Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S4 Ep163: Episode 163: Greatest Fears Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 4, 2024

Our terrifying opening story is ‘My dad used to tell me a story about a cave in the mountains’ by the wonderfully talented Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all: https://www.youtube.com/user /Corpse_Child/ Today’s second tale of the macabre and bizarre is the epic 'The Truth of Bradwell’s Radio Station' by the wonderfully talented Carlos Pandiella, kindly shared with me via my subreddit for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:   https://www.youtube.com/user/damonx99

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. Our worst fears are the shadows that linger in the corners of our minds, whispering doubts and anxieties that claw at the edges of our consciousness. There are the specters of failure, rejection and loss that haunt our deepest fears. Our worst fears paralyze us, rendering us powerless against the unseen terrors that lurk within. There are the monsters under our beds, the phantoms in our nightmares, and the demons that plague our waking hours.

Yet it is in confronting these fears that we find our true strength. Only by facing our darkest shadows can we emerge into the light of resilience and courage, as we shall see in tonight's stories. Now as ever before we begin a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. My dad used to tell me a story about a cave in the mountains where a couple of young boys went missing.

After finding it, I realized the truth was a hell of a lot scarier. Like corpse child. Will you tell us the story again, Dad? Yeah, Dad. Tell us about Little Johnny's Cave, please. I still remember those days, sitting around a campfire in the backyard and listening to Dad tell that story. It was our favorite. little Johnny's cave.

It was as cheesy as spooky catfire stories got back then, and you can bet that me and my little sister Linda ate up every little bit of it. He himself didn't care too much for telling it, though. At the time, me and Linda didn't really understand why. I guess to us, it was just his way of trying to build tension, you know. Kind of like how you try to sound dramatic when you urge someone to not go looking for this or that, or don't do this, or the mind. Master's going to get you.

Now, though, I realize it wasn't that at all. Looking back, I can remember the look you'd always get on his face when we beg him to tell that story. It was cold, sunken, sad or scared even, both probably. It was the look that said, Why do I have to talk about this? It only hurts when I do. Like I said, though, we were too young and way too excited to know what really care.

I guess in our defense. You can't really expect much better from a couple of first graders who thought their dad was the coolest. A couple with the childhood filled to the brim with watching classic master movies, can you? In any case, he'd go silent for a while, probably a solid five minutes or more, and just stare intently into the fire. Me and Linda knew when we saw this that things were about to get good. Even if it sounded no different than the last hundred-something-odd times we'd heard the little Johnny's cave tale, and it usually didn't. It was still the peak of the evening, the main event of the night. Oh, I can still see it.

The way he stared coldly and distantly at the fire as he took several deep breaths, readying himself. We and Linda always scooted closer, grabbing another marshmallow to char and stuff our faces with while we listened. When he began, he always furrowed his eyebrows intensely with concentration. A long time ago, Two little boys, about y'all's age now, ran off to play hide and seek while they was on vacation up here in Grandview Pines. It was their favorite game, see.

They loved trying to find each other in those dense woods. Ah, them trees, you see, they was always tall and big around, and they grouped together. This made it easy for little fellas like these two boys to get themselves lost. That was part of the fun, you see. They liked getting lost. That's why they played it so much He was always pushing To see how long it had taken them to find each other

Well soon they figured out the woods You know, studied memorizing which trees made good hiding spits And which ones didn't See, they was getting bored And so one day they was out walking in the woods Looking at all the big tall green trees Wondering how to make the game more fun That's when the little brother, little Colin

So it looked like a big old cave in the side of the mountains Now this cave was big, big enough to fit the three of us in there five times over all at once. But what was even better was how dark it was. See, in that cave, not even the sun could break through. It was dark. It was spooky. There was no way his brother would find him in there. I bet you'll never find me, Johnny.

Little Colin shouted to his older brother before running off into the cave. Johnny, caught off guard, shouts to little Colin to wait out. But now, of course, little Colin was eager. He wanted to get hit quick, but his big brother would be able to find him. It wasn't long before Johnny couldn't see Colin no more, disappearing into that deep, dark cave. Colin! He shouted as loud as he could.

Colin, where are you going? But little Colin didn't answer. He was long gone. Johnny started searching frantically for his little brother. When he found the cave, he saw little Colin run to. He tried calling his name out one more time. Colin, where are you? From inside the cave, Johnny heard what sounded like the pattern of little feet across the stone floor,

going deeper into the cave. Wanting to catch up to his little brother. Johnny starts running into the cave after him. He ran and ran deeper and deeper into that cave. But it seemed like the longer he ran, the more the cave seemed to stretch. The deeper it went, the darker it became. Soon Johnny couldn't see anything at all. All he could do was follow the soft patron of little Colin's footsteps.

Johnny was getting scared. He wanted to go home, but more than that, he just wanted to find his little brother. Colin? He cried. Colin, where are you? Still, all he'd hear was those little feet. He kept following him until suddenly Johnny thought he could smell something burning. The smell was strong, and he could feel smoke burning his eyes.

like with this fire here. From ahead in the dark part of the cave, there was a voice that called out to Johnny, a voice that sounded like a snake that was being choked. Just a little closer. Come on, just a little closer, little boy. Johnny knew that wasn't his little brother's voice. He didn't know what to do.

He was scared now, terrified, in fact. The burning smell got closer and closer. The fumes from the smoke were making him gag now. Oh, you can't escape me, little boy. You're mine now. The voice hissed. Oh, this made Johnny want to run. Take off back for home, but as soon as he turned around,

the exit was gone. No sunlight, no hole at the other side of the cave. Nothing. What was he going to do? He could feel something was getting close now from deep inside the cave. something bad you're mine now and you'll never leave my cave

oh Johnny was terrified I was about to take off back the way he came when from inside the cave he heard what sounded like a little boy screaming it wasn't just any little boy screaming either Johnny knew it was his little brother guy he shouted but his little brother only kept screaming squealing like someone

to put his little foot in a bear trap. I'm coming, Colin. He took off, running deeper and deeper. The further he went, the louder and more painful his little brother's screaming gods. Along with this, Colin smelt something burning again. Kind of like this wiener I'm roasting here, see? But Johnny just kept on running.

He had to keep going. He had to rescue his little brother. The screaming got loud. and louder. Colin, he screamed, I'm coming, Colin, hold on. He couldn't see nothing no more. Everything was dark.

All he could hear was his little brother squealing until eventually he tripped over something. When he looked up, there was now two large, white, evil eyes beaten down on him. Well, little Johnny froze. He couldn't move. Then, from under the eyes,

the monster opened his mouth, grinned, showing off long, sharp teeth. Then the monster held something up in front of little Johnny that finally made him wet himself, screaming. In the monster's hand was Little Colin. When little Johnny tried to reach for him, Little Colin's skin suddenly caught fire, burning away all his skin until he was nothing but bones. Now it's your turn, the monster told him.

That's when the monster tried grabbing him, but little Johnny was too quick. The monster missed and little Johnny took off, heading back quick as his little legs had carried him back towards the entrance of the cave. Just like before he ran and ran. He could hear the monster harden his little tail. He couldn't stop running else he was a goner. Eventually little Johnny realized, like how when he came in, he couldn't see any light ahead,

No matter how far he ran, it only got darker and darker in the cave. You couldn't see, and his little legs was getting tired. But he couldn't stop. He had to keep going. The monster was going to get him, so he just kept running. Well, they say he still is today, running around in that deep dog cave, still trying to find his way out. If you see the cave, listen real close. You'll hear his little feet.

tap, tap, tap, still trying to get out. His voice would always sound cold when he finished. He never said anything like The End, or tried to make any exaggerated faces to signal that he was just trying to give us kids a good spook. No, the man's face was like stone, chiseled and stoic. For a long time, we'd all just sit in silence, me and Linda just absorbing the story and its intensity,

once again while the old man would just sit there. staring dead silent almost like he was in a trance at the fire like i said i've heard that exact same story word for word at least a hundred or more times growing up never tried to change it like so many others do when trying to tell the same story over and over again you know to keep it fresh or whatever no each and every time it was always the same story details and all verbatim always with that same stone cold stare. Looking back, I think even then I noticed this, which made me all the more fascinated with it. You see, when he told that story, he wasn't just telling a catfire story to a couple of kids, but like he was telling something that happened to him in a way. I guess that

was the other reason we loved it so much, the way it felt so real. And again, he never tried to embellish or exaggerate anything with the way he sounded. He told the story. And that was what happened every time. Of course, eventually time would move on, and so would we, sort of. Me and Linda would grow up, make friends to go hang out with, get involved with clubs or sports, and just generally ditching our backyard campfire tradition on the weekends. That said, and though I couldn't speak for Linda at the time,

that story, little Johnny's Cave, was still one of the coolest things to me. I remember how I used to always try and tell my first. friends a story, either at lunch or at recess. Of course I knew they didn't believe it like I did. I couldn't tell it like Dad would. I'd always end up somehow giving it away that it was just a story. No matter how hard I tried to look and sound as cold or distant as the old man, I just couldn't pull it off. I guess I just couldn't make it real like him, you know? That was the other thing. I always wondered how or why he was able to make it real like that. What was his secret? What gave him that edge?

What made him go cold when we asked to tell him that story? What scared him so much about it? Oh, back then I never really tried asking him. I guess, A, I felt like that wouldn't do me much good. Outside of getting fed some BS like, oh, that's just me spooking you, there's no cave, or some lame shit like that. And, or B, I just felt like that would have been too easy, you know. I mean, that's always half the fun with this stuff, isn't it?

Imagining you're the one tumbling down the rabbit hole, but in real life? Well, remember how I daydream, often in class. And yes, this did result in awkward situations, or at night time. I'd be the one running off into Little Johnny's cave. I'd run deeper and deeper, losing myself into the darkness. I'd run into the monster, imagining it to be this hulking beast, or even the devil, with long teeth and claws, able to breathe fire like a dragon, and he'd try to chase me, but I'd always outrun him.

Of course, in my dreams, I'd always find my way back out again, and sometimes instead of running, I'd stand and fight the monster, always winning, of course. The point is it had an impact on me back then, and it's never gone away even now. Though now, seeing the truth behind what happened, it has a much bigger impact on me, one that's far more real and far more real,

far more haunting than even Dad could have made it seem around the fire. Part two. It was a couple of weeks ago. Classes at college had just ended for the year, and I was throwing a party with some of my dorm mates to celebrate. Unlike all parties, we had chips, dip, music, the hottest chicks on campus, and plenty of beer with a little extra on the side, if you take my meaning.

It had been going wild all night until about 2.30 in the morning, where most, at least ones that were still conscious, started heading out. I and a couple of other close friends, however, were still wide away. I was veged out across the couch with Larry sprawled out in one of the beambag chairs on the floor, and Eddie in the recliner on my right. All of us damn near completely wasted. I guess because we were bored or because we were just out of our senses, it was suggested that we have ourselves a little contest of who could tell the scariest story. Basically the deal was that we'd all tell one and vote at the end as to whose story.

was the scariest. Larry went first with some generic story about a guy who gets murdered, with his hands coming back to kill people, something like that. And he followed that up with an equally cheesy, quote-unquote, drew encounter with a Wendigo. Well, he could tell it was fake when he described the way he fought the creature and escaped with his life. They were goofy as hell, sure, not scary in the slightest, but all the same enjoyable enough to listen to, at least while intoxicated. When it came to my turn, though, you bet your ass I told the story of little Johnny's game. Like before, I tried as much as ever to mimic the way Dad told the story.

Though I personally doubted, it actually felt like when he did it, to achieve the same effect, sure enough, judging from the looks of speechlessness on my friend's faces when I finished. Dude, Larry exclaimed, I think you just won. Shit. He snickered while Eddie just continued staring in shock at me. Where'd you come up with that one? I chuckled. I didn't.

I grew up hearing that one. Larry's eyes went wide with amazement again, mouthing, Holy shit. Hey, um, Grenview Pines. Eddie piped up, still staring somewhat nervously at me. Me and Larry looked over to him. Didn't you say all that happened in Grandview Pines? Yeah, why?

I heard of that place before. My folks used to go hiking up there. Well, now my eyes went wise. Hey, hold on, I chimes growing excited. You've been to Grenview Pines. Well, he shook his head. Just my folks. He used to go there when I was younger whenever they wanted some alone time away from me and my brother's fricant.

I'd even bring back these cool little stones of souvenirs for us kids. He also used to talk about how pretty it was there. He snickered before adding, or at least they'd try to. Oh, God knows we didn't give a damn about listening to them back then. Oh, so you don't think they've ever seen the cave? He thought for a second before shrugging. Well, they may have. Well, them gems they used to bring back had to come from somewhere.

Like I said, though, I never really bothered paying much attention when they tried talking about their trips. sounds like you in history class larry quipped eddie smirked and flipped him off i guess some things never change huh i snorted at this it was true he usually did end up falling asleep during almost every world civilization's lecture granted they were six a m classes and the coffee shops on campus wouldn't even open till seven luckily for him i being the good friend i am always sat behind him and made sure to waking up when the profession they arrived to begin. Hey, Larry piped up again. Ro, just had an idea. We looked to him. Why don't we take a trip up there? Me and Eddie looked to each other, and then back to Larry. Think about it. We've always been talking about trying to hang out somewhere for a weekend once classes ended. Why not? He looked at me and said, oh, who knows? We may even stumble on little Johnny's cave. He followed this up by making good.

ghost noises with his eyes wide. And Eddie and I just snickered at this. I'd be down, I said, turning to Eddie. What about you, Ed? Want to join in? He thought for a moment before replying. Ah, Cad. I'm already booked to spend most of the summer with Hannah

and our folks at the beach. Larry scoffed. Ah, typical. Passing up time with your friends to hit the beach with your girl, huh? I laughed again. It really was amusing to watch those two go at it. Ed just rolled his eyes and flipped him both barrels. Larry sighed and said,

"'Ah, well, it looks like it's just you and me, bro.' "'Right on,' I replied, excitedly. We fist bumped, and he looked at his watch before saying he had to head back to his dorm to pack for his trip to the beach. After teasing him again, we wished him luck, and he left. For about the next week or so, when I wasn't packing, started looking at Grenfew Pines online.

