Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S4 Ep153: Episode 153: Creepy Rooms and Paranormal Buildings

Episode Date: January 4, 2024

If you want to take ownership of your health, try AG1 and get a FREE 1-year  supply of Vitamin D AND 5 Free AG1 Travel Packs with your first purchase.  Go to www.drinkAG1.com/creepen We begin tonight’s podcast with ''Do not Enter'' an original story by Chad Austin, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/78daod/fictiondo_not_enter_by_c_austin Today’s second terrifying tale of terror is the ‘There’s a chemical fog outside our school: We can’t leave’, an original work by Writing With Blood, kindly shared with me via NoSleep so that I could narrate it here for you all, with the author’s express permission.  https://www.reddit.com/user/WritingWithBlood/ Next up, we have ''People in Gas Masks are Outside a Building in a Dead Cornfield'' an original story by Mr. Outlaw, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and narrated with the author’s express permission:  https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/88gumm/some_people_in_gas_masks_have_been_standing/ Our penultimate tale this evening is ''I Went to Vote Early, but I Stumbled into the Wrong Building'' an original story by Christopher Maxim:  https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/5b5bau/i_went_to_vote_early_but_i_stumbled_into_th We round off proceedings with ''The Sealed Building'' an original story by Michael Whitehouse, read with the author's permission:  http://www.creepypasta.com/the-sealed...

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome, Breepen's Dungeon. Certain rooms evoke a sense of creepiness due to a combination of psychological and environmental factors. Dim lighting or shadows can trigger our innate fear of the unknown, while architectural elements like asymmetry or outdated decor may create a sense of uncanniness. Additionally, our brains are wire to detect subtle cues of danger, so when a room feels incongerent or unsettling,

It can evoke a visceral feeling of unease as a primitive response to potential threats, as we will see in tonight's collection of five terrifying stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as one of those descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. When I first moved into my apartment, the landlord taught me a strange thing. always check that the room is the right one before entering.

Hmm. Sage advice from a master of the obvious, you might say. Truth be told, I hadn't really been paying much attention up to that point. My landlord was the type of woman that put no effort in sounding happy to meet you. And whatever Eastern European action she had certainly didn't make it any easier to understand. I probably should have asked a few more questions, but signing a lease wasn't a process I wanted to prolong any longer than I had to. Besides, it's not like I really needed an explanation. My early childhood diet didn't consist exclusively of paint chips, after all.

For how cheap the rent was, I wasn't about to worry over a bad joke. The place was one of those oddities of design that seemed to suck the fine. out of everything anyway. Nothing but a series of copy and paste apartment stacked on top of each other for 13 laborious floors. Each one was practically identical. Right down to the way the front door stuck when it rained. Not a single window among them.

They even came furnished with a full set of drab appliances and furniture, devoid of any particular style or taste. It's like living in a filing cabinet, sterile and lacking a life of its own. You'd think we all lived in alphabetical order and referred to each other by apartment numbers. My accountant would love this place. As dull as the accommodations were, it didn't take more than a month for things to get interesting. There were little things at first, mostly just noises. Nothing particularly sinister, but they did a great job of keeping me up at night.

One night I'd hear unintelligible whispers coming from my neighbour's bathroom that lasted for hours. The next I swear I'd heard wolf-like howls from the floor above, despite a rigidly enforced no-pets policy. Once I even caught the unmistakable sound of crashing waves on sandy beaches from an apart. on the sixth floor. Occasionally, I would hear the noises coming from rooms in my own apartment. However, nothing would be out of place when I checked. Oh, I may have forgotten to mention that I live alone.

It took a bit longer for anything really strange to happen, though. It was four months into my stay when the sound of clinking glass and slamming cabinets woke me up. It came from the kitchen, and I knew it had to be an intruder. I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed the aluminum baseball bat I kept next to the door to remind me of how I really should get more exercise. I must have looked absolutely ridiculous, tip towing down my carpeted hallways of the kitchen

with how much noise the intruder was making. When I reached the doorway to my kitchen, I chanced a peek inside. Sure enough, I saw a dark figure furiously rooting through my kitchen cabinets. Tightening my grip on the baseball mat, I flipped on the light switch. Lucky thing I did, too. Otherwise, I might have beaten an old, innocent woman to death. My midnight intruder started at the side of me.

Her wrinkled face twisting into a mixture of fright and condescels. confusion. The unassuming dirty dressing gown and fluffy pink slipper she wore seemed an odd choice for a burglar. I recognised the woman. She was the old lady who lived two doors down from him. I'd even helped her with her groceries that very evening, after managing to calm the poor woman down and assuring her that she was not in fact in her own flats. My elderly neighbour apologize profusely. She'd woken up in the night, craving a cup of tea, she explained.

I must have gotten lost in the dark, unlit building. How she managed to slip into my apartment without either of us noticing was beyond me. She must suffer from dementia, because she was absolutely convinced to that she should still be in her own place. I don't think she understood

just how close she had come to a base bought back to their head and I wasn't in the mood to explain it to her. I tried to be as plight and understanding as I could as I escorted her back to her apartment. But something was bothering me. Something about the whole affair made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It wasn't until I locked my front door behind me that I realized what it was. Before going to bed, I remember quite clearly locking the door from the inside. I racked my brain all night, but I just couldn't explain how the old woman

could have wandered into my apartment without opening my front door. Having no one else to ask, I decided to bring the subject up to my next door neighbor the following day. Cornering him in the hallway that evening, I had trouble broaching the subject. When I'd finally stammered out my story, however,

He seemed rather unsurprised by the whole ordeal. Apparently, this sort of thing happened all the time. Not just to the old lady down the hall either. Almost everyone in the building had a similar tale. It was the doors, they said. They didn't always lead to the same place. Sometimes you could be facing a door that led to your bathroom, only for it to lead to your bedroom instead.

He could even lead to a completely different apartment on a completely different floor. Once he heard that someone's closet door had opened to the alley on the north side of the building. It was a pretty crazy thing to think that your door could lead anywhere in the building without notice. But my neighbours seemed to believe that the phenomenon stretched farther than that. To get around this little nuisance, he suggested I do what the other tenants do. hands do the generally accepted method was to make two marks on either side of each doorway in the apartment with a marker that way you could tell if the room you were about to enter was the right one at a glance if the two marks didn't match up you were staring at a doorway into the unknown

at least that was the idea the old lady must have forgotten to check when she stepped into my kitchen or at least not seen it in the dark my neighbor seemed rather annoyed by the thought he made it painfully clear that i wait for the door to go back to normal before using it i should under no circumstances ever enter a room that shouldn't be there always check first my neighbor had experienced the anomaly himself in the past but only as a mild annoyance. Even still, he was extremely adamant that I take the matter seriously. But how could I? Who in their right mind would believe his story as insane as this? Sure, it could explain how the old lady down the hall got into my apartment without using the front door,

but it created all sorts of other questions. And the last thing I wanted to question were the laws of physics. Mass hysteria, it had to be. A building filled to bursting with lunatics. In the end, I found it simpler to write my neighbor off as a headcase and move on with my life. However, I did, as he suggested. With a red Sharpie secretly borrowed from work, I drew a line on each side of every door jam in my apartment. It was more out of curiosity than anything else. Or maybe, I was just daring the universe to prove me wrong. Either way, after a few weeks, I'd gotten into the habit of checking if both marks were there before I entered a room.

I saw it as a little inside joke. When in Rome, do as the wackos do. Eventually, it became a silly little ritual. I would do to remind myself the world wasn't crazy. just the guy next door. I'd been living in my apartment for a little over a year before it happened to me again. I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to grumpily use the bathroom, like I'd done many times before. I was on autopilot.

On my way back to bed, I lifted my tired eyes to the doorway leading to the bedroom and grinned at the now familiar red. but I hesitated there was only one mark though only lit by a small lamp in the hallway I was absolutely sure there was no red mark on the bedroom side of my door I stood there for a while blinking sleep from my eyes and trying to stare the second mark

back into existence the bedroom looked the same as I'd left it minutes before save for the missing mark on the doorway Why my eyes playing tricks on me? Maybe I was dreaming. It was my kooky neighbour's story the real deal. As ridiculous as it sounded, I was sure of one thing. There had been two marks on my outward trip to the bathroom.

I didn't go in right away. I wanted to, but a small part of me took what my neighbour had told me very seriously. First, I waved an empty hand in the doorway. Nothing particularly spooky happened. Emboldened by the knowledge that this phantom room wouldn't immediately melt my skin off, I took a tentative step inside. At first glance, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Everything was where I remember leaving it.

Even my comforter was thrown aside like I'd just been sleeping under it minutes before. but then why was the mark missing from my door frame i was certain there had to be something different about this room in that moment my neighbour didn't seem so crazy and all i needed to prove it was to find what was wrong with this room i tore open my closet and flipped my mattress in search of clues every drawer was emptied on the floor in my quest i even tore the carpets up at the ends to look underneath. I looked everywhere in my madness, but found nothing. Everything was where it should be. Somehow, though, I knew this was not my bedroom, and it wasn't until I turned back to the door to check if the second mark was really missing, but I realized what was different about it. This room. had no doors. Well, as we all know, this is the time of year when we set ourselves resolutions.

