived during the cool-down period. The chaos here consisted of the passengers squaring off against each other, their angry voices rising up to a deafening din. Some of them were shoving each other. Some had been tied up in their seats, and they all pretty much ignored our presence, a surprising first for us in this journey. What in the world is happening here? Tricia wondered out loud. She ducked sideways and caught hold of a frightened-looking teenage girl, asking her the same thing.

You don't know? She stammered. Tricia shrugged. We're not from this compartment. The girl's mouth dropped in shock at this. "'Really? What's happening over there? Is everything normal outside? Did you guys try to stop the train by pulling the chain? We tried, but it's not working for us.' "'Hey, hey,' Tricia interrupted. "'Look, slow down, okay. Start by telling us what happened here.' "'It keeps repeating over and over again, and it just started out of nowhere,' she replied her lips quivering.

"'One second, we're all sitting playing cards. Next to everyone just—' She was cut off by a siren so loud. its vibrations rattled the windows. What the? I held on to the seat close to me to steady myself before turning to look at the girl. How long ago did it happen last? The only reply she gave me was a hateful snarl, before launching at me,

wrapping her bony hands around my throat and sending us both crashing down to the floor. The sudden attack knocked the wind out of my lungs, making it harder for me to fight her off. But Trisha was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off me. The girl responded by shrieking and raking her crusted fingernails across Trisha's wrists.

I lumbered up onto my feet, gasping and coughing as air rushed into my lungs, causing my chest to expand, sending waves of pleasure through my body. But I didn't get a chance to enjoy this as someone else slammed into my side, causing my head to bump sickeningly against the metal railing set up to help people climb to the top bunk. The man who jumped on me began to rain blows, down upon my face, and the puss-filled blister left on my cheek courtesy of the ants burst, and my tongue was subsequently coated with a gag-inducing liquid. I put my hands up to protect myself, so he started punching my sides.

I'm pretty sure he must have cracked a couple of ribs before Trisha knocked him out with a carefully placed kick to the point where his jaw connected to his skull. Get up! she screamed as she fought off more attackers. We need to move. Now! Taking the support of the seat, I pull myself up, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to slam me into unconsciousness. Scenes of senseless violence played out in the carriage as every passenger went freaking berserk, and began attacking anyone close to them.

I saw a prepubescent kid stabbing an old man's eyes with his fingernails. I saw a mother bash her infant's head against the window, splattering the glass with blood and sticky bits of grey matter. Near the door we wanted to exit through was a man, sitting on top of another man, stabbing him repeatedly with a jagged shard of glass. Tricia swung into action, easily and quickly beating down anyone who stepped up to her. It was stunning to watch a trained fighter use their skills. It was quite unlike the movies.

There were no wasted motions, no ostentatious moves, just precise clinical strikes that disabled their attackers in the blink of an eye. A sharp jab to the throat, a swift kick to the knee. A flurry of punches to the side of the head, and it was over. There was a bizarre musical quality to the cracking of skulls and snapping of bones, and this realization made me feel very guilty because these people were innocent civilians, caught up in some supernatural insanity. Tricia didn't share this guilt, nor did she have any hesitation as she beat the shit out of

over a dozen people to get us to the aptly named Mosh Pit. My body ate like a mother, well, Trisha didn't seem to have been phased by, any of this at all, and on the contrary seems to have enjoyed the little workout. This train was fucking without conscience. I was about to make some silly quip about her fighting skills when I felt utter dread wash over me. All through this night I'd seen things I'd never even imagined, things that would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life, things that made me feel the sort of fear that I'd never experienced before in my life.

but it was all nothing compared to the abject irrational terror that I felt at that moment it was a sort of primal fear that cornered animals feel when they know they're about to die but can't see their predators and so just don't know where the attack is coming from cold sweat trickled down my face as I stood rooted to the spots wondering what the fuck was happening what was responsible for this was it the bear couldn't be I'd face the bear before, but this wasn't the same. This fear slivered its way inside, I squeezed my heart,

and even standing on my feet put a strain on my body. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, coming down the passageway, connecting Coach 5 to Coach 4. He was a man, sort of, as was evident with his hairy naked body and his dick flapping about as he walked. but that's where the similarities with humans ended. He had a lion's head, big and furry,

and his feet ended and razor-sharp claws where his toes should have been. Dear God, Trisha whispered when she saw him. What is that thing? That thing roared, the sound instantly bringing the both of us down to our knees. We waited helplessly as he approached us at a leisurely pace, confident at the fact we couldn't defy him. We really couldn't.

Even the thought of running away made our inner shiver in fear. He got closer and closer until I could feel his rancid breath on top of my head. It's heat making me whimper. I then felt his clawed finger on my head and he slowly brought it down to my face, cutting through the skin and causing me to bleep profusely

without even trying. My brain didn't even have time to pry. process this pain when his hand covered my face and he began to squeeze. I heard Trisha shout something, but it was far off as if she was at the top of a mountain in the distance. I felt his fingers digging into my skull, which began to snap and pop painfully, before everything went dark. I didn't waste a second after I'd had this vision. Pulling Trisha's arm, I forced her back into the compartment where the violence was still in full swing.

Having that vision had made me realize that we'd made a critical error To get to coach number three We had to exit out the back door Not the front door as we'd not But that mistake had brought me face to face with the entity that I feared was the one controlling all this With the sheer power that he emanated and the terror he inspired by just his presence was nothing short of extraordinary Even by the standards of this train that we'd gotten used to However, knowing that he was the lynch-pin to this, didn't alleviate any of my concerns,

and only gave me more fear and anxiety. How are we supposed to stop this thing? We keep pushing forwards towards the first compartment, almost as if by instinct, but do we even know what the fuck we're doing here? Because it certainly didn't feel like it. What? Why are we heading back? Tricia asked as she punched an old woman in the face.

What did you see? I'll tell you about it when we get to the other side, I shouted. And I did. After we'd fought our way back out through the carriage, I told her about what I'd seen, why I felt he was the one responsible for all this and how we'd made a mistake going in that direction. Maybe you forced us to make that error, Tricia suggested.

Maybe it's scared that we're getting close to it. I shook my head. He didn't seem scared at all. If anything, he was arrogant. Yet he still decided to come personally and hunt us down, didn't he? She asked. I don't think he expected anyone to make it out of their compartment at all, let alone come this far.

I think that's got him spooked. How do you figure that out? She grinned. Well, did you notice how the two of us were the only ones in compartment five to not go into a murderous frenzy after the siren sounded? almost like the sound only affected those who were initially in that carriage and did nothing to outsiders like us. Hmm, that makes sense, but the question remains. Why is it that only the two of us have been hopping carriages and no one else?

I don't know, she admitted. But what I do know is that makes it all the more important for us to see this through to the end. I wasn't entirely convinced by that. A lion-headed man had sat me of almost all of my will with simply his presence. I think Trisha saw that, and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. We're almost at the end, Mayor. Please don't give up now. I nodded.

Okay, let's do this. Do what, though? I hope we find the answer to that question before we get to our destination. I know I say this a lot, but what the f-f-th? Tricia said her complete attention on the strange monstrosity in front of us in compartment number three. She was right, in that she, you know, we do utter those words a lot, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a hundred percent justified. This thing in front of us was, for the lack of a better word, half a human. He had two thick legs supporting a headless torso.

I mean, he wasn't headless per se. It was like his neck had swallowed his head, which then travelled down to his gut and tried to emerge out of his belly button, which in turn proceeded to transform into his mouth, perennially stuck in a shocked, oh, expression. The skin of his stomach stretched across his eyes, such that his entire torso rippled every time he blinked. His arms had extended, splitting into multiple tentacle-like abnormalities that had stumps for hands, stumps that opened up into mouths with razor-shut. up teeth. We watched as dozens of these mouths, attached to elongated, flailing tentacles, devoured everything in sight, and I mean everything. Passengers, padded seats, suitcases, hell, he even devoured half the roof of the carriage, and bright beams of moonlight entered through the opened-up roof and basked the broken compartment in a serene glow, making the blood

that the passengers sprawed on the half-eaten seas glow like melted rubies. Wind funneled in through the gigantic hole in the roof, rattling the broken pieces of metal that jutted out from their frames. How are we supposed to get past this bastard? Trisha asked, aghast at the sight in front of her. Feed it, I replied. At least that's what it says in the diary. I don't think he needs our help to feed himself, she remarked.

