Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S4 Ep170: Episode 170: Horror Stories by the Beach

Episode Date: May 30, 2024

If you want to take ownership of your health, try AG1 and get a FREE 1-year supply of Vitamin D AND 5 Free AG1 Travel Packs with your first purchase. Go to www.drinkAG1.com/creepen Tonight’s opening tale of the strange and macabre is ‘Dead Skin Masks’ 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.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/ Tonight’s second terrifying tale is ‘Stationed in a Fire Tower’ by the wonderfully talented Michael Kelso, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.humanmade.net/books/ties-book-1  Tonight’s third tale of the strange and macabre is ‘I Exorcised a Demon… It Followed me Home’ by the wonderfully talented Estelle Pope, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/ Our next tale of the weird and wonderful is ‘Ghostwhispers.io’ also 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.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/ Tonight’s penultimate story is ‘The Side Tunnel’ by the wonderfully talented Eric Dodd, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Side_Tunnel We round off proceedings with all three parts of ‘Bloody Shores’, again a wonderful original work by Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me via my subreddit and read here with the author’s express permission:  https://www.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. We love the sound of the ocean because it taps into our primal connection with nature, providing a sense of tranquility and timelessness. The rhythmic ebb and flow over the waves mirror the natural rhythms of our own bodies, fostering a deep sense of relaxation and peace. This soothing soundscape can drown out the noise of modern life, offering a mental escape and a chance to reconnect with our innermost selves.

Additionally, the vastness and mystery of the ocean invoke a sense of wonder and awe, reminding us of the beauty and power of the natural world. And this sound makes a wonderful accompaniment to tonight's collection of 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. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Dead skin masks. Like corpse child.

So, I really don't know what to say here other than I'm pretty sure I'm surrounded by dead people. No, I don't mean that I'm seeing ghosts or zombies or anything like that. I mean that I see them, their faces, faces of people I know for a fact were dead, not walking around perfectly well and alive. I'm the only one that's noticed it. Or probably considering I'm not seeing or hearing more people talking about this. Either that or I'm even deeper into some real shit than I realized. If that's the case, and I'll have to keep this relatively brief. And as soon as I finish writing this, I'll have to get gone quickly.

But I had to guess, this might have started with that commercial. It was for this new beauty care product called New Face, claiming to be able to instantly transform you into a whole new use. You know, standard fare. We can do what doctors and dermatologists can't pitch. Well, here's an excerpt for one of the earliest commercials. New face, by putting on a whole new skin. In only seconds, that's right, seconds, you can accomplish what would take plastic surgery hours,

even days to accomplish, at less than a fraction of the cost and less than half the pain. You can call and book an appointment with your cosmetologist today to get your brand new face. But hurry, supplies won't last long. The commercial itself, at least back then, was nothing special. It's just some hyperactive Yahoo spouting the product's praises, while the basic diagram of a person's face was on the screen, changing from before and after use. I personally thought nothing of it.

I had no use for it, and I honestly didn't figure many others would either. I figured most would have looked at this and said, interesting. Next. Obviously, though, since I'm here talking about it, this, that's not what happened. It was a slow rise, sure, but it made it, and eventually I was seeing a bunch of social media threads with the stuff. I remember not being able to open Facebook for a week and a half without seeing at least three or four of my friends posting about. I got my new face today, hashtag New Year New Me, along with 20-something-odd other random people's posts on it.

Again, this was just back when it had come out, about nine or ten months ago now. should also mention that it only seemed to be available in my city, Pinebrook, North Carolina. I tried at one point, had a sheer curiosity, to look to see just how widespread it was. No one else seemed to offer the product, though. Not sure how much longer that's going to stay the case, which, if what I've seen is true, could be a real nightmare for us all. So yeah, it was quite a fact. The way they did it was remarkable. I will say, you know, know, before I found out how they were pulling it off. I remember seeing a lot of speculation

on Facebook and such, either asking if anyone knew what the secret was, or just straight up coming up with blown-out-of-the-ass theories, spouting a bunch of scientific jargon nobody including themselves more than likely, understood. Anyway, you sliced it, the results were there. People posting before and after-picks were showing how, whether they went in for the treatment or operation, they looked vastly different. Some were gaunt and had wrinkles, liver spots, and just generally looked exhausted or sickly. After they got it, though, they'd come out looking unrecognisable. They'd look younger and healthier, as opposed to the aforementioned elderly, homeless,

or drug addict type of look that I'd described before. Soon, of course, I began seeing some of these people out and about on the streets. Some of them were people I kind of knew, people I used to remember seeing frequently out and about, either out shopping, grabbing chips and smokes from the 7-Eleven or lounging around the bus stop just up the street from the publics. One of them now had a new face. They looked completely different, like they weren't even the same people anymore. A few of them, a few of the ones I'd occasionally talked to. I'm not a very outgoing person, by the way, and I had to ask who the hell they were. One time I asked a lady if she'd just blown into town here in the sticks from New York or something,

being that hers made her look like a magazine model. She laughed and said, No, you goof, it's me, Christina, from the bar. I look confused at her. You know, why, and you keep getting your Jaeger bombs from every Friday night, which you still have quite the tab racked up for, by the way. Sure enough, she was telling the truth. It was her voice, which I recognised from her sort of country girl accent,

but it wasn't her face. Her face used to be kind of rounded with a dimple showing every time she'd smile Now her face was a bit more pointed at the chin, longer too The skin around her face was a bit darker now as well Where it was a very light white colour before Well it was different from all of it Not necessarily bad but definitely different

It was off Oh uh sorry I said chuckling nervously I did have a bit of a thing for her, hence the Friday night bar trips. I didn't recognize you. You look different. She chuckled again and told me she'd gotten a new face procedure done. I was painless and didn't need to use no funny gas or nothing. It's over before I knew it, and the best part, I only had to pay $150 for it.

She winked and said, so, why do you think? well it looks I stumbled I wasn't really sure what to say sure she looked hot with the new look though again I thought she looked cute enough the way she was before but something about it

how I don't know I guess just how different how new I guess you could say it looked on her caused me to hesitate freezing my tongue her face began to sink a little noticing my hesitation I had to think of something to say quickly to keep from hurting her feelings.

Finally, I worked out the gumption to say, Wow, looks different. Looks new. Does that mean you like it? Josh, I... Yeah, I mean, it's just so weird seeing you look so different. Not even recognising you, you know. Her face fell again.

Oh, she said, disappointed. Well, okay, I... See you Friday? I chuckled just as awkwardly and answered that I wouldn't make it happen to work late that night. It was an obvious lie, but I guess she picked up on the point, and she just said she'd see me around before walking away. This wasn't exactly the only occasion like this, where friends and other people I knew weren't recognisable to me anymore. Well, it was the only time shit got embarrassing like that. Pretty soon it got to the point where I was basically the only one in town who I knew of that didn't get a new face.

I couldn't have cared less for it, don't get me wrong, but I can't lie and say it didn't feel weird being the only one that wasn't walking around with a different looking face. By that point, maybe a month later, commercials were more frequent for it. Now some were even featuring celebrity sponsorships, including famous actors. All of them claimed to have undergone the procedure. In other words, it is very much possible that the way you see some of these people look on TV isn't how they actually looked when they were born. get what I mean. And the worst part, I don't think they even know what it actually is they're

wearing. I don't think any of them know, only of course the people performing the surgery and, well, now, me. I know this is a lot. I know they're after me now because of what I know and what I've seen, but others need to know. Others need to know because, like I said, the popularity of this thing is growing more and more. It scares the hell out of it. me what I believe will happen soon if no one shares this. It was last Friday when it started to take a downward dive for me. By then, nude face had been on the scene for almost seven months, with it seeming to only get more and more popular. I've gotten used to, well, mostly gotten used to, seeing everyone looking completely different from what they had before. Again, I personally

felt fine just the way I was, so why change it, even if it was only $150 dollars? But at the same time, who was I to judge? Other people want to dump their money into that shit, more power to them. Others, though, I just started looking at me weirdly. Some would ask me if I'd gotten one or when I was going to get one. When I told them my feelings about it, they'd look at me like I was telling them I'd turn down an offer to live in a mansion or something. It didn't bother me too much, but it was annoying. Because of this, I took to going out less and less during the day, besides work.

Instead deciding I'd just go out at night time. Given how small Pine Brook is, things were usually quiet come nightfall, and I had the fact that it got nice and cool when the sun went down, and you had a nice place for a night-time strong. That is, until that Friday night went, during my weekly little bar hop I mentioned earlier, my buddy, Nesta, showed me a thing on his newsfeed about areas of local cemeter being found in June,

the body's missing. No names have been listed as to examine, who the missing deceased were, as it was sort of this just-in type deal. No time for any real investigation to have been launched yet. Why do they do it, Don? Nestor asked me, knocking back his fifth shot of Jack that night. Hell, if I'd know, replied, chuckling dryly. Where'd that happen anyway?

He looked at the article on his phone for a moment. Hey, hold on, man, look here. He helped the phone up to me. pointed out of paragraph he'd highlighted it. Ain't that just ways up the road, midway out of Pinebrook? I read the passage, and sure enough he was right. The article read that, at around 9.45 the night before, the groundskeeper from Morning Gate Cemetery,

which, like Nester said, was just outside of town, reported to police that at least seven plots had been dug up and the bodies were gone. My eyes went wide at this. How the hell? I exclaimed. I know, right, Nestor added. Admittedly, while I was kind of spooked, I was curious more than anything else. Who and just how the hell did somebody dig up and make off with seven bodies without anyone knowing?