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All you need to do is go to drinkag1.com slash creepen. That's drinkag1.com.com. slash Creepin, C-R-E-E-P-E-N. Go there now and check it out. The view from our classroom windows is nothing but a murky white. I bet if I went outside and looked down, I wouldn't be able to see past my knees. I won't be going outside, though. I honestly don't think I'll leave this classroom for a while.

Our class, in Gothic literature, was supposed to end at 1.30. I remember just staring at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, feeling Mr. Samson's voice drawn through my body, the monotone sound killing me into a haze of sleepy existence. I didn't get much sleep last night, and it certainly shuns. The classroom was lit solely by fluorescent bulbs flickering on the ceiling, Samson having closed the blinds to avoid distracted glances about 15 minutes in. I wonder now if we would have noticed the building fog outside, had the blinds been open.

Maybe we would have clambered together by the window, whispering in excitement to each other. Anything that wasn't hearing for the tenth time that week, how revolutionary Mary Shelley was for that time. Or hearing Susan beg him to cover Carmilla. Just for half a lesson, Mr. Sampson. It isn't unusual for a mess of high schoolers to grow distracted and excited. at any little change. I mean, who can blame us? What, the constant repetition? Regardless, I've gone too far off topic. So, it was about ten minutes before the bell was supposed to buzz, signifying the seven-minute-long break from our daily torture. That's when

the intercom system crackled into life. We will now be having a lockdown trip. We request everyone stay calm and follow the instructions of their current teacher. If you're a outside your classroom, we ask you please to make your way back in a timely manner. Thank you. I heard the collective groans of students who didn't want to crawl under their desks in the dark. Really, the only thing worse than this lecture is the singular sound of your desk makes breathing penetrating a heavy cover of silence. Nevertheless, we're used to lock down drills by now. The class shuffled slowly, desks creaking as students stood and crouched. Susan shoved herself under the teacher's desk, while Jamie and Audrey stood shoulder to shoulder in the tiny alcove just behind the doorway.

We all waited with frustrated, abated breaths, knowing that in just a few seconds we'd hear someone try the doorknob, apparently to scare us, it never works, and then the intercom system would announce the drill was over. But those sounds didn't come. Instead, all there was was silence. The reintroduction of sound started with a couple in the back corner whispering and giggling to each other.

Students, growing more impatient, began talking to each other. Took ten minutes before Mr. Sampson himself moved to his desk, shewing Susan out in the process in an attempt to get some work done. Ten more minutes passed. He grew frustrated and motioned us back to our seats.

That was when someone peaked outside. I'm not sure what they were looking for, maybe to see if it was a different sort of drill, or maybe if it wasn't a drill at all. It didn't take long for everyone else to be made aware of the oddity that was the outside world. Hey guys, I can't see outside. It's like, well, hella foggy.

I think her name was Ashley. I worked on a lab project with her once. Shit, she's right, the guy chimed in from across the room. Geez, that's a massive blockage. Oh, imagine driving in that. Can't be foggy. It's not even humid out. Plus, it's already lunchtime.

Way too late for far. Susan snorted. You know, like a smart ass. Well, it's clearly something. Do you think it's fucking with the cell phone towers? I don't have any reception. Ashley spoke again. Guys, come on.

No phones in class. We just touched on this day before yesterday. Well, despite Samson's protests, there was a quiet murmur of agreement. People who'd either check their phones prior and notice the same thing, or those who were checking them now and, well, noticing the same thing. "'Wether does screwy things, guys.

"'Who knows?' "'I finally interjected my own opinion, "'shugging my shoulders. "'A few more murmurs, "'slow growing louder in volume "'as friends and deskmates "'began talking to each other "'to alleviate the boredom.

"'Five minutes later, "'whatever the weather is doing to our phones "'clearly has done something else "'because our electric went out. "'We could still connect to the white, Wi-Fi. Obviously, I'm writing this, aren't I? But nothing else. Lights burnt out. The projector wouldn't turn on. Even the hum of the air conditioner that we hardly notice anymore just went silent. It was around two o'clock we heard the first scream. It was horrible and blood-curdling,

and it came from outside. You could hear it reverberate from the glass window, cold to the touch. as I'd find out later it was the first of many screams to come some kid had decided to go outside and he didn't know that yet though at this point Mr Samson had clearly had enough I'm going to check with Miss Young next door stay put and log the door behind me

I'll be back shortly standing from his desk he took brisk steps to the classroom door exiting with a confidence only an authority figure hands. We followed his instructions, for a while at least. Minutes take by. Finally, around 2.30, we decided to just leave. What were they going to do?

We'd been left with no guidance. Just a bunch of kids who totally didn't know better, right? It was cold outside as I passed the threshold. You know when you enter a Walmart, midnight moon everything is just weird like you're on a different plane that's kind of what this felt like the halls were dark silent the only light strewn in was through the double doors in hall b casting large shadows behind doorings the fog pressed against the door almost ominously I'm leaving, the guy from earlier shrugged, heading towards the doorway.

Wait, what if they turn the alarms on? The doors will sound, especially if we're on a lockdown, Ashley pointed out. Yeah, powers out. I doubt they are. He called from behind him. I only looked over at him when I heard the doors open. Immediately, he began screaming. He jerked away from the door. as if he'd been burned. The air smelled like chlorine and bleach, maybe a bit of formaldehyde that the zoology class uses during exams. Doors swung shut the second he'd let go,

the fog quickly dissipating. Audrey rushed over to him, trying to help. What's the matter, Josh? She set a hand on his shoulder before jerking her own hand back, letting out a sharp exhale as if she'd been burned. because she had. She seemed to notice the situation almost instantly, shrinking back from the cowering boy in front of her,

now letting out a raspy, crackling moan of pain. It reminded me of someone with pneumonia, the sound of it. Burning! His skin was burning, bright, red and blistering, and so was the palm of Audrey's hand. It's a chemical burn. or touched them. Quick, there's a shower in the science lab.

We should get them there. How did this happen? 30 voices all at once. We split up in the end. Five of them headed to 2B, the lab with the supposed shower, and the rest of us headed into the classroom. Half of us eerily quiet,

the other chattering in confusion and alarm. So, here we have. are folks. A couple of hours later in a classroom surrounded by white, a fog of chemicals. We should find someone who knows what's going on. I mean, we can't just sit here, can we? And yet, that's exactly what we're doing. I'm posting this now. You guys seem to know your way out of some less than ideal situations, and I'm at a loss. I'm scared. Well, we have a lot of good news and a lot of bad news. Everything is jumbled up in my head right now and my hands won't stop shaking, so please bear with me. Well, some minor bad news first. I can't smell. Ever since I could smell

the gas, I just can't anymore. Everything burnt for a while and then it just stopped. My nose is constantly congested and even when it's not, there's just nothing. Well, I'm incredibly frustrated by this. It doesn't help that it feels harder to breathe. Like a big weight is sitting on my chest. I don't know if that's just my grief getting the best of me, or an omen of something worse and unseen. Also, we aren't going to piss on things.

I mean, sorry, I know that's probably the smart option, but we've collectively decided that dignity still holds firm. Well, as much as it can right now anyways. The good news. A lot of us followed some of your advice. Why we don't have advanced science materials. Funding. No.

We did have trash bags and duct tape. We sealed off two classrooms and used coats and emergency blankets to make bedding for us last night. Oh, I was right. It was a long night. Ashley eventually cried herself to sleep, I think around 1 a.m. It was late. The classroom was so dark. it's hard to explain. You spend so much time around light pollution or under a blanket of stars and

moonlight. It's really freaking jarring when you can't make out anything at all. There's nothing for your eyes to adjust to. Just pitch blackness. I'm sorry, but it really shook me up, guys. This morning, the first thing we did was head up to the roof. I was one of the stupid people that decided to, well, do it. And once we got up there, we noticed that the fog reaches the top of the second story. It just barely brushes the edges of the roof. Also, it's massive. I can't see the end of it. And that's saying something, considering I can see the town. That, admittedly, worried a few of us quite a lot. What about our parents, our siblings? A few people had family out of town. I wasn't one of them. My call rings through but no one has ever answered. I cried.

A lot, I have no idea if they're okay or not miles of this farm. We're stranded in a rickety boat on a monstrously huge ocean. I don't think anyone would help us, even if someone who could was in town. How would anyone even get to us? Somewhere along the line, everyone filtered off the roof and back into the school. And I was left alone, staring off into a sea of grey and white. After a very long time of just sitting and staring out into the mist, I slowly rose, making my way back down the stairs. Ashley was crying again.

I could hear her, faintly, her sobs bouncing off the school walls. I rapped gently on the lab door. Audrey was there, holding her wrapped hand. I'm heading to the cafeteria. Did you want to come with me? It felt like the one nicety we could afford right now, trying to include people. Sure, not like I'm any use here anyway.

She lowered herself from the lab table she'd been sitting on, following me out of the classroom. As we passed over the doorway, I tried not to look at the sheet covering Josh, brown with dry blood that had seeped from his burns. I wonder if it smelled like rot. Our footsteps were our only company for a while, our tennis shoes squeaking against the waxed floor.