I think we need to keep its mouths busy and sneak past it. I suggested a faint idea swirling and beginning to solidify in my brain. He gathered up broken bits of iron and human body parts that were scattered on the floor and prepared to push past this monstrous fleshy blob when a powerful raw boom from behind us, announcing the presence of the man with a lion's head. Having already seen him before and having retained those memories, It was easier for me to get used to his overwhelming presence, but I couldn't see the same

for Trisha who'd frozen in fear after locking eyes with him. "'Tricia!' I shouted, then punched her in the shoulder to snap her out of it. It worked, and she began to move, despite the abject terror etched across her face. Crossing this carriage, with these two monsters surrounding us, was the hardest little stretch we had to cover. I've lost counted the number of times I've had visions of my face. I've had my head. death only to change our movements and die yet again and then repeat the whole process all over again i had my head gobbled up by the tentacle mouths was beaten to death by the lion had my limbs torn from my body

with the end result being that my body began to ache even though i didn't actually suffer those injuries a fucked-up version of phantom limb pain that exploded in my body as my mind failed to process the information it was being overloaded with but finally There came a time where everything worked out perfectly well for us. All the pieces of food we tossed landed right next to the tentacles, and we scrambled past the cannibalistic monster with perfect timing, such that the tentacles swung into action the moment the man with the lion's head appeared in their age. Wurring and striking like demonic little snakes.

As I stumbled out of the carriage, I heard the latter roar with anger and frustration, as he began tearing apart the tentacles that hungrily wrapped around it. That lion-headed bastard was definitely going to win the fight, but it had brought us enough time to get the fuck out of there. Unfortunately, my body was in no mood to listen to the commands. My brain frantically fired at it and just completely shut down. The exhaustion, the fear, the sensory overload had fried my nervous system

and sat my muscles of all energy, such that my arms, hung like limp noodles, devoid of any life. I fell down hard on my earth, my legs turning to jelly. Get up, Mayor! Trish screamed, wrapping her arms around my waist. Get up! We're almost at the finish line. Move! She pulled me up, but my legs just couldn't support my weights, and thus both of us ended up wobbling and stumbling.

Come on, she panted. You've done so well, honey. Just push, move. She exerted all her strength and literally dragged me down the passageway, transporting us to our destination. Exhausted, out of breath, with sheer will pushing us forward, we had finally arrived at compartment number one. Part 5. There were several things about compartment number one that made it different from anything we'd seen until now. Beginning with the door that was left ajar, the first one we'd encountered on our journey that was already over. and invitingly so at that, with a red carpet rolled out on the PVC floor like the tongue of some majestic primordial beast.

The sound of cello softly wafted through the open door, a beautiful melody that I recognised very well. Whoever was playing Handel's Sarabende certainly knew their way around those bulky stringed instruments. Trisha and I stole a glance at each other and walked into the carriage. It felt like we'd walked into another world. It didn't look anything like what a passenger coach in this train should look like. The long padded seats and metal walls have been uprooted and tossed outside, only to be replaced by ornique teak dining tables covered in embroidered white cloth with silver cutlery atop them. Ah, it was as if this compartment had been converted into a restaurant. It would have made for a beautiful

sight if not for some of the jarring oddities. First were the customers in the restaurant. who were actually just the passengers travelling in this coach, if their warm yet decidedly middle-class clothes or anything to go by. Sitting on the tables with blank expressions on their faces, and black, tar-like tears running down their cheeks, didn't seem like they'd volunteered to be in this position. Second was the bear, napping in a far-off corner of the carriage. It was much smaller than the one we'd recognised earlier,

but deep in my bones I knew that this, beast was more dangerous and it wasn't even close. The power radiating from this one was a physical thing that sat heavy in the air, making it thick and nigh unbreathable. We didn't even pay much attention to him because of what he was sitting next to. Third, near the bear was a table so long it pretty much spanned the entire width of the train. Splayed out on top of the table was a corpse, with its intestines bulging out and hanging limply by its sides like blood-red sausages. The man with the head of a lion was sitting and eating the corpses inards, stuffing them into his mouth like an ill-mannered child and shredding them to pieces with his

sharp canines that were yellowing around the edges. Sitting next to him was a woman, young, maybe mid-twenties like us, sipping red wine and balefully glaring at the lion-headed monster. Surrounding them were four more of the passengers, with thick black tears rolling down their faces, and their arms were moving with sudden jerking motions, like fucked up little marionettes, as they belted out the classical tune from the cellos resting against them. It was all so surreal that we just stood staring at the unbelievably strange sight in front of us, with our jaws dropped so low, they almost touched our chests. Is that him? Tricia whispered, her voice trembling like wind chimes in winter.

I was about to nod when every head in the carriage swung in our d'all. direction, the movement sharp and abrupt like a gunshot. The cello stopped singing with a sharp shriek, silver fork and knives ceased raking against empty plates, and even the bear silently snarled at us. The only one unperturbed by our appearance was the man with the lion's head who continued feeding on the corpse before him, but I don't think that was because he'd anticipated our arrival. No, it seemed to be because of our sheer irrelevance to him. Does a lion care about scurring around on the ground near him. No. At least not unless they stink sharp enough to draw his attention. Tricia quickly popped off a couple of shots at the lion-headed monster,

who snapped and caught the bullets between his teeth, before slowly chewing them and gulping the mangled, lair down without sparing so much as a glance at the woman who just tried to kill him. Then his teary-eyed puppets attacked, jerking up out of their seats and charging us without a care for their oddly contorting bodies. I close my eyes, blinking back tears of frustration. When will this nightmare end? Trisha roared and met the black-eyed freaks head on,

punching and kicking to her heart's content, like she had two compartments back. But things were different this time. This bunch with thick, tar-like tears streaming down their faces were much stronger than those people we'd thought through. Not to mention Trisha had been driven past the point of exhaustion, her wheezing and trembling body now moving by pure instinct.

A couple of feeble punches connected, but they didn't even daze her attackers, and I'm not even talking about myself. My entire body was sore, and it took everything I had just to stand on my own two feet. So it wasn't at all surprising that I was subdued within seconds. What was surprising, however, was what happened next. The two of us were forced down on our knees, our arms twisted behind our backs at angle so sharp our bones were at the brink of snapping into pieces. I would have screamed if I had the strength to do so. My eyelids drooping, I was drifting off to sleep when I was jolted back to wakefulness with sharp cracks across the face. The vicious slap had left deep, red imprints of long fingers on my left cheek, but at least I was awake.

The lion-headed monster stood up, and so did the lady with a wine-glass beside him. Dejavu, a horrible sinking feeling emerged from the pit of my stomach, as if a heavy anchor had been tied around my waist and then kicked into the ocean. Death would have been a welcome release from this hell, but it was not to be. As the demon got closer to us, with the carriage creaking and shifting under the weight of his footsteps, an explosive roar cut through the air from behind us and reverberated in the luxurious compartment. A gauped at the lion-headed monster who walked through the door and came face to face with the lion-headed monster standing in front of us. This strange sight made my head swoop.

The one in front of us roared back at the intruding doppelganger, who instantly burst into flames, sending fiery little sparks drifting in the air that singed the skin of the brain-washed passengers who didn't even flinch at the heat radiating from the burning monster. The demon snarled in anger before, turning to look at the woman beside him. She put her hands up in defence and opened her mouth to calm the agitated monster. But he was in no mood to listen. He grabbed her by the throat, but then seemed to hesitate and finally proceeded to let her go after growling in frustration.

Before I could even begin to contemplate on what was going on here, he disappeared with a loud pop, sending a powerful gust of wind that knocked his back, sending me crashing into a table, causing heavy silver-of-carved. cutlery to come crashing down on me. When I next came too, I saw the same strange woman leaning over me. Her brow furrowed with concern. Are you okay? She asked as she helped me to sit up straight.

What happened? I croaked. My throat so parched it seemed like every word scraped against it. It's over, she said, smiling. You did it? Did what? My eyes lazily scanned my surroundings. We were still in the same compartment, but things were a lot different from when I was last conscious.

The train had come to a halt, and every passenger here lay crumpled on the ground, out cold. I spotted Trisha sitting in a corner, chugging down water. She winked when she saw me. What happened? Where's that lion monster? I mumbled. And where's the damn pet bear? The woman brought some water for me to drink before telling her story.