Of course, the bigger and more frightening question pushed this one to the back of my mind. Why? What was worse, though, was how this happened not too far from the bar, maybe ten or fifteen minutes walking distance. I thought of some creep out there, so close to home, snatching bodies for God only knew what, sent me into goosebumps. It was enough to make me risk my life that night, having nested drive me home despite being pretty buzzed, rather than walk home like he usually did. At least I won't run into some creep, I thought.

Once I got home, ironically enough, and all but forgotten about the article. Everything was just fine. That was until noon the next day when Nestor sent me another link to a news article There was a follow-up about another three bodies going missing from Morning Gate Including the groundskeeper himself What the hell I know right that was last night While we were at the bar Jesus Christ

Yeah just before we left You see what happened the old buzzard running the place right old man Granger Yeah says he's missing too. Listen, what like on the run, I'm almost willing to bet. What do you mean? Come on, think about it. You know, as well as I do that,

that place gets locked tighter than the damn high school locker come nightfall, right? Yeah. So? So that plus, that's your freaking Spider-Man, good luck scaling the fence around the place. It means that Granger was the only person who'd have access to the grounds at nighttime. I was stumped there. He had a point. The old man was the only one that could have accessed the

grounds and the bodies. No one else, or at least it was highly unlikely at the time, could have gotten in. Okay, but why? Like you said, hell if I'd know. It's not like old Grange was entirely your average Joe, you know. Once again, he had a point. I'd only interacted with the guy a handful of times before. While he wasn't mean or unfriendly, he was a little odd. Of course, he was pushing 68, even if he only looked like he was about 45 or 50, and he spends every night in a freaking graveyard watching over dead people. So I can really be surprised there. Well, that being said, I didn't figure him for the type to actually want to dig them up and steal them. But then, who else? If it was him, though, why did he report?

the other night to the authorities. You mean besides the fact he was cracking? Probably for the attention. Either that or to try and shift the blame, like he is now with his disappearance. Anyhow, it's karaoke night at the Bard night. You in? I didn't reply.

I was barely comfortable leaving my house during daylight, and now this. No, needless to say, that was it for my late-night excursions for a while. Especially if Nestor's theory about the old man was true, And again, I couldn't exactly prove him wrong. And he really was out there, hiding somewhere. Then it was a good bet that that somewhere wasn't far from the cemetery.

That above everything else kept me tossing and turning that night, and the night after. I stayed hold up in my house both days straight, only opening the door for the pizza guard. I'd have stayed in Tuesday, too. Hell, I'd have likely never come out from my house again if I could. But unfortunately, body snatching maniac on the loose. wasn't quite a good enough excuse for me to miss shifts at work. Oh yes, in that vein, I luckily only worked the morning shifts, meaning I'd be off by no later than four.

Despite this, I was still skittish, constantly darting my eyes around everywhere, thinking I'd find him staring back at me. Well, this turned out to be a real pain, as it meant that I couldn't really focus. There were multiple instances where I'd fuck up and forget to give a customer the correct change. finally my lunch break rolled around and i was able to at least get away from the register for a while

once i'd punched the clock for lunch i decided to grab a bag of cheetos a frosted honey bun and a dr pepper to munch on nothing like a little junk food to calm your nerves when you look out for a maniac right that was when i looked up and saw him right there right in front of my freaking face on the other side of the shelf where the chips were was old man granger himself My eyes went wide, colour draining from my face. Oh God, he's here. He's right here. What do I do? Every instinct told me to bolt for the phone and dial the police. But I just stood there, frozen.

Hey there, darling, he exclaimed excitedly in a voice that I was pretty sure wasn't Granger's. We missed you last night at the bar. Yeah, you should have seen me up on the stage singing sweet child of mine. He chuckled before asking how I'd been. I still stood frozen. Now I was more confused than frightened. Keith? Is that you? He just barked an obnoxious laugh. Hell, yeah, last I checked. At least I hope I didn't drink so much,

then I forgot who the hell I was. I continued staring stupidly at him. That's Keith all right. What does he look like, old man Granger? How? What's wrong? See a ghost or something? He asked. Oh, no, I just... Didn't know what I was supposed to say.

I didn't know it was you there. I thought it was, well, someone else. He cocked his eyebrow. Well, I don't know how. Last I checked, there's only one me. Yeah, but you... You look different. I didn't recognize you.

You get a new face? He barked out another laugh and said, Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, I got this done last Wednesday. Connie was getting one, which, by the way, made her look better than she did back when she was 18. She told me I should get one, too. She had, couldn't beat the results or the price, even with a lifetime supplier Botox. Ah, I see, I replied, anxiety flooding through my body.

He told me that the one he got was a fresh sample. For some reason, this alarmed me. What? What does that mean? Well, from what the docks say. It was a fresh new one they sent in just the night before. My leg started shaking. Brad new.

Just sent in, but then... Oh, and um... Exactly when did you say you got this done? I asked. A horrifying feeling was quickly worming its way out from my stomach, causing me to feel nauseous. A couple of days ago, Saturday, I believe. He stroked his chin, the chin of old man Granger, and added... I remember because I was excited to show up sporting the new look to the mug that night.

I did it. I quickly booked it to the bathroom where I promptly emptied my stomach. For the time I was done, I was left feeling dizzy. Not only that, but now I was more scared than ever. Now I knew it wasn't Granger who was snatching the bodies from the cemetery. And that instilled an all-new fear into me. Now I didn't know who or what to expect. Another thought occurred to me.

Keith didn't even know that was old man Granger's face he was now wearing. That got me thinking about everyone else in town I saw, walking around with a new face. Was it the same for them? After just barely managing to finish my shift that day, I bolted home quicker than I ever had before, looking over my shoulder the entire time and locked myself in the house. Once I was at least relatively certain no one was following me or able to break in, if they were. I started looking again at the news linked Nestor had sent me. As far as the case of the missing bodies from Morninggate Cemetery went, the police were still investigating and still at a lot.

I then decided, against all better judgment, to look into my haunting little hunch a little further. I started looking to see if any of the cemeteries close by had any sort of incidents. After about five minutes of searching, I found nothing for any graveyards closer to town that the morning gate. I should have stopped there, I know, and God knows I wish I had. Hell, I'd have been perfectly fine never being the wiser about any of this. But as it happened, I did dig further. I started looking for incidents in Cemetery's farther than morning gates. Took a bit of time where I eventually found it. It was a small string of headlines from another town's news site that was listed as a series of posts on a tabloid website.

It was titled Terror of the Dallas NC Body Snatches, and it detailed a string of incidents where bodies in the cemeteries were found missing. Photos were posted of graves that either left uncovered or sloppily recovered. The post stated that police investigated the cases for almost a year, even apprehending a few suspects. But each of them had airtight alibis that cleared them, with no other leads, as one of the little to basically no kind of concrete evidence to anyone else. They eventually had to pack it up and declare the case is cold. And, as you can imagine, no trace or leads were ever seen or heard

about the missing body since. Felt sick to my stomach. Looking at the date of the last article, I realized that it was only about a year and a half before the ads for new face started cropping up here in town. I couldn't believe it. But there it was, clear as goddamn crystal. This product is made out of dead bodies. That was when an all-new wave of terror shook through me. Thinking again of what Keith said in the convenience store, I realized that whoever these sick, twisted fuckheads were, they weren't picky about how long the specimen had actually been dead before using it. Granger wasn't dead until they got to him. In other words, these people weren't limited to grave robbing for this. They were apparently killers as well.

And that's why I have to leave. I spent the past few nights packing what I can and finding somewhere I can stay in the next town over. I put in my two weeks' notice at the convenience store as well, even though, once I'm done with this, I'm going to be well on my way out of Pinebrook and not looking back. I'll just leave you with this. I don't know how much longer it'll be before a new face

or possibly some other fucked-up by-product made by whoever these psychos are ends up expanding their market outside of Piper. But it will. I just hope that when it does, I'll be far away and people will not. Also, I hope that no one sees my face again. I'm afraid there'd be a chance that when they find me, it might not actually be me wearing it. Like me, are you sometimes short on time?

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Stationed in a fire tower by Michael Calso. When I first got the job, I couldn't believe my love. I was a very solitary person. I love to read and be alone. When I saw an ad for a park ranger manning a fire tower, I just about jumped out of my skin. Working overnight at a Walmart wasn't exactly the best job in the world. Some stories I could tell about that as well. But I applied for the job and was ecstatic that I got it. They made me do a week of training before my first shift. Most of it was dry reading and making sure I was qualified in CPR. They showed me the jobs in and out, and then I followed in my car as we drove to the town. In the middle of the day, It was awe-inspiring to stare up at the underside of the tower looming above me, suspended high in the air by the metal pilots.

Once I started climbing the narrow metal stairs with hints of rust at the edges, I was somewhat less than excited. In fact, I was terrified. I don't like heights very much. It's not like I go all vertigo or anything. It's just I prefer to stay on the ground. Once we'd reached the top and pushed open the trapdoor to get onto the deck that surrounded the tower, I was doing a little better. I opened the door that led into the tower's interior. Looking around the room made me forget all about that terrible climb. It was like a small apartment. There was a small refrigerator, sink, counter, cupboards and a small table.