From the picture I saw I could tell you one thing And these folks weren't kidding when they said it was pretty Let's just say that either someone had the most high-deaf quality camera And some seriously wicked editing skills when taking these pictures Well the place was just that beautiful that none of that was necessary to make them look so good The place was huge too with an abundance of hiking trails Plenty of areas to travel through as well as get yourself lost in curious i looked around to see if there were any caves in the area either pictured or listed in an article

i found one or two that were pictured but no real details on them as far as what they were like on the inside how deep they went or so on that led me to actually try googling little johnny's cave of course nothing really came up which was what i'd expected but still nothing lost in trying right though I was able to find an old news article headlined little boy declared missing in Mountain Cave. Intrigued, I clicked on it, taking me to a forum post from a couple of years back with the article. The article itself was dated from back in early June of 1961. It was a pretty quick read, admittedly, with a clear lack of any real details. Basically it read that a family went on a trip to the mountains that summer,

and their two boys, two elementary school best friends, obviously neither of which were named in print or pictured in the post, went off one afternoon to play in the woods. Apparently, though, come nightfall, neither of them came back. It took a little over a week, even having to get the state troopers to canvass the entire mountainside with a fine-tooth comb, before, finally, one of the brothers was found again,

but not the other. according to the article when the boy was found understandably petrified he kept crying to the authorities that he'd lost his friend there wasn't anything i was able to find after that though other than the missing boy even after a massive two and a half year search was never found i tried doing a search for the article itself wondering if maybe i could dig up anything else like where in the mountains or even which mountain this resulted though in the same headline being brought up, with no other sort of details, basically meaning it was more or less the same thing from the forum post, the only difference this time being that the boys were both pictured in this one. The one that was missing, I didn't recognise, but the other one, the one they found, did look somewhat familiar. It reminded me of the way I looked back in my old elementary school pictures.

When I looked to see where the paper was printed, though, I saw that it was from a small-town area located just a little ways down from Grenview Pines. Well, at least there's some connection, I thought, finally deciding to call it quits. I knew now that something actually happened in Grenview a long time ago, and that it involved a little boy going missing. Of course, what I didn't know was where, given that no specific area in the mountain side was mentioned when detailing where the boys went missing or where the first one was found, including any mention of a cave. It was that Friday that me and Larry hit the road.

The drive itself was a largely quiet one after about the first hour after leaving town. That was until we actually got into Grenview Pines, where neither one of us could stop gorking at the scenery. Remember what I said about the online photos? Well, I could see now that there was no kind of editing involved. All of it a hundred percent real. We actually spent a good twenty-something-odd minutes or so just driving around, nightseeing. Eventually, Larry spotted an overlook area close to a nearby trail, where we could park

and we got out to stretch our legs. To save space, we decided early on that we weren't going to bother with the tents or anything like that for this trip, opting just to sleep in my SUV for the few days we'd be there. So with just the clothes on our backs and our small backpacks, we headed into the woods. It was about 1.30 when we started. I figured we'd be able to hike for a few hours and head back to the SUV at about six, making it back just before sunset when it would get dark. As we went along, the trees seemed to get more and more grouped together, compacted almost. Even in spite of this, they seemed to stand out all the same individually. Each one of them was tall and broad, all of them with lush, lively green leaves.

Some of them, particularly of course the younger ones, I noticed it were weaved in intricate ways competing for sunlight. Because of this, losing ourselves in the scenery, I actually damn near forgot completely about the time. Coincidentally, it was right as we'd stopped at a small clearing, a break off from the trail with a small riverbank, and undoubtedly the clearest and most beautiful creek I'd ever seen and probably ever would see in my entire life.

But Larry thought to ask me what time it was. My eyes went wide when I saw it was already four. Oh shit, we got a head. head back, I said. God damn, Larry replied. Can we just rest for a little bit? I looked at the sky, the sun was just starting its downward trek

towards the horizon. Oh, it's going to get dark soon, dude. Yeah, yeah, okay. I'm coming. He grunted as he made his back up to his feet. Well, it's a shame too, he said. This should have made for a nice little

hour and hour spot. He shrugged and said, "'Well, maybe tomorrow.' "'I noticed him trail off at the end of his last sentence, "'directing his focus to something off to my right. "'What?' I asked him. "'What is it?' "'Is that?' he began.

"'Is that what I think it is?' "'What, what are you talking about?' "'He pointed in the direction he was looking. "'I didn't see anything at first.' "'Hey, I don't see anything. What's up?' "'You don't see anything. that? The opening of that cave over there. My heart slowly started to beat faster, now concentrating closer. Sure enough, there it was. A large opening in the side of the mountain. He started off

towards it. Yeah. I see it. Wait, hey, what are you doing? I want to see inside it. I'll only take a minute, I promise. You jogged over to it. Well, I quickly followed after him. We both ran to the cave. of noticing the eerie way it sort of got bigger the closer we came to it. When we stopped just outside the mouth, we saw that it was at least 30 or so feet long, at least 20 or 30 feet wide. Oh, enough to fit the three of us inside five times over. From the entrance, I couldn't see anything inside.

Not even a foot ahead of us was visible. Everything was black, a seemingly boundless hole in the mountainside. So dark, not even the sun could break through. Now a shiver was crawling up and down my spine. This couldn't be, could it? I was completely speechless, looking at it from the mouth. Fear and excitement was slowly building up in the pit of my stomach at the same time. God, had I done it?

Had I just found my fabled little Johnny's cave? What was in there? Would I hear his footsteps echoing off the walls of the cave? Would I run into the monster? Curious, I actually cut my ear at the entrance to see if I'd hear the soft pattering of little feet across the stone. I heard something that had a similar tempo, for lack of any better words, similar to footsteps, but I could tell they weren't. Probably just dropless of dew from the limestone or something, I told myself.

But even still, I imagine couldn't help but kick into maximum overdrive by this point. What's in there? I don't know exactly how long I stood there, gawking in amazement like this. Twenty minutes maybe? Could have been thirty. But it was shattered abruptly when I watched Larry start shambling inside. Larry, wait, I called him. Don't worry, I just want to look for a minute.

I'll be right back, and just hold on. I watched him start to walk deeper and deeper, running his hand along the wall of the cave. I looked at the sky. Now the sun was already a quarter of the way down. "'Dud, look, we don't have time. "'We can come back tomorrow. "'It's going to get dark soon.' "'Inside the cave,

"'almost mostly gone from sight, "'I heard Larry shout back, teasing. "'What, you're afraid of the dark? "'You scared the monster's going to get you?' "'I then heard him walk deeper into the cave, "'disappearing completely from view. "'Oh, dude, come on. "' Quit screwing around.

"'We need to get back.' I got no response this time. I sighed. Fine, but when you're stumbling around lost in the woods in the dog, don't come crying to me. With that, I turned and started to make my way back to the SUV. I didn't make it five feet away, though, before I realized that Larry had the keys to the SUV. I'd given them to him in the event that we had to make an emergency run back, aka he forgot something, as he often did.

Oh, fuck. I thought, slapping my forehead. Now I had to go after him. Almost without thinking I sprinted into the cave. Larry! I shouted. Hey, come on, man. Seriously, we need to go.

No answer. Larry? I slowed down. Everything was dark around me, a silent, black voice. I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight, which, at best, lit up a small radius. around me, but basically nothing else. All I could see was the dark solid stone of the cave all around me. Taking another look at my phone, I realized I was screwed again when I saw the battery life

read 25%. Oh, great. Larry! I called again. Damn it, come on. It's six now, and the sun's already set. Silence. Where the hell is he?

Where did he go? He couldn't have gotten that far, could he? I started walking further, albeit a good bit slower, more hesitant. I couldn't suppress a shiver that shook through my body in a uniformed convulsion. I won't lie, I was actually getting nervous here, scared even. Even with the light I had, the dim, almost dead and already near useless amount of it, all I could see ahead of me was darkness. Maybe darkness isn't the word for it, though.

Maybe void would be more appropriate. You see, it wasn't just dark. It wasn't just dead silent. It was empty. The head of me was basically a black hole that looked and felt like it went on for eternity without end. Of course, it has to end somewhere, right? I wondered, trying to grasp onto some kind of hug.

It's only just a cave, right? It can't stretch that much further, can it? Oh, is this what it was like for? I stopped, shaking my hand. I wasn't about to start nurturing the idea. Oh, come on, get a grip. Just find Larry's dumb ass and get out. My heart shook when I heard an ear-splitting shriek in the distance.

Larry! Immediately I broke from my stupor and took off further into the cave where I heard the noise. I could hear groans of pain trailing from my head. Larry, hang on, man. I'm coming. The more I ran, despite seeming to get closer to where the sounds were coming from, I still seemed at the same time somehow to not get closer to it at all. Larry, where are you? Here, I heard from somewhere off to my left.

You okay? He groaned. I think my leg's broken. My eyes widened and I ran at full speed in his direction. "'Cause I couldn't see anything, though. "'That meant I couldn't see him either. "'That is, until I ended up tripping right over him "'and face-planting right into the stone ground of the cave.'

"'Larry let out another shriek of pain. "'Fuck! That was my leg! "'Oh, shit!' "'Larry, hold on,' I said, scrambling for my bag. "'I started shuffling around "'until I was able to find the quote-unquote first-aid kits "'that I brought, "'a-k-a-z-zibed bag.

with a thing of band-aids, nosparin, rubbing alcohol in a large roll of gauze. I pulled out the gauze and started looking around for a stick or something to use as a splint. Larry was in hysterics, writhing and clutching his leg. Hey, calm down. Breathe, I said as I started to bandage a nearby twig to his leg. Having luckily managed to find a decent enough-sized stick, he couldn't breathe, though. He was in too much pain, and I was worried he'd start going into shock.

I poured a water bottle from my bag. Here, keep this against your leg. It's not ice, but it's all I've got. He managed to calm down then, just a little when I said this, enough to at least actually hold the bottle against his leg. I knew he was going to need serious medical attention, but when I went to try and use my phone, unsurprisingly, there was no service.

On top of this, the battery was almost dead, which meant that it wouldn't be long before I'd end up losing what little light had to work with. I started looking frantically around for something, anything to use for making a fire. Finally, I was able to find a couple of rocks laying around that, looking closer, not like they might be Ossidian. Hey, take off your shirt. What are you doing? Larry groaned as I began taking off my own shirt and setting them in a pile with the remaining sticks underneath them before scraping the rocks together. Oh, hoping for a miracle, I replied. Sure and not, enough, said miracle was granted and a spark was generated, and the shacks caught fire almost immediately.

I knew it wouldn't last long, but maybe if I were careful, it could last long enough to find us the way out. Well, of course, that was a hell of a lot easier said than actually done. With no signal, no other source of light, and Larry's leg bent in every different way from what it's supposed to be, we were essentially stuck. I tried for the first time to look behind me back to the exit. It was then, though, that I found that I couldn't see the other side. Part 3. At first I thought it was just because it was night time.

But after looking back towards the fire, I realised that wasn't it. It wasn't just dark. It was empty. In other words, the opening was completely gone, almost like it hadn't been there at all. "'What the hell?' I said aloud. "'What, what is it?' "'You hope me. "'The way out, dude.

"'It's gone.' "'He groaned, struggling to bring his head up. "'What are you talking about? "'It's right. "'Wait, what the fuck?' "'His eyes were wide open again, "'despite having been in excruciating pain. "'He started hyperventiling.

"'What the fuck? Where's the exit? Calm down. I'm going to get us out. Larry's in my head snapped back towards the depth of the cave at the same time. My heart stopped cold. What in the name of God was that? What the fuck, dude?

Larry cried, hyperventilating again. From ahead, there was still nothing visible but darkness. And yet the stomping got closer and closer. Flooded through me. I could feel every urge, every instinct trying to force me to move, to take off and run. But I couldn't. Larry started squirming. We've got to get out of here, man. He squealed. We've got to get out of here. He started struggling to drag himself towards me. That's when I realized that the fire I'd made was fading.

I noticed, though, that it wasn't exactly like it was flickering or anything like that. It was more like it was dimming, like it was being sucked away or siphoned off by the darkness ahead. The same was true with my phone, seeing it start to flicker before going completely dark again. The more the fire faded, the more I realized that the darkness was actually moving closer towards us. With each earth shaking step towards the two of us, I could see the black wall of nothing inch closer and closer, swallowing more and more of the cave with it. It was right on top of us when the fire finally blinked out like an old light bulb. We were engulfed in darkness again.

Total, pure and unadulterated darkness. Larry, I cried, spinning in circles, completely blind. Larry, where are you? I got no response from him. Instead, I was met only with the stomping. When I ran forward to try and find him, I felt something pull and stretched me from every different direction all at once, trying to pull me apart.

I looked to see what it was, but still saw nothing, only darkness. The darkness itself was attempting to rip me apart. It was alive, and it was hungry. Larry, I called out again, straining. He made no reply. The darkness must have already taken him. The longer I stayed in this darkness, the more I felt as though it was trying to sear the flesh, from my bones. In the back of my mind, I could hear those words coming back to me, the monster.