She said that her name was. Ritu and that she was the one who'd summoned that monster. I tensed up when she said that, but she quickly moved on, arguing that it was a big mistake and that she'd been trying to send the bastard back to hell ever since. She talked about how her family was murdered, and she wanted to get revenge against the killers, so she summoned him, but far from helping her, the demon broke out of her control and went on a rampage, killing innocent people and inflicting psychological torture on her. seeing as she was the one who summoned him she'd been bound to him and vice versa and it wasn't until this train journey that she got the chance to get rid of him for good so you're like a witch or something i asked not believing the words coming out of my mouth she nodded i shook my head surprised at my ability to digest that statement without a hint of doubt a witch with magical powers i couldn't even

"'Wait,' I said, interrupting my own chain of thought. "'The visions that I've been having, "'ex that because of you?' "'Her eyes widened at that. "'You were the one who ended up getting the gift?' "'Her head swiveled, took a look at Trisha before, "'coming back to me. "'I actually wanted to give the power to her, not you.

"'My powers, they sometimes misfire. "'Why?' I asked. "'I mean, why give me, or, her that power. So that I could trap him, Ritu replied. The way that he designed the horrors in this train is that each compartment gets his own unique hell, and the passengers aren't allowed to get out of their carriages. So I added some modifications in his plan, subtle layers of additions just beneath his own magic, allowing you to move between coaches and giving you the power to see the future. But Tricia could move as well, I pointed out. I do not know why that is.

she admitted. Maybe it's because she was with you. Maybe it's because she has her own unique circumstances that allow her to bypass restrictions placed by Purson. Purson? The demon. Oh, so, um, what happened to him? He's caught in a time loop, trapped in their fraternity, she replied. He's always loved traveling through time. It's the first thing he reaches for every time he gets into trouble. I knew he would do that, so I took advantage of our connection and added another condition in his magic. That is, if he comes across himself, he would burn. Wow, and that worked? Yes, the more outlandish a restriction, the more powerful the magic, like a spring reaction, she answered.

So using you to his bait, I messed with his plan, which made him go to the past, bringing him face to face with himself. here. When he saw himself burn, his reaction was to go back in time, hunt you down and fix things, and on and on we go. Well, my head hurt as I tried to process this. He won't just break out of this time loop, will he? No, his gigantic ego will not let him think of any other way, and the arrogance hammered into his brain over thousands of years of existence will not just go away like that. of course being caught in the loop ended his ability to influence anything which is why everything should return to normal now relatively speaking so what happens now i asked now we wait trisha added i looked at her her beautiful eyes glinting under the moonlight that streamed in through the windows

my people will be here soon to clean this freaking mess up your people They hunt monsters like Pruson, Ritu replied. It's why I chose her to help me put him down. Ah, of course she does. But I need to leave, she added. I don't think they would take kindly to my presence, considering that I started all of this in the first place. They wouldn't, Trisha agreed.

And I'd stop you if I wasn't falling apart. But why? You helped stop this. I protested. Innocent people wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for my blind first for revenge. She replied, I'll pay for my crimes eventually. But there's something I must do first.

What? There's someone out there who still gives a shit about me. I'm going to find them and then turn myself in. Is that okay? She quickly glanced at Trisha, who shrugged. Do whatever you want. It's not like I can stop you right. I was seeing Rita off when I noticed something sticking out of her backpack.

A brown leather diary. Ah, so that's what it was. Ritu, can you send physical objects back in time? She looked at me, eyebrow raised in confusion. Yes, but I'd have to hurry. My powers are weakening as more time passes with prosons still stuck in the loop. Good, I'm going to have to borrow that diary of yours. something tells me I'm going to need its help.

It didn't take me long to scribble on the first page of the empty diary, and why would it, considering I knew exactly what to write? Trish's people arrived pretty quickly after Ritu had left, but in the meantime I did finally go to the toilet and relieve myself, feeling grateful for the opportunity to do so without demon bears trying to kill me. I then strolled out to find the other passengers slowly waking up, getting extremely disoriented as they found themselves in the strange compartment. apartment. Tricia's people had arrived, armed to the teeth with strange tattoos on their foreheads,

the shape of a trident with a crescent where the hill should be. They proceeded to take control of the situation, guiding the passengers safely outside to get them fresh air, food and water. I saw Trisha getting chewed out by someone who appeared to be leading this group of men. He stiffened and walked away when he saw me coming. Trisha turned and grinned when she saw me. "'You're in trouble?' I asked. "'A little. "'Lucky's just upset I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. "'But you didn't know this was going to happen.

"'We always have to be prepared, may have. "'It's kind of what the job's about. "'So you hunt monsters, sir. "'Well, that's pretty cool.' "'It is, isn't it?' "'I nodded. "'So what happens to the passengers? "'Their memories will be white-clean.

"'This will appear. appear on the newspapers as a tragic accident. Will they do the same for me too? I asked, Agast. Not if I put in a good word for you. She winked. Will you? Depends.

On what? Whether you buy me a coffee? The good die badly. I hate this case. I hated with every fibre of my being. I thought it was done and buried. Now I'm back here at the crime scene. waiting in my car for the alcohol and Vicodin to kicking, sending a goodbye text to my wife and grown child.

I look into the dark shadows of the abandoned building and I know. I know in my deepest heart of hearts, I'm going to die in there. Once I feel the joints stop hurting, my chest door burning and my vision blurs at the edges, I step out into the street. The rusty doors and my old Buick squeal in protest. The old abandoned St. Emmelies. Been abandoned for ten years now. They built a new one on the exit to the freeway.

Its glowing billboard offered quick caring service. Health with hospitality was the new hospital slogan. But not this one. No, this wretched building had witnessed the deaths of hundreds over the years. The building had been home to the most vile scene of torture and madness to hit the state within the last five years. As I walked up to the entrance, chain shut with a padlock, I wondered if the building was evil, or if it only attracted evil. One thing was for sure. Evil was here tonight.

I fished in my coat pocket for a key, hoping it was still with the same one from five years ago. It took a little bit of work, but finally the padlock popped open. I walked into the dark hallway next to the stairway. This entrance used to be an entrance for employees. only but I knew it well and I knew I had to get to the eighth floor as I climbed the stairs my mind raced back to five years ago I just studied my PI business back then it was my first big case after my early retirement my old partner threw me the leave four girls had gone missing in the city within the last four months the

last girl was 19 year old Vivian Strong disappeared after taking a night class of the local community college. The case was closed when major crimes caught the suspected murderer. A human stain named Jeremy Whitmore. Jeremy was caught after he tried to abduct another woman. This woman pepper sprayed him and stabbed him through the cheek with her car keys. Good for her. Jeremy was tracked down the next day and dog piled by SWAT. In his interrogation he admitted to the abductions of the girls. Oh, 20 of them. Yep, that's right. 20. There's no way he did all of that. He was literally borderline retarded and three of the four girls were taken within walking distance of his apartment. He prayed off the college down the road,

but not the college Vivian was taken from. She was taken from a college 40 minutes away. It wouldn't be the first time a serial killer exaggerated their numbers. Once they realized the jig was up, they wanted Charlie Manson fame. He claimed to have murdered a girl every night would start ranting and preaching when pushed on the details and logistic of his kills. The mayor's office put a lot of pressure on the PD to close the case. Jeremy was slowly giving out details on where he hid the bodies. He'd eventually get to Vivian, right?

My former partner Rob called bullshit on this. He said he was in the interrogation room with a dipset fed asking questions. Rob said the Fed led Jeremy in the questioning to connect him to Vivian. Of course Jeremy knew of the college Vivian was taken from. He'd lived in the town all his life. But that's not the worst of it. There was a voicemail from the night Vivian disappeared. She'd caught her brother who was at home waiting on her.

She said she was walking to her car and wanted him to stay on the phone with her until she made it. She'd said they were following her. She then screamed, Adam, David, Ed! Before the call cut out. You see, Vivian's uncle was a cop back in the day. Adam David Edward is police alphabet for A-D-E. Vivian was reading off a license plate, just like her cop-uncle taught her before somebody grabbed her.

Jeremy didn't have a car, didn't even have a license. He was an idiot that killed in his own backyard, so needless to say, Vivian's family didn't believe Jeremy was her killer. And there was hope she was still alive. Vivian's uncle wanted to come out of retirement and start knocking down doors looking for her in my city. Of course, Rob caught wind of this and talked him down. He pointed the uncle in my direction, and I took the job at a deep discount. They could pay me in full if I found the girl in one piece. She'd been gone for four days. I had to work fast.