In the center of the room was a table with a map permanently attached to it. Of course there were windows all around. There was a 360-degree view, as you'd expect for a fire tower in the middle of a state park. and the view was absolutely amazing. I could see peaks and valleys for miles in every direction. It was a photographer's dream. The other ranger explained what was expected of me. We were at 24-hour shifts,

so there would be times I'd have to sleep, but I had to set an alarm and get up to scan for problems at least once per hour during the night. During daytime hours, I had to scan every 30 minutes. There was a radio to report any trouble and a phone in case I needed to call the fire department. In my mind, I was already drooling at the thought of getting paid to take amazing pictures and sit around reading books.

The Ranger told me it was extremely important that I read the Rook book, first thing. He asked if I had any questions. I said no. He reinforced that I could not leave the tower no matter what until I was relieved. I followed him down the narrow staircase to get my supplies from my car then. He got in his truck and hesitated for a moment. as if he wanted to say something else. But then he shut the door,

wished me well, and drove away. It took me three trips to get all my stuff up to the top. At home it's nothing to bring a few boxes of groceries into the house, but here it became life and death. I was near the top with a box in front of me when I stumbled on one of the narrow steps and nearly fell over the side. I paused for a long moment to regain my balance

before continuing to the top. And it suddenly struck me that this job might not. not be the cakewalk I phoned it once. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and went for my next two loads. Basic supplies, books, phone charges, and camera occupied the second and last trips. Once I was up for good, I collapsed into the chair. I was on my way to nap land when I heard static on the radio. I jumped up and grabbed it. Hello? I said, but no one answered. I figured this was the Ranger's subtle way of reminding me it was time to do a chat. But lugging three loads up the tiny stairs of death that put a serious crimp in my firewatch time. In fact, it had been nearly

an hour since the other Ranger had left. I did my slow pan around the room, checking each part of the forest for smoke and seeing none. Having successfully completed my first go-around, I celebrated with a bottle of water while I put the groceries away. All the covers weren't empty, but they weren't a gourmet's delight, either. Nearly a full shelf of baked beans didn't exactly thrill me, but I had the supplies that should do me for a few shifts. I sat the bread down on the counter and loaded the cold cuts into the fridge. I'd get some more options the next time I went shopping. By the time I'd finished putting things away, it was time for another check. The sun was starting to set, so I grabbed my camera and took some amazing pictures. I couldn't wait

to upload them to my computer at home. As I looked around the room, my eyes landed on the man. I realized I hadn't read it yet. I sighed and took it over to the chair. I was sure it would have me out cold in no time. As I opened the book, a piece of notebook paper fell out. I picked it up and read. Read the rules. Never under any circumstances leave the fire tower until you were relieved. Turn off all lights between the hours of 2 and 3 a.m. If you receive a radio transmission or phone call between those hours, do not answer. If anyone knocks on the trap door during those hours, tell them they'll have to wait until morning. Do not open the door. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don't look at it. Cover

your eyes and count to 50. When you open your eyes, it should be gone. If not, Covering count of 50 again. If animals surround the tower, don't go down to look. Fire your flare gun into the air twice, one minute apart, and lock yourself in the bathroom and hope for the best. I sat the note down and stared at it. Was this a joke? Were they having some fun with the new guy?

I wasn't looking forward to getting hazed at two o'clock in the morning. I put the note back in the book and skimmed through the manual. It was a real snooze fest of standard rules and nonsense. For the next check, I decided to use binoculars. I was rewarded by seeing a bear in 3D. I bought out my camera and took some picks, but the zoom wasn't quite as much as I needed to get some really good shots. You could still tell it was a bear, but it was a little blurry.

I decided to go camera shopping with my first paycheck. It was a use of having this spectacular view if they can't take good pictures of it. Soon after sunset came the twilight, and the sky lit up a brilliant orange. I took some more pictures and did my scan. I was just about to go back inside when I noticed a thin wisp of smoke in the distance. I grabbed my binoculars and tried to get a better view, but there were too many trees in the way. I pulled out my compass and got a general direction, then grabbed the radio and caught the Ranger on duty. I told him I had a fire and gave him the general direction and distance.

He acknowledged it and said, You check it out. I stayed glued to my binoculars, waiting to see the smoke lesson. The minutes each seemed to take an eternity as the smoke continued to rise. Nearly half an hour later, the radio came to life.

Hey, Rocky, the ranger said. Did you find it? Did you put it out? I still see smoke. Did I tell you the wrong place? I said into the radio all in one breath. Oh, there. said, everything's fine, and it's just a campfire. What? Campfire, he said, nothing to worry about.

A campfire, I repeated in a day. Yeah, you'll want to see more smoke, it should be a lot thicker and darker before you call it in. I stood in silence, my face beat red with embarrassment. Ah, cheer up, the ranger said into the silence. you didn't call the fire department. I looked over at the phone, knowing I was mere minutes from doing that very thing. Yeah, thanks, I said. Sorry about that. I don't worry, kid, he said.

At least you erred on the side of caution instead of letting the forest burn down. I put my face in my palm and shook my hands. So much for a good first impression. Twilight had faded, leaving a few last vestiges of light. as the clouds transformed from dirty grey to black. I began to realise just how alone I was out here when the canopy of the night fully found. Doing my checks from inside was nearly impossible.

I had lights on, and every window I looked out became a mirror of me looking back in at myself. Although in a wooden box suspended 100 feet above the ground made it that much creepy. I stepped out onto the deck in the cool evening air. The total darkness was oppressive. I couldn't see anything.

How was I supposed to see smoke? I did a slow walk around the deck, looking out blindly at the trees. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to make out some shapes with the mountains and even the soft glow in the distance of the nearest town. I was small comfort to know that things still existed out in the world, and I hadn't been plunged into this cover of darkness.

I finished my check and stepped back in the world. inside. After being out in the darkness, it was way too bright. I turned off the main overhead light and the light over the entrance. The room settled into a comfortable glow with enough light to see but not to blind. In fact, it was a little too cozy. I felt a nap coming on. I lay down on the surprisingly comfortable cot and closed my eyes. I woke sometime later to static sounding on the radio. I reached for the radio to answer it, but something in the back of my mind told me not to. I looked at my watch and it said 2.12 a.m. I froze. Looking around the lit room, I thought about the strange rules I'd read early. I reached up and turned off the light,

plunging in the room into darkness. As my eyes adjusted and I could see a few things, I looked out the window and could swear, I saw someone peering in. I know. Just then I heard static on the radio. I was a voice trying to get through, but it seemed too weak. I waited to see if they'd call again. A minute later, static sounded once more, but beneath it I heard the voice. It was a little stronger this time. I could just make it out. Help me, it said in a feeble yet insistent voice. I reached for the radio, but something made me glance watch first. It was 2.23 a.m. I faltered and didn't answer. Here's those creepy rules, I thought. What if they're real? I've already broken one by having

the lights on. What happens when you break the rules? I sat in silence, wanting to know the answer, but at the same time not wanting to know. The radio call came through much more clearly this time. Can anyone hear me? I need help. The voice sounded desperate. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. It had a strange quality that I couldn't quite place. I fought the urge to answer, not knowing if I'd be fired for dereliction of duty or not. This was what I was out here for. I needed to answer, but my mind just wouldn't let go of those rules. The minutes ticked by like hours and three more times the radio sounded out its plea each time sounding more desperate i watched the time count in the seconds until three when the time finally came i picked up the radio whoever was calling for help

please state your position so i can relay help to you i said who is this came the answer on the radio this is a park ranger manning a fire tower well park ranger I've been down this channel all night and yours is the first voice I've heard. You know, it's not possible, I thought. I had several calls for help over the last hour, I said. You sure? Absolutely. I wrote down the time of each call.

And why I didn't you answer to them until now? I paused. What could I say? Because a weird list of rules told me not to. Ranger? I had, um, I said hesitantly, extenuating circumstances. Extenuating circumstances. The voice repeated as though tasting them.

What circumstances would those be? Whoever this was, they weren't going to let it go. I'm not at liberty to say. You mean like, falling asleep and breaking the rules? The voice said, sounding deeper, raspier and more menacing. I froze. I hadn't turned the lights on yet, leaving the room in eerie darkness that left me feeling very exposed. I slowly panned around looking out the windows and remembering the earlier feeling of being washed.

You can look all you want, but you won't see me, the voice said. It's after three, I said, hoping the terror I felt wasn't evident in my voice. You have no power over me. The voice chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. I'll believe you'd be correct. However, you broke the rules. What if I didn't know about the rules? I said, grasping at straws. Nice try, but you knew you should be safe after three. Damn it, I thought. I picked up on that.

So, what do you want? I said, fearingly. the answer. We're hungry, the voice said, only now it sounded like many voices speaking at once. Come down and let us feed. My legs turned to rubber as I stumbled over to the door and stepped out onto the deck. The moon was rising half full, casting light into the darkness. I looked down and saw over a dozen large animals surrounding the tower in a circle, and each one of them was looking up at me. I dove back inside and locked the door. I frantically searched for the flashlight. Once I found it, I picked up the phone to call the Rangers station. There was no doubt. I hung up and tried again, but still, nothing. I pulled out my cell phone, but there was no signal.