How's your hand? I tentatively asked. I mean, it doesn't hurt anymore. I can't feel much of anything in it if I'm being totally honest. That didn't seem good. I read something once about how once a burn got bad enough. You couldn't feel it anymore. once it ate through your skin and down through your very nerve endings. Have you heard from your family?

No, the entire town's like this. We could see it from the roof. Her polite smile dropped at this. Of you? I have a few of my cousins. They live out in Ohio. I can't reach anyone else, though. We aren't even on the news, Sam.

No one has heard anything about us. There's a blockade on the town line. She drove down to check last night, but the guys there won't tell my cousin anything, just so the town is zoned off until stated other one. The voice wavered before she cleared her throat, pulling her gaze from mine. I looked down at my feet.

Hmm, that's weird, I managed in response. I thought a lump in my throat as emotions threatened to overwhelm me too. I didn't want to be like Ashley. crying over something I had no control over. Helpless, though. That is exactly what we are. Even we're even we haven't seen any of our classmates. Where are they?

Where's Mr. Sampson? And that shit the fog did to Josh and I? What if someone opens the main doors? I don't know, I admitted shakily. It was then we reached the hallway in front of the cafeteria. I heard her gag audibly, covering her face with her hands. What? What's wrong?

Field of corpses. We could see them from the window on the door before we could open the cafeteria doors. Dry blood coated the floor in front of dead eyes and slack jaws. Jesus! I managed. The smell. Audrey's wretches. I suppose I got my answer.

It did smell like rocks. I could taste it just faintly in the air that I breathe. God, oh my God! She heaved again, doubled over, clutching at her stomach with her bad hand. I set a hand on her shoulder. Nightly wasn't safe to be near there. Come on, I pulled her down the hallway. There goes the perishable foods.

We could probably loot the vending machines, though. Not dead, Sam. What happened? Oh, the dead can't speak. It was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Somebody must have left a window open. I don't know. Lunch C would have been occurring around the time of the lockdown.

I shook my head. We need to tell the others. I tugged her gently after me. I felt numb. Trapped. I wondered if I screamed off of the roof, just yelled at the top of my lungs. if there was anyone left to hear me at all.

Samantha? Audrey! Standing there when we ran in the corner was Miss Young. Audrey stifled a sob, running forward to hug her on instinct. Dear, what happened to your hands? The woman rests a hand on her back, looking up at me.

I tried to help Josh. The voice was muffled. I tried so hard. The cafeteria is dangerous, I whispered, pure ecstatic relief rushing through my veins. Yeah, I figured. Come on. Mine and a few other classes are holed up in the auditorium. The teachers are trying to collect stragglers right now, anyone we can find.

It isn't safe to be roaming around right now. She gently pulled Audrey off her, coaxing us both down winding halls and labelled doors. At least a hundred kids were in the auditorium. I recognised a few, and so did Audrey. A few yells of joy were heard. A few kids were crying. Emotions were, overall, mixed. I suppose we found out where the others went, though.

It wasn't until dark that everyone, as many as they could find anyways, finished slowly filtering their way through the auditorium doors. The only light that accompanied us was the occasional phone screen. Miss Young was a force of life in the dark curtain that enclosed us all. Quiet everyone, she shouted, holding up her hand. It took a few tries before a hush fell over the room. Even through the darkness, you could tell her expression was solemn.

Miss Whitaker, Mr. Wardell and myself are the only teachers we've found so far. It would appear, as I'm sure many of yourselves have already discovered to be the case, that we are unable to leave this school. You'll find that any efforts to will result in bodily harm. The air outside is incredibly dangerous. We ask that you all refrain from opening any outside doors, along with going down the language hallway, mouth hallway, or cafeteria hallway. Each of these are areas that have open windows.

While you can see the fog in some, in others it's not so readily visible. the pause. She peered out at all of us. We have to get into contact with anyone in town, but we're working on contacting the proper officials. We ask that you all stay calm in the meanwhile. Food will be supplied to you as often as we possibly can, along with water.

Please avoid running taps for the time being, as that water could be contaminated. We're all doing our best, and promise we'll get you all homeschooling. safe and sound as soon as possible. And with that, she walked off to convene with the other teachers. Students clamored, a wave of pure chaos and sound erupting from the room. My parents, my friends, they were at lunch, are they okay?

Does anyone have a charger? I'm starved. I hate this. My sister's home alone. Can't we just leave? It was a while before things settled down, and I figured I'd update all of you. Clearly, some sort of officials know what's going on because the town is walled off. I don't know how the teachers intend on contacting people in town, but I do believe they'll try their best.

The worry on Mrs. Whitaker's face told that. I think one or two of them are parents themselves. Audrey, along with a few other students who got exposed. are getting looked at right now. Mr Ward Elk teaches Kemp, so I'm hoping he can help her. This can't last long right. I mean, the cloud has to dissipate eventually, doesn't it?

Doesn't it? I haven't heard any animal since everything started. Usually you can hear the birds from classrooms on a good day with how thin the walls are, but I can't even hear them from the roof. Trust me, I try. I went up there last night to get some sort of of air away from the mugginess of a hundred sweaty teenagers.

But the silence was even worse. God, I have a cat at home. I keep thinking about her. I hope she's okay. I don't remember anyone leaving any windows open when I left for school, but it's been a couple of days, so my memory is questionable at best. This morning, ten of us woke up sick, myself included. fever, nausea, congestion.

I overheard Ms. Whitaker talking to Miss Young. She thinks a few of us have pneumonia. As soon as they found out we were sick, a mass effort was made to tape off any vents and doorways to the outside. A sort of makeshift school-wide quarantine. I heard they managed to reclaim the cafeteria somehow, but I honestly don't want to go there. I don't think all the bleach in the school could clean up that much blood

and God knows what they did with the bodies. They did, on a brighter note, though, get the generator up and running. It's nice to have light again, especially in the bathrooms. Pissing in the dark is no easy task. Let me tell you that. I've got some of my hands and pants more than once. Oh, we only have about a week's worth of gas, so we shut it off during the daylight to conserve it.

Audrey won't talk to me about her hand. I've tried asking what Mr. Wardell told her, but she won't budge. She just stares off into the distance and gives a small shrug of her shoulders. Whatever it was, I can't imagine it was good news. I would have given her a hug, but it was advised we avoid physical contact with those who were ill for the time being, which, unfortunately, once again, includes me. I can't count the number of times I've dry heaved on my own snort. I woke up around three in the morning, gagging and coughing. I was hesitant to fall back

asleep. There isn't enough room to sleep on our side in the auditorium. And aspirating is a very real fear of mine. I doubt it's realistic, but it's a fear nonetheless. Burning up at 102, last we checked, it is just perhaps. A few of the students are rambling about the fog and this being related, but there was a pretty bad bout of the flu going around my town before we got locked up in here. I have no doubts that some kid's asshole parent made them come to school, and they managed to infect us all. Ashley's finally stopped crying. I think she realized that it won't do her any good. I was actually doing the exact opposite.

I noticed a lot of the students avoiding her last night. emotions can be caught just as easily as a virus I think most of us have shut down to avoid that at this point no one wants to be exposed and vulnerable at this point in time that being said there are a couple of students who aren't keeping to themselves bringing water to those of us that are sick blankets to those shivering and at one point a couple of kids got some instruments out of the bandroom

and played a couple of songs it was actually really nice. It makes you forget, at least for a bit, the severity of the situation we're in. The ones helping are trying to do more than survive, something that a lot of us aren't attempting at this point in time. But this situation has reached a pinnacle of severity, though. You only have enough food for a couple of weeks.

A few of us are diabetic, or have chronic or mental illnesses. medications for which we don't keep at school. I haven't had Ambien in three days. The nightmares for me are horrific. I would do anything to make them stop, and I know this is only the beginning for me. I can't imagine what withdraws some of us are going through, especially the drug dealers.

I've seen a couple people pace down the hallways when they thought no one was looking, or sliver off into an empty room. Well, we've had a couple of kids have completely, plead breakdowns, be them sobbing or fits of anger. We had a panic attack or two last night. On top of these issues, two of the kids had a freaking fist fight in the hallway. I heard the shouting and kept me up.

Well, at some point the teachers broke it up, but it's clear that tensions are building fast. Too many hormonal kids stuffed in a room together without medication. I want to feel bad for my classmates. I really do. but I just find myself stuck on the most mundane things possible. I guess I'm avoiding the situation in a way. On the bright side, we can't exactly take finals at a time like this, so studying isn't really necessary.