My first stop was the college she went missing from. The useless campus cocks were no help to rob in his investigation, so I talked. with a student safety patrol that were the real eyes and it is. A nervous Indian student told me he and his co-workers have been getting more and more calls to escort girls through the parking lot at night. He told me they had called Campus PD on a beat-up suburban idling across the street at the Cloos McDonald's.

He told me they called Campus PD on a beat-up suburban idling across the street at the close McDonald's. He even saw it two nights ago. Well Campus PD told Safety Patrol it wasn't against the law to sit in the parking lot of the McDonald's. And technically the McDonald's wasn't even in their jurisdiction. Go, useless. Well, I had no further lead.

I doubted that Mickey D's had cameras. So I did what all great PIs do. I went on a stake out of the campus parking lots. My Indian friend agreed to keep it a secret when I showed him my credentials and slipped him a hundred for two nights. As I sat in my darked-out car with the engine off and windows cracked. I fought boredom and the urge not to drink my soda. Too much would make me need to piss and blow my cover. Maybe another twenty in Avi would let me sneak into a building to

handle my business. I'm not a dirty old man, but I can admire a gorgeous woman when I see one. Also, I was trying to think like the bad guy, so when a curvy redhead part of the parking lot nearest to the McDonald's across the street, I perked up. I was parted a few rows in front of her, using my rearview mirror to spy on her. And I got a better look as she walked by me towards campus. She was on her phone and distracted, hands full of books, and a purse and keychain. She'd driven a little CRV with manual locks. Walking fast and not aware of her surroundings, she passed right by me and never saw me sitting low in my car.

F, jackpot, I thought. She was easy prey. I hoped her class wasn't too. long. If anything, I could watch her and make sure she made it to her car safely when it was over. That's when I saw movement by her car. Someone was leaning against the passenger side door. I could barely see anything in the rearview mirror, so I quietly opened my door and ducked out between the vehicles. I got a few rows closer to him. Now I was a big guy, so sneaking around was hard on my knees. The guy wore a hoodie and fumbled with the door for a good amount of time. not a master criminal, I presume.

Finally I heard the door click unlocked. He opened it to unlock the back door, jumped in to lie down. I could have taken him right when he was at the door, but it would only have been criminal trespass or burglary of a vehicle at most. A lowly class B. Now I wanted him dead to rights.

I'd wait till the Redhead returned. Red's glass was an hour. The whole time my adrenaline was spiking. I knew what was coming was going to be bad I could always tell my arms would feel heavy and I'd get cold inside

my mind would focus to a sharp point I hadn't started drinking heavily then but this case pushed me to it I took a couple of swigs for my flask finally red appeared walking and talking on her phone she looked and sounded tired

as she approached her vehicle I walked up loudly behind her. I waited for her to unlock the doors with her remote. Ma'am, excuse me. I'm working with the police. Please hang up your phone and call them right now. I bought my army-issue Colt 45 from my jacket, a retirement gift,

had my name of it and everything. I hoped it would only ever be used for show. The silver gleam of it caused her eyes to widen. What? She stammered. Stand back. there is someone in your back seat. I said as I leveled the pistol at the car.

She did, and I announced loudly, Get out, shithead. Let me see your hands. It was a moment of silence. Then the car started rocking, and I could hear banging on the door. Red whimpered, and ran to hide behind another car. All I heard was, Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus, as she fled.

The back door kicked open, and I heard a snort, a cough from within. A man sat up and started squirming out feet first. He was draped in the shadows, but I could see he was tall and lanky. He stood up to face me. Both his hands had bloody bandages wrapped around them. He pulled back his hood to show me a toothless grin and a pus-filled missing eye. I took a step back in horror. His face was covered with sores and cuts. He was missing a left ear and he smelled like decay. Get on the ground now, I commanded. He snorted and spat at me.

Catch it. Pervert with purple eyes. I see you. I see you, Mr. Squiggles. I knew this was meth speak, so I reiterated my position. I'm not a cop, brother. I will stack this clip in your face and claim self-defense. And he lunged at me. He almost fell to the ground by tripping over himself. My shot rang out and busted the window behind him. He shot back up and grabbed a hold of my weapon with both hands.

We both wrestled over it. One of us must have hit the button to eject the mag. It clattered across the floor. Damn, only one round in the chamber now, and he had crazy meth-string. A Lord does not die tonight, squiggles. He screamed at me with his. his rancid hot breath.

He was going to kill my out-of-shaped ass with my own gun. I angered the gun towards the ground and fired the last shot to ricochet across the asphalt. The slide rocked back to show it was empty. I then released our fight over it. A idiot pointed the obviously empty gun in my face and tried to shoot me. And I slammed the meth head with a heavy right hook. He flew back to crack his head against the driver's side window. and I huffed over to him,

flipped him on his stomach, sat my fat ass on his ass. He was okay. He was screaming obscenities and made up Bible verses at me when Campus PD arrived. All rolling up like supercops, screaming and pointing guns at me.

They even put me in cuffs. Finally, Rob showed up with the real PD. Campas police asked for help when I mentioned it was connected to an ongoing city case. He had them take me out with a cuff too. Rob, this guy knows where Vivian is. Get me a lead and I'll get to her.

I can cut through all the red tape. I stammered to him. Whoa, slow up. Do you think this guy has a coherent thought in his head? Rob asked as the campus cops threatened to tase him in the backseat of the patrol car if he didn't stop trying to kick out the windows. A mixture of slobber and blood smeared all over the glass from headbutting the window. Gave me a criminal history and background check.

We for sure not. No, he wasn't the brains of the operation. Maybe I can find an accomplice, I answered. Rob shook the idea around in his head. Sounds good. You always were a crap magnet on my shift. Let's hope it helps you find these turrets. All right, I said.

Keep me in the loop. Gonna run home and wash his stink off me. A turn to leave. Ah, um, Rob coughed. Uh, you forgetting something? He said, pointing his finger at my gun. You discharged two rounds at the scene of an attempted kidnapping.

I slept my shoulders and leaning close. Come on, Rob, it's not your case. These guys overlooked taking it from me. Besides, I may need it soon if you get me that hot tip. Rob gave me a look like a disapproving parent to his child, even though I had four years on him. I don't know. I told Campus PD

I'll be in tomorrow to give him a witness statement I'll return to then All right You better Don't get one of these rookies in trouble by taking advantage of their lack of knowledge We were once there too, remember Rob chastised Alright boss man

I'll play nice Just run his background quick I said Give him a wave as I left I got home and taken a shower I tried to abstain from the drink but my knees were barking and waiting around made me nervous. Five Tramadol and a shot of the good vodka I kept in my freezer made me right.

Back in those days, I used the excuse that I needed it to be on top of my game to keep me alive in the field. So what if I was a little intoxicated? Being in pain was worse, right? My phone rang around midnight. It was Rob. William Kinsmith, age 28, used to be. a janitor of the old St. Emily's. Been on the street since it closed. But it gets better.

He owns a 94 model suburban with license plate ADE 5076. This is our guy, or at least the driver of the vehicle used in the abduction. I sat back, already grabbing my keys and codes. Where'd you need me? What's his address? We're executing a search warrant in the morning. I've already sent a uni by his house. No suburban, but I need you to check the hospital. We know he wasn't the brain, so he may be stashed off-sight. Rob paused. Oh, and he had keys.

Tons of them on a big chain. Not enough for probable cause, but enough for reasonable freaking suspicion. I considered this carefully. It made sense. He may still have old keys to the place he used to work. And it would be hard to get a search warrant for an entire hospital without. further evidence. I needed to get in there fast. Vivian was on a ticking clock. It's almost like old times working homicide with Rob again. When I pulled up on St. Emily's, it was almost 1 a.m.

The eight-story tall block building loom like a dark giant in the sky. It dominated the skyline over the short buildings around it. Most were relocated private practice doctor's offices and unused parking garages, so it was quiet and empty. I poured up to the new chainling fence and padlock. I snapped the padlock with some trusty bolt cutters, an essential tool for PIs. And I'd take the criminal trespass charge, if it meant saving the girl. All the entrances were chained shut. I found a low window already partially shattered.

I cleared the rest of the glass out with my giant maglite, and in I went into the administrative win. I had no idea where to begin my search. Hopefully my bad luck would put me in the path of the bad guys. So I made my way to the stairwell. At least I could find a sign indicating what floor was what. Once I entered the dark stairwell, I did find a dusty map mounted on the wall.