I paused then to clear my head. Okay, I thought, you're freaked out right now. But what's actually happened. A weirder on the radio, some animals around the tower. This list is making you paranoid. Just then I looked outside and there was a light off in the distance that looked like an airplane. The problem was that it was heading straight toward me. God, it was mesmerizing. I found myself staring into the rapidly approaching glow until I realized it was going to ram into the tower. I found the best cover I could on the opposite side of the room and surrounded myself with as much furniture as possible. Being that the furnishings were sparse, that meant I dragged the chair over in front of me. I covered my eyes and hoped for the best, and I may or may not have

mumbled one of those, I'll promise I'll be good if you get me out of this, prayers. The seconds tumbled into minutes. Nothing happened. I peaked over the edge of the counter and the light was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and wondered why I hadn't heard any engine sound. I decided it was because I was too busy ducking for cover. And then it hit me. I grabbed the manual and poured out the list of rules. There it was. Rule number five. If you see a glowing object floating toward the tower, don't look at it. Cover your eyes and count of 50. When you open In your eyes it should be gone. If not, cover and count of fifty again. I read over the rules again and realized how many had come to pass. For a long moment, I thought that it maybe was an

elaborate joke, some of the rangers yanking the rookies chain. But there was too much I couldn't explain. The radio transmissions, the glowing light, the animals surrounding the tower. Then I realized I'd broken that rule too. I hadn't fired the flare gun as instructed. I dug through the cupboard where the emergency supplies were kept and found the gun. I grabbed two flares and stepped out onto the deck. As I questioned the intelligence of firing flares that could end up causing a forest fire when I was supposed to be trying to prevent them, I heard a strange sound. I held my breath and cocked my ear for a better listen.

It wasn't just one sound, it was many. I glanced over the side of the rail toward the ground and saw the animals all growling and pouring at the ground, working themselves into a frenzy. I backed away and loaded the first flare, then pointed up and fired it. It rose majestically, glowing blood red until gravity slowed its ascent and pulled it back to Earth.

I watched closely to make sure not only that it went out, but where it landed just in case. I waited a minute and fired the second flare, watching where it landed as well. I then stepped back inside and hid in the bathroom as instructed. I knew my heart that I was safe from the animals as long as I didn't go down the steps. The radio sounded off, scaring me nearly half to death. Fire, Tower No, the voice said.

I've seen your flares. I'm on my way. Are you physically injured? No, not at the moment, I said. I'll explain when you get here. Roger that, en route. I tried to calm my nerves by thinking about what job I would apply for next and how unfortunate it was that this one hadn't worked out. I thought about what I was going to tell the Ranger when he got here.

I couldn't tell him the truth, but what else could I say? Yeah, there were some animals at the bottom of the tower that scared me. I honestly considered calling him back and telling him not to come when I felt heavy footsteps on the bottom stairs of the fire tower. I must have been daydreaming and let time slip by. I stepped out of the bathroom and went to the trap door. Yeah, you hear already? I said into the radio as I reached down to unlatch the trap door.

You, that was fast. What are you talking about? Came the clear answer over the radio. I'm not there yet. I paused as I felt the footsteps come closer to the top. Where are you? I said quietly. I can barely see the tower, probably a mile away.

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I looked down at the bolt I was about to unlatch and pulled my handbag very slowly. Which direction are you coming from? I said. Southeast. I looked in that direction and sure enough, I could see headlights approaching.

The radio sounded again but with a slightly different voice. Tower, ignore that last transmission, it said, I'm already here, let me in, please. I stared down at the trap door as though it wanted to bite me. Tower, let me in, it said more insistently. I backed away as something began beating on the trap door with tremendous force. The board shook with every impact. I stepped inside and locked the door. then barricaded it with my only loose piece of furniture, the chair. Tower five, Tower five, I don't know who that is talking to you, but it isn't me. Do not open that door, repeat, do not open that door.

I backed into the bathroom with the flare gun in hand and locked the door. The pounding on the trap door became louder. I knew it wouldn't take much more of a beating, and the whole room shook with every impact. I closed my eyes and prayed in earnest this time. And then my salvation came in the form of the engine sound of a pickup truck. I knew the real range it was here. I listened as it came closer and then stopped. There was an awful silence for a moment and then gunfire.

Over and over, multiple shots in rapid succession. Then there was a lull followed by more shots. The pounding on the trap door had stopped as soon as the truck pulled up. The coast is clear, Ranger. You can open the door now. Came a voice over the radio. I put my hand on the knob, smiling to go out and greet my savior. When I heard a weak transmission, not me, it rasped. A heartbeat later the screaming began.

It was a gut-wrenching scream of terrible suffering. I could hear it beneath me. All I could do was drop to the floor and curl up in a ball as the screaming went on and on. I closed my eyes and tried not to imagine that poor ranger being ripped as shreds by God knows what. Soon the screams lessened in volume and intensity as though they were moving away. I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees until unconsciousness mercifully took me. I woke to strange voices calling my name. I opened my eyes and I was surrounded by my eyes.

people in blue uniforms. I panicked and backed away from them as fast as I could until my back hit a wall. Calm down, one of them said. It's all right. I looked around the room like an animal that had been backed into a corner. I was ready to fight my way out. Are you injured? he asked. My mind raced to remember where I was. I looked out the window and it was morning. The sun was shining, I could see blue clouds. Everything from last night came back to me in a rush. I looked around the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, I'm not injured, I said to the EMT. Can you tell us what happened here? A ranger said from behind me. I looked over at the manual that contained the list of rules and, for a heartbeat, considered telling him to read them.

No, was all I said instead. Can I go home now? The Ranger glared at me. Wanting answers and not getting them is frustrating, I know. Is he all right to drive? The Ranger asked the EMT. They gave me the once-over, BP, lungs, heart rate, and didn't find anything to be concerned about.

Well, I'd say physically he's fine, the EMT said. The Ranger sighed. Go ahead, he said. But I'll want to talk to you tomorrow. I nodded and stood, gathered my things and started toward the door. When I got to the open trap door, I hesitated, seeing it had been hacked open with an axe. I took a tentative first step, then another. Surviving a night as I had, only to fall down several flights of stairs would be quite ironic.

As I made my way down, white-knuckling the railing the whole way, I saw people busy at the bottom. They were picking up shell casings with gloves and putting them into plastic bags. I could see spots of blood here and there, but no bodies, either human or animal. I saw the trail of blood as it disappeared into the woods. I stood on the bottom step for a long time, wondering if I was allowed to step onto the ground. I took the step and bolted from my car. I started it up and drove out of there as fast as I could. Just as I turned onto the ground,

gravel road a deer walked out in front of me I slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop mere inches from hitting it didn't move he just stood there staring at me as I looked more closely I could see blood on its nose and mouth my heart skipped a beat when I saw a shred of a rangers patch impaled on one of his antlers its eyes bored into mine as I slammed into reverse and then drove swerved around the deer and broke every speed limit getting home I caught my boss and quit as soon as I got there, and I packed and started looking for a job in the city. Maybe I can find a nice quiet warehouse to guard. But if it has a strange set of rules, I'm walking out.

No questions are. I exercised a demon, and it followed me home. By Estelle Pope. The thing I love the most about specializing in exorcism is not so. much the excitement or thrill of the church, but the happy, smiling faces of my clients afterwards, especially children. He was a spitting image of my little nephew, right down to the brown hair as flat as a river through a valley. He was lying as still as a stone, his hands limped by his sides, his face like death itself.

For a moment his heart stopped, and minded too. Each passing second was agony. When his eyes flow open, his breathing stabilized, the color came slowly back to his cheeks. The boy sat up, coughing out blood. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. When he smiled that rainbow smile that made my heart flutter inside, the smile that always makes this job so worth one. Thank you, Father Peter. The mother started to sob, her emotions gushing out of her like water from her dam.

I squeezed her hand tight and whispered that. everything was going to be all right. With a final smile, I grabbed my hat and started out of the door. Wait! I turned to see the mother's eyes sparkling, relief, gratitude. She struggled to get the words out. Father Peter, thank you so much. I smiled at her and tipped my hat. Isn't a problem, ma'am. She burst into tears again, and I could still hear her as I made my way down to the bus. I was still laughing, giddy with joy at another successful exorcism. But as the bus pulled away from the station and lumbered down the road, while he started to creep in and my heart sank with dreads.