You're mine now, and you'll never leave my cave. And that's when I realized what I had to do. I had to do what little Johnny did. I had to run. Summending every bit, every minute reserve of stamina I had in me, and then some, I turned and bolted like a bat straight out of hell towards the exits, or at least where I thought the exit originally was. It was a struggle to move or even breathe, and the stumps were in hot pursuit behind me. Like with before, all I could see was blackness ahead. The feeling of being stretched was coming from all around me now. The darkness had me encircled, and yet still I ran. I couldn't stop. I have to get out. Because of this, I don't know how long or even really how far I'd ran when I suddenly tripped and was sent tumbling.

I could feel an excruciating pain to shoot through my right arm when I tried to break my fall, clearly having broken it. I struggled back to my feet and started sort of limp running. As much as it hurt, though, I had to keep going. I could feel my leg starting to ache. I was afraid at any second I collapse again, and this time I wouldn't be able to will myself back up. And then the darkness, the cave, the monster, would have me like it had Larry. Oh God, I'm not going to make it.

But then, as if an angel was extending me some sort of blessing or divine intervention, I saw dead ahead through the darkness, the opening of the cave. I pushed my body beyond all limit to break into a sprint for it. Behind me I could hear it quickening its own stride, realizing that I was about to get away. he was getting desperate In one last burst I launched myself

From where I was standing Out from the cave Once again I was sent rolling And tumbling into the woods When I finally landed still My body instantly racked all over With eggs and pains In almost every part of my body

I opened my eyes And looked up Above me was the night sky Dark silhouettes of trees Learing over me I'd have jumped for joy Were it not for the pain coursing through me. I'd done it. I'd made it out. I'm alive. I was able to let out a strained

laugh of relief. This feeling was soon replaced with alarm. Oh, Larry, he's still in there. I looked up and over to the cave. I wanted to go back for him to rescue him from the cave, just like little Johnny with his little brother. At the same time, though, I knew that it would be no good. even if he were still alive, not consumed by the darkness like how wine almost was. Well, I was in no shape to be able to get him out of there. Thoughts flooded my head, imagining Larry, screaming in terror, his skin being slowly burned away until only his bones remained. Oh God, what do I do?

In the end, I decided to try heading back to the SUV, where I then drive out to the nearest town to fight help. Admittedly, I wasn't sure what good anybody else would do, given that it wasn't like I could give any sort of detail as to where in the mountain the cave was. Plus, I knew the chances of finding him inside, or even what could have been left of him, alive or dead, would be essentially way for slim to absolutely none.

It was difficult, having to try and backtrack in the dark, exhausted and in a lot of pain from my arm, as well as the effects of the darkness still only slowly wearing off. but I couldn't have cared less. I was determined to make it back to my vehicle. Eventually, come the very beginning of daybreak, I found the SUV again. The last speck of energy was spent shambling forward and getting inside.

After that, completely spent physically, emotionally and mentally, I just lay back in my seat of that exhaustion overtake me. When I woke again, it was broad daylight outside. my body still ached and I knew with my hand I wouldn't be able to drive when I tried to use my phone it wouldn't turn on looking around though I found that Larry had left his phone in the SUV another stroke of luck found me when I saw that

from where I was I actually had service and was able to call for help it was about an hour and a half that I just sat in the SUV before an ambulance was able to arrive from that point to now only a few days later much of this is just history I was of course taken to the hospital where I recovered when asked what happened

I just said that I fell while hiking in the mountains I didn't try telling the doctors or anyone else for that matter about the cave or Larry oh why bother it's not like they could even find it much less help he also feigned ignorance when trying to figure out what was causing me to feel weak all the time

drained I was finally discharged a few hours later, where I then returned home. The whole way, all I could do was think about everything that had just happened. What was in the cave? I mean, I know it was darkness, sure, but how was it so alive? This led me to finally break my little unspoken rule I talked about earlier, and asked the one person who'd actually be able to possibly give me some proper answers. Dad It was yesterday morning that I decided to pay him

and Mara a visit They of course were ecstatic that I was in town And I told them that I was glad to see them For a while I sat and just talked with the both of them Until Ma said she regrettably Had to leave to play bingo with her friends After she left That was when I finally decided to ask Dad

Like he would back when I was little His face dropped abruptly into that treadmill outlook of stoicism. Dad, I pushed. Where did you hear about that story from? Who told it to you? He just stared coldly at me. Oh, what he told me, son.

He replied in a grave tone. I didn't hear it either. I saw him shudder. He didn't say anything else after that. Obviously, I wanted to push him, but I could tell I'd already spoiled the cheer from earlier. As it turned out, though, he wouldn't need to say anything more anyway. As I apologized and I was about to leave,

Dad stopped me and thrust something into my chest. Well, if you really want to know the truth, he said, this'll tell you all you need to know about little Johnny's cave. He then turned and walked away while I did the same, tucking it away in my pocket. It was when I returned back to the dorm that I looked at what he'd given me. It was an old photo of two little boys in what looked to be the woods. With one of the boys, presumably being him, judging by how familiar he looked, the other one was someone I didn't recognize at all.

There were closer looks at my head spinning. I realized that these weren't just any two boys. They were the ones pictured in the articles online. I also recognized the woods to be the clearing from Grenview Pines where we'd found the cave. The boy standing next to Dad had a circle drawn around him in red And under it were the words I haven't forgotten you, Colin John

That's when it all clicked That's when I finally understood after all these years And after what had happened to me Why Dad was always so scared of that story I understood just how real it finally was He was little Johnny He lost his best friend A brother to the darkness of the cave

just like I had lost Larry. Because of this, even though he made it out in the end, there was, and always would be, a part of him that's trapped there, surrounded and being ripped apart by the darkness, still trying to find its way out again. And now the same is true for me. I'm going to end this by saying that there is a reason to fear the dark. It's a mysterious thing, capable of feats evidently still not yet known, as well as this

it's hungry unless you run to the light it will take you and devour you the way it did my friend and almost did with me I don't know if Larry could still be alive I doubt it of course but a part of me still wants to hope

that he's in there still running to find the way out and sometimes I think I even hear it his footsteps still trying to Get out. The truth of Bradwell's radio station by Carlos Pandiela. Part what. People say it's good to get the truth out there, off your chest and into the wild. And that's what I want to do now,

while I still can. I'm at most of this down quite some time ago, and to be honest, I left a lot of lies thrown about the whole thing. Some small, some large, some just enough in between to make the rest stick. Yet knowing what I know and feeling like I feel. feel it's about time to put it down again proper with the honest truth laid bare no matter who gets hurt lord knows plenty of people have already been hurt by me maybe not directly but guilt carries its aim with a true and deft eye i ran far hid in another life tried to forget it but even after all these years i cannot drop these chains on my soul they rattle and creak in the lonely hours of the night reminding me nightly of those shameful sins

More than once, I felt far too akin to the old ghost of Marley. Well, I cower in disgust of the long life I've lived. I should have stayed, said something more, tried something more, anything but what I did. I pretend as if those screams were just dogs baying in the night. I acted as if I forgot the way to that old place, as if the right turn-off of Olive Avenue didn't exist. If you're hearing or reading this now, then the good doctor received my letters. he's put the truth out there i really reckon that many of the eyes and ears that it graces will

simply ignore the matter maybe even much less pay rightful heed to any of it i can't say i blame anyone for doing that it's easier to just say things like this don't happen or don't exist and i can assure you that there is full truth in what i have to say it's not brought about by a mind filled with booze or aged illness the memories of that place are deadlocked into crystal clarity at the forefront of my mind. Every empty moment I find they fill with sorrowful remorse and echoing terror.

With the time that is left, let me tell you all I can about the Bradwell's radio station. Many people won't know the name, and less I assume, even where it was. It wasn't exactly a place that was open for the public after all.

The station was in Georgia, or at least part of it was. I lived in a small town close by it called Blair's, back then. It was a good place. Probably still is. Haven't been back there in decades. Not since it all happened.

I was right near the end of 1965. A cold November air had already well and set down across the land. I'd just turn 20 the day before. I didn't even remember bits and pieces of the party. My mother had long since passed, back when

we used to live in London. Even so my father always made sure to make any occasion feel like she was still with us. He couldn't cook a damn thing, yet someone managed to bake a cake that was marginally edible. The effort was heartwarming. We laughed at the burned sludge that he called a cake. He gave me a beer and we relaxed on the deck, staring at the stars, wondering which one mom had decided to call home. Damn, I miss those times.

It had been an interesting year already. A man had walked outside in space and then another right on the moon itself. Two of my friends, Eric and Charles, both died in Vietnam. I got my first real job at the hardware store downtown. Even lost my virginity to the married woman that worked at the pharmacy across from there. College was something I had considered but was still up in the air for a lot of reasons. I thought I'd crossed over into my true adult life. I felt like as if I was ready to handle what the world would throw at me.

Yet the next few weeks would leave me a mess of a man before the years end. It was the second week of the month. A decent snowfall had already come through the town. In that particular morning, we noticed a strange issue with the radio on the way in. For about a good ten minutes, there was nothing but static all across the bands. Not a single signal was coming in strong. We talked about it, even made a joke that it was the Russian somehow. It cleared up soon enough, and we just forgot about it as the day went off.

Dad dropped me off at the hardware store and went on ahead to the the school where he worked as a coach. I loved that job, and it loved him back. As he drove off, I saw Mrs. Callaway waving at me from across the street. She was a full eight years my senior, and was none too shy about showing me the carnal ropes with her experience. Looking back on it, I do feel remorse from being the other man. Yet, even with hindsight, I can't say my hormone-driven body would have acted any differently. That brief week or so of romantic encounters with her had me thinking I was some kind of something it filled me with his idiot's pride and fools courage as if I was somehow more than I was simply because I could aim and point with my well you know what

I spent that day working with thoughts of a lusty midnight rendezvous with Mrs Calloway pushing me to ensure I didn't have to work late yet as things tend to happen I did end up working later than expected due to a huge spill of parts in the store two kids had run in and done a number on the shelves for fun. I let my dad know I'd catch a ride out later on, hoping it'll be with Mrs. Canaway, not to worry. As we worked, the store owner, Mr. Hartcliffe, turned on the radio so we could work with some music. The tunes came out pretty well for a few minutes, but then we suddenly got the static issue again, just as before it was on all the bands. However, unlike before, we did hear something beside static.

Just for a few seconds in a faint, almost dreamlike tone, the sound of a woman whispering came through. At that time, I couldn't make out what she was saying, but it definitely sounded like a woman. Within moments it was done, and the static faded back into some great rock music. I turned to look at Mr. Harcliffe to ask if he'd heard the voices as well. He said it must be something wrong with the radio stations,

songs mixing together, or something like that. He hurried off to finish counting the spilled infantry, muttering about snot-nosed brats. We left the matter alone and finished cleaning up. And it stuck in my head as I swept the floor. Every now and then I found myself hoping it would happen again, so I could make out what the voice was whispering. Nightfall came, and we just finished closing up. Bidding good night to Mr. Harkliff,

I walked out with youthful hope to see if Mrs. Callaway was still waiting up for me. I spotted her car down the road and made my way there, happy to see my night wasn't ruined. Making her way towards a nice, remote place just outside town, we wasted a little time. As per the normal, we turned the radio on as we did. Just as I was getting my pants off, the same effect came through again. The music faded out into static. Mrs. Calloway moved to change the stations, and yet again it was everywhere. She was complaining about the car having a lousy radio, and it was all her husband's fault, as most things seemed to be.

I didn't mean to, but I found myself rushing up to shush her. The soft press on her lips smouched her lipstick a bit. Her face spiked with a bit of anger at the motion, but I had to keep her quiet. The static had faded slightly again, and the voice was back in saying something. I tried my best to hear it, to make out any part of it. But it was gone again just as quickly as before. The radio went back to normal and remained that way for the rest of the night. I could have pondered on it more, but Mrs. Callaway's carnal attention drew my mind away from any deep thinking for the rest of our time out there.

A young, hormone-fuelled mind is such an easy thing to sway. That night when I got home, my father was asleep on the sofa. I pulled up a blanket for him, and went to pick up the dinner plate that he left on the coffee table. It was close to midnight and the station's sign-off was getting ready to play. The National Anthem was already playing itself out when I walked back from the kitchen. As I made my way out to shut off the TV, the static came on. For a moment I was expecting to hear the voice again, and somehow it filled me with a temporary sense of fear.

Why that was, I couldn't explain at that time. I remembered that, of course, the TV goes to static after midnight. This wasn't something strange, it was normal. Even so I remember walking up with a bit of caution before I clicked it off. I don't know what I expected to happen. That night I had a restless sleep. I had these nonsense dreams of falling through doors in the floor or being lost in a purple ocean. Strange stuff, none of it making any sense, yet all of them feeling very real in some way.

Morning came and I'd felt as if I'd worked a graveyard shift. I was exhausted through and through. The day's run at the hardware store was thankfully quite uneventful, save for one fellow that came in near mid-day. Blaisville was a small town, a kind of place where you really did know just about everyone, and this person was definitely not from around town. He came in wearing a red mechanic's jumpsuit with an orange bird on the back.

His face looked tired, worn out. His hair was a shaggy mask. His look, coupled with the way he moved and looked, it was like he was in a hurry and somebody was coming to get him. The other thing was that he bought a hefty bit of our stock as well. Mr. Hartcliffe was out to a late lunch, so it was just me there. He ended up spending over $600 on miscellaneous items. Back in 1965, that was a hell of a lot. Today that would easily be over a few grand spent.