I brushed off the dust and lit it up with my life. If I was a bad guy, I'd take the victim somewhere they couldn't be heard and couldn't escape. A basement maybe. Well, the hospital had two of them. My heart almost gave out as I heard a banshee scream echoing down the stairway from far above. The yell bounced off the walls, making it seem like a choir of copycats. I couldn't make it out to be male or female. It was just loud, shrill, and in a lot of pain. I guess the bad guys chose the top floor. I looked at the map to see the top floor was the pediatric wing. Great. What's the deal with sickos and children?

As I made more way up the stairs, I took care to pace myself. What good would I be if I had no energy to face whoever was up there? As I reached the sixth floor, I turned on my light sporadically, not wanting to catch the attention of anybody that could be somewhere in the stairway with me. As my light revealed, I assent to the top. It also chronicled a descent into madness. The walls were now covered with your standard curse words, pentagrams and phallic imagery. But more and more I was seeing a badly drawn stick man with two purple dots for eyes, over and over. Some of chalk, most drawn with runny spray paint by unsteady hands, but all had the telltale purple dots for eyes. By the time I was halfway between the seventh and eighth floor, the walls were covered with the wavy lines of the sea.

stickman. They stacked on top of each other like an army or a silent crowd watching my climb. Another set of words ran together underneath the stickman in an uneven hand. Mr Squiggles, Mr Squiggles, Mr Squiggles, Mr Squiggles, over and over. He wants pain, he wants sweets, he wants pain, he wants meat. It rambled on and on, all over the stairs, the tops and bottoms, hard to reach angles. I kept my light off as I reached the platform for the eighth floor. Moonlight poured in from the windows and the orange flicker of propane lanterns dotted further down the hallway. I slowly made my way down the hallway. I had to make my way past too many open doors as I approached the nurses station. I could imagine another meth-out freak

charging from the dark, open mouths of these rooms at any instance. Cartoon paintings have happy children, animals, and airplanes decorated the walls. The creepy factor was off the charts and the grip on my gun was getting sweaty from the strain I was putting on it. The nurse's station had a glowing lamp atop it and I made the corner to see a man sitting on the floor with his back slumped against the counter. I approached the man to see, I kid you not, a power drill sticking into his head. Fresh blood leaked out of the wound. At least I'd solved the mystery of who was screaming earlier. He had blood-matted dreadlocks and dirty nurses' scrubs.

Both his ears were missing, fingers too. I'd seen this before with meth-head-will in the parking lot. He had a lanyard around his neck. As I bent down to retrieve it, his eyes popped open, and he grabbed my hand. Who are you? He said in a sing-song voice. I put my pistol in his face and was about to threaten him before his hands. hand dropped and he went back to being dead quiet my fear froze me i was sure he was dead before i got to him

he had that unnatural stillness of a corpse something i've seen many times how does a man look you right in the eye and questioned you with a sparkle in his own and then just flipped back to being dead my reverie was broken by a frantic male voice further down the hallway i killed the nerve and Will hasn't come back with anyone new for you. It's over. Just let me kill the girl and kill myself. She's had enough. I quickly ducked behind the nurse's desk.

I peaked over to see a tall shirtless pale man walking down the hallway, hands on his head and pacing back and forth. I don't want to keep the girl alive. Let me finish her. Enough with your sick games. The man argued to no one. Oh, she's still alive. she has to be here.

I snuck out from behind the desk and quickly approached the man while his back was turned. He quickly turned to face me as I was upon him. I bashed him right in the forehead with the butt of my pistol. He dropped to his knees

and I held him tight by the neck. Where's the girl? I screamed. Now facing me I got a good look at his ugly mug. His eyes were bloodshot and infected from tiny cuts under his eyes. His cheek on the right side of his mouth

was hanging off like a piece of ham, showing a skeletal smile underneath. If they did this to themselves, then what did they do to the girl? Pushed the barrel of the gun in his cheek wound. He screamed and I screamed back. Virian Straub, where the hell is she? I'll pick you apart until you answer me. I fired off two shots above him and placed a hot barrel on his temple. This made the tweaker mad. with an unnatural strength he stood up and picked me up by the throat with one arm his offhand slapped my pistol out of my hand to crash somewhere behind me my back was slammed

against the corner of the high counter of the desk and the disfigured man leaned in to look at me I struggled to push him off to no effect he poured a rusty scalpel out of his pocket and began inching it closer and closer to my eye a half smile forming on the undamaged side of his face. The scalpel was only an inch away from my eye before he blinked at me and stopped. He released my neck to grab the chain from around it, pulling out my shiny P-I badge. Are you a cop? He asks in a small voice, holding the badge out like a pendulum before his eyes.

Yes, for years. Backup is coming. You should run while you can, I persuaded. He looked back at me. I was a cop once, deputy, he said sadly, before letting out a growl and gritting his teeth, like he was fighting something. Room 8 too far, he blurted out with me, before running the scalpel across his neck, blood gushing quickly. He released me and fell back to the wall, quickly sliding down and dying. I stared at him for only a moment, glad for the mercy.

mercy. Room 824 was urgent on my mind. I found the room quickly, knocking the door open and stepping inside. On the gurneys was a small female, handcuffed to the railing. Her face covered completely in bloody bandages. Vivienne, I shouted. She stirred and began screaming, believing me to be one of the psychos that had abducted her. I hurried to her and prayed that the cast take a police-issued key. They did, and I picked her frail body up. She screamed and swatted at me. I told her I'm with her family as I rush her down the stairs.

Her hands are bandaged up too, and she's bleeding from somewhere. Got her outside, about to have her heart attack, as I fumbled to call 911. When the MS arrived, they had to give me oxygen too. Rob showed up with half a dozen Unis and ran straight back to the back of the ambience where I was sent. You got her back, you got her back, you beautiful bastard, he cheered. After all the dead girls he'd seen in the past few months, every victory was precious. I reached out Weigley to give him a knuckle bump.

Hours later, back at the real hospital, I sat in the waiting room. Ron came out to catch me up on the story he'd placed together so far. She's stable, but they did a number on her. cut up her face, pulled nails, cut off segments of her fingers. He let out a very world-weary sign. They cut off her tongue to keep her quiet. But it didn't, you know that, just kept her from begging. And I wonder what kind of sadist doesn't like begging from their victim.

Will she ever be the same? They said, looking down at my lap. The guy you sat on at the campus fessed up to three of them. grabbing her he said he was looking for a new victim to keep mr squiggles from eating them rob said with a question on his fate i sat there thinking over the crazy night wanting to know more i went to go back and poke around before c s i cleaned up i had an idea down rob i dropped my gun he looked at me like so what i shut it off and put it in the suspect's mouth i whispered It'll raise questions on the ethics I used during my investigation when CSI finds it.

Also, think of the poor campus cop who didn't take it from me when he should have. Oh, God, all right, Rob said as he fished out a key from his pocket. The company that owns the building gave me a key. He held it out. Don't keep it. Early morning, around 5 a.m., I rolled up to the abandoned hospital. another three tramadol, BC powder and a red ball.

I hadn't graduated to Vicodin just yet, but you see the progression. This time I walked in the front door. A giant white display, facemen. Used to be the welcome and information sign, but it's now blank. When I got upstairs, CSI had already taped it off and removed the bodies.

The new shift must have been coming in an hour. They had a patrol vehicle stationed outside. Robert told him to let me in to take pictures for my own report. I quickly located my shiny pistol. It had fallen right in a wastebasket. CSI for sure would have found it today. I snipped around a little more, only finding food wrappers and plastic sacks filled with human waste.

They must have been living here for months. I walked into one room to see two electric lanterns still on, low and losing battery. On the wall a tapestry of cartoon animals and smiling doctors and nurses. In the middle was the biggest drawing of the squiggly stick figure with purple dots for eyes. About six feet tall. Bloody handprints smear around it to form a macabre halo. Lying on the floor around it were all sorts of bloody tools and knives.

Saw a Bible with a bloody knife through it. His pages stuck together with something awful. As I bent down to look at it, I saw a motion in the corner of my eye, where the squiggle man stood. How do I describe it? It was like when a character in a video game glitches into an object, or spider convulsions its legs before it dies. More like a spider convulses its legs before it dies.