For my own little boy was not well. I had big dreams, my nephew. I was there when he was born, and I was there for his christening and baptism. I named him Peter, Peter the 10th, after me and my father and all the men that had come before me. I was hoping that he would follow me into the priesthood. I dreamed of the day I could teach him with my tips and tricks, the day he could successfully exercise his first demon like a baby taking his first steps, and to the day I could finally tell him, oh, I'm so proud of you. But the house was too quiet as I slipped back home and hung up my hands. The sunlight slipped into the late afternoon,

illuminating a long white arm that stretched across the hall. My sister, Maria, was frozen on the couch, staring listlessly at the television. The sound had dulled out to a babble that didn't matter anymore. I tiptoed up to my nephew's room where he lay. He was barely moving, and his face was the colour of weak tea. Shadows fluttered beneath closed eyelids, sweat dribbled down his face and moistened his bedsheets. I lay a hand on his forehead, and it came away hot. You'll get better, junior.

whispered, lips trembling. I swear you'll do everything he can to help. Well, the empty promise hung in the air as I closed the door and went downstairs to sit with my sister. He would never get back to me. That was the fact I had to deal with. The fact my sister had to deal with and the reality that hit us day after day as Junior got worse and worse. Money was running out. Time was running out. We simply didn't know what to do. My sister ripped my hand, her knuckles white. She leaned against me like a house of cards, and she closed her eyes and went to sleep. Poor Maria. Tomorrow she'd wake up to another nightmare. I drifted off myself. My dreams plagued with worry. Good morning, mother. Good morning,

uncle. Maria screamed. I opened my eyes to a miracle. Junie was standing in front of us. He was wearing a freshly starched button-up shirt, black pants in the tie. He was standing straight like a soldier to attention, and he was smiling. It had been a long time since I'd seen him smile. How are you feeling, junior? I gasped. Oh, perfectly fine. Thank you so much for asking, Uncle. I clasped my nephew's hands into my arm. Oh, it felt like grasping a cold fish, but his eyes shone like fire.

Oh, thank you, Lord, I whispered, tears in my eyes, for healing my nephew. I will forever repay you with your kindness. My nephew shivered at my touch and squirmed in my grip. A look of worry crossed his face, but then it relaxed into a smile. I'm glad I can make you happy, uncle, he said. He insisted on sitting at the breakfast table with us. Usually he'd be fidgety, restless, before inhaling his food and rushing out the front door. Today he sat up straight at the breakfast table like an iron rod was shoved down his back.

Maria set down a plate of sausages in front of him. Junia picked up his cutlery, cut the sausage into pieces, then nibbled into each one daintily with a fork. My jaw dropped. For years we've been struggling to teach him how to eat, but he'd improved by leaps and bounds overnight. After breakfast, Junior cleared the table and insisted on helping his mother. He'd be able to with the dishes so I retreated to my study but when I opened my door my heart stopped short my study was a mess my Bibles were ripped apart shredded paper falling down to the ground like snow the shelves had crumbled into wooden planks and were piled up like firewood but what chilled me to the bone were the pentapet

thousands of them drawn painstakingly all over my study crawling up the walls and all the floor over and over a pattern almost like wallpaper each had a single five-pointed star in the center it was the color of blood as i began to tidy up i couldn't stop staring at these pentagrams the five-pointed crimson star seemed somehow familiar i must have studied about it before but it seemed to have slipped my memory and to make it worse all my notes on that star were gone eaten by the looks of it breath swept through the room. I stared at the star again, and it clicked. Yeah, the house yesterday, I saw the same star on the walls of his house. And as if to confirm it all, cold laughter wafed through the room, making my hair stand on end. I clenched my fists

until they turned white. I would not rest until that demon was gone. I swear on it. The laughter came again, this time from downstairs, and I burst. into the kitchen to find? Nothing. Nothing but the head of a recool on the kitchen table. It was nearly severed, showing only the blood vessels jutting out. His eyes rolled backwards, showing only the whites. As I watched, its whiskers quivered with fear before it became still again. Shadows danced behind the curtain. It was my sister, laughing, drinking something out of a wine glass. More, Blood seeped underneath the curtain as she refilled the glass. My hand went to my mouth.

Junior was nowhere to be found. Images flashed into my mind of my young nephew on a tree somewhere or on a wall, nailed down with his head dangling like that of the recoup. I shivered. My heart leapt in my throat. My brain screamed at me to go find him. But I couldn't. I was stuck.

I ripped open the curtain, cross at the ready. to find no one there. Well, she was gone as quickly as she'd appeared. Maria! My thoughts were going out of control. Tears whirled into my eyes. I struggled to find what to say next. I'll find, Junior.

We'll do this together. The demon will not win. I fled. Didn't know how long I was in that study, but the daylight seemed to have vanished into a deep shade of gold. Shadow is emerged and formed in. intricate patterns that crawled against the walls like branches of a tree.

Then the shadows fled to what looked like a huge spider, scuttling across the walls. I swung my light around, but it was gone. My wife was laughing. Whatever that was was hissing, and my head was spinning. Junior, I called out. I wanted to sound brave, but my voice was so small. I crept around the house. Junior.

He wasn't in the study. Junior. He wasn't in the bedrooms. Junior. He wasn't in the yard. It was still watching me. The thing. I could feel the way his gaze bore down on my back.

I kept on hearing, heavy breathing, a heart, quivering with excitement. But when I turned around, yelling, a bottle at the ready, it was gone. The tree house was the last place I checked. Junior loved that place. Back before he was sick, he'd spent every waking moment there, rocking in his hammock, gazing at the blue sky and the clouds drifting lazily by, or spent his afternoon's drawing with his crayons. Now the hammocks swung with the wind,

and the planks creaked under my footsteps like a haunted house. New drawings were on the walls, but it depicted the same symbol over and over. the five-pointed crimson star. I forced myself to ignore the star, grit my teeth, and began to search. Hammock, rug, dusty corners. Again, hammock, rug, dusty corners. It began to get increasingly harder as the sun went down and the light began to fade, and so I carefully placed one of my purifying candles on the wooden table and moved to lighting.

But then I felt a wish of air. And then something heavy clobbed me in the head, and the candle clattered onto the floor. I turned around, and my heart, which had been thrashing in my chest like a wild animal from worry and paranoia, now came to a complete halt. Oh, she towered over me, two or three times my height. Her belly was swollen, stretched beyond the normal limit, and I could see red veins bulging from my arms that were as thick as tree trunks. She roared again, raised what I now recognised as an axe from the garage and swung it down,

only just missing my head. The table was cleanly split into half. I backed away, and she advanced to the axe swinging madly in her hands. At that same time, the last of the sun slipped onto her face, and I nearly dropped everything I was so desperately holding. Maria! But it was not the Maria I knew. Her eyes were bloodshot.

She moved with an awkward clumsiness that didn't seem like herself. Far below the treehouse, I could see somebody waving their hands as if conducting a fancy orchestra. Somebody with a body shape and size of a huge spider. Somebody scuttling towards my direction. I had ten seconds. Maria, I choked out. Please. She was almost on me now.

She dropped the axe and her hands crawled up to my throat. Her breath was on my face. I squirmed, but I was trapped under her grip. Maria, I hissed. Fight it. She never well. The voice was too familiar, too small, too much like that same little boy

who could brighten my day just by walking into the room. That same boy who was wolfing down sausages is this very morning with a big grin on his face. Why, Uncle? Junior drolled. His eyes gleamed red in the twilight. The crimson star was carved onto his chest now, gleaming with blood. He raised both his arms and Maria got off me and marched to his side. He advanced on me, his now forked tongue flicking from side to side.

Get out of my nephew, I howl. My palms were sweating. I scrambled onto my feet and fell. force myself to move. Get out of him, Junior repeated mocking. He caught his head like he pretended not to understand, and then let out a large guffaw.

Oh, on the contrary, uncle, I'll have the joy of finishing you off myself for everything you've done to us. I set the candle back on its stand and lit it. My hands were shaking so badly I was afraid I might accidentally burn the treehouse down. The flame went out feebly. I struck another match.

It's not working. Give up and come to me, Uncle. He'll make things so much easier. Come on. The flame was too weak. It went down slower and slower, and I bit my nails and held my breath. And it finally exploded into lights, and the treehouse was bathed in orange and yellow and gold.

Junior hissed in pain, and his eyes went wide. He backed quickly into the corner. It was tired. I lay my right hand onto him and placed my cross on his forehead. Oh, Junior screamed. Smoke was coming out from where the cross met his skin. Then, before I even started to pray, he dissolved into a mound of black ash. More rained down from the roof, flooding the treehouse, spilling over onto the ground. I looked at my left, saw my sister was crumbling too, first her legs and her belly, and then her head.

blood gushed out and baited the ash into something hard i was left with the graves of the only family i'd ever known i knelt in front of them and set a final goodbye my tears falling like the ashes scattered around me then i wordlessly blew out the candle climbed down the rope ladder and looked at the shadow of the tree house for the last time Every step back to the main house was heavier than the last. I stared at the flickering flames of the candle as the night danced on around me. I scrawled through my phone, staring at pictures of my family, eating ice cream, playing at the beach, normal family stuff that made everything so worth it. Until my life was ruined by the same thing I swore to protect them from. My resolve hardened and I made a promise right then and then.

that I would fight the demons that haunted this world and send them back to where they came from. That no one else would get hurt. And as if God himself was listening, the phone rang. Hello, is this Father Peter? It was a young woman, early 20s, and her voice sounded strange. My sister's here in my body, and I can't sleep anymore. Get it out so we can both be a peace. Please

Shut up Cam He can't help you Besides you know you deserve it Then the line went dead The lady Cam had sent an address I gathered up my things and packed them into my napset

Yes Tonight will be a new night A night of change But as I strode down the road To take the first bus I felt something wake up inside me Hello, Father Peter. I nearly dropped my fangs.