He bought shovels, tape, bag. all sorts of screws, safe and damn near anything else we had laying out. When I went to ring him up, he just put $900 in cash down, saying it would cover everything. I wanted to say something about it being too much, but he was done and gone before I could really protest. When Mr. Harcliffe came back, he was surprised to say the least. He thought the man might have been a robber of some sort when I described him. He decided to hold on to the money for a while just in case he came back.

I was a look on his face when I mentioned the red jumpsuit. He asked me about the orange bird on the back without being prompted. When I told him there was one, he just looked off into the street as if in deep thought. When I pressed him on it later, he just said not to worry about it. That evening we closed up shop together and went our normal ways. It hit me that I hadn't seen Mrs. Callaway at all that day. I decided to see if her car was down the road. per our normal meeting spots, but it wasn't.

I went back to the pharmacy, but she wasn't there either. Thinking that she'd just gone home for the night, I decided to walk up towards the school to get a ride back with my father on his way out. It was a football practice night, so I knew he'd still be there. He was happy to see me, and we enjoyed a quick diner burger on the way home. We talked about our day, and I shared the story about the big spender that had come through the shop. All in all, it was a nice, decent evening. I can't stress to people how important times like that are.

It's too bad that you only realise that once they pass into memory. While we chowed down on those wonderful dinerburgers, the news played on the radio. Some depressing bits here and there, as always, but what caught my ears was the sudden static that came in. This time it was louder and almost rhythmic in its tongue. Got to a very high pitch and then wane down to a mere thumping murmur. No whispering voice this time. It just ended and the last bit of the newscast finished out. Someone in the back yelled to get that damn junker fixed.

People laughed, including us, and the night just sort of moved along for everyone. Well, everyone except for me. I laughed along with my dad, but even then, sitting in that diner, I knew something was wrong. I didn't want to give it any notice, but it was a feeling that I couldn't shake off completely. seemingly I was the only one feeling that way. As we drove home that night, the radio in the truck went in and out of static events. Each one only lasted about two or three seconds at a time. My dad said it must be something wrong with the station.

He mentioned Mr. Harcliffe might know something about it. I asked why, and my father informed me that Mr. Harcliffe had been a radio operator in the Navy for a while, and stuff like that was in his wheelhouse. I made a mental note to talk to my work the next day. stay about it. That night my sleep was nearly as dreadful as the night before. Hard to make out dreams that lasted only moments at a time rushed at me every time I laid down. The same thing's over and over. rushing waves and roaring storms on some oddly coloured beaches. At best I made it to the morning with a single solid hour of sleep to get me through the day. Heading into work, I noticed

that the pharmacy was still closed. The couple that ran the place, usually had it open for an hour before everyone else. I also didn't see Mrs. Calloway's car parked anywhere. I thought it odd, of course, but just let it go for the moment. After all, people were allowed to be late from time to time. Mr. Hartcliffe was already in the hardware store as usual. I greeted him and hung my coat up, moving to grab a cup of coffee from the back. With the morning duties settled in, I went right into my questions about the odd radio activity.

I explained that it was happening quite a bit in the past few days, and of course of the weird display at the diner the night before. He made a quick joke about my father talking about the past a bit too much, and walked off to handle the inventory sheet again. I inquired about it a few more times, and he found ways to deflect the question each time. I could not grasp why he was being so stand-offish about the radio static. It was, after all, just a simple question of interference, or so I thought.

On my last bit of prodding He shot me a very heavy glare And walked right up to me He said some things are better not discussed in public Like a certain local affair going on With a certain married redhead It took me a moment to process what he was saying As my stomach dropped

Right away I got that he was keen on my late-night meet talks With Mrs Callaway And that took me for a shock Though I also got the implication That he didn't want to talk about the radio issue either, and the why of that made me even more interested to pick his brain on the matter.

He grabbed my arm and simply whispered, top storage ten minutes, act normal. Shortly after making a hurried show of sweeping the floors and checking the register, I made my way up to the storage room above the shop.

Mr. Hartcliffe shut and locked the door behind me. He heard this sour expression on his face, almost as if he was fighting the idea of talking to me. Eventually we sat down on a collection of boxes and he began to speak. He told me a bit about his time in the Navy, about things he'd learned, things he'd seen, and things he hoped never to experience again. Then he got on to the odd radio static that we had going on. He explained that it was a rogue signal, or rather a pirate radio station in operation.

Although he also said that it was more than that. I won't bore you with the details but he spent a decent amount of time explaining the nature of radio waves and the general science behind them to me suffice to say the man seemed to know his stuff he then went on to tell me

that these static events were something we shouldn't be hearing more directly it was something that humans shouldn't be able to hear at all when I asked him what he meant he just nodded and left it at that he did elaborate on where the signal was coming from them

according to him at some point in the past five years a private contractor had brought up a piece of land west of the town a place off in the woods you could reach it by taking the right turn off of olive avenue down the dirt path if you kept going straight you'd see the small single-story building where they'd set up It was a remote spot, hard to find unless you knew to look for it. Well, even if you did know where to look, it was still a rough place to get to. I spent a good deal of time using various techniques to make it look like just another green spot in the forest. He added that he was sure they'd built some form of transmitter on the site as he noticed the trucks roll through with the materials. Well, he could tell what they were right away. Not long after that, the site went online.

There was some kind of electrical accident at the station which left them with a need for multiple quick repairs. This is how he'd gotten involved with them. A representative brought him over to help with wiring work. Seemingly they had knowledge of his background in the Navy. They paid him to be quiet on anything he saw, had him sign a lot of papers as well. I asked him why they hadn't just brought on one of their own. He said he got the feeling they wanted to keep all their work.

as local and secret as possible and they knew how to ensure the secrecy from the way he said it from the way he said it i could only assume they'd threatened him in more ways than one to stay silent mr hartcliffe said that the kind of radio transmissions that place worked with are natural or man-made but something wholly apart from such easy logic as he put it as sounds you hear from that transmitter were never meant for people, they leave you with a sickness of the soul. His comments were anything but sensible to me at the time. Well, at points, he seemed to be more in his own thoughts than actually speaking to me at all. He continued that, sometime in 1964, the place had had some kind of incident, and then it seemed to just close up shop, as it were. Mr. Harkliff said that the people

who worked there only came into town on rare occasions, maybe three times in total. and the whole length they were there. He only knew the place was shut down. He went to check on a delivery that was never picked up at the shop. When he got there, he said the place was boarded up on the outside and looked like it had been abandoned. The odd thing he said about it, though, it wasn't as if they'd left it sometime in the past few months or years.

It looked as if it had been empty for decades on end. Even stranger, he said that there were signs on the front warning people to stay away due to the danger of a chemical spill, but they looked rather new. The path up to the place had fresh tyre tracks as well. Seemingly, someone was still tending to the sight, even in its dilapidated state. Mr. Harcliffe had that sour and heavy look on his face again, as if he could already understand my next line of questioning on the matter. "'What am I telling you all this?' he said.

I shook my head, agreeing with him. seemed like something he didn't want to talk about. He explained that the voice we heard on the radio the other day had been one he knew. It was a voice that he didn't want to hear anymore. Mr. Harkliff looked visibly agitated at the thought of the radio issue when he spoke. Then he nervously stood up to check the door one more time

as well as a single window in the room. Sitting down again, he proceeded to tell me about what was really going on at that radio station. sometime during that initial repair work he'd done he came into contact with a young girl that resided there she had to be no older than 18 or 19 he said she was inside a small room where the wiring work was needed some of the other staff members were there watching him as well all wearing the same red jumpsuits with the bird symbol on the back he noticed that none of them would come into the room with him though The room itself appeared to be soundproof. Overall, he said it was an hard experience to say the least.

He tried to make small talk with the girl there, but she just stared at him in silence the entire time he was there, nearly four hours of just looking at him sitting nearly motionless. I found it strange that when I asked what she looked like, he gave me conflicting answers. He said that she looked rather plain, unremarkable in features, and altogether easily overlooked.

In fact, he mentioned that during his work he'd at times forget she was even in the room. He started saying she was a blonde, but then said she was a redhead, or maybe she'd had black hair. She might have been short or tall, possibly black or white. He said memories are funny things sometimes,

and I have to admit at this point, my trust in his words began to falter a bit. Mr. Hartcliffe raised his head to look at me, as if he knew what level of crazy I was trying to place him at. I don't know what you think. This is some issue with my age or I just lost my mind a bit, he said to me. That place, what they had in there, makes it hard to be clear with things, he added. He told me that, after he'd finished the repair work, he was rushed outside and given a bag full of money,

enough that he could buy a new truck outright. Well, he wanted to ask questions, but he said the person. place had an honest dread about it that made you just want to be gone. Yet as he made his way down the trail and out, he heard a voice, soft and whisper-like behind him. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He heard it once more. When he turned to look, the girl was there. She said something to him, but it was too low to make out. He said he blinked and she was just gone. One of the staff members asked him to keep moving. If you saw the girl or not, He didn't make any mention of it.

He drove home that night and said he came up with some light to tell his wife about the money. It's that heavy with him, but that quickly faded as strange events started to take place over the next few weeks. One, he started to hear an odd hum of static build-up on the radio from time to time. Maybe once or twice he could hear a voice in the static, but nothing definite, at least not right away. The strange dream started not too long after that. his description mirrored my own dreams in his confusion and odd surroundings and then he told me about the night he went back it was roughly three weeks later somehow there was another issue with the wiring again as with before they came to get him and told him little about the matter

only that he needed it fixed again when he arrived at the building he could see what appeared to be evidence of violence near the side from his description one of the jumpsuits have been ripped a shreds along with whoever was wearing it. Blood and gore had covered the side wall, even after visible attempts to clear it away. He said the blood looked melted somehow. Mr. Harkleff said he did ask what happened, but the staff just replied it was an accident,

and never elaborated more. Went to the same room as before, and the girl was there as well. Yet this time she was sitting under a table, looking out at him with heavy blue eyes. That detail he could remember. this time. He said for sure she had these great and forceful blue eyes. Sometimes they even look violent. Eyes that could run along your spine as sure as any cold winds, as he put it. Something was different about the place as well. It felt like it had been taken apart and built over again,

or was still in the process of being built. Panels were exposed in some places and other spots looked to belong to an entirely different building altogether. He was able to finish the job easy enough, and went to exit the room, but as he did, he felt the back of his jacket being tugged. The young girl was there holding on to him. He said he went to talk to her, maybe hold her hand, and the room itself seemed to shudder. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, flat on his ass, and feeling like a bull had run him down. The girl was nowhere to be seen. He thinks he passed out for a moment as he woke up in his car with another bag of money next to him.

He didn't bother going back to the sight to take. check anything else out that night. He just drove home and sat in his chair waiting for any kind of sleep he could get. The following day, that's when the radio static started coming on again. Mr. Hartcliffe said he woke up to the radio playing next to him. His wife had turned it on when she got up, letting him sleep. At first there was a moment where he was trying to recollect the moments of the night before, trying to see if it was real, although he said that the bag of money next to him was proof enough it had been real. Just about then his wife made a remark about the music playing on the radio.

She said it was something about it, not being familiar, wondering what station it was set on. Mr. Harcliffe said he listened to the song and it sounded like a woman singing a love song, albeit in a hush, whispered tone. At once he thought of the young girl in that room. Played for a few more moments and then went to that low hum of static we both knew. And that's when something new happened with a static. He said that a commercial came on, one of us all. Another woman's voice came through, nice and strong this time.

They wanted everyone to remember to eat well, to check out Bradwell's radio for all their nightly songs, for all the best dreamers out there. Asked him what Bradwell's was, as I've never heard the name before. Mr. Harkleyf responded that at the time it was new to him as well. However, he was sure that it was one and the same with the location he'd been working out of. All the following days he would hear the same broadcast over and over.

Some nights he would dream in vivid, restless oddities. Other nights he would just wake up feeling as if he'd just run a marathon. Then one day on his way into the hardware store, he heard the static again, only this time it caught out to him by name. He stopped his car to pay attention as it came through again. The thing was, he said, it sounded like it was past the radio and right on his shoulder. He told me how he gripped the steering wheel and closed his eyes, not daring to look around. One more time he heard the voice and felt a hand running down his back, a set of cold fingers placed under his ear.

The sensation wracked his nerves with trembles of fear until he couldn't bear it any longer. He said that when he opened his eyes, there was nothing there, save the sound of that same song on the radio again. The moment had him broken for a while. He sat outside his car trying to catch his breath, to calm his nerves, simply trying to collect his mental faculties. Late that same day, one of the jumpsuit staff members came to see him at the store. At first he thought they were there to get him again. But this time the man simply brought a set of papers. Just an order of items they wanted for the sites.

Nothing really fancy, just items for repairs and clean-up. The man who dropped it off said nearly nothing and paid in full right away. He said he would pick it up next week. Mr. Harkleaf said he asked the man if the station was called Bradwell's. The man looked at him with a shocked face. The fellow simply said, Yeah, and walked out, appearing to suddenly become quite worried. That was the last time anyone from the sight came through.

As he mentioned, the delivery arrived and was never picked up. Seeing as he was paid for the order, he felt that he should at least ensure they got it. Driving up to the site, he saw the state the building was in, run down and in disrepair. The place was nothing like he remembered it. Yet even in its seemingly abandoned state, the short radio tower on the back seemed to be up and powered. Although he did mention it looked different now, more complex in a way. It had various extra amplifiers and what he assumed were wired power sources on it.