It was only for an instant, but the stigma spasmed and twitched violently. When my head jerked back up, it was still, back where it should have been. but I swear the two dots were further down on its head, looking down at me. This was enough for me. I'd been up for over 20 hours. I had all sorts of chemicals in my system, and I'd witnessed some traumatic crap that probably had given me nightmares for years. I needed to go home. I made the trek down the stairs and through the main lobby. I came to the front door and stopped to fish the key out of my pocket. and that's when I heard it the voice that's haunted my dreams for the past five years it was as if a

professional voice actor was doing a Mickey Mouse impersonation but more shrill and more filled with malevolence or the voice of the clown from the new Stephen King movie but with more pitch in a teasing sing-song voice who are you I spun with my gun out. The voice pulled at something deep in my monkey brain. It told me I was in the presence of a predator. I saw nobody anywhere in the dark, but one thing did immediately catch my eye. On a giant white display was a large drawing of a squiggly stick figure with two purple eyes. It was around five feet tall and had one hand up, as if waving goodbye. Well, I got the hell out of there.

I swore to myself I would never go back. Whatever was haunting this hospital was outside the all-seeing view of God. It felt cold and evil. I just somehow knew. But now, five years later, almost to the day, I'm back. And I know what's up there, waving for me to come in, like the wolf tempting red riding hood to put her head in its mouth. waiting for me to finish what we started.

Part two. The events from five years ago were life-changing to me, and especially young Vivian. It took her weeks to recover physically, and she never quite recovered mentally. Those creeps are cut off segments of four of her fingers, two on each hand. They stabbed her in a non-fatal spot in the belly

and left it to get infected. They burned her body with cigarettes and used a blow torch on her left foot. Worst of all, they had cut out her tongue. It was some sort of game for them. One of them, Julian Arnault, used his knowledge as a nurse to keep her from dying. He also used drugs to keep her from passing from the pain,

some sort of mixture of adrenaline and cocaine. Parking lot Will had indeed been on the lookout for a new victim when I caught him. Another sacrifice for Mr. Squiggles. a thing they all worshipped vehemently. And last of all was Carter Regals. He was the ringleader of the group. Through investigation, I found out Carter used to work for the local PD back in the day. He started as a dispatcher before making the jump to patrol.

Seems he was a deputy somewhere in East Texas before all of that. I found FTOs and officers that had worked with Carter. All reports say he was a good cop, but he was jumping. and refused to work nightship. He only made it two years before resigning for personal issues. Somewhere in those two years, he'd worked an extra job at St. Emily's when it was operational. Before that, Carter was a deputy in East Texas. I tracked down an ex-girlfriend who said he quit after saving a girl from being killed in the woods one night.

The woman was left in a vegetative state for a while, and Carter developed an unnatural fear of the dark. He'd complained of nightmares of monster. with purple eyes. Hmm, sounds familiar. So we got a nurse, a janitor and a cop who all worked at the same hospital at the same time. I'd love to know where and how they bonded in their shared lunacy

or how Mr Squiggles infected them all. I could go ask old parking lot will, but he killed himself in his cell shortly after being arrested. He used to shift to hurry carry himself like a dishonoured sound. I'm a hell of her paying for way to go. I'm glad he chose that method. Vivian went on to gain actually some semblance of life. Heavy sessions of physical therapy and mental therapy helped.

She had a great support system with her parents, new kid's sister, friends and me. I visited Vivian three times a week at first. Now it's at least twice a month. I became a close friend of the family. You see, I changed two that night. My soul had been bonded with Vivians or fates intertwined. I made sure my presence wasn't detrimental to her frail psyche. I asked a therapist if I'd only re-victimise her just by visiting,

but the therapist told me it was good for me to be by Vivian's side as long as I show a great interest in her life before the incident. I was a new friend made on the worst day of her life. I pushed her to remember her life before the incident, before she was shattered. I learned sign language for her, learned about indie rock and the fundamentals of drawing to learn with her. I even sat down to watch four metal alchemist and even learned its difference from brotherhood. The truth is, I was closer to Vivian than my actual daughter. Me and my daughter were good now, but I was a bad father to her in her teenage years,

and maybe this was my penance for being such a terrible dad. It took Viv two years to open up to anyone. Countless surgeries, therapy sessions and skin grafts later. And when she did, I understood why she'd never want to speak of any of it. She spoke of the torture for five days. Being roughly put back together by the nurse, just to be cut open again. She spoke of their manic screaming and ranting, all three of them constantly talking to Mr Squiggles.

Even stranger, she spoke of the ex-deputy, Carter. He would show moments of kindness and lucidity, giving her water, giving her pain medicine, always to be punished by hurting himself and apologising to Mr Squiggles. Vivian said Carter refused to let the other two hurt her anymore on the fourth day. Instead they began hurting each other, cutting off their fingers and ears,

anything to appease Mr. Squiggle. Janitor Will said he'd had enough and was going to get a new victim for Mr. Squiggles to sate his wrath. Of course, you know I caught him in his attempt. After Will left, Carter killed the nurse, Julian. Carter's plan was to let Vivian die so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

I like to think when I showed up, he had a change of heart and sore she could be rescued. And that's why he fought Mr. Squiggles and killed himself. Yes, I fully believe in the monster. Of course I don't tell that to Vivian. To her it was just shared psychosis brought on by drug abuse between her captains. Carter was like a mini-cult leader feeding their drug-eddle brains tales of the boogeyman. But I know what I heard and saw that night.

Something evil occupied the shadows of St. Emily's. And I would have been fine with leaving the demon there, to never be thought of again, but Vivian started having nightmares. Nightmares of a dark figure with purple eyes. She said it spoke to her, told her to hurt herself and others. She believed it was a manifestation of her trauma, but I knew better.

And the voice was only getting stronger. Internet searches on paranormal figures are a crapshoot. With so many creepy pastors trying to come across as real, it's hard to separate fantasy from fiction. I had to track down an actual practitioner of black magic, not some Zach Began's cable show, ghost expert. So, enter Madame Monroe of New Orleans. Make contract with her by email and vetted her with some of my Nola cop buddies. She was legit, scary, legit.

Even the cops knew to show Madame Monroe respect in their neighbourhood. I had to drop a grand just to see her, but what she was. She told me it was worth every penny. I ducked into a voodoo tourist trap off a side road from Bourbon Street. It was a store meant to trick the tourists into believing they'd found the legit voodoo shop. I gave a passcode to the clerk, and he led me out the back, through turns in an alley and up the side stairs of a brick building. Inside the building was a spacious studio apartment,

white marble floor, black leather furniture, and a giant flat screen and entertainment system. The air was a chilly 60 degrees in contrast to the high 90s outside. I was left alone for only a second when Madame Monre walked in from a backroom. She was a statuesque, black woman with a soft red velvet dress, many necklaces and long, shiny bread pulled back into a long ponytail to hang to her lower back. She motioned to two tallback chairs facing one another for me to sit. Once we had, I thanked her for the meeting.

She just stared at me with her piercing brown eyes, just enough crow's feet to make her look slightly cruel. Finally, she barked out of laugh. You didn't expect digs like this, did you? Maybe you expected a shack by the bayou with chicken bones for wind chimes. No, ma'am, I didn't, I replied. Oh, hush, you can call me, Matilda. We are partners in this here mystery. she said with a hint of Cajun accent flavoured in her purring voice.

To tell you the truth, I was thinking of scamming an out-of-town ex-cop like you, but then you mentioned purple eyes. She pulled out a swissor suite from a small handbag in Litty. Now we must work together. The strong scent of marijuana hit me. Oh, the good stuff. I laughed and said, I'm glad I've earned your attention. also my cop days are long behind me.

I held out my hand to partake from her smoke. Matilda raised an eyebrow, amused. She had me the joint and spoke. Yes, I see a lot of darkness in you now. But I also see her like the refuses to give up. What's her name? Matilda snapped in the air as if trying to conjure her memory. Your honey child.

Ah, Vivian, that's it. Silky lines of smoke ran circles between us as I handed the joint back. I never told her Vivian's name, but I still wasn't sure I wasn't being scammed. Ah, purple-eye, she said, taking a deep drag and almost finishing it. I know of this one, and it's not pretty. She dropped the butt on the white immaculate floor and gave me a solemn stare. The devil isn't in hell, you know. He roams to and fro, seeking who he was.

may devour, he and his fallen angels will only be thrown to hell on the day of judgment. She tilted her head on a quizzical nature. So if the devil isn't down there punishing sinners with a bitchfrog, then who is, Che? Purple Ice? I stated as a half-question. Yes, it is a thing of hell, a torturer, a weapon. It has no conscience or reasoning on why it does what it does. Its base drive is to punish to inflict pain. It's as if a piece of hell itself exists on this material plane. Oh, great, an Uber demon, I smirked. I thought I'd just throw some holy water at it and be done with it. Matilda didn't share in my humor. Her stung cold stare only hardened. The weed was doing nothing to lighten her mood. It is a devourer of demons.