I scanned the surroundings, my heart thumping away in my chest. Nothing. Yeah, maybe it was just the events of the night. Every little thing was making me jump. The sun began to rise, illuminating the silent forest around me. Yeah, yeah, it was nothing. yet my heartbeat was quickening again I couldn't help but look around as I climbed the steps of the bus

the voice gave out another hearty chuckle once again a shiver ran up my spine my left hand was twitching involuntarily I loved your nephew and as for you let's dance ghostwhispers dot IO by corpse

child. Hey, uh, you want a dance cat? I looked in the direction I thought her voice was coming from. Jenna was smiling and crooning to me. God, I'd wanted this chance for fucking years. Yeah. I straightened up and then with a little more confidence shouted. Hell yeah. I got up and walked over to her, putting on the color-coded headphones. I took her hand as she led me out to the middle of the dance floor. There I gave a thumbs up to the designated DJ to crank our music club. We got the blue DJ, the good one. So me, her, and about three other people were shaking and rocking out to Combit Christ and a few other techno-metal artists.

While everyone else were listening to God only knew or cared what. 30 seconds. Half a minute. That's how long my little taste of heaven last is. About ten seconds later, I remember hearing a faint screaming noise. actually multiple screams would be accurate. Still, faint being the key word, which meant I easily swept it off to keep dancing with Jenna.

Well, that lasted almost another 15 seconds before I noticed that everyone had stopped dancing. Everyone was now looking toward the back of the dance room, toward the hall. The music was still playing in the headphones, so I took them off to immediately be met with screams and gasped and oh my god jena had taken hers off now at this point and i looked at her i was about to ask if she knew anything about what the hell was going on but the bewildered look on her face took care of that

for me she was cringing her neck to look out and over the throng of people to see the hallway i did the same with no luck from me either jenna started moving closer to the crowd i tried staying behind her, but we were quickly separated, only about a quarter of the way through the crowd. Trying to wade through the crowd was like trying to wade through an audience at a rock concert. Maybe even made all the worse here because of the apparent hysteria. Jenner! I called out, trying desperately to spot her again. I couldn't see her anywhere.

A little way further through the crowd, I heard one of the girls overhead shriek at the top of their lungs, damn near killing me right then and there of a heart attack. Right then I was stuck between just freezing up where I was and wanting to push and fight my way further through the crowd. I was terrified of what I'd find ahead, but also of course about what might have happened to Jenna. And with that I ended up electing the latter, something far easier said than done. By luck or she had a willpower though, I actually managed to get myself close enough to

the front of the crowd to start seeing what was going on. I couldn't see much, with a lot of the taller people there standing right at the front. I could see that someone was on the ground, twitching and twisting spasmodically. Heart racing, I managed to spot Jenna just to my right and I went to her. Yeah, what's going on? Who is that? The head snapped suddenly to me, wide-eyed and startled, before exchanging glances between me and the person on the ground ahead. I don't know.

I gaze returned to the guy on the floor. I could hear choked sort of gurgling noises, almost like he was trying to talk. But he was being choked while doing so. He had one hand clawing at his throat, with the other clawing at his eyes. So much so I could faintly see streams of blood running down his face. Oh my God, I think he's choking, I cried. No one moved. Here, move.

I violently shoved my way past the two grillers in front of me to rush to the guy's side. As bad as he was flopping around on the ground, I had a hell of a time trying to lift him up to a sitting position so I could try giving him the Heimlich manoeuvre. Sir, I called to him. Sir, my name's Catherine Danvers. I'm going to give you the Heinleck maneuver, okay? Just try to hold still for me.

He continued bucking wildly against me. Sir, please. I called out again. Nothing. I saw then that his headphones were still on. After a second of readjusting, I managed to pull his headphones off. Sir, my name is... I was cut off when his body abruptly seized,

following by him blasting out the most horrific, most startling, and just the single most unnatural scream I'd ever heard in my life, and what all I would ever hear. I instantly let go of him and he dropped the ground, stiff as a board. His scream lasted for almost a full, 30 seconds, long enough for it to be forever seared into my memory. Even after he stopped, well, at least when I was pretty sure it wasn't him, the scream itself still lingered in the air like a foul smell, passing itself through everyone else gathered around as well. The guy laid now on the ground in front of me,

lifeless and frozen this weird, freakish-looking upward thrust with his back bent off the ground, stomach facing the ceiling. Um, body froze as well, stuck with my knees huddled to my chest, almost in a fetal position, shaking. For a moment, time seemed to really freeze all throughout the club. Each set of eyes from the crowd was fixed on me, mouths hanging halfway to the floor. someone finally managed to break the stupor by pulling out their phone and calling the cops everyone else then started filing out in an unorganized utterly manic manner not me though i couldn't even force myself to try and make any part of me move i couldn't even take my eyes off of the guy's body either my eyes were fixed on his with his staring back at me blank and soulless He screamed, despite having died out everywhere else in the club building, continued echoing in my own head. I couldn't place it at that moment, but I knew something about it wasn't natural.

Something about it was, I don't know, just wrong. I stayed in entropy like this until I was shaken back to the real world by Jenna shaking my shoulder. Kat, she called out, rocking me gently. Kat, you okay, babe? My head snapped to her, then again one last time to the body, and then back to her before absently nodding yes. Come on, let's get out of here. She helped me up and the two of us joined the rest outside.

Everyone was asking each other frantically what they all thought was going on. Jenner I just stood waiting for the authorities to arrive. It was only another minute or so before they did. The crowd was then divided. didn't question individually but i refused to leave jenna's side jenna and i were pulled to the side and asked for our side of the story i had no idea what the hell any of the other people was saying about me but judging from the rather suspicious looks on their faces i could tell something was being spun against me the both of us did our damnedest to emphasize the fact that i was only there to help the guy

that he'd been seizing even before i'd touched him i could see though that this did about as much as to convince them as if I just stayed silent. In either case, Jenna and I were still good to go home. I was about to walk to my car when Jenna stopped me, offering to give me a ride back with her. There's no way I'm letting you go home by yourself after that, she declared. I'd have protested, but I'd known by that point, having already been good friends with her for at least two years by that time, and when she put her foot down like she was here, it wasn't wise to question or refuse unless you were willing to risk your ass being the next place her foot went. That was, admittedly, one of the reasons I wanted to be more with her.

Always the more headstrong over two of us. I was always the more calculated one. Of course, this also meant that I get to bunk overnight at her place. An even bigger plus, even if neither me nor her were in any mood to fool around. The ride was silent. almost suffocatingly so. I could tell both of us wanted to say something about it, but, well, what? What really could be said other than it was the single most horrifying thing

either of us had witnessed in our lives? It wasn't until we got back to her place that either one of us spoke to the other. Hey, you okay? She asked me. I loaded her, my face probably shaking and obviously anxious. She started to warden it when I held my hands up. I'll be okay. It's just...

I looked down to the floor and then to the TV. My body was sort of on autopilot while my brain ran them up. Just what? My attention snapped back to her. I don't know. Just so crazy. I mean, what was that? If I'd know, honey.

She threw off her jacket before heading to her kitchen. I stood where I was, losing my focus to the TV again. Hey, want a cold one? She asked. Without taking my eyes away again, I replied. Yeah, sure. She told me to take a load off on the couch, so I trudged over and plop down in the center cushion.

She joined me five seconds later with a six-pack of millers and a bottle of Harwood Canadian. Well, ever since we were a couple of freshman girls, it was our favorite little combo for when it was the couple of kids. two of us. Here, Kitty Cat. This will take the edge of. I offered her a weak, half smile before taking and downing a decent swig of the miller.

For about the next minute and a half, the two of us drank in silence until, finally, having gotten herself a nice little buzz going, she looked at me and asked, Hey, um, I still want to dance, Kitty Cat? I rolled my head to her. By that point I was well under, though. not enough to get blacked out. A grin stretched across my face. Fuck yeah, I slurred excitedly.

Look, I've got a new CD I wanted you to check out. Remember that little band we used to listen to, Serafin, yeah? I nodded my head. How could I forget? The band that heard, me and a couple of other friends originally only listened to to see if its little supposed curse was real. I even noticed she still had a few of their CDs. She pulled out her phone then and held up her music playlist to me.

She pointed to one of the songs at the top of the list and said, Hey, check it. The song was titled Something Weird. Six God, Six, Cry, Six. Briefly scanning a couple of the other songs below it. I saw that they were all titled like this, all of them looking like a weird serial code or something. This techno group called ghostwhispers.io.

Hmm, cool. I continued looking at the track. The album art was a sort of sloppily drawn skeleton wearing headphones. That was it. You'll love it, I promise. She'd add another swallow of her drink before going over and connecting her Bluetooth surround sound speakers to her phone. You ready?

She hit the play button in the song. I was confused for a second when nothing happened. I looked at Jenna, who held her finger up, winking. Eventually, I began to hear it. It sounded like a low sort of rumbling noise that very, very slowly built in pitch and temper. Imagine the stomping footsteps of an elephant approaching you. It was a lot like that if the footsteps also got higher in pitch the closer they came. Several wave-like sounds then came from the speakers that at first made me think the opening riff was about to cue, except it wasn't.

Instead, two or three more of them passed through the room. Following this was a weird sort of heartbeat sounded. After a few more passing waves, the two sounds synchronized with one another. I looked at Jenner again. She had her eyes closed, bopping her neck back and fall. I couldn't understand, because, Not only was there no music, or at least nothing I'd have considered music, but her head bops weren't even in rhythm with the actual sounds themselves. The rhythm stayed the same, steadily growing higher and higher in pitch, yet her bopping was much more erratic by comparison.