He unloaded the materials and left them there at the front of the building. he said he didn't feel right holding on to them just as he was placing the last bit of it he happened to look around the side area saw a bit of red cloth by the entry gate moving up a bit closer he could see it was what he suspected one of the staff members the body had been impaled on the brick wall by a piece of metal the head had been rather horribly taken off and the spot around it seemed to be covered in a dull heat of some sort of a bit of a bit of a bit of a piece of metal the head had been rather horribly taken off and the spot around it seemed to be covered in a dull heat of some sort of Mr. Harkleaf stated that he turned to leave not wanting to spend another second at that place. When he did, he heard the same soft-spoken voice that he had come to dread. That time he did not turn, he just ran to the car and drove home as quickly as he could. He noted he did not turn on the radio, even so the light hum of static tried to come through. Weeks went on after that event, and here and there the static would come through on the radio. Sometimes the voice would be heard, other times not.

Eventually the issue stopped altogether right at the start of the next year. No single person other than his wife seemed to even notice the matter, and even she seemed to forget about it rather quickly. I asked about the dreams, and he said those were gone as well, for the most part they went away with her. I asked him what he meant by that last part. He looked down at his hands and squeezed them as if trying to let go of something within. And then he asked me,

Do you remember my wife? Do you remember Eliza? He looked up at me, asking the same question again with tears in his eyes. Do you remember my damn wife or not? He asked again, sternly. Suddenly, just then it hit me that I had no memory of her. I don't remember him ever talking about her until just that moment.

Eliza was your graduation, most of your birthday parties and Christmas. he said to me she was a real woman a real person that you knew he added mr harcliffe looked so defeated at that moment as if he'd experienced this same loss over and over many times before everyone i talked to her about her they just forget a few minutes later or act like i never said a word about her in the first place he said they asked him directly what had happened to her he sobbed and said that the thing from the static took her. It sang to her one night and she walked off into the moon. I was confused again. The man was speaking in fanatics to him. He told me to wait.

If we could just wait five minutes and I still remembered who he was talking about, that he would continue. Otherwise, it would be pointless. We sat there in the storeroom for at least five minutes or more in total silence. He would not let me speak a word during that time. Finally, he would I looked at his watch and came back to me. Looking me square in the eyes, he asked me who Eliza was. I responded, your wife, right? He put his face in his hands and sobbed a bit more before coming to hug me. Oh, god damn it, you remember, you're real, you remember, he exclaimed.

I don't know why or how, even now, but I was able to retain details of his conversation. Mr. Hartcliffe said he's talked to me, my father, the police, even Eliza's own family about her disappearance. Each and every time it went the same. They acted as if she'd never existed at all. Shortly after, they'd all just forget what they were talking about to begin with. Yet now, months later, somehow I could. Now, everything up to that point had been quite strange already, but what he was about to tell me next, I simply found to be so out there so deeply unnatural that I simply could not take him at his word.

It was just too bizarre. This is what Mr. Harkleve said happened the night his wife disappeared. Eliza had been complaining of being hot throughout the evening. Not something that would be out of the ordinary, but the manner in which she complained seemed almost sexual in nature. I could see this flare of flirty movements come alive in her. something I had not seen in at least the past ten years from her. Oh, Mr. Harcliffe seemed to hold on to a memory then for a few seconds before continuing.

As the night went on, she changed into shorts and a large t-shirt of mine. We sat on the couch watching TV as always after dinner. She kept on being too hot and went to change again. It was odd because I was damn near freezing at that point. The eyes had came back to sit down wearing just her nighty. It was a normal one, nothing new, just this simple silk cream piece that she wore to bed. Just something was different about it that night. I couldn't stop looking at her.

It was like she was filled with this attractive force that had me staring like a horn-dog teenager all over again. However, what had drawn me to look at her seemed to be one-sided. She seemed to forget I was even there at that point. Her eyes had a far-off expression as if she truly was. left the living room for that moment. She began to speak in a whisper at first, rising in volume as she went on. It didn't seem as if she was speaking to me, more so just in general as if lost in a recollection. She spoke of missing the warmth of the violet oceans, the acrid smell of the

purple and blue sky, the way the wandering tree crowds would sway in the hot winds. She detailed how the strong smells of blood and oil would waft across the villages. She smiled. She smiled as she detailed how laughter and screams alike would fill the old nights as the three moons cascaded the shore in brilliant lights. Her words exactly. It's like she'd called up these memories of some fantastic or dreadful place. Memories or maybe dreams? Well, what's the difference really? She'd started to breathe heavy, as if in some erotic event. I went to touch her, caress her, but this sudden push of coldness crawled over me. It felt a little. like I'd run into a nest of frozen spider webs, each and every icy strand repulsing me from her.

I checked my hand and face, expecting to find something or anything there. Empty hands and a seed of growing apprehension were all I'd found. I looked up from my shaking hands as she began to hum a tune. It was a light and soft melody. It was nearly the same as the one from the odd radio station. Eliza, well, she started to hum the song louder and louder. her. The eyes were closed now and the simple tune started to take on these complex patterns and noises. How she was making them baffled me. Something else, I noticed that one of my ears

had started to bleed. The weight of my own arms started to feel unnatural to me, as if they shouldn't have been there. The sensation of cold running along my back began to tense me up. Suddenly, Eliza stopped humming and let out a strong vocal burst of melody and pain. The song was almost a mirror of what had been playing on the radio, just, well, it was much more than a song. I tell you, I could see the waves of sound flowing here and there from her throat. Each reverberation carried images of a steaming sea or titanic well-like creatures bearing freakish commonalities with a crab or turtle.

It was like having my mind rearranged to suit the needs of their song. The impact of this performance had me on my back. I'd fallen to the floor and not even realized it. The song she sang was something no human could have formed. The notes carried ranges of such complexity that she simply could not have produced them. Imagine, if you will, one person singing the range of twenty or more people single-handedly at the same time. Soon, another wave of images struck out into my mind. Rolling fields of black grass dotted with sprays of blood from some unknown prey,

searing windsor-wept deserts of liquid silver hissed and popped, revealing mass graves beneath. Another showed me a small animal that resembled a horse or goat locked in the moor of something that looked nearly human, only just enough to let me know it could never have been so. My head roiled under both the song and the imagery. Perhaps they were both one and the same. Either way, a heavy black pressure pushed against my insides of bringing me in and out of consciousness. I remember trying to stand, get close to her, and fail time and time again. Eliza had begun to walk away from me.

She was leaving out of the door. I forced myself to crawl every inch I could to stop her. Somehow, even right then, I knew that she was going for good. By the time I was able to stand and walk, she had already been outside the house for some time, I gathered. There on our beautiful lawn with the freshly planted flowers and stupid little garden flamingos, my world broke apart in so many ways. Part two, Eliza stood under the brilliance of moonlight I had never before seen.

It was like the moon itself had bled into the ground before me. Moment by moment the light faded away, seemingly soaked directly into Eliza herself. She lay there moaning and writhing on the lawn in rhythmic patterns. The grass began to darken beneath her. The effects spread around her in chaotic. form. She was still singing her song, just barely above a whisper now, even so its debilitating effect was no less potent. I pushed myself to be as close to her as possible. Inch by inch I made my way to her. She started to laugh out loud. It sounded like she was both

right next to my ear and miles away at the same time. As I neared her, I could see patches of rough light begin to form under her skin. They moved around together in her body like a school of fish. Each second they wrapped around her seemed to intensify the light. Her laughter was joyful, childish even. As the light grew in volume, bits and pieces of her began to lift into the air. Soon more and more of her was broken and left floating in the space before me. I remember crying out in the cool night air. I had tears running down my cheeks. I don't know how long the process took. I lost semi-consciousness three, maybe four times again. Each time I did, the flashes of images came just a little bit closer to being real.

Eventually, I looked upon her for one last time. She lay there before me suspended in various stages of disconnection. Her body seemed to be merely illuminated paper strips floating on the wind, and then, bit by bit, they began to burn away into the sky. Small bits of ashen light flowed around her, with a howering, unnatural groan of pressurized air, The scene was blown apart. There was nothing left of my Eliza.

All I had left with my wonderful wife was the blackened spot where she'd laid outside on the grass. I mean that too. That was the last thing I had from her. I spent hours outside on that lawn, well into the next day trying to piece together what had happened. It wasn't until I went inside that I began to notice the changes. At first it was small things like missing jewelry or clothes. Then it became apparent that I had no pictures of Eliza left, not the ones that were hanging up, nor the ones in our album.

I ran frantically throughout our house. Everywhere I looked, any evidence of my wife had seemingly left along with her. Shoes, makeup, clothes, even her damn coffee cup, which is gone. I think I went insane for a moment, the first of many after that day. Well, I collected myself enough to talk to anyone I could. I was anywhere for help, asked every question I could, each and every time the same result always came back. People would listen to me, then after a few minutes, they would just greet me again as if I'd only just arrived. Not a single person could remember who Eliza was, nor keep any sense of focus on what I was saying about her.

I even forced a friend of hers down once, made her listen to me for hours on end about Eliza. even then after all the ugly things i did to her she came around to this black state once again as if we'd never talked about her once she even thanked me for helping her out of the dingy little toolshed she'd found herself in well i nearly gave up on life itself after that one to the point that that i even went home to shoot myself in the head anything to make the whole damn nightmare just end do you know the god-awful ugly joke of that i bought the gun years ago but eliza's revealed been the one to buy the bullets for it when I asked her to pick them up. So as with anything else of hers, they too were but a madman's memory. I think I'd destroyed half my damn

house that night in a blinding rage. For the next few weeks I did my best to work through it all. I actually made myself believe that she never existed, that the real issue was the woman I'd invented. I forced myself to fully buy into the notion that the love of my life was merely a delusional concept. Month later, I was able to go to work properly. No one even seemed to notice that the store had been closed for so long.

Not a single question from a soul. Life had gone back to some feted form of normalcy. All it took was breaking down my own mind and losing it over and over again until I couldn't fight the crazy anymore. That was until a few days ago when that damn static came through

on the radio again. just like before back at that place. I can't ignore this noise around me. I don't know what it is. I have my own theories, but I gave up on understanding it all a long time ago. One thing I am positive of is the feeling just sitting at just the edge of my stomach.

It's the kind of thing you learn to trust in the military. This feeling stirs deep inside of you as if it can sense the knife's tip coming right up behind you. You know that something's out there. It's hungering for your life. right now that feeling is tenfold on me i know something's wrong i just can't understand it in truth i don't want to either now you know the same crazy that i know of son with his story concluded mr harcliffe seemed to close up mentally for a moment letting a few tears loose there was a sense of release about the man mixed into his fear and worry i suppose that being able to share his story with someone able to listen to him

to it had its merits. Now, if his story was true, I couldn't imagine the near mental torture that he would have endured. Then again, that was the real crux of it for me at this point. Did I really believe the insane story he'd unloaded on me? Honestly, how in the hell could I? It was every bit the fantastical flight of a madman's fiction. The thought did cross my mind that perhaps he'd murdered his own wife and created his work of fiction to deal with his grief and remorse. Then again, there were far too many other overreaching oddities to simply brush him off. Sounds on the radio, the way people seemed to just pass over them as though nothing happened. Then there were the nights of restless dreaming I'd experienced. They

sounded eerily close to what Mr. Harcliffe had detailed. We were still silence, remote, before he spoke up. He knew that it would take time for me to really process what he told me. We talked about what to do, how to proceed with our days. His only advice at the moment was to keep my head low and hope it would all blow over. When he asked him what he'd do, he looked away and chewed his lower lip, mulling the response over. I'm going to take a drive, his haul he said back to me. He asked that I go downstairs and tend to the shop for a while. I did as he asked. It was a slow day after that.

no one came in and everything had been counted over a few times already about an hour after our conversation mr hartcliffe came down with a few heavily packed duffelbacks he grabbed his hat from behind the counter and left the store keys by the register he stopped to grab a soda from the front and took a large mouthful before throwing it in the trash i asked him if he was heading out he replied that he was going to take that drive. With a nod, he pointed to the keys by the register, telling me to lock up tight as he'd be out late. A few seconds of smiling and silence later, he was out the door and in his truck. A bit more, and he was down the road and gone. That was the last time I ever saw, Mr. Hartcliffe. I wish I'd known it back then. I wanted to ask him so much more. Help him if I could. Yet such

is the handicap of hindsight. It's only in the present that we can accept the past and it's only in the future that we can appreciate it. In the present, it's just moments of choices waiting to play out. Maybe you make the right one, maybe the wrong one, or maybe none of your options mattered in the first place. Funny thing is that even the good choices can lead to the worst outcomes. The rest of my day after Mr. Harkliff's departure was a tedious affair. I spent most of it staring out into the street, wondering if Mrs. Calloway would show up at the fallacy. As the evening set in, I gave up on seeing her that day. Nothing else happened until right about twenty minutes to closing time. That's when the radio came off. You see,

the crazy thing about it was that I didn't even have it plugged in. It wasn't a battery-operated model either. Even so, it was on, playing a low, sweet melody through a patchy bit of static. I backed away from the radio at first, not knowing what to do. I was so tired at that point I considered it was just something in my head. I found a bit of resolve and forced myself to handle it. I gritted my teeth and moved to shut off the radio. With a shaky hand, I reached out for the power knob. No matter how many times I turned the knob to the off position, it would not stop. I had a frustration and admittedly some fear as well. I took the radio and threw it in the upstairs attic. I ran down the stairs and locked the doors to the shop as quickly as I could,

fumbling with a lock the entire time. I was breathing heavily as I backed away from the shop. Some people took notice of me, but I just smiled and waved them on. Not knowing what to do, I ran down to the high school, hoping to see my father. I needed somewhere to be. some place that felt normal. On the way I passed by the diner. The smell of cheap steaks and fries filled the evening air. Suddenly it hit me how hungry I was. It was crazy how you can forget to eat like that.