I've seen a couple of the AP students in the library hunched over stacks of study guides. Weird kids, those are. Well, whatever helps you cope, though, I guess. A lot of you wanted me to wander off on my own. I'm glad I didn't both because of my lack of skills and sudden sickness and also because I spotted

a familiar face in the crowd once the lights were on Seth and I have been friends since freshman year so it was a happy reunion he gave me back the book he'd borrowed a couple of days ago well it feels like weeks now

and it was one of my favourites so when I'm able to I've been reading that I was freaking dying of boredom survival is really dull after a while of it I did find a couple of manuals in the library for water filtration and shared them with Miss Young she agreed on both this

and reaching out to the news outlet so our day has mostly been focused on those two things Audrey got in contact with her cousins who finally got one of the guys at the blockade to talk somehow he confirmed that it's a chemical spill and they're working on resolving the issue. They can't, for their own safety,

attempt a rescue operation until everything is cleaned up. There's no way of telling how long that will take, though. I've heard they're still trying to keep it on the down low, but I've been trying to avoid the news lately, so I don't know for sure. I do know that the fog is getting worse somehow. You can hardly see outside the second story anymore,

and it's starting to crawl over the edge of the roof, according to some band kid. Some kid named Brady did go missing. They thought he'd managed to get over the wall of the language hall. But no, the stupid fuck went and opened the goddamn doors. Managed to shove the doorstep under it too. We're lucky the teachers warred off of the separate hallways. They're hesitant to let anyone wander nearly outside doors now

and have set of a few posts of supervision. mostly kids who've seen some shit and managed to keep their shit together in the past they haven't said it but i saw susan chilling in front of the doors to the math hall and known for a fact her family life is fucked i mean she's annoying as shit but i suppose i trust her more than most of the rest of them i did suggest before brady went missing that we branch off into several rooms for sleep so it's at least less crowded and stuffy but after everything went down that idea was quickly shot down as well

there goes getting some peace and quiet I heard Mr Wardell's working with a few of the science buffs to figure out how we can stop whatever is outside from hurting us even more along with possibly the pipeline so that we have more water but between that and kids who were already injured his hands are pretty full

I did write down all of your suggestions and share them with him so just so he has to some sort of starting point. He seemed grateful, so thank you all. One of the kids mentioned that a few of them were trying out some sort of makeshift suit, or, so more on that later, I suppose. I'm worried that one of the teachers will want to test if he's telling the truth. We always say women and children first to be saved, but truth be told, the teachers have degrees. They've taken a variety of courses and seen way more shit than we have,

not to mention some semblance of mental stability. They aren't gods, but they're far more helpful than most of us are. We can't afford to lose them. Now, I can't stop coffee. I need to rest. It's still pretty early in the evening, so I'll do my best to keep you all updated as the night progresses. In the meantime, if you guys have any advice about fevers,

please let me know. with too low on ibuprofen and Tylenols afford using it just yet but I am absolutely miserable well I'm not dead that about sums up the rest of it for you I'm alive so are some of the kids that were there with me at the school

it's been about two weeks since we got home things have been unsettlingly normal and everyone just expects us to go back to our day to day lives as if nothing happened. The world continues turning, despite our efforts to ground it. A lot of us lost firmly. I was one of the lucky few that didn't. Needless to say, this will be my last update.

I don't feel as though anything particularly horrifying is occurring anymore, and I'm just trying to cope, I guess. Reaching out to all of you to let you know that I'm alive. I guess I need to talk about it a bit with people who haven't gone through it and aren't professionals. God knows I've seen enough of those. The government got involved in it. It wasn't until several psychologists got involved that we, the students, were even allowed to talk to our families about anything that had happened.

Non-disclosure agreements and won. You still want to keep everything hush-hush, and understandably so. It turns out, A lot of you were right. They sat me down in the psychologist's office. I remember because the walls were so bare compared to the ones I'd been in previously. The clock ticked on the wall

and what few trinkets lined the shelves were abstract. Geez, I fucking hate abstract art. I like to make sense of shit. Not the exact opposite. Well, anyway, the man sat me down. He stared across at me from his own chair. glasses framed his half-slid eyes, as he cautiously explained to me exactly what had happened. The chemical plaid malfunctioned. They believe it overheated, he explained to me, in a voice

sickeningly smooth. It felt like honey was being forced down my throat. Why didn't people come and get us sooner? I mean, we waited a whole week in that hellhole, and in that time a lot more people die. Well, they didn't want to risk anyone else. They didn't think anyone had survived, he explained. There was an appointing sending a huge rescue team for dead bodies they could recover once the fog are clear. No mince word there.

I felt like I was floating, disconnected from my own body. I guess somewhere along the line I just shut down. About a week was spent just existing, pacing nervously, eating only when hunger pains crept their way into my bones, sleeping only when I would fade into unconsciousness as I want. But, well, you guys don't want to hear about that. You don't want to hear about what happened at the school. The flu caused fevers, horrible ones.

Students already going through withdrawals snapped. One attempted to flood the theatre room by opening up the main door. but the teachers were able to stop him. They weren't able to stop a kid named Tyler from grabbing a knife and going on a stabbing spree though. We lost four students and a teacher to that. Susan and Mr. Wardell were among the casualties. Tyler had made his way through Suzanne's impromptu guard watch.

Mr. Wardell tried to stop him but was unsuccessful. I remember the screaming, deafeningly loud as it echoed through the, the large room meant to only amplify sound. Ironic, right. We put the bodies in the basement, along with the others that had piled up. I volunteered to help.

The smell that permeated the basement was sickening, an instinctually gut-wrenching smell that caused me to heed. I still had a fever when the fog began to clear enough that the police made their way through the doors. They checked all of us out individually and stayed with us for a day as we waited for the outside to be clear enough to leave. It was a restless night.

Our rescue had come, but we were still trapped. Other than that, the school was mostly just boredom. Power went out somewhere along the line. We ran out of gas, hence my sudden radio silence. And most of the time was spent either talking to each other or just staring at the walls in boredom. Without light, it was hard to read in most of the classrooms. The library had some windows, but not very many.

Without fresh water, it was hard to bathe or use the restroom. Without fresh food, cooking was nullified and reduced to canned food. Any outlets for fun were gone, replaced with silence. Despite getting out, I still feel that way. I feel worse than when I was in the school. Despite the amount of death I'd seen, and the horror I was in, I felt fine, relatively speaking. But now I'm restless and frustrated.

Can't sleep anymore, not unless I'm collapsing out of pure exhaustion. When I finally do, I have nightmares. There are times I wish nothing had ever happened, and unspeakably at times I wish I'd never left the school. The only good thing is that Audrey and I became friends. companions over countless text messages meant to comfort one another she lost her hand it was too damaged they performed the amputation a couple of days ago i went to visit her after the surgery she didn't even seem phased by it just there for the ride if that makes sense it's like she didn't even register it and despite the expected normalcy everything feels anything but.

I feel like a shadow of a person, walking their way through a stranger's life. Doesn't feel like mine anymore. The psychologist said it's due to trauma. I don't know. School starts back after Christmas, but I do not want to go back. They talk a lot about horror being the events, but the aftermath is where the real terror is involved. The countless days of times. I am lost to a wandering mind and an empty body.

I'm nothing more than a fear-filled husk, expected to continue on as if nothing had ever happened. I'm expected to celebrate Christmas with my family. I'm supposed to laugh and decorate the tree. I'm supposed to be excited to go back to school when the break is over and see my friends. But I'm not. I'm just tired.

We've been driving around Texas for a while. Clayton Tom and I had recently graduated so we had no destination we were just there to dick around and create some memories until we had to snap back to real life at one point Tom had gotten into a heated bar fight at some dingy joint in Bexar County the police were called

although we hadn't gotten any charges the cops pretty much warned us that we weren't welcome back in the area fair enough we decided to to tone it down a bit. That's when we started planning some shit that wouldn't get us potentially stabbed and or arrested. We all settled on the paranormal. That stuff was just so interesting, you know. I guess it preys on that esoteric fear of the unknown that the human psyche implicitly holds, stimulating some kind of fucked up rush to the brain. Anyways, we were in the

market for some spooky shit. We looked around. and did some research, but no potential destinations popped out at us immediately. They were either too far away, sounded boring or sounded like absolute made-up horseshit. It wasn't until we found ourselves at another obscure barn near the other end of the county, where something truly interesting popped up. We'd gotten shit-faced during Happy Hour and couldn't stop ourselves from talking to all the locals. In the midst of a conversation with a construction worker, we brought up the fact that we were looking for some paranormal thrills. He scoffed when we said this.

Yeah, everyone's got their stories round here. Let me guess. You went to some shitty abandoned barn. Somebody claimed her a little ghost girl. Found nothing. Now you want something real. Not exactly, Clayton responded. we haven't gone anywhere yet we're looking though the man nodded well i've got something for you as he said this

we all perked up now our expectations weren't high at this point i mean the chances of him lying and feeding us some BS story were astronomical however we still listened we were looking for anything at this point The man continued. I don't know if this has anything to do with ghosts or demons, but it's weird enough. If you drive about 15 miles west from here, you'll find an abandoned cornfield maze. Used to be a big tourist drawer,

but it didn't pan out long term. The place is dead now. Creepier as shit. But here's what you'll be looking for. At the center of the maze, there's a building. I saw it with a few buddies of mine when we went exploring there a few weeks back.

It's only got one floor, but I ain't sure of how far it goes. Here's the fucked up part. Apparently, that building wasn't there when the cornfield was still functioning. Nobody knows when it was built. Weird shit, huh? We couldn't get a close to look at it because,

well, because there were five people standing at the entrance, wearing these freaky-looking masks, like the ones people use in those Apocalypse movies. Gas masks? I piped up. Yeah, sure. He continued. Anyways, the minute they saw us, we bolted. I mean, we weren't sticking around for that shit. He paused, taking a big swig of his beard. You guys can check it out though. Personally, I wouldn't go back. But it's up to you.