Then, when I'd say the rhythm from the song reached about a mid-range sound, I started to notice something about the wave sounds, or rather I should say sobbing sounds I don't know how best to describe the sand other than what you'd think of if you imagine two or three whales simultaneously crying deep under water

it was low and incoherent and it all the same I could somewhat feel this cloud of overwhelming sadness as well as a sense of ominous dread coming from it when it started getting louder and louder so too did the bass blasting from the speakers causing my entire body to vibrate inside an air.

Jenna still wasn't bothered by this though. I started to wonder if somehow we were listening to a different song altogether. Then I heard a noise like an extremely deep voice come from the speaker saying, By man's will, the almighty weeds. As garbled as it was, that's really only my best guess as to what I'd heard. Whatever it was, though, was immediately following. by this high-pitched squeal, sort of like a guitar trill

that almost immediately broke my eardrums, literally to a point where, even to this day, I actually still have a hard time really hearing anything. I looked over to Jenna, who had her face contorted in a silent sort of scream, kind of like when you're listening to a heavy song and you react by screaming like the vocalist is. It was like that, only she was perfectly still.

In fact, so was ever. everything else. I took a second when I actually noticed that the speakers weren't vibrating anymore, not like they were earlier. As well as this, my own body wasn't vibrating anymore, even though the base was still blasting from the speakers. I tried to look around the room, but I couldn't move my head, only my eyes and even that was more of a struggle than it should have been. I noticed too that the room was turning grey scale. The Ellie, delights Jenna had around her living room now weren't coloured or glowing. Jenna herself even looked like this. The screeching noise by now was a sort of droning ambience in the background.

I started hearing more voices coming through the speakers, mixing and distorting as they came closer toward me. I couldn't make out anything they were saying, except for one thing, screamed at me in another language. They assumed it flemous satay. Parasitus set finiandos. This two then dispersed into a multitude of other crying voices. They were all mixed too. Some were men's voices, some women, some of them were even children's voices. They were mixed languages too, like the one from earlier.

All of them were saying different things at the same time, none of which I could understand, but whatever it was, It was done so out of fright. I'd be almost willing to swear how this carried on for hours, but as I found out, only a second later, only three minutes had passed since this all began. Eventually the music ended, and I saw everything normally again. Came to, I saw Jenna grinning at me. So, what'd you think?

Part two. I didn't reply. and her face fell into one of concern. Kitty Cat, you? Anyone home? I didn't answer. The world felt normal again, but I still couldn't make myself move. Not even out of shock or anything either,

but like something was actually holding me perfectly still. A cat! She came over and started shaking me. In my mind, I could almost feel my lungs tearing from how much I was screaming out to her, but no sound actually came out. Cat, Cat, come on, baby. Catherine! I heard her voice start to jumble like the ones from the beat earlier. My name started to twist and morph into other words in her distorted voice,

words I couldn't understand except for this phrase. Homenom, fleme, repeating over and over. Jenna began slapping me to wake up, but I couldn't even. feel it or anything for that matter my body was essentially a vegetable only really conscious inside my own head well i could see and hear but not move or feel it wasn't until long afterward that i knew that i wasn't dreaming any of this or dead when i watched and heard jenna call 911 who showed up about fifteen minutes later and took me to the hospital where i woke up so to speak During all of this, my mind was screaming, along with the other million, 100 million,

and possibly billion other voices I was hearing screaming those two words to me. When it all stopped finally at the hospital, I found Jenna asleep in the chair next to my bed, a hand holding mine gently. I moved my hand, my head to look around, and even wiggle my toes. I could move my body again. I was back. Jenna stirred awake soon after. Well, good morning, kitty cat,

she said with a groaning sort of early morning chuckle. I looked at her, my face a mix of confusion and exhaustion. Oh good, you're actually moving, too. Jenna, I said groggily. What the hell happened? Why am I here? She scoffed dryly and replied. I was kind of hoping you'd tell me, Sugar.

I just kept staring at her. You don't remember last night? I squinted my eyes, rubbing my head, just pounding like crazy for some reason. Um, I... I don't. How are you doing this morning? General and I both looked to see the doctor entering the room.

then. I exchanged glances between him and Jenna before answering, still groggy, and I was fine. He had me then sit up and start going through all the regular check-up routines before tapping my knees with a mallet. My reflexes were fine, but when he attempted to check my hearing, something weird happened. Whenever he hit the button to trigger the beep in the headphones I was wearing, I didn't hear the beep, but instead the phrase from before. hominum flairby. I still raised my hand when I heard it for the first few times, but then, after about the seventh or eighth time, I felt my body go stiff again. This time, along with the abandonment of my senses, I could feel something heavy sort of stuff itself inside my head, like it was a glass jar.

You know how when you eat too much, your body feels like a giant brick of lead has replaced your organs. This was like that. only it was all inside my head. Nowhere else, instead of food, instead of something tangible, it was filled with a low, deep sobbing noise from the song. The pressure alone made my head prone to explode. The sounds in it got louder and louder as well, silencing the world around.

I couldn't take it anymore. But when I opened my mouth to scream, I couldn't make any sort of sound. I mean, not at all. not even a whimper or gasping or wheezing. Nothing. I could barely even breathe, in fact. One of the worst parts about this was,

thanks to my mind being as infested as it was, I couldn't even scream internally. What the fuck? Like I wanted to. I couldn't form any of my own thoughts. My mind was as empty as my body this time. The only sign this time that I was still alive was my sight. I could see Jenna and the doctor calling out to me and shaking me again, but now I couldn't feel or hear them.

I remember being wheeled out of that room and back into the OR. Another thing that scared me about this was just how slow time seemed to move. I mean, I couldn't have been in the audiology room for any more than ten or twenty minutes. I could almost swear that I was in that room for two hours. The same with when they wheeled me down the hallway to the O.A. I had a hallway stretch for a freaking eternity, despite being only a couple of rooms away from the audiologists. In the OR I watched figures all around me scrambling with various surgical implements.

I could tell from their body language that they were all panicking. About what exactly I couldn't really tell, except that it was to try to revive me. It must have been in critical condition, I thought. God, I'm going to die. The old time, all I could hear was the sobbing and crying in my head. Even my screams were silenced by them too. I imagine for a moment that you're a dummy, a wooden puppet, and you know you're a puppet, and you're forced to watch the world around you while someone else is talking for you.

You want to scream out with your own voice, but you can't because you essentially have no voice of your own. That's exactly what this was, save for the fact that you can't. that only I could hear the voice that wasn't mine. This time I have no idea how much time had actually passed before I came out of this spell, because it was a while before it even registered that I was actually bad. The sort of delayed effect, you know, like it all stopped,

but you don't even realize it because of just how overstimulated your brain was. Eventually, though, I did come out of it, to find myself in the hospital room I was in before. Couldn't tell where I was at first. first because of the way everything was happening so fast, feeling like the ninth acid trip I never had. I'd clean myself out after the eighth, and it also hadn't registered to me that I'd been moved here. It was dark, the clock beside me reading 10.30 p.m. I picked my head up as much as I could and tried looking around the room. Jenna! No one answered. I was alone in the room.

fell back down and I just stared back at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep, couldn't move, well not much anyways. I just lay in bed and stared at the freaking ceiling. Ironically I felt the quiet was just as detrimental to me mentally as the voices screaming in my head were. At least with that something was happening. God only knew what but it was something. But now though, I was all alone. My thoughts were mine, sure, but that was far from consoling. All I could think was that I was starting to lose my mind, and there was no fathomable reason as to why. I don't have a history of mental illness.

I've been clean from drugs, like I mentioned before, for over three years now. I knew that I wasn't making any of this shit up, despite how much I actually wished to God that I was. The only thing I could connect any of this shit to, was that song. That made me start thinking a little bit. The song itself was called Lord Cries, and the track sounded like someone was crying, not to mention the words themselves that kept repeating in my head,

which I was starting to realize sounded like Latin. What was said, though, I'd had no idea at the time. Couldn't look it up yet either, because I didn't have my phone with me. The next morning a nurse came in, and went through the routine check-up. Just like before, my reflexes were slower than they should have been, even more so than the previous day, in fact, not to mention my body feeling even more still than before as well.

Each movement of any of my muscles ate like crazy. Afterwards, though, I still asked if I could have my phone brought to me. She agreed, somewhat reluctantly for some reason, and then brought it to me after she left. The first thing I did was to check my messages to see if Jenna may have said anything. Maybe a... Hey, I'm worried about you. Call or text me when you get this to let me know everything's okay.

Love you. Or some shit like that. Sadly, there was no such message or any message at all from her. Next I opened Google to search the meaning for the phrase homonym flabit. And the other phrases from the music. Before I even got that far, though. An article from my newsfeed caught my eye. It was the club from two nights ago with a headline reading.

Owner of nightclub sued for soliciting illegally pirated music and the death of a patron. Curious now, I clicked on it and read the article. Apparently one of the tracks that was playing that night was done so without the artist's knowledge, and they found out because, following the incident, the police investigation revealed that the track the guy was listening to, the designated song.

for his color group was that from a particular artist well you probably see where this is going but i'll tell you that it honestly shocked me the first time i saw it the artist was ghostwhispers dot i oh more specifically ralph e kohl the apparent mind behind the madness ralph was quoted in saying that his music was more than an art. A gift to the elder ones. And explain that because of that, he required a high price for any individual or media platform to download, use, or even listen to his music.