It's a thing demons and angels fear. It's used as a warning to show angels what the price of disobedience will get them. Although created by God, it's not a thing of God. It is a thing made separate. A thing unseen by is all seeing us. So, how do I stop it or exercise or whatever? It's still hurting Vivian. It's changing her.

I spoke with exasperation. This was all too. much. Somehow I knew what Matilda was saying was gospel. I'd felt as much when I was in the hospital that night. Ah, my family tells me a story about Purple Eyes. A story even legend among beings of the higher and lower plains. A brash, arrogant angel summoned PurpleEin's from the depths to take revenge on a traitorous demon, to take the demon to hell before the day of judgment. But Purple Eyes has no master, and does not recognize the death of the death between angel and demon it only knows to punish so it absorbed the arrogant

angel and went on to absorb many other spiritual entities so it can eat ghosts I said trying to keep my mind open if she was making it up then she was a great storyteller it is a prison for all things spiritual takes on the traits and knowledge of those it absorbs Matilda warned it is most attracted to innocence and free will sacrifice those things are nonexistent in the void of hell while i left madame runrose another three-grand lighter she swore to me she'd find a weakness or spell to use against the torture of hell i would have gladly dropped more money if it increased my chance of saving vivian by the smallest chance when vivian was fallen deeper into his throw on one of my frequent visits i was sitting across from

her drawing in my pad while she drew in hers while listening to death cab for cutie she tapped her pad with a pencil to get my attention to look up she held up her picture i led out a verbal groan i told her not to dwell on her nightmares to a psychiatrist but she only shared them with me it was another beautifully drawn picture of something terrible depicted in her slightly anime-inspired caricature of of a horrible event with purple eyes as the main focus. This one showed a small boy with a bald head, eyes closed and crying, as a black shadow loomed over him,

its purple eyes blazing. Why do you show me these? I sighed to her. Her beautiful face was sullen. The plastic surgeon had done wonders on her, but you could still see shallow veins of scarring. It won't stop bugging me till I show you. She sighed back.

I think it wants you to know. Look, you can't listen to it, Vivian, I said aloud, causing birds feeding in the backyard to take flight. We were sitting on the back porch of her parents' house during a beautiful sunny day. Now all that was ruined. Vivian gave me a dour look and sighed indignantly. It's part of my process.

It's part of my recovery. But I knew it wasn't. She believed purple eyes is a feeling. figment of the angst and torment on her mind, but I knew a truth. Her first pictures were of a human figure of pure light with brilliant magenta-coloured eyes being swallowed by a wave of darkness, the angel from the legend. The angel of light had an expression of pure agony on its face. Then she drew a follow-up picture of the shadow, now formed like a man with its signature purple eyes. Then there were the pictures of her

kidnappers, one of the cops standing in the rain across from a man as a woman hung from a tree between them, another of a nurse with dreadlocks cutting his face as the shadow loomed over him. In the last of the three, a picture of a janitor praying in a maintenance closet to two purple lights at a makeshift altar. I knew these were scenes of the torturer's life. It was showing them to Vivian who would then show them to me. It was. It was a woman. It was taunting me in this last picture I knew what it was about it was a torturous first meeting with mr. squiggles I'd been thorough in my investigation after the incident all those years ago I tracked down a retired nurse who used to work on

the eighth floor pediatric wing Kiki Rawlins worked 15 years at old St. Emily's on the eighth floor on the pretense of collecting ghost stories for a novel she divulged to me the rumors around pediatric's resident friendly ghost, Mr. Squiggles. Kiki told me the Mr. Squiggles story had been around since before she'd worked there. Children would tell about dreams of a

bald-headed kid standing beside their bed at night. The boy would always show the patient a picture of a stick figure. That's you and me, the boy would say, pointing to the stick man. I'm Mr. Squiggles, and you are Mrs. Squiggles.

The boy would laugh. if he was talking to another boy it would be Mr. Scribbles and Mr. Squiggles respectively Kiki said the children would always have this vision days before passing It was always a comforting dream Things among the nurses would go missing

Or be misplaced It was always blamed on the antics of Mr. Squiggles He was just part of the job Another thing to accept during the nurse's day-to-day routine But then Mr. Squiggles Shriggles changed. Around the time Carter-Eagles began working extra jobs on the first floor. Children had nightmares of Mr. Squiggles. You were bulleted them and tell them only hell awaited them. The mortality rate on the floor went up 40% in the four months before the hospital closed.

Kiki said nurse didn't feel good walking into rooms with the lights off. It always felt like something was waiting to pounce out and hurt you. So that's how I knew the pictures vividly. Vivian Jew were messages from purple eyes, Mr. Squiggles. I could deal with the spooky totting if I didn't have to see the changes in Vivian. Her kid's sister, Victoria, born a year after the incident, was the sweetest four-year-old in the world. Vivian doted over her and hampered her with affection. She was an anchor to the innocent and good side of the world. But I had witnessed her lash out in anger and slap her sister just days before.

But, well, now I must bring everything back to the present. The reason why I'm back at this damned hospital. Two days ago, Vivian disappeared from her home. Victoria was gone with her. She'd left behind a single drawing on Victoria's bed. It was a picture of me. I wore a face of confusion and surprise. Behind me stood the stick figure with purple eyes.

A word blue and came from its mouth. Who are you? It asked. I knew it was a call out from Mr Squiggles. That's why I was on my way to the eighth floor again. Vivian would be there, and hopefully Victoria was still in one piece. Part three, I wasn't even halfway up the stairwell

when I encountered the creepy stick drawings plastered all over the walls. They stretched further down the stairway than last time, like a cancer on the building. But mixed in with a new drawing of purple eyes was a fat stick figure. It was drawn with a giant circle for a body with little heads and limbs sticking out. A yellow star in the middle of his chest. One picture had the fat man holding a tiny square with RX written on it. Another had the man hanging from a noose.

Another was standing with a gun to his head. I seriously wondered who this stick figure was. I wasn't that fat. When I finally reached the eighth floor, I was hit with a terrible smell. It was like bad breath being blown in my face. It was so thick I could taste it. I gagged and had to get a hold of myself. The doorway to the floor was pitch black.

No moonlight like last time. As I got closer, I realised there was an unnatural wall of darkness blocking the doorway. I stopped and considered my options. I didn't want to step into this fog, but I had to get to Vivian and Victoria. I remember the picture of the angel of light being swallowed up by the darkness. Wouldn't I be essentially just feeding myself to this monster? As if sensing my doubt, a scream echoed from within the black curtain, a female scream. A Victoria, Vivian! I shouted as I stepped closer to the threshold of the door.

my mind was made up for me when a strong hand shot out of the gloom to grab my jacket it pulled me into the thick darkness for a moment all i could see was nothing but the void then in an instant a fully lit clean hospital hallway jumped to view around me i could hear the phone ringing and muffled sounds coming from the pa i listened harder to make out what was being said all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God he repeated over and over I continued down the hallway and just like last time all the doors were open

each door I passed I could see pale children staring at me with sadness in their eyes or curled up on the floor crying to themselves children had he taken I was approaching the nurse's station when my surroundings changed again. I was standing knee-deep in water, and there was a circle of trees around me, in front of me a one-eyed man hung from a tree sprouting out of the water. As I walked closer, he spoke to me. He lies. You can't deal with him. He will take and take. He will burn your soul right out of you. The man croaked, swinging gently. I guess purple eyes wanted a scene transition because I was suddenly sucked deep into the water. Down I went into the endless depths.

All the air escaped my chest as I saw with my bubbles racing away from me. A mouthful of water tasted sour and burned in my throat. I coughed it back out only to suck in more through my nose to scorch my brain. I knew I was going to die. I'd let purple eyes literally get into my body. but the worst thought was I didn't think I'd die like a normal person Instead, I knew my soul would be blocked away As the monster used my body as a puppet to hurt people I thought of poor Vivian

A girl who was a veterinarian's assistant And wanted to make the jump to helping people as a nurse She had kindness and healing in her heart All torn out of her for the past five years Just as she was getting some semblance of hope back A bastard took her again. Poor Victoria, just a child. Purple Eyes was going to have her loving older sister commit sororicide on her.

A righteous anger filled me as I drowned in the burning water. My anger only grew as I choked. And with a thud and a wet splash, I fell to hit a stone floor with water splashing around me. I coughed and looked around frantically. All I saw were stone walls and a large metal door in front of me. The door was at least forty feet high and twenty across, covered with strange ruins and symbols.