If you're looking for that kind of stuff. There's directions in there, so probably you won't get lost. I try to keep out of sight from those people, though. Who the fuck knows what they're up to? As soon as he finished his explanation, I exchanged glances as Tom and Clayton. They had the same looks on their faces that I probably did. There was no way in hell that we weren't going.

Didn't even matter too much if the guy was completely lying about the building. A dead cornfield maid sounded fun enough to explore. He gave us some more detailed directions before leaving. We decided to take a few hours in order to sober up before heading over there. It was only 3pm after all. At around 6 we started driving. The sun was still high and probably not. not coming down any time soon, so we had no fear of getting lost in the maze. A little while later,

we found the place. The crops were taller than we'd expected, but they were indeed dead. There seemed to be a small lot to the side, so we parked there. Funny enough, it was empty, save for us. Looks like we won't be seeing any spooky gas mask, man. Clayton blurted out. What a shame. Yeah, I'm sure if you were part of some weird cult located in the middle of a cornfield, you'd leave your vehicles out for everyone to see. Yeah, good thinking, Tom responded. Clayton looked as if he was about to make a comeback, but closed his mouth. I heard him mutter some expletives as he walked past me, as we stepped foot into the somewhat foreboding labyrinth. We noticed what the construction worker was talking about. There was duct tape on the ground, form

forming the shape of arrows. Like the guy told us, we just followed them. While we traversed our way through the maze, Tom raised a concern. What if those arrows aren't actually leading us to the center? What the fuck are you talking about? I responded. Well, think about it. This is the easiest way to rob someone. That guy didn't seem a little bit sketchy to you?

What if we're being led directly to him, where he's waiting with like six other guys or something? Yeah, I don't know, man, I told him. It sounds like paranoia to me. In retrospect, what he was saying made a lot of sense. However, that would have been a way better outcome than the one we actually got. Don't worry about it, Clayton piped up. He then lifted up his shirt to reveal a small revolver strapped to his waist. Dude, what the fuck? Tom flinched at the sight. Gun laws in Texas, he smiled.

Just in case, you know? Whatever, man. Just don't wave that shit around. Jesus Christ. Tom retorted. Although my own initial reaction was one of shock. I couldn't help but feel my nerves calm a bit, knowing that Clayton had the weapon.

We follow the arrows for what felt like ten more minutes before we finally reached a clearing. To our absolute bewilderment, a building was right there in front of us. Actually, calling it a building is kind of a stretch. There was only one floor, after all. It really didn't even look too big. Maybe the size of three convenience stores mashed together in a mesh of stone. But, as creepy as it was, there was nobody in sight. Well, at first.

We must have stood there and stared at the thing for five minutes before the door swung open. In that instant, we all retracted back into the maze. Fortunately, there was a small hole in the stalks where we could peek out from. It was small, so we went one at a time. Being deathly quiet, I strained my vision, eventually managing to make out four figures standing right by the entrance. Funnily enough, they did indeed have gas masks on. But other than that, they seemed to be wearing casual clothing. I looked at Tom and Clayton, trying to get a read on how they were feeling about this.

They just shrugged. I guess that we all made some kind of sunshine. silent agreement not to leave because none of us budged. I don't know why we didn't. Looking back on it, there were a multitude of things that were obviously wrong with the situation that we'd put ourselves in. However, I suppose that adrenaline makes you do a lot of crazy shit. We must have waited in the maze for about an hour before the gas mask people left.

They didn't go inside, however. They went around to the sides of the building and disappeared from view. We waited for about ten more minutes, but nobody came back. Let's go, Clayton whispered. Are you kidding? Tom barked back. So you're telling me that we waited here for nothing? Don't be a pussy. This is fucking crazy. A few more moments of silence passed while Tom and I contemplated this.

"'Ah, fuck it,' he finally spoke up. Clayton gestured to his waist. "'If anything goes wrong, right?' "'If anything goes wrong, we're calling the damn cops,' I told him. I wasn't exactly excited at the prospect of a shootout. Moving quickly and quietly, we made our way to the front door. I couldn't locate a knob anywhere, so I tried pushing. At first I just thought it wasn't supposed to open that way, but then I realized it was just

really heavy. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to get through. The three of us stepped into what appeared to be a living room. There were no windows, but a light bulb dangling from the ceiling gave us all the illumination we needed. All in all, there was a couch, a table with a few chairs, and some sort of the lightbulbable. stools. We walked around, but couldn't find anything worth mentioning. However, we started hearing footsteps coming from outside a few moments later. Although we should have been expecting this,

our faces still went pale. Shit, I heard Tom mutter and his breath. I scanned the room and located another door near the far corner. It was pretty obvious what choices we had here. We snuck our way over to it and barged in. Thankfully, this one wasn't heavy as shit. We were suddenly plunged into pitch black as we heard the front entrance open. We all collectively turned on our cell phone flashlights in order to see where the hell we were. I nearly dropped my phone as the light struck our surroundings. We were in a tunnel. In fact, it nearly resembled the catacombs, but without skulls.

The walls and ceiling were rough and uneven, and the whole place just gave off her, get the fuck out of their vibe. It was long as well. No clear end in sight. We didn't move. Clearly, none of us really wanted to go further. However, what we heard from the entrance room,

made us reconsider. It sounded like somebody was dragging a large crate out there. We could make out voices, but they were too muffled to understand. Nearly shouted out in surprise when an abrupt, heavy stomping echoed in from under the door. It sounded like an elephant was moving around out there. It was immediately followed by a deep, grating voice

that was nowhere near human. It was laughing, but without emotion, if you can imagine that. We took off once we heard the stomping coming towards us. There was no way out here. We ran quietly, using the walls and shaky phone lights in order to navigate. Eventually, we found a ladder, climbing upwards just as we heard the door to the tunnel swing open. We must have climbed for about five minutes.

We were all exhausted when we finally made it up. However, it was still pitch fucking black. We shone our lights around, but this time we couldn't see anything. It was as if we were in a large cave or something. At some point, we managed to locate a wall and used it to guide us along. But then again, we had no idea where we were going. About five minutes later, Tom. Tom stopped.

Guys, where the fuck are we? I had no idea why he'd chosen to ask this now. Are we supposed to know? I responded. I showed my light on his face, revealing a demeanor that was equal parts confused and terrified. He shook his head. When we were looking at it from the outside, this place didn't have a second floor. That's when it hit me.

hit me. I guess there had been too much adrenaline pumping through my veins. I hadn't even noticed it up until that point. We'd been climbing up that ladder for a while. We hadn't gone down any stairs, but there was also no second floor. So, where the fuck were we? My attempts to rationalise this were cut short as a light flicked on some meters away from us. We all snapped our heads toward that direction. The area that had actually been illuminated was rather small. It was maybe about the size of a bedroom. However, standing right under that light was a person.

The person wearing a gas mask. But unlike the people that had been standing outside, this person or a thing or whatever. was also wearing a full hazmat suit. We watched in abject horror as it started walking towards us. As soon as it left the light, we heard it start running. Wasting no time, we started booking it. The only direction that we had was away from the thing chasing us.

As we ran, more and more light started coming on, and under each newly illuminated space was a number of. another figure in a gas mask and hazmat suit. At one point, there had to have been 12 sets of footsteps coming at us from all directions. Out of sheer luck, I managed to spot a metal door in the wall up ahead. I pushed my legs, which were about to buckle at that point, and made a surge towards it. I tried shouting out for the others, but only Clayton was in sight. We made brief eye contact before he and not.

I managed to reach and close the door behind us. They didn't seem to be a lock, so we just pushed our body weight against it, hoping to hell that that would be enough to keep those things out. Eventually, we felt someone pushing back. There was no way in hell that we were letting up, not even when we heard Tom's voice coming from the other side. Guys, what the fuck are you doing? Let me in. We didn't budge. That was not Tom. There was something about his tone, his cadence that made it pretty obvious. He was speaking in broken patterns, like a text to speech translator.

Oh God, I can see them coming after me. They're getting close. Guys, guys, guys. His voice had been getting deeper and deeper ever since he started talking. it had pretty much turned into a guttural growl at that point eventually whatever was on the other side stopped speaking english altogether replacing it with some kind of language that i'm pretty sure wasn't meant for the human ear it was making noises that made my brain feel like it was about to implode eventually it got to be too much and i had to cover my ears it was at that moment when the door swung on open and the thing stepped in. My phone had fallen onto the ground, facing upwards, so I could see the illumination of the horrific figure slowly making its way towards me.

When it was mere centimetres away, I heard the gunshots. Clayton had fired all six rounds into the back of this thing. I watched, as the creature jerked around violently, before slumping to the gunshots. the floor. I got up trying to regain my bearings. Clayton's breaths were heavy and scattered as he bent down towards the thing. What the hell are you doing? I asked him. I just need to know, was all that he said back. It looked as if he were trying to rip the mask off of whatever was wearing it, but instantly winced upon touching it. It's slippery. What the hell? I bent down myself to get a better look.