I stopped to contemplate picking up a plate to go. I thought that maybe all I really needed was a good rest and something decent in my stomach. Maybe, for just a moment, I could push away the nonsense of that damn static. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried my absolute best to think just normally for a bit. Well, it didn't last long. I felt a hand on my shoulder, large and heavy. I turned around and spotted none other than Mr. Callaway himself.

An imposing brute of a man and stature alone. Well, I could never outfight him. I thought that was it right there. I'd be beaten to death in front of the diner that night, and everyone would know why. Part of me even wanted to take the beating. After all, it was his wife I was sleeping with. So I brace myself for what I thought would be a deadly haymaker coming in.

Instead, he simply looked me in the eyes and asked me if I'd seen his wife. Mr. Calloway's eyes were tired and worn. He looked down at me with a low face. He was a man who'd been through something hard recently. Maybe he did know about me and his wife, or maybe not. Either way, he was hurting. He told me that he'd not seen her for a few days. He said she didn't take anything, her clothes, shoes, car,

all of it was just sitting there at the house. I told him that she didn't seem to have shown up for work today. In fact, the pharmacy didn't even open at all. He said he'd noticed. He'd been there a few times already. He thanked me for my time and went into the diner to inquire about her. Something about meeting him face to face like that. It's like being dragged along the coals with my own.

my sins in tow. Well, it had been a fun affair, but seeing him like that made it all too real. See, that's what hindsight gets you. Knowledge of your failure, just far too late to fix anything. You can say that it helps in moving

forward, but it does nothing for the wrecks you already burned through. I decided against getting a meal that night. My appetite left me somewhere in Mr. Calloway's sad eyes. I made my way towards the high school, hoping to lose myself somewhere in that wall.

Snow was coming in a bit thicker this night. Each step began to be more work. The wind picked up a bit, and then a bit more. A cold bite found its way on my face and ears. I cursed myself for leaving my hat at the store that night. And then, there, for a brief moment, I felt the touch of a hand on my leg. I nearly jumped right out of the snow.

I looked around frantically. I knew something was there. I'd felt the grip on my jeans. Whatever it was, I couldn't see it. I don't know if I wanted to really find it whatever it was. I just started to run as hard as I could through the snow, hoping that if I just pushed through, I could make it to the school without incident.

I would not be so lucky. As I ran, within a few horrible moments, the area became unfamiliar to me, a route that I'd walked for over the past 17, years that I knew like the back of my hand had become alien to me. They were branching paths I'd never seen before, trees of odd growth and flowers that had these strange, vibrant colors appearing next to me. In a fluid and sickening motion, the snow around me seemed to collide and fade into a vast

ocean before me. I can no longer feel the bite of the cold, instead an intense wave of heat rolled in from the crashing waves. A pungent scent of blood filled my nose. the sound of rocks crumbling and skittering plates came from behind me. I looked at the source and saw a colossal, lobster-like creature of wild design descending from a cliffside. I heard my name called out from somewhere. Looking around, I spotted someone further down the beach.

I don't know how to properly describe what I was seeing. If my eyes were being honest, it looked like Mrs. Callaway. Only wasn't her. The thing had her features, but they were all wrong. Her body seemed to heave and sway with these jerky movements. Her arms were elongated and ended with massive white pincers. The worst part was her smile. Her face seemed so perfectly happy.

Something small and red fell from her lips as she got closer. Then I could tell she was not simply walking towards me, but running with an odd gaits as if one leg was not the same lengths as the other. now. She laughed as she did. The sound echoed in my ears, it started to hurt all over. Without a doubt, I was in the grips of fear, yet even so I could remember feeling something else. Maybe sadness or longing. It didn't matter. I thought my life was ending for a second time that night. And suddenly, the whole ordeal seemed to be over nearly as soon as it had started. I found myself right at the high school's entrance with a fresh layer of snow on me.

With a fresh core of fear still within, I ran up the stairs and threw the double doors as quickly as I could. I slid down against a wall, trying with all my intact sanity to understand what I'd just seen. So much of me wanted to provide clear-cut logical answers to the event, but instead I just went crazier with each passing moment that I thought about it. I must have zoned out at some point. I looked up to see my father standing over me, offering me his hand. There were a few other people around as well. Seemingly, someone had gone to get him after finding me a wreck on the floor. He offered some excuse to them, something about being tired from work.

I remember driving home with him that night. He offered to stop to get something to eat at the diner again. Thinking about Mr. Calloway and, in turn, Mrs. Calloway. I declined. I wanted to be home with the doors locked right away. Dad and I sat by the TV nearly all night. I tried everything I could to think of to stay up that night, when at some point I did fall asleep. As before, the strange dreams came again, only this time I wasn't on some strange beach. Instead, I was now walking through a wooded area coming up to a building. It was a run-down derelict of a place. I saw myself cut the tape on the table on the

the doors and pry them open. Stepping in, I made my way through various debris. Reaching into a duffel bag, I pulled out a set of wire cutters to clear away sets of chains placed on the door. Looking at my hands as they worked, it became apparent to me that this wasn't me. I recognised that bag and the hands. This was Mr. Harcliffe. How or why I was seeing this was a mystery to me, but somehow I knew it was real.

The dream went on with Mr. Hartcliffe. moving further into the ruined building, turning on a flashlight as he looked around. Making his way under a broken steel beam, he found a thin door that led into a strange glass-covered area. There behind another set of locked doors was a young woman sitting at a dusty table. It was hard to make out all of her features, but I could see her brilliant eyes clearly. The colour of both her hair and eyes seemed to shift and order as she sat there. One moment she was a red-haired with brown eyes and the next a blonde with green eyes. Whatever the colour, it was always a radiant force on display in the low light.

In the dream I felt Harcliffe's rage, sorrow and remorse pour out into that room. He wanted to kill the woman, burn the place down and go along with it. And yet another part of him just wanted to go home and hold Eliza as she slept in bed. Caressing her hair as she lay on his chest snoring the night away. I could feel the absolute love he had for her as if it were my own. The woman in the room rose up from the table and made her way towards the door. There, in the fading bit of light afforded by Harcliffe's flashlight, I could see her.

No. I could see it. The girl was only so fleeting human elements. Up close I could see that she moved on what appeared to be a long, fleshy limb akin to a snake or snail maybe. her arms were both equally alien and as colourful in spots as her hair her head and eyes seemed to be the most human in nature but only in residual forms the closer she came to the doors the more difficult it was to look at her mr harcliffe pointed the gun at her both of them knew that the bullet would never get through the door but he felt better aiming it at her in his own mind if he wasn't aiming it at her he'd be aiming it at himself I could feel the rush of ideas going through his head, things he wanted to do to the creature before him, things he wished he'd done before Eliza left. Yet one thing above all came to mind. He wanted to know why.

Why did Eliza have to go? What happened that night? With a sly and almost cocky smile, the creature seemed to beckon Harcliffe to come closer, right next to the door. I felt myself resist as he stepped forward. closer and closer to that thing. As he approached, the thing slid a small sliver of itself through a minuscule opening above the door. The tiny, fleshy section dripped out of the opening

and travelled down on what seemed like nerve endings from the creature. The bit touched Harkliff on the shoulder, a move with a violent rush towards his ear. It seemed to melt into a spot just behind his left ear and branch out into his skull. Or at least, that's what it felt like, like in the dream. I keep calling it that. I know it was more than just a dream. Yet even so, it was so surreal that I can't help but relate to it in that sense. When the little piece of her,

it finished moving itself into Harcliffe's head, the dream became something more. Within the span of an instant, I could see what she did. I knew what she knew. I was for a brief and horrifying moment, fitted within the space of her mind her race if it was not wholly apparent already was alien to our world they were an all-female species each and everyone tried to reproduce pass on genetics with whatever was available the people in their world feared and worship them i'd witness memories where this thing had moved through ten-meter-high velvet black grass arms outstretched with hungering claws I saw as she took apart something that looked very nearly human. The thing cried out in horror as it was torn apart, consumed the bone with a gut-wrenching joyfulness. She enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the rending of flesh, and all the sensations it brought out in those around her. Through her link, I could feel the ripples of pleasure she thrived on as the other human-like creatures cried and broke down in her presence.

She could even feel the rolling hatred from some while others fell to their knees in prayer to her. Each and every act, all of it, brought her some sort of entangled mental nourishment. These creatures, whatever they are, dominate the mind in strange ways. I could see how she would entrance some of the male creatures to lay with her. She had her favourites among the tribal populace she feasted upon. Some seemed to be offered as a sacrifice from villages. the creature took an odd carnal enjoyment from the sexual act, but it was more than just flesh to flesh.

She would take something from these males, some sort of glowing extraction. She would store this deep within her. Even with the connection, I could scarcely make out what the essence was or what it was for. Well, more accurately, it was simply too alien for me to understand. There was more as well.

Sometimes the creature would take the female. as well. Soft hissing whispers into hot winds would lure out the women from villages. I watched, as a thing stalked from a high perch in what appeared to be oddly organic trees. Part three. She would send out rhythmic sets of these whispers directed and focused into the mind of her targets. Then almost as if lost in a dream of their own, the victim would prance out into the open. Far and apart from the rest of the village. The creature snaked her way towards the woman and wrapped her in an embrace that could almost be taken as sensual

I say almost as there was a definite underlying sense of disgust in the creature's mind. Whatever the purpose for this was I couldn't make out. When the embrace was over the woman lay shivering and twitching on the ground. Small noises of muted pleasure

seemed to admit from her. I noted small sections of her arms and legs began to, well, calcify over into some strange growth. I didn't see the end result of this process, but I had suspicions of what might happen. I thought back to the thing that I thought might have been Mrs. Calloway. I remembered part of its arm having the same effect, only doubled in size. Suddenly something seemed to change in the atmosphere of the dream.

A crowded set of emotions ran through it all. I want to say it was the creature's own emotions, but there was such an odd feeling in it that I started to have a hard time separating where my feeling started and its own ended. Scraps and leftover fragments of memories flooded me. For an instant I could feel Mr. Hartcliffe next to me, or rather I could feel its fear and confusion in a palpable form. I saw images of three moons in the sky. The heat of the ocean below me, a small tinge of hunger ran across my lips.

I saw a group of people running along the purple sands by the beach. Violet and silver moonlight illuminated them for spots at a time. I had a word form in my ears. It was something like, Hagasha. give or take a few pictures in tone. To me it meant nothing, but I quickly understood that it was not my mind or tongue. The creature, she uttered it softly. Perhaps it meant prey, food, or something of the like.

I couldn't rightly say, but I know how it felt. The salivating feeling of preparing to bite into one of the cheap diner burgers. The anticipation of the spices and cheeses they used. I saw the waves rise up and roll around me. A feeling of incredible speed came over me. as the creature shot towards the beach, claws extended and ready. Then, without warning, the moonlight died away. The comforting heat of the ocean was replaced by a frigid rush of displaced air.

The human-like things on the beach led out a scream, but it was not from seeing the creature in the water. Through the thing's eyes, I watched as a torrent of black pulsing liquid erupted from a spot on the beach. It spilled over itself, rushing out with an almost violent, aggressive flow. It was as if the stuff was a lot. and directed. Within moments the fluid had covered the two people on the beach along with anything else it could reach. A massive tearing sound blew across the ocean.

The creature found itself being drawn in towards the fluid. Everything was moving towards the beach spot as if somewhere just poured the drain stop on reality itself. Other odd-looking sea creatures were dragged along with various stones and vegetation. Soon the creature was directly in front of the engulfing ebony vortex itself. A grotesque suckling sound popped and gurgled as the black spot began to bring itself back in. The creature tried with all her considerable might to swim back, hold one, simply refusing to be taken by the unknown rip in her world. It was to no avail.

With a deafening explosion of force, the vortex made a final pull to all things. She could fight it no longer and fell into a darkness she had never known before. At some point the creature awoke to find herself held in place by some manner of restraint. its eyesight was poor and what things it could make out only offered infinite confusion. I could make out words spoken around it. To the creature they were odd and unfamiliar, but to me it sounded like Spanish. I didn't know much of the language then, but I could gather the words for guard and shoot. Eventually the creature regained a sense of sight only to discover multiple wounds across her body

with what appeared to be doctors around her. It had out something that sounded like muted screams. One of the doctors fell back with thick blood, shooting from one ear. The blood looked like it had come out in clumps, as odd as that sounds. They injected multiple shots into the creature, laying it out.

It's hard to tell the passage of time in the thing's mind, but it seemed like some months or years later that it was moving about a facility. I saw it as it passed by a set of mirrors. His body was now utterly unknown to it. In the reflection, I saw what looked like a beautiful young girl, soft and radiant red hair with a poor attempt of makeup applied.

A large brood of a man pushed her along the hallway, yelling at her in something that sounded like Russian. Or maybe it was just all the movies of the time influencing. The man kept pushing and shoving her. A creature turned and moved to protest in some form. A quick and sharp slap cracked across her face and bringing white cuts of pain.

The creature moved to protest again. At that time a gnarled fist collided into her face sending her to another blackout. She awoke again in another memory this time sitting chained to a chair. Behind a set of two-way glass a group of expensive-looking people stood staring at her.