I stood up and stared in wonder at it. I can help you escape, even with the symbol you have carved on your chest, came a booming voice. It was loud but somehow comforting, like the voice of James Old James. or Michael Clark Duncan. I can give you enough power for you to run.

I don't want to escape, I set back with fear in my voice. I have to find someone. The girls, last the deep voice. There was a measure of amusement in his tongue. In my head I saw a vision of a giant man sitting in shadows on the other side of the door. His head was down and millions of feathers drifted lazily around him to fall and cover the floor. I felt a deep sorrow coming from him and a deep embarrassment. No greater love, spoke the voice.

The figure lifted his head and his eyes burned a brilliant magenta. The whole room around me was blinding with the growing light coming through the door. A one feeling passed through my bones. The world switched again. I was back in the hospital for real this time. It was still run down and dirty with things. moonlight coming through the windows. I knew this was real, like how you know the difference between a vivid dream and actually waking up.

I have been freed, but there was no turning back. I was heading straight for the room with a collage on the walls and the giant Mr. Squiggles's picture. I had a child screaming on the way. Sister, stop! Please stop! Victoria screamed. I turned the corner into the room to see Victoria's little body taped. to a metal folding chair, her feet dangling. Vivian stood over, cutting her cheek with a scalpel. Vivian, stop, I screamed.

She turned to look at me and gave a big grin. She straightened and held the knife down by her sister's vulnerable neck. I had my gun in my holster under my jacket, but I didn't intend on shooting anybody. I reached my back and pulled out a small track. tranquilizer pistol. It had cost me a pretty penny, but money wasn't an issue for me. I only had two shots. I'd have to draw fast and hit her in the neck for it to take effect quickly. In my pocket was a string necklace with a big charm bag on it. Madame Monroe had prepared it for me. She'd

caused an invading spirit to leave the body. I'd put it on her after I'd hit her with a trank. I just hoped it was strong enough hoodoo for this creature. As I was pulling the trank gun from my back, I felt an explosion hit me from the side of my face. The trang gun clattered to the ground as I spun around, dazed to see a man swing and hit me again. My vision went black for a second, and then it returned after another punch hit me.

I should have known Purple Eyes would recruit another junkie for muscle. I'd been a boxer back in college And I knew the tell-tale signs My ass was about to be chaoed So I ducked under another punch To come up with a one-two combination of my own It stumbled my attacker back enough To get a good look at him

It was Rob, my old partner My heart sank As I saw the circles under his bulging eyes And dirt caked face How long had he been under his control Why hadn't I kept better touch with my old friend. He must have spent hours at this cursed crime scene and talking to parking lot well. Plenty of time for the torture to get his hooks in him. I couldn't see him like this. I had to help.

He stunned me again with another punch. It was taller than me and had a good reach. I took the next punch like a chap to get in close to him and grab him by the neck. He started hammering me in my stomach as I pulled my spare trank dart out of my jacket pocket. I stabbed it into his neck and at first it had no effect on him. The blows kept coming into my abdomen, making my knees begin to buckle. But finally, he slowed and fell to his knees. I left him dazed and rocking as I went to retrieve my trank up. When I turned back round, I expected to see him on the ground, but he was stubbornly getting to his feet. He reached into his own dirty coat to produce a black glock pistol. On instinct, I quickly pointed the pistol and shot Rob right in the solarplex with the dart.

He grunted and continued to try to level the glock at me, but his arm shook like the gun weighed at £100. I just shuffled forward and pushed him with both hands, and he went sprawling backwards to hit the wall and slide down unconscious. I ran over to him and bent to check on him, first grabbing his gun and tossing it into the hallway. His eyes fluttered and he moaned like he was trying to wake up. Ah damn it, I said as I dug in my pocket to try and pull out the charm necklace. I was down both my darts and was about to use my trump card, but I couldn't let this thing have my old friend. I slipped the necklace over his head. he let out a gasp of pain.

He began gritting his teeth as black smoke leaked out from beneath his teeth and nostrils. The dark smoke gathered in the air before shooting towards Vivian to go into her mouth and nose. Now, you watch, Vivian said in a terrible voice

though I knew her speaking was impossible. The Mr Squiggles's drawing behind her began its twitching dance on the wall. She brought the blade back to Victoria's terrified fame. I tried to move forward, but my body wouldn't let me. I was frozen somehow. My mind raced as I tried to come up with a plan.

Well, I might be lying when I said the necklace was my trump card. I had another plan, a last ditch effort. Take me instead, I shouted. And just as I hoped, Vivian. stopped and looked at me. You are fat and useless, filled with hate and mistakes. Oh, but she's sweet.

We are both sweet, said the thing, talking through, Vivy. Then let one go, and take me, I pleaded. I'd already figured even a tortured monster from hell still wouldn't want to be me, so I had to sweeten the bait for it to bite. What would it hurt Vivian more?

me treading my life for her or her sister using me to kill one of them i screamed in desperation whoever spared will live without pain all their life it'll punish them every day you wouldn't let me use you to kill one of the girls the thing asked through vivian yes i said my face in a mask of sadness at least one will survive i can't lose them both Vivian Straiton gave me a hungry look Then say it Say you want me I stand at the door and knock Accept me into your heart

I gave a sigh of relief Hopefully it thought it was a sigh of exasperation I said the words I welcome you into my heart Take me instead Ah, an ashen wave of black smoke shot out from her face into mine. I felt like I was drowning in burning water again. It continued to burn down my throat and in my lungs, reaching every part of me.

Once it finally stopped, I felt pain screaming in every part of my body. It was an onslaught of maddening sensations. I tossed back and forth like an animal caught in a snare. It only stops if you heard them, said a voice in my head. It was like the voice of the angelic man, but it was twisted and sickle. Through a purple blur in my vision, I saw Vivian's face. She was terrified and confused. She looked down at her taped-up sister and bent over to start ripping it off her.

Oh, you better be worth all that money, Madame Monroe, I thought, as I took a menacing step towards Vivian. I'd wired another five grand to her before showing up tonight. She should be in a dark room at this moment, performing her own counterspell. The powder, Cher, the powder! Came her voice in my head. And my hand went to the PI badge hanging around my neck.

I put it out before me. A small vial filled with white powder was next to my dangling badge. I thought a sense of confusion come from the monster as I popped the cork and held it to my nose. You see, I had five years to plan for this showdown. I'd gone to great length to learn my enemy and protect the people I love.

The powder I was about to snort was a special mixture of modern arms. It was supposed to give me control back temporarily. I threw my head back and sniffed the whole vial. Oh boy, let's just say I found out cocaine was the main ingredient. It felt like fireworks were going off through my body, and my mind felt like a red hot knife.

Stay away, Vivian, I told her as I marched away from her, but I couldn't help it. I turned to look at both of them. Forgive your sister, Victoria, and take care of Rob. I began to tear up as I looked into her scared, beautiful face. I love you Vivian And with that I turned and stormed off I could hear Vivian crying after me

I was making it towards one of the rooms with a window I pulled my gun out of my jacket and started to point it at my head No I felt the torturer's voice yell in my mind It sounded like it was far away But still had the strength to make me throw my head away into the side. Checkmate,

you purple bastard. I said as I anger my arm to point to the window. I shut the whole mag into the glass, shattering the window completely. I dropped the useless pistol and began marching toward the open window,

taking big, heavy steps. Purple ice fought me tooth and nail the whole way. When I got about five feet from the window, I felt the monsters panic. He started taking a different measure. I'll go back after the girl. All of you will still die tonight, he screamed in rage.

There was a moment of calm as I felt purple eyes let go of me. Then his presence came back with a feeling of absolute confusion. Checkmate, I said as I ripped open my buttoned-up shirt. Carved on my chest was a bloody ceiling and binding room, especially designed by the friendly madame. The bastard wasn't going anywhere He was staying in this hunk of sentient meat The whole way down I will kill her I'll punish the whole family

I'll punish all of you Only hell and tormentor wait you in the end I stood at the window and looked down Madame Monroe said he would be bound To my corpse until the body was ash He'd be out of the game for a good number of decades Enough time for the girls to heal have a happy life. And so I stepped off the edge and felt the wind racing across my face.

The monster screamed within me. Just a lowly burnt-out PI against an angel-killing horror of hell. I smiled and thought, let's go to hell together, you bastard. 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 wrong, 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.