This is when I nearly burst into hysterics. What I had initially thought to be the rubber of the mask seemed to be something else entirely. It was squirming like black intestines. Clayton cursed again before taking the revolver and smashing the eye-holes. But instead of shattering glass, we were met with the sight of. and sound of something bursting open. Some kind of black goo had gotten all over both the weapon and Clayton's hand. He shrieked in pain as he flung the revolver away.

A few seconds later, I noticed movement on the ground. There were things pouring out of the burst eyehole. They looked to be some kind of dark insect with a multitude of legs. We didn't waste any more time. We started running. I can't say how long for. All I know is that once we started, we couldn't stop. Still trapped in the ever-engulfing darkness of whatever hellhole we had stumbled upon.

The cell phone flashlights were our only hope of navigation. We made our way through what appeared to be a twisted maze of halls. But nearly every turn we took, there seemed to be more and more of the world. those masked creatures wandering around. Whenever we saw one of them, we just took another route. Sometime later, we found steps leading downwards. At that point, it seemed like the best option. Before we descended, Clayton held out his arm and leaned against the wall,

trying to catch his breath. That's when I noticed his hand. It looked as if he were wearing a rubber glove. I told him, and he'd just to be. just stared at it in dismal confusion. What the fuck? He exclaimed, before trying to take it off. However, it wouldn't move.

He started freaking out, forcefully pulling on his fingers. I moved the light close up to it. Oh God, I really wish I hadn't. He wasn't wearing a glove. No, his hand had become one. Well, partially anyways. The amalgamation of skin and rubber was absolutely revolting to look at. However, we didn't have time to deal with this.

There were footsteps coming towards us. Without any more hesitation, we rushed down the steps. After about five minutes of this, we noticed a light in the distance. How, this would have been great news, except for the fact that it was purple. sure wasn't sunlight. We started moving closer, not wanting to rush into whatever was emitting the creepy glow. Eventually we found ourselves in a room at the bottom of the steps.

There were obscure, alien-looking symbols crawled all across the walls and floors, in addition to four buckets filled with dark liquid sitting in each corner. There was also one door on the other side. But the real story was a real story was a little bit of the dark, the center. Right in the middle of the room was what I can only describe as a purple void, a hole in the concrete that was devoid of time and space, a path to oblivion. I don't know how long I stared at the thing. All that I know is that I snapped out of my trance once a figure started emerging from it. It was another one of those gas-mast creatures.

The entity made a sickening shriek as it crawled its way out of an unknown reality and into hours. I turned around to see Clayton kneeling down in a corner. He was whimpering. I took a few steps toward him before he spun around to look at me. His face, it had changed. Half of it was still the same Clayton that I'd always known, but the other half. he was turning into one of them. The next few moments were a blur.

I remember making a beeline towards the door and rushing through it. It led to another tunnel and I had nowhere to go but forwards. After an ungodly amount of running, I was met with another door at the end. I pushed it open to find myself back in the first room of the building. I looked around, but nobody seemed to be there. I bolted out into the night. It was a bit disorienting trying to find my way back through the maze, but I eventually did. Thankfully, I hadn't let go of the car keys at any point, so I was able to drive out of there.

I called the police immediately and pointed them towards the direction of the cornfield maze. I told them that we'd stumbled upon the building when we were jumped, and that only I had gotten away. There was no way in hell that they'd believe the truth. They said that they go check it out, but I never did hear back from them. In fact, every time I called asking for an update, the operator acted like it was the first time I'd spoken to them. I just gave up after that.

Not knowing what to do, I just made my way to another bar. I knew that drinking this kind of experience away probably wasn't possible. I was going to give it a shot anyways. But guess what? Sitting down in the first bar that I went to was the same construction worker

who had initially told us about the cornfield. Note that this was a different bar than the one we'd met him in. He was talking to what appeared to be a young couple. When we made eye contact, he didn't smile, wave or gesture me over. He just glared at me with a stunned expression on his face.

So, I voted today. Now, before I get started, I'd like to point out that I'm not politically savvy or community-oriented. That's probably how I wound up in this mess. I voted once before, but that was on election day. And I had a friend with me. This time round, I wanted to get it out of the way. But I'd never voted early before. I didn't know how to go about doing it at all.

So I decided that a search engine would have to be my guy. Now, have you ever tried to search for something on your phone but accidentally opened Facebook instead? I have a habit of doing that, and this time was no different. I even typed my inquiry into the Facebook search bar before, realizing my mistake. I typed in, vote early. Just as I was about to close the app and open my web browser, I noticed one of the results. It was an event with the title, Battered, Growler.

Vote early before it's too late. Battered Grove being the town I live in. I could have left it and gone about my business. But I was curious. I clicked on the event only to be greeted with little information. One tidbit that stood out was a disclaimer, stating that the event page was for clan members only. Other than that, the page had a time, date, and place for voting.

November 4th, 8 a.m. to 8.45 a.m. 51, 4, Marion Road. Despite the weird disclaimer and small voting window, I assumed the event page was there to inform last-minute voters like myself. I knew the 4th was my last chance to vote early in my state, and it was the only day I could do so because of work restrictions. I saved the info into my phone and set an early alarm for that day. Fast forward to the day in question. Today, I got up early, went about my morning routine, and headed off.

My phone's GPS informed me the address was only 12 minutes away. Wonderful. But about six minutes in, I read it. realized that it was taking me to forsaken falls. In battered grove, there is a large area of abandoned living space that the locals are called Forsaken Falls. It's not actually its own town, but everyone treats it like it is.

It's comprised of a bunch of old, decrepit houses too dangerous to live in, but too ancient to tear down. Many years ago, a history buff by the name of Molly Winthrop fought with the town over their historical values. After months of bickering, documentation, and surveying the land, she won. All the buildings in that area were deemed historical monuments and thus could not be demolished. Everyone knows a story, and usually, people stay away from that. part of town. There's no reason to go out there unless you want to see a bunch of eyesaws taking up space in an otherwise beautiful town. So why then was early

voting taking place there? I brushed off the thought and drove out to the address. I found myself at the old town hall. This was probably the only building in forsaken falls deserving of the title. historical monument. Still, it was abandoned. I wondered if I was the victim of some sort of prank. My car was the only one there. I was about to drive away when I noticed a small sign on the building just above the back entrance. In crude red lettering, it said, voting, downstairs Maybe I was in the right place after all

I looked at my phone and saw it was a little after 8.30 a.m. I quickly rushed into the building to make it in time before the poles closed. More crude signs were inside, leading me down into the town hall's depths. It was odd, but I didn't question it. I just wanted to get the voting done. After rushing down a few flights of stairs,

I wound up and looked like an auditorium. I waltzed in, ready to cast my vote for the presidential election. That's well, I noticed that something wasn't right. I'll explain the layout of the voting area for those of you who haven't voted before. The voting area itself is usually roped off, with a designated entrance and exit beside each other. To your left, a person of a small podium helps with questions or concerns you might have. It's very helpful for first-time voters. To the right and left of the voting area are two long tables.

The one on the left is where the town staff sits and is cut up into precincts. You must go to the person assigned to your precinct, as they have the list of registered voters for that area, and will hand you your ballot. The table to the right has sealed envelopes that contain the ballots after voting is complete. The middleman is straight ahead. The voting booth. The ones I know were small, chest-high tables separated by makeshift drapes.

Like how patients are separated in hospitals. Everything was set up as normal. But here's the weird part. The town's staff were all wearing red cloaks. And instead of precincts, They were divided by faction. The podium had a strange symbol carved into it. When the drapes separating the booths were of a gross, dark red hue, something was off.

But I concluded that I was the dumb one, having never voted early before. So, I decided to go along with it. I walked past the podium and directly to the cloak figure assigned to fact. Knowing that I lived in Precinct 5, instead of asking for my name or address, the person simply handed me my ballot. I gave them a weird look and took my place at an empty booth. That's when I realized that I was not in the right place. The ballot was normal, aside from its text. text. In place of the presidential nominees, there were candidates for leader of the clan. The only

name which I remember is Abadol. There were other positions to vote on, the nominees of which I'd not only never heard of, but I could barely pronounce their names. I flipped the ballot over to reveal the questions. This site seemed normally. but instead of questions they were called queries now on a ballot there are various questions to vote on

if enough people advocate for a specific proposition your state senate will vote for it at least that's how I have come to understand it on the ballot itself the question displays the outline of a proposed policy followed by a summary. The summary will read something like

if you vote yes on question three this will prohibit farmers from using non-chemical-based pesticides on their crops. I usually skip to the summary or pass the questions altogether. These queries, however, were impossible to overlook. I will divulge to you

the two queries that shocked me the most. They weren't worded exactly like this, but you'll get the gist of it. Query three. The proposed law would allow high-ranking clan members to acquire new disciples through the local community via force. Children captured under the grounds of this law will be trained.

in the ways of the clan. A potential cure for underpopulated factions. A yes vote would give clan paladins the right to kidnap civilian children. A no vote would make no change in current laws pertaining to civilian children. Query, for the proposed law would allow any clan member to murder a civilian. murder a civilian on site for crimes against nature. Humanity's destruction of the earth is deemed reason enough for the ultimate punishment. Humans will bleed for their insolence.