I could have never seen through that glass, but she could. The creature could see and hear with unnerving clarity. The men discussed things like possible warfare usage and enhanced cell growth. Others brought up the progress on inhibition surgery and drugs

to use against it. One woman in the far corner asked about his diet, and if they had enough subjects to test. Another person spoke up saying that further use of the device needs to be limited as the last test brought something they could not contain. You mean the thing in Louisiana? asked another. Yes, we don't even know where that subject is now, they said. I didn't know what they were talking about, but I gathered it was dealing in shady business

that only the real hardcore conspiracy notes would even come close to believing. Connected so deeply into that creature's memories, I could feel its emotion and thoughts at the time. Even though it didn't understand what the people in strange outfits were saying, it knew they intended to use her in vile ways. One of the men in the room even had carnal intentions for her. I don't know how she could sense that, but she definitely did. Maybe a product of how it functions, something to do with pheromones, possibly. In any case, she could sense the radiating aura of sexual attraction, he emitted. He shifted in his chair, loosening his bright blue tie as her spectral attention seemed to spur his desires, even more.

more. At that moment the creature devised some form of plan. The way it thought was not in logical progressive steps, but instead with the focus on the multiple actions at once. Think of it like a multitasking taken to another level. I remember getting a small headache trying to gain insight into what she was working on. I can't tell if the creature blacked out again, or if I'd simply done so out of sheer mental strain. Either way, I found myself looking at the inside of what appeared to be the thing's cell at the facility. I could smell a mix of aftershave and alcohol next him.

The creature turned and I saw the same man from the meeting, his blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. He started to talk to her, said things about how the surgeries went so well, he just couldn't stop himself that they'd crafted her now to be a perfect love machine.

A rolling sense of vile revulsion passed over me. The creature hated the man in front of her with all that she was. flashes of surgery sparked across my mind, images of limbs removed, parts forcibly altered to grow was directed, and implants painfully placed in bones all coming through to me. I don't know the extent of it, but those people made severe alterations to the thing that she was. The memory of the man ended shortly thereafter, when it went on long enough to know what he was in her room for.

Multiple other memories came and went after that. All of them are roughly the same, The man comes to her to indulge himself, each time he becomes more and more debased in his actions. The creature hates his interactions. She receives no pleasure in the events. Yet even so, she seems to be more and more pleased with herself. Then on around the 12th or 14th memory of the man's visits, I start to notice it. Each time she whispers more and more to him, at first I thought they were just some sort of sweet nothing she was using to please him. they were so much more

she had been whispering instructions into his ear with each visit I don't claim to understand her language but I can tell you that I began to perceive her intent you see the next memory was another sexual rendezvous with the creature and at this time the man had met her in a different room it was less secure and easy to access

the next event was in an even less secure room the one after that was at his own home the creature had been manipulating her way out of the facility using some form of seductive ability on the man in that last memory i'd also thought i'd caught a glimpse of a woman on the floor the copious amount of blood near her neck told enough of a story on its own the man seemed to present the body in a joyful way as a dog bringing a dead bird to the porch the creature leaned in and whispered more to the man who smiled and ran out of the door his face seemed locked into this stupid boyish grin as if he just impressed his mother for the first time. Some time had passed and another memory came

through. This time I could see the same man showing off pictures of a wooded area and building plans. Creature seemed pleased with his work. She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the forehead which seemed to give him a near spiritual elation. He fell to his knees in tears. Another span of time passed as I saw the memory of a woman walking near the building site. She seemed to be inquiring about a job opening she was told about. A group of men wearing red jumpsuits came out to greet her and took her deeper into the wooded area.

The creature wasted little time moving up to the woman and tried to do what she did before with others from her world. Yet, something went wrong. The woman screamed and flailed about as soon as the creature held her. Fear was obvious, but there was more. I could see her skin boil and bubble

where she tried to connect with her. Seconds later the creature moved away and hissed something to the group. One of the men calmly walked up and shot the woman three times in the head. Another two came over and began carrying the corpse away. I still can't rightly say what she intended to do with the woman. I know whatever it was failed, leaving the creature with a feeling of dread. I'd seen the creature eat flesh in the prior memories before coming to our world,

and I suspect that something about us doesn't feed her properly. I watched a span of months pass over in seconds, as the facility was built. The strange radio tower array itself was near mystical in design. Parts of it seemed to grow a move on their own. Yet when it was completed and mounted on the building, it seemed just like any other regular tower.

The same man who she'd used from the facility before was still there, obeying every word she said without question. She'd long since stopped sleeping with him. Seemingly he was now under her full control. She didn't even have to speak to make him act. I could feel her mind simply twitch, and he would respond with complex instructions provided. This began to extend to newcomers on the site as well. It wouldn't be a stretch to say these people began to worship her.

I even saw what looked to be a shrine of sorts erected to her in a spot behind the building. The creature seemed to care little for their affections. It barely even left the building. From the confines of the radio station, the creature began working on various radio experiments. More and more people showed up in jumpsuits. to help. Notably, not all of them seemed to fall under her sway. She resorted to sleeping with the men and women when she needed to break their mental defences down. Something about the interaction left a bit of her within them, making the connection stronger. There were cases

where the person would not submit. One was a young male scientist. He was brought in for his work in theoretical physics. By his roughed-up appearance, I could only assume he was kidnapped and beaten on the way. I could feel that the creature wanted to make. make him her own. She needed him, but he simply would not relent. He could not see her for the young, beautiful woman that should have aroused interest. Instead, he only seemed to scream in delirium when she came by. It was like he could see the creature for what it truly was. Something in his biology just didn't allow her to take control as she needed. The creature gave up on him and ended up using him as a test subject for something she'd built in the facility.

It was a room encased in an old glassy material. The wall seemed to shimmer as they put him in. The staff locked the room and activated some form of device. A thumping hump static poured out, and then the man began to scream. From her vision I could see this solid mass of pure black hovering in the corner of the room. The man screamed and screamed as it began to drip and expand outward. The static then began to pulse out in increased frequency. Each pulse brought more activity from the black mass.

The final pulse was intense, and the static then, nearly felt like it blew my lungs out. In the room a singular darkness had erupted from the mass. It quickly covered the inside of the room in totality. I couldn't see the man anymore, but I could hear his muffled screams, distorted and distended to odd pitches. The man seemed to gargle like thick mucus

and retracted inward again. Moments later, the black mass had moved back to the corner and the man was nowhere to be seen. One of the facility staff called out that the process had only reached 40%. The creature made no response to the member. If I had felt the emotions correctly, she saw them as little more than cattle or tools. She had no interest in their well-being.

She didn't need them even to speak to her as she could sense their thoughts nearly as soon as they formed. I want to tell you she had contempt for them, all of us, although that would be humanising the creature far too much. Well, it felt emotion, but not entirely in the same range as we do. It's quite difficult to put into words, but I related her feelings of joy, pain, fear and anger to what I know. Yet under the surface of that human experience was a vast coldness that I could not breach. She seemingly experienced emotion on another level of consciousness than we can. A mere twitch of anger from her could be a tangled network of cock-screwing emotions that burned

out in mere seconds. Maybe she just processed everything too quickly for me to keep up, or maybe understanding the creature's emotion was simply beyond me. In any case, I got a distinct feeling she was becoming frustrated. The memories progressed onwards, days or months at a time. Soon we arrived at one that had Mr. Harcliffe in it. The creature was sitting in the glass room, the same one where the poor soul had been when that intense black fluid took him. Harcliff looked every bit nervous as he arrived. The creature seemed to investigate him as he worked. The staff members watched from the room outside. They stood like brain dead zombies. I saw one in the back simply holding a screwdriver

to a wall panel. He was frozen in place, not moving a muscle. It started to dawn on me that the staff had begun to deteriorate in some manner, perhaps through extended communication or exposure to the creature itself. I noted that some of the more cognitive people in jumpsuits were left on the outside. I think the creature showed me that on purpose. Maybe her way of trying to show me why they needed Harkcliffe in the first place. Yet there was more to it than that. She seemed to be smelling and touching him from afar. It was like she was probing him from something that wasn't there.

I could see Harkliff finishing up the repairs. He packed his tools and smiled to make his way out. The creature watched him with increased interest as it pecked away at him mentally. As he stepped outside, I could see the moment it came to him. And yet the creature never really left the glass room. somehow she just sent a part of herself outside. It was something new to her,

or maybe something new in this world. I could see inside the glass room she was holding onto a small metal rod. I think that's how she made it work, in our world anyway. The process seemed to take a toll on her, though. I could feel the sudden sense of heaviness sit on her. Yet, even so, there was a notion of progress formed in her mind.

Something about Mr. Hartcliffe had motivated the creature to make new plans. I could see a flurry of memories colliding together. Maybe these were her plans, or she actually did everything I gleaned, I can't rightly say. As I said, the creature's thoughts were not the same as ours. What she planned and considered, she seemed to envision in totality as if it actually happened. I know I refer to the creature as she or her from time to time. It's a strange thing, you see, perception.

Sometimes I can see the overtly alien and inhuman thing for what you're not. it is. Although, sometimes when the sense of loss and sadness flowed out from it, a small vision of humanity attached itself to the ordeal. Yet even these small sections of familiar feelings could not cover the horrible things it had planned next. I witnessed a strange collection of images flowing around the creature's mind. It thought back to memories of its own world, the process by which she would interact with the females of the human-like tribes, the singing embrace that would render them helpless and seemingly catatonic. Now, this idea I can only partially guess at this

within the gulf of differences between our minds. Well, I suspect the reason for this embrace was some sort of egg-laying or connection enhancement. I could make out moments of its memories where the female victims would rise up and return to their village life as if nothing had happened to them. The small growth would recede under the skin,

becoming nearly invisible, although they would continue to grow internally. the creature would check in on the victim from time to time as the growth progressed in one quite hard to make out segment of memory i think the growth was passed along partially to a male during intercourse or at least i suspected that was what was happening through the thing's eyes i could see the small bit of growth detached from the female and enter the male it had this soft yellow hue to it and i suspected that the creature had some form of alternative vision that allowed it to see beneath the flesh the detached growth moved along the back of the male seemingly without notice it sat firmly across the back of the male just over the spine and there it seemed to expand slightly and harder the jarring sense of movement came over me as another memory came into view the velvet heat of the ocean was all around me now strands of small yellow beads floated in front of me i saw the creature reach out and place some of them inside and opening in her chest others she seemed to simply eat outright

There was one she treated differently. She took it in her clawed hand and swam with it to the surface. I could see she was near some form of a village, a bit more advanced than the others I'd see. With a low whisper she called one of the residents to her. At first nothing seemed to happen. Then the creature tried again with a various mix of pitch changes to the sound. Eventually she settled on a mix of the sounds.

The way she put it all together sounded so damn close to a normal song. something I could picture hearing in this world. With this new song, the villager seemed to take interest and made its way to the beach. I took note that this one had more strange markings and proportions than the other human-like things, enough so that I could even venture to say it was another race or maybe species. The thing walked close to where the creature lay in wait. I can't say if it was a female as well, but I suspected so simply on intuition from the creature's memory. The villager looked close to where the creature's way.

the water's edge. I saw the eyes carried a soft luminance to them. Small hints of pinkish light bloomed in them. As it moved an inch closer, the creature made its move. With the sharp stab from its left claw, the small yellow orb was embedded deep within the targets. There was a short, sharp cry of pain from the thing. Seconds later, it rose from the water side and walked back towards its home. Some amount of time passed, again difficult to properly tell, but at some of the point the infected villagers started to pulse and vibrate within an otherworldly light. Suddenly, with a brilliant flash, the thing seemed to implode upon itself. This memory faded away into blurs of light and sound,

growled away in the background noise of something rumbling and humming. Soon the sound of harsh static took over all my senses. I could even feel an electrical sensation, walking its way across my arms, legs and back. A variable flood of images cascaded into view. scenes of movement and work. The creature began to adapt its abilities to our world. Maybe it was a result of the surgeries brought upon it or something to do with this travelled into our world,

but the creatures seemed to be rebuilding its abilities to do something that they once were able to do. At times it would let out a word it repeated over and over. Aguios! There was a resonating sense of longing within it. I took it to be something close to home. It could just have easily have been the word for water or ocean, or maybe all three. The thoughts and feelings for each seemed to crash into one another.

The last few memories of events the creature shared with me and what left me with these ongoing sins. You see, the creature learned to fashion its voice into something it could use him. It took time and effort, but it eventually found a way to send its voice, or rather its powers, through the air. It used Harcliffe as a directed test-ruck. the creature had deemed this man and his wife to be a viable stock for inspiritation. On his last visit to the site, it infected him with one of those small yellow beads.

Unbeknownst to the man, he'd gone home and spread the seed to his wife. I witnessed the vision of Eliza kissing Harcliffe as he slept. The tiny yellow substance passed into her and took root near the base of her skull. Tendrils of yellow malice spread throughout her body as she saw. slant. The ends of them looked to be something like a flower pet or waiting to bloom. Another rush of images played across my mind

showing that fateful night. Eliza could hear that whisper of a song playing over and over in her head. The words were low and strange, but it birthed a sweltering heat in her body. Slowly at first, it tangled around her nerves, an intense wave of lust and passion

began to build. It formed into a base sexual urge that quickly blossomed into complex ideas of freedom and hunger. Though the creature was nowhere near Eliza, it seemed to mirror her movements and design. The creature watched through Mr. Harcliffe's own eyes as the yellow seed inside of Eliza came to full bloom. It grabbed hold of that same metal rod in the glass room and screamed out with something that seemed to be both pleasure and pain. At that same moment the world seemed to darken for Harcliffe as a small piece of our world shimmered and tore before him.