The sign of tribute to the ones below, as he put it. A bit overcompensating, I know, but art is art, I guess. Well, each to their own. The point was that the club had been playing his music, despite him refusing to allow it after five. failing to agree to his lofty price arrangement, this compelled me to want to look further into Rolf E. Corps and see exactly what Ghostwhispers.io was actually about. Spending about 30 minutes trying to find anything about it, other than the lawsuit and the

incident at the club, I finally settled on an old Facebook page from Rolf himself. Judging from the fact that the last post that had been made by the account was from all the way back in 2009. I knew that any information I'd find here would be outdated at best. Still, I was able to sift through and learn that Rolf E. Cole, to no real surprise, used to be an active Satanist and ran an old group on there known as the whispering ghosts from below. Now, I'm in no way religious, I don't have anything against those that are, and your beliefs are your own. But I say right now that the shit I read on the old post from this guy, and a few of the others in his little niche was nothing short of freaking bizarre.

I really can't explain much of it, but basically, these wingnuts believed in preaching about the coming of what they called the elder spirit. None of them could give any consistent details on what the elder one was or what they did. Some gave a more or less weird spin on the story of Genesis, but others tried putting elements from Lovecraft books to create this pseudo-fan fiction for it. Rolf E. Kohl himself, however, oddly enough, didn't seem to take part in this. In fact, his philosophy was that only by speaking with the Elder One themselves, could you even begin to understand what they are and or what and why they do the things they do?

If you're wondering just how to do that, there's actually a list he put together on how to somehow pull this off. But you're insane if you think I'm going to list it here. Suffice to say, it's a long and extremely. extremely dangerous process. Somewhere along the way, though, there was a sort of disconnect, some sort of point in time where the whispering ghosts drifted apart from one another, with fewer and fewer posts being made and less and less chat among the members. From what I could see, there wasn't any sort of falling out between any of them, or Rolf himself,

but rather just a growing apathy between them all. That is except for Rolf, who, up until the last post made in late 2011, kept up the most and pretty much only activity throughout the group. For the most part, the posts contained mostly just drawings and or descriptions or portents, as he called them. A real whack job, this one. Can't stress this enough. Yeah, post-portance about the elder ones rising. Drawings were, at least the best I could make of it, of something similar to those freakish, biblically accurate angels, being a giant mass of assorted eyeball surrounded by a generated aura of some sort of energy or something.

Some showed something similar to this, but instead of just a ball of eyes, the elder one had the body of a person with the eyes embedded all across its body, with the exception of its face, which was blank. The dreams were more or less the same psychotic shit you'd expect a burgeoning cult leader to ram all about, being all, I've just dreamed of the almighty elder one.

awakening to hail the apocalypse and other such shit it was in mid 2010 when the group had really lost traction but Rolf started talking about making music it started with small posts similar to the ones of his portats where he'd describe how he'd hear and transcribe the prophecies of the elder one then he'd start leaving audio tracks in posts finally come the end of the year he'd start uploading the tracks to sound cloud and start posting links to them there this continued right up until the last post made at the end of 2011 like i mentioned earlier well at first it seemed like there was potential for ralph to reignite interest in the group with his music with members engaging in the posts commenting on the tracks themselves

well it didn't last long the last post was ralph saying the elder one has chosen me as his prophet and i have spoken you have all closed your ears and your heart to him. Do as you will, but with or without disciples of my own, I will continue his good work. I try to click on the sound clown links, only to find the account and the tracks were no longer there. No surprise, I guess, considering the lawsuit. That got me wandering then. Just how in the hell did the club owner have the track playing to begin with if he didn't pay for it? In that same vein, how did Jenna even hear about it? The solution? I, the club owner himself.

Part 3. That day I went through my routine check-up with no further incidents. At least none as extreme as that. The next few days progressed like this, with the only weird thing to occur being the occasional nightmare here and there or the odd auditory hallucinations sometimes when I'd walked down the halls to the bathroom or lying there. I still can't say whether or not it was necessarily a good thing

that I'd become so desensitized to it by that point that it meant next to nothing for me to repeatedly hear. hominom for a bit in my ear by about a hundred different people in the floor just below the Wackelodge but nevertheless I didn't make any sort of scene with it you know I still had control over my body and my senses I guess that was enough for either that or my mind has a twisted sense of humor all its own anyway it was enough of a charade to swindle the doctors and nurses to deem me safe to go back home without hurting myself or anyone else just a few days following.

I called Jenna that afternoon to come pick me up, and she was there a few minutes past noon. Hey, listen, I'm sorry I haven't called, she said immediately after I got in the car. It's okay, I replied. I have a favor to ask you, though. She raised her eyebrows. Can you drive us by the clock? She chuckled. Wow, five days in the hospital and the first thing you think about is wanting to go dancing. She threw her head back laughing. I just stared at her. Oh shit, you're serious.

Her eyes passed rapidly back and forth between the car, clock and me. Hell, kitty cat, I don't even think the place is open. What are you even wanting to go there for, especially when it's only noon? I open my mouth, then stopped. To be honest, up to that point, I hadn't really thought of what to say. I just kind of thought she'd go along with it. Even if she had a point, and the place probably wasn't open, I wouldn't likely be until around ten that night at the earliest.

I wasn't sure what to tell her about Ghost Whispers I owe, the stuff that I found online. At the same time, I needed to talk to the club owner, see what he knew and or how the hell he'd even got the track to begin with. In the end, I went with pulling out. my phone and showing her the article about the lawsuit the first reaction was confusion then shock and then something of interest giving the phone the same look she sometimes gave me when we drunk together late at night oh i see i'm trying to learn more about the band her she winked and added

had a girl it's more than just that jan i opened the facebook links the dude was nuts and i want to know how and why they got the track illegally. She raised an eyebrow then and gave me a patronizing smile. Oh God, I told you you watched too many crime shows. I sighed and stared pleadingly.

Oh, come on, not the puppy eyes. You know I can't resist that. Somewhat amused, somewhat relieved she was caving. I made my eyes cartoonishly bigger and more pathetic looking. Oh, all right, she said finally,

throwing the car in gear and driving out of the hospital parking lots. We arrived at the club about five or six minutes later. Admittedly, Jenna might have had a point with the club probably not even being open because the parking lot was the most deserted that I'd ever seen it. We got out and went to the door, knocking as usual. Fortunately, Jenna always remembered the club's secret knock because I never could.

It was a certain rhythm that was taught for all the paid members like Jenna and I. sort of like a gang sign, if you will, that lets them know that you're a member. For almost three minutes, the two of us just stood there like a couple of the idiots we'd always hear about who didn't know the secret knock, or left standing all alone outside. She and I used to make jokes about it. Jenna turned to me, giving me a sarcastic look and said, I told you dumb, dumb, without telling.

I was actually about to try my hand at the knocking. when I heard the bolt on the door slide back. We took a step back and the door soon opened. Tanner, the door guy, stood in the doorway eyeing us, wondering why the hell we'd be here so early. Hey, the owner here? I asked. Yeah, but he's a bit tired up at the moment. Why? We need to...

Jenna cleared her throat. Okay, I need to talk to him about the other night. He scoffed and said, good luck and get in line. Fuggers from the recording studios and the courthouse have been chomping away at him all morning. The way this shit's gone, it's probably going to be yet another couple of nights before we can get this in order and open up again. I promise it'll only take a minute. I was cut off when I heard the sound of shouting coming from down the hall. I couldn't make out much other than something about.

Motherf. I exchanged glances between Tanner and the hallway. And he grimaced. You see what I mean now? He asked. Yeah, but still, I need to ask him something. His eyebrows raised in disbelief. Come on, sweetheart.

You really want to go pissing the big man off after hearing that? Here, why didn't you tell me and I'll give him the message. I sighed and was about to turn back when Jenna stepped up. Look, dude, she said in that same. about two seconds from planting my foot in your ass tone than I was talking about earlier. My girl here said she needed to talk to the guy okay. Now, I'm going to let her through, or am I going to have to lay you out like a little bitch while Kat here gets it on video for the world to see?

Tanna looked at her, then to me, back to her before stepping aside. I almost couldn't believe that actually works. Jenna was tough, sure, but I honestly figured Tanna, built as he was. I'll keep in mind he was also the bouncer for the place, that he'd be able to take her in a one-on-one. Regardless, the two of us walked right in toward the room at the end of the hall. Right when I reached the door, I heard a low humming sort of noise, a droning, so to speak.

It was low, almost like a buzzing noise. I stopped from opening the door and instead started listening. The droning remained low for almost three minutes before I heard this garbled, rumbling sort of voice say something I think like vigilas si creasio death

the shiver passed down my back at the sound of the low-toned latin my arm shook caught stuck between wanting to throw open the door and rush in and wanting to rush back to the exit Jenna noticing my hesitation took charge and threw the door open

for me the both of us then frozen shock when we saw the owner of the club spayed out on the floor, seizing violently. The droning sound was deafening. I was forced to bend down and cover my ears when I heard the music land out a huge wave of synth noise and the voice repeated. Vigilamas.