A yes vote would give clan members of the right to kill any civilian above the age of 18. And no vote would make no change in current laws pertaining. to Zavillian. My heart sunk after reading Query for. What had I stumbled into? Realizing rather quickly that I was somewhere I shouldn't be. I slowly backed away from my ballot and walked away from the voting booths. The cloaked figures watched me. I think that's when they too realized that I was out of place. because they moved in my direction. I ran as fast as I could to get up those flights of stairs and out to my car.

Luckily, I made it to my car unscathed, but the cloak figures weren't far behind. I looked behind me for a split second and noticed the town hall door swing open. I panicked and dropped my keys. I heard one of them scream, followed by the unpleasant sound of seven. Several people I thought I was done for. I picked up my keys, got into my car, and drove off before they could get to me. I booked it out of Forsaken Falls and back to the comfort of civilization. I was shaken, but I was free.

I called the cop shortly after arriving home and told them everything. They said they would check it out. About an hour later, they called back and said they'd. found absolutely nothing at the old town hall. No trace of anyone being there in years. The man on the phone even accused me of trying to prank them. I assured him I wasn't and that I spoke the truth. He didn't seem to believe me and that's it. That's the extent of what happened to me today. I would have never expected a twisted cult to put parameters in place for proper voting, much less that I would somehow end up in the middle of it.

The thing that gets me is that they're still out there, doing whatever it is that they do. And if those laws of theirs are past, battered grove will be terrorized by them. I only hope that, at the very least, they didn't get a good look at me. I don't want to be a victim of query fall. When I was a child, the school which I attended was peculiar, yet wonderfully interesting, whether it was the fact that it was surrounded in places by overgrown bushes and opposite a strangely crooked wood which ignited my imagination, or perhaps the funny, eccentric, and sometimes fearsome teachers and kids which

populated it, I do not know. I'm not sure of when it was built, but it certainly stood out from the houses and quiet streets which surrounded it, covered as it was, in a bright, fiery red paint which drew your eyes to it immediately. There I went, from the age of five, up until I was 11 or 12, and, like most children, I have both fond and cruel memories of it. Each day, with a rucksack on my back, I would wander past the crooked wood and wave to the lollipop lady, Mrs. Collins, a kind old woman whose job it was to stop traffic with her bright yellow sign, letting us cross in safety, and, after meeting her. my friends walk through the rusted brown gates into one of two playgrounds. It was rumoured that in the

past the two grounds existed to separate boys from girls, both an understandable and utterly outdated concept. By the time I went to the school, the first playground had been assigned for those aged five to eight, the second for those aged eight and up. In the older kids' playground, there lay a small red brick building, which stood on its own, disconnected from the main school complex. It had long since fallen into disuse, and in fact had been sealed from prying eyes. Its doors and windows walled up with stone and mortar, making it impossible to see what was inside. Its purpose seemed a bit of a mystery, as most of the teachers seemed to skirt around the subject entirely. But of course, stories spread amongst the wild imaginations of children.

And in my school, this fondness for outlandish tales of tragedy and forbidden places often led to bizarre rumours and whispers, particularly pertaining to the sealed building. Obscurity is a fertile ground for the phantanelian. ruminations of youth. When my friends and I were in the younger playground, we would sometimes sneak down a narrow passageway, which would lead to the other and peek around the corner. There, we would see the older kids playing football,

or just hanging around. It's amazing how younger children look to their older peers, thinking that they seem to be having so much more fun than us. But, before we'd be chased away by the janitor or a passing teacher, my eyes would always lead to that sealed building. There was something lonely about it, isolated, and while it was surrounded by the yells and vibrancy of a schoolyard, its appearance suggested a grave silence to me. Some of the older kids liked to scare themselves and us and told us dramatically that it had been used as a science department and that there had been a hideous accident there, one which had produced strange and gruesome things which had to be kept from the world. Even as a child of eight, I knew made up nonsense when I heard it. Then there was the account that it had been a previous and rather brutal headteacher's office

decades earlier and that he had died there in a fire. His ghost obviously still haunted the place and it was better that the vengeful old Sodby contained there fuming at his desk as children enjoyed themselves and played nearby. Again, utter garbage. There was, however, one account of why the place had been abandoned, which seemed more plausible to me. The building was, in fact, a toilet. Yes, a normal toilet.

No thrills, no secret laboratories, no dead spirit of an overbearing head teacher. It has simply been sealed up when new facilities were installed. in the school to stop the children from climbing inside and getting up to mischief. But yet, despite this mundane explanation, there were still in fact tales to be told about the red-bricked, disconnected building in the older kids' playground. Although I had heard the stories, it wasn't until I was in my fourth year at the school that I became intimately and, at the time, uncomfortably involved with it. The older kids playground was flanked on three sides by a rectangular section of the school itself, with the fourth side separated from neighboring

houses by a moldy and dark red wall. It was isolated from the other playground, other than the aforementioned passageway, and to further the feeling of imprisonment was characterized by tall metal fencing, which rose up in places where a brave classmate might have attempted their great escape. Yet, there was one old gate which did allow access of sorts, but like prison guards, the teachers tended to check on it regularly. There, in the corner of the grounds lay the old building. Its windows were indeed enclosed in brick. as were its two doors. But the roof seemed unusual to me,

being flat in places and surely gathering puddles of rainwater during the wetter seasons. I was, at that age, and embarrassingly still to this day, terrified by heights. And it was much to my horror when I discovered that climbing up onto the roof of the toilets were seen as a rites of passage of some sort.

Don't misunderstand me. We weren't forced to go up there, but children can be cruel, and when someone new to that playground showed weakness or fear, this would often result in them being picked on. Over the coming weeks, I watched as each of my friends climbed up onto the roof when the opportunity presented itself,

dangling their legs over the side. nonchalantly once up there, one by one, claiming their right to be in the older playground, while I succumbed to ever-increasing taunts about my fear and cowardice. Don't believe me when I say, I did try. Several times a ball would be kicked accidentally onto the roof, and my classmates would turn to me to retrieve it. I even made it up to the side of an old drain pipe on a few occasions, far enough to reach my hand up and over to touch the root's surface. Yet, each time I would fail.

Fear would grip me, and with each admission of defeat, the name-calling and embarrassment intensified. I can trace back a curious and probably detrimental aspect of my personal. personality to that time. You see, failure in front of strangers to this day does not bother me. But friends, family, even acquaintances, the very idea makes me break out in a cold sweat. Later in life I followed the stereotypical path of chasing fame as a teenager, and I would have no problem playing in bands in front of those I did not know. But, put a familiar face in the audience, and my nerves would take hold. The stakes of failure will be raised that much higher, in my mind at least.

For this reason, I chose an odd time to truly face my fear. One day, after school, I waited outside the gates, watching as the other children slowly siphoned out of the two playgrounds, kicking their feet through the autumn leaves. The parents escorted the youngest of my fellow students, while those of an older age walked with their classmates, some eagerly, others not so, making their way down the hill, past the woods to their homes in the surrounding area. As the school became ever emptier and the teachers themselves began to leave, I walked

down the street, entering the gardens at the back of the building. I always found the rear of my school to be an interesting place. It consisted of shrubs, bushes and an old ash football pitch. Our teachers never seemed to use the area for anything, and we were actively encouraged to keep clear of it. Again, there were stories amongst the students that a child had been abducted while playing their years previously. Whether that was true or not, I do not.

know. Once I was as certain as I could be that everyone was gone, I sneaked through the bushes, up a small incline to the rear of the playground. There, embedded in the wall, was the narrow brown gate, which the teachers kept a watchful eye on, but as far as I knew, was never used. I assumed it had served a legitimate purpose years previously, but for me and my friends, it was the place where we would climb over to run around the school grounds at the weekend when no one was there. It was an exceptional place to play one-man hunt with so many nooks and crannies to hide in. As cautious as I was, I wanted to truly attempt to get up onto the roof of the old toilets.

In my eight-year-old head, I had visions of sneaking up there in the morning and surprising my friends, or running up there to have. heroically retrieve a girl's ball. In childhood, we think that those around us really care about our actions. But in truth, they are of little consequence to anyone other than ourselves. Yes, I had been bullied a little for not being as strong or as fearless as those around me, and that sense of public failure, of insecurity. While the potent sensation at a young age, while in hindsight completely exaggerated was enough to give me the courage

to at least attempt the climb I'd considered asking one of my friends to join me as I was nervous that a teacher might still be there that I would get into trouble and so needed a lookout but this would only have given me someone to fail in front of I decided to attempt it on my own after waiting for what seemed an age, I slowly climbed over the gate, which rattled unnervingly under my movements, echoing out around the playground.