Then it happened, just like he'd told me. Within moments the woman he loved had burned away into fluttering ashes of light before him, leaving nothing but blackened grass behind. Well, I don't know what the creature's abilities are, not even partially. Over the years, I've made my guesses through educated theories on very far out there science. From what I could gather in my own reading and experience with it, the creature does not simply work in terms of what we would call relative reality. Something changed during its travel to our world, maybe a biological issue. or something deeper. Either way, it was now a world and more apart from itself. In its memories, I feel that it had the ability to funnel or focus its powers into other beings. I think this is what

it attempted to do with Eliza. It, for lack of a better term, impregnated her with that seed to use her. For a combination of her own ability in the strange black orb device it had in the building, the creature attempted to force open a passage back to the world it came from. Although, something went wrong. It forced the door open, but it didn't work as intended. Instead of providing it away home, the process ripped out a piece of our reality itself. Everything and anything that Eliza was simply faded away as if it never was. For as best as I can understand, it either removed her from reality or placed us in another one. Like I said, I can't claim to really understand it more than what people smarter than me have already theorized. With that

memory came a rush of anger and despair coiled together into something else. The creature was, suffice to say, not pleased with the result. At this point, I felt the connection change in some way. Mr. Harcliffe seemed to be no longer present in the process. Instead, the creature seemed to be staring at me one-on-one. I made a gesture that was something of a smile towards me. A sharp, stabbing feeling entered my neck. I saw more visions, only now of Mrs. Calloway. She was walking out of the door from her home. I watched her get in her car and drive off. A sense of sadness crept through the motions.

A bottle of hard liquor was in my hand, hands that were large and worked. Again, I knew these were not mine. Mr. Calloway, I somehow knew it right then. I was seeing it through his eyes. He knew about the affair, but more than that, he knew something was wrong with his wife, something far more than just infidelity. That memory washed away as he down the liquor in one girl.

The next thing I saw was myself walking into work. I felt the softness of my hair as I played toyingly by the window of the pharmacy. A low yellow glow of something came through from under my bra. I now realised that I was looking through Mrs. Callaway herself. As she stared at my body, flashes of instructions came through. Nothing that I could understand, but I simply knew they were orders of some kind of. from the creature part four the next few series of visions were of my multiple sexual encounters with mrs. Calloway and each and every one she placed more and more of those

yellow seeds within me each time the creature seemed to tense and focus itself as if the process was stressful I barely had time to process the implications of it the unbound horror of what had happened to me a jolt of gut-wrenching nausea came over me as the world A flurry of visions came and went showing Mrs. Calloway watching me at my house. She'd always been near, even if I hadn't known it. The last vision showed her stalking me on the way to the school that night. At some point I think Mrs. Calloway was perched on a building. She was looking down on me, and then this painful burning feeling broke out across my chest.

I watched as the woman's arms began to tear and burn away in a similar light to that of the Lyser. The connection seemed to falter and fail for a second as the world shifted and melted into something else. Seconds later, I was looking onward at that heated ocean, standing on those brilliant purple sands. My arms were monstrous, legs deformed, and my body simply departed from any sense of humanity. In the last few moments of that vision, I saw myself standing there on those same sands in a world not my own. The memory tunneled back to the creature's vision. It was there in the glass room holding onto the same rod

Waves of worry and concern came from it Something was wrong with the machines there Whatever happened with Mrs Calloway It went wrong or was never intended Parts of the walls outside began to heave and shift Breaking into themselves Some of the staff members were lost

To a burning yellow void of light That opened in the floor The creature wailed and recoiled from the rod hitting the wall with a heavy crunch. Sparks and flames flickered across the scene. And with that, my own vision faded to black. I came too with my father picking me off the living room floor. He had a washcloth on my nose.

Apparently I had a nosebleed at some point as well. He wanted me to bed and asked if I needed anything. The looking in his eyes was so genuine and loving I just hugged him and thanked him for being there. He hugged back before smiling and walked. back downstairs the moment was so wholesome that made me think the entire ugly dealing with the creature was just nothing more than a bad dream maybe something brought on by my guilt of being the other guy in an affair I had my head back for a

moment to close my eyes catch my mental breath and maybe get some actual rest any such notion was quickly shattered it might have been right away or maybe I fell asleep but the next thing I knew I was back in that old radio station building where Mr. Harcliffe and been just before. Only now it was me standing there in front of the creature. This was no memory of mine or it's. Somehow I was there, standing in front of her in the present. I was no longer watching the room in my dreams, but I'd actually left my home. I was there in the building with the creature. Up close the thing was monstrous, like something of a mermaid cross with Medusa. Parts of the thing were misshapen and bulging with some strange liquid.

Other areas seemed to be mismatched as if they were recently grown or stitched on. Slithering, suckling slime, encrusted mandibles protruded from its face. Softly glowing eyes sat deep in sunken pits. Malice, hunger and fear boiled about within them. Whatever the creature had used to pass for attractiveness so long since gone. I was so close to the thing, close enough to hear the pushing of wet, malleable flesh through the vent above me. The creature intended to drop its flesh bit down into my ear. The thing pressed itself against the glass with its full force.

I could feel the strange mental energies coming from it. They rooted me in place against my own will. The thing made odd whispered noises, sometimes rising just a bit higher. I can't tell you if the whispers were audible or just in my head. The strain of its actions must have been too much for it, as I could see a spike of pain affecting it. Part of its side twitched and spasmed. There was a frantic nature in its movement now. A world of differences lay between me and the thing, yet I could definitely see desperation clear as day.

It was a momentary break in concentration, but enough for me to make my move. I backed away from the door little by little at first, and soon I had my back to a bit of ruined wall. I don't know what occurred during the accident, but the creature was quite obviously contained in that strange glass room. I suddenly noticed something small and yellow with a faint glow on the ground right in front of the door. That's one of the strange seeds that Mrs. Calloway had placed inside me.

The creature was trying with all its might to reach it. Slavering orifices opened across its body to try and consume it in vain. A small stretch bit of flesh in the vent had formed a claw of some sort. I watched as it tried to make its way to the orb only to tear midway and fall to the side. The thing reched and screamed in near silence. Why I could not hear, I could definitely feel them. I turned and scrambled around the mess of debris around me. I became a wild-eyed animal, frightened and insane with resolve. I cut my hands, legs and cheeks in my move to escape the abomination behind me.

That whole building was a mess of reality. I made my way through doors that had bright deserts behind them. Others had a vast black nothingness with heavy snowfall. At one point I think I fell into a hallway that led to the same room with the creature. Through my own flight of terror, I crawled my way through layers of that place, eventually ending up in the middle of the woods. I stood up and ran for what must have been a solid hour. By sheer dumb luck, I'd found a path to the town.

The light shone in the distance A beacon for me to follow Around sometime early in the morning I arrived in town I made my way to the diner and sat down The sight I must have been The waitress ran to the back Asking for a first-aid kitten to call my father

For me I just wanted some water By the end of the day I had found myself in a hospital bed I told my father I'd gone out for an early jog And simply fell down a snowbank That was a poor excuse, but enough for people to move on and let me heal. During the examinations, I wanted to speak up, yell about these crazy orbs Mrs. Calloway had put inside me. Yet how would I even begin to explain that? The married woman I was sleeping with had been infected by some otherworldly siren creature

had ordered her to lay strange eggs inside during sex. No, no, I didn't see that going well at all. Over the next few weeks, things were odd for me, as you could imagine. I didn't hear a single whisper or static come across my ears. The hardware store was close for a while as Mr. Harcliffe was never seen again. Unlike his wife, people did ask about him. And eventually, he was just another unsolved missing person's case. The place was eventually sold off by one of his relatives.

As from Mrs. Callaway, she seemed to suffer the same. same fate as Eliza. No one claimed to remember her and I never found any pictures or mentions of her after that night. Her husband might have remembered, although I couldn't be sure. I learned later that he'd shot himself a few days after the event. It could have been simple depression or maybe he couldn't face the idea of what had occurred. I'm not proud to say I didn't break into the house a few month later to investigate. I had to know if there were any traces of her there. I wasn't surprised when I found nothing, not a single trace of Mrs. Callaway at all. I did find a book of drawings, though. It had depictions of those strange purple beaches and creatures that dwelt in the depths.

I also had a few drawings of those small yellow seed-like things. I could only assume it belonged to Mr. Callaway, as it was still there in this reality. I don't know what experience he had with the creature, but I had to imagine he'd seen many of the things I had. Oh, I wished I'd had the courage to speak to him before he took his own life. Of course, to apologize for my own actions, but to also speak to someone that could have understood me on the events that happened with that thing. Now, I told you my sins were written there in my encounters with Mrs. Callaway. It wasn't apparent right away, but I was putting people in danger. nearly a year after that night I started to put most of it behind me

part of me was okay with just lying to myself every day it was easier to just pretend I went insane for a few months it hit me later it was the same line of thought that Mr. Harcliffe must have taken to survive then in late July I could no longer give life to the line started to have dreams about the creature again I used anything I could to make them go away therapy drugs exercise even hard drinking but nothing would stifle the dreams at first it only showed up in flashes but gradually it became like waking nightmares unable to know when I was really

sleeping or not each time it was the same thing I found myself by the room with the glass the creature lay there on the ground banging its head over and over on the door he was saying something over and over again but nothing I could make out a few months after that, I started to get extremely sick and began to throw up. One evening I was by the toilet unloading my stomach when I felt a tinge of heat rise up in my throat. I watched as one of those small yellow seeds fell into the bowl. It glowed for a short time and then faded away into thin air on wisps of light. I screamed in terror at the side of it. It was proof that the lie was really dead. Those events happened and I was still carrying

those things inside. In my dreams, I began to understand that the thing in the building was still very much alive, albeit in some decrepit form. It was calling me back to it, trying to harvest me in a sense. These seeds, or whatever they are, linked me to the creature even now. I lived through my later years without sickness or failing health. Even in my late 50s, I felt as if I was in my prime, physically at least. Mentally, that was a whole other story.

I'm nearly positive it was due to those things inside me. The creature seemed to use myself and others as farms for them. I think on direct ingestion they could provide sustenance, yet at a great distance they could still sustain it in some way. When the seeds were spent, they would break down. I think this is what happened when I threw one up. More and more I realised I was providing a lifeline to that thing in the radio station. part of me had this feeling that if I were to die or off myself

then maybe whatever was keeping the thing alive would also fade away it hit me that it was possible Mr Calloway knew much the same and possibly took his own life to that end I could just never bring myself to test that theory though I've tried to call in tips to the government to have the site investigated but nothing seems to be done there are reports of people going missing in those parts from time to time and in the dreams I sometimes see that man from the store, the one with a red jumpsuit.

He visits the thing in the room, and sometimes he brings it people to feed on and makes small repairs where he can. I can hear those screams at night when I lay down. I close my eyes and the sounds of their deaths come through. I do what I can to ignore it. I even started to hear the music come through faintly on the radio sometimes. Well, eventually I broke down and moved away, moved far enough away, that I could stop hearing that radio station forcibly come through.

Well, it worked too after a while. Years passed when nothing happened. I was even able to start giving life to the lie again that was still in my head. The dreams even subsided for a time as well. Things looked to be heading well for me. My life would end in old age or sickness like any other normal person.

Well, that was until I received an email from someone in Blaresville, claiming to be an old friend. Like most emails of that nature, I moved to delete it. After receiving four more with similar titles, I decided to open one. And what I read terrified me. The email said that my old friend was alive and well. It continued on saying that they'd taken residence in my father's old house after it went up for sale.

They said that all the rooms had been taken care of nicely, and my old bedroom was there waiting for me when I was ready to come home. The email was signed. your first ever. Attached to the email were pictures of the house. The first few simply showed the old place as I remembered it. It was the last image that had me pull away and confused hair. There, sitting on my old bed, was someone that could not be.

There with a red bouncy hair and smiled just as I remembered it was Mrs. Callaway. Her eyes, the eyes were shining with a faint radiant pink glow. I closed the email and laptop, as if it would somehow stop the cursed thoughts in my head. The how or why of the matter didn't matter to me. I simply wanted to find a way to make it not real, just like I had for so many years before. I'd myself committed to a hospital for treatment. My hopes would be that after professional treatments, I could lose my grip on reality just enough to forget. If anything, it only made things worse.

I sit in this nice, clean room with cold. constant nightmares of what that thing is doing in the town. It's like it wants me to know what it can do now out of some sick form of spite. Every single time I close my eyes, I can see the couples it ruins. The female is taken and used as some eldritch conduit. The male turned into a seed farm and harvested when needed. The thing is even rebuilding the radio station again. In a dream I had one horrible glimpse of it. The building sits in between reality and nightmare. It's not strong enough to do what it wants, not quite enough to send the creature home, but enough to enhance its abilities.

I wanted to warn people about it, but I fear it's too late now. The things learn from its mistakes. It keeps to the shadows where it can and relies on those enthralled by its voice more and more. You could have met the damn thing itself and never known it. In the past few weeks I think I've spotted it walking the halls. I know it can be tricks of the mind, maybe the drugs are refaversive. expecting me, although there's just this feeling in my gut. The dreams are closer to reality now.

I saw I could even hear an echo of that damn whispered love song the other night on TV. The thing is toying with me, punishing me for leaving it all those years ago. I'm sure my time is short now. It'll come to finish the harvest soon. You know what? I'm ready for my dreams to end. That's for you. If you hear the Bradwell's radio station commercial, tune out.

Stay away from the softly whispered song. Otherwise, you'll know the madman's truth, too. The worst monsters are in the light. And so once again, we'll 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.