Then, after hesitantly observing the hundreds of windows which dotted the school for movement, and happy enough with the absence of light emanating from them, I stepped silently to the sealed, building. Even though I knew as little as an audience of one could affect my confidence, I partly wished that I had not been alone, as the building and its deserted surroundings left me feeling uneasy. I knew, however, that if I just got up there once, that I would have conquered my fear and would be able to climb up onto the roof with ease in future. Hopefully putting an end to the name-calling. I stood staring at the drain pipe, which would be my avenue to success, clinging as it did through rusted fittings to the side of the building. My mind back then was often clouded with the worst possibilities, focusing on the negative

outcome. And, as I began to climb slowly, I imagined that the drain pipe, would wrench away from the wall, throwing me against the concrete ground at any moment. The truth is that it did not move, no matter how much I believed that it did. Without a witness, I was now, as far as I had ever reached, able to stick my hand up above me and touch the edge of the roof. My heart raced with excitement as I began to believe that I really could do it, that success was in sight. I then made the mistake of looking down to check my progress. The experience of height is something difficult to convey to someone who has no problem with it. While,

in reality, I was probably no more than seven or eight feet off the ground, I perceived this as a monumental distance. I felt my stomach churn, my heartbeat erratically, and the world below began to spin and distort. Worse still, a loss of nerve permeated my body, leaving me feeling weak, and I could feel my grip begin to loosen. It is strange how the mind works, for just as I was ready to admit defeat once more and retreat, the insults and jeers of my classmates rang throughout my awareness, as if they were present, down there, taunting me. With what was for me a huge effort, I found myself continuing to climb upwards, my hands reaching out to the damp roof, and then, before I knew it, there I was.

Letting out a laugh of excitement, a sensation of relief washed over me. I could not wait for the next day. To be up there on the roof, proving those who had been cruel to me wrong. Peeking over the edge, I still felt trepidation at the height, but nowhere near as much as I had done it before. My triumph quelling my anxiety. Still, I was not keen to remain there for long, so I decided to investigate my surroundings briefly.

Then climb back down to the safety of the playground, and head home. static. The roof was painted in a similar fiery red colour to the main school building, but it had long since peeled and cracked, suggesting that it had been a long time since someone had been up here to give it a new coat. Standing up cautiously, I felt my legs waver slightly, as my stomach churned again at the thought of how high up I was. Laughable, really, as the height of the roof was probably no more than ten feet. yet no matter how nervous I was the sense of triumph which I felt coursing through my body was truly wonderful I walked slowly from one side of the roof to the other

careful not to trip as I did so the short walk from the drainpipe to the opposite lech and back filled me with a feeling of conquest as of someone patrolling their territory for those brief moments on the roof that building was mine. Just as I turned to finally make my way back to ground, I noticed that in the middle of the roof there was a hole.

I'm not sure how I hadn't noticed it before, although it was quite small, big enough for me to fit my hand through and little else. Curious, I took a few careful steps and then knelt for a closer look. Yes. There was a hole, and the light from the evening sky passed straight through it, illuminating what lay inside. I put my eye as close as possible to the opening without blocking the light, and was surprised by what I saw.

Down there, in the darkness, like a perfectly preserved tomb, the old-fashioned white tiling remained intact. I could see the sinks where students used. years ago, once washed their hands or flicked water at one another for amusement, and three stalls, cubicles with the strong, dark brown doors, lying there as if still used. The air inside was tinged with dust and age, yet if someone had told me that the building had been sealed only the day before, I would have believed them. All but for one thing. A lot of layer of stagnant water which covered the floor, no doubt accumulating there from rain dripping in through the opening in the roof.

Then I became aware of a strong smell, one which left my eyes stinging slightly and my mood apprehensive. Yes, there was no doubting it. Someone was smoking a cigarette nearby. My heart sank as I lay there. they're motionless, cursing myself for taking too much time on the roof to celebrate my victory. A teacher, or perhaps the janitor, must have stayed behind to work late and was probably standing in the playground below. I thought they must have been close as the smoke smelled thick

and oppressive. I lay curled up on the cold, wet concrete, waiting for whoever was there to leave. The now almost caustic smoke seemed to be increasing in strength and several times I had to hold my breath frightened that I would cough and be caught I do not believe I exaggerate when I say that I lay motionless for half an hour yet it took me all that time to make a simple yet unsettling observation while I could smell the smoke

indeed feeling as if I was inhaling just as much as the unseed smoke at them I couldn't see it. I would have expected to have seen the smoke rise up and over the rooftop. But not even the slightest wisp was evident. The autumn sky was now dimming, and I grew frustrated as the cold, damp stone below me sent chills through my body. Wishing that I had never gone up there in the first place, I felt hunger approaching and knew that by now my parents would be worried about me. I persuaded myself that I could at least dip my head over the edge of the roof and quickly take a look to see who was there. Maybe, if they were on the other side of the art, I could climb down unseen. I stood across the roof as quietly as I could and slowly

peered downward, sure not to make any sudden movements to attract attention. There was no one there. The playground was empty, and the darkened windows of the main school building seemed as vacant as they had been before. Yet the smell and taste of cigarette smoke still filled my lungs and stung my eyes. Then I witnessed something which rooted me to the spot. A single, curling strand of smoke slid upward through the hole in the roof. Someone was done. Someone was down there. Someone was inside that room beneath me. This seemed impossible. As far as I was aware, there was no way inside. The building had been sealed off perfectly from the outside world. Yet there it was. A puff of cigarette smoke, which escaped first from the mouth of someone

unseen below, and then threw the hole in the roof to where I had been lying. My triumph finally facing my fear of heights seemed a distant memory. And now all I could think of was getting off that roof to safety down below. But the hole lay between myself and the drain pipe. And curiosity being as gripping a mindset as any, I decided to take a quick look inside before quietly making my escape and leaving the building behind. As I approached the opening, the smell of smoke grew stronger still, and as I peered inward, the thought of, Don't look, filtered through my mind.

But it was too late. I had looked. At first, there was nothing. The room below seemed darker than it had done before, but this could be explained by the dimming sky, and my eyes adapting to. to the change. What could not be explained was the noise I heard coming from inside. It seemed distant at first, indistinct and uncertain. Then it gradually took form, to me sounding like someone choking. I smiled to myself, thinking it was probably the cigarette smoke, and that maybe some local kids had a den down there. But then, suddenly, in the gloom, my eyes were drawn to one of the cubicles.

Its door was closed, and yet I was not convinced that it had been before. I tilted my head closer to the hole, but my angle of view shrouded the inside from inspection. As the choking sound increased in volume, so did the smell of smoke. Then sound and smell were joined by something which chilled my very soul. I panicked and let out a cry as the door quivered with impact as of someone violently kicking it from the other side. Smoke now fill my lungs and my eyes watered. I could barely see anything both inside the building and out. Then it stopped.

The choking sound had disappeared, and the smell of smoke had simply vanished. For a moment, I started to think that I had imagined it all. I gasped for air, drawing deep into my lungs, only for terror to take me once more. In the dark silence, in the cold, damp, and forgotten room below. The sound of footsteps in the water filled the air Then the cubicle door Slowly began to creak open I can't say entirely what took place after that

I believe I've blocked much of it out from my memory Apparently the headmaster An intimidating yet kind man by the name of Mr Mackay Had been in his office working late On the other side of the building when he was disturbed by the sound of my screams he rushed outside and found me on the roof curled up into a ball

paralyzed with fear sobbing after some reassuring words he helped me down and took me to his office where he once again guaranteed that I was safe and then phoned for my parents to come and pick me up

I trusted Mr Mackay implicitly and as I fought the tears back I described everything which had happened, the roof, the smoke, the cubicle. As I told him my story, the blood drained from my headmaster's face. I have long thought about what he told me in that office after hearing my account. Perhaps he wished to fright me so that I and others would never venture up there again. And looking back, it does seem to be a strange thing to share with an already frightened child otherwise. But he seemed genuinely disturbed by the events I had conveyed to him.

He told me that years before I went to the school, there had been a tragedy there involving a 12-year-old girl, one he refused to name. She had a reputation for being difficult. The teachers tried their best, sympathizing with her, as she came from an abusive brand. but they found her almost impossible to control as she often threatened violence and had been suspended several times for fighting with other students one day she decided to skip a class and managed to persuade two other girls to join her by promising them each a cigarette so as the story went the girl sneaked away when the bell for class rang and

hid in the toilets. The details of what occurred afterwards were less than forecoming. But what was clear was that the poor girl had a seizure of some kind and died there and then. The other girls claimed that they had already left before this happened. But there were rumours and accusations of which most only whispered, but many believed. It was suggested that the girl had been with her friends when the seizure took place. place, and out of fear of getting caught smoking and skipping class, they lifted their friend into the stall, closed the door over, and then left her there. Whether they believed that she would perhaps recover or not, was the subject of much speculation, the scratches and bashes on the inside

of the cubicle suggested most definitely that she had continued to convulse while there, perhaps even in an uncoordinated attempt to escape and call out for help. In the aftermath, the building was closed off and the school and community attempted as best they could to put the tragedy behind them. Perhaps Mr. McKay made the whole thing up just to terrify me, taking what I thought I'd experienced and using it to concord a story designed to scare me away

from ever going back to that place. Unfortunately, a few unwelcome things transpired after that. I did indeed avoid the roof of that sealed building at all costs. My fear of heights was nothing compared to the dread which that building then held for me. My schoolmates, of course, did not believe my version of things, accusing me of lying about the entire story just to avoid being made fun of. As far as they were concerned, I never got up there. Lastly, I did have a recurring dream throughout my childhood, one which I would wake from

in a cold sweat, curled up in my bed, screaming. I know that in it I would be lying on that roof, peering down through the hole, into that abandoned place. But the memory always seems vague somehow. that is left is an impression of a cubical door creaking open and something staring up at me from within. 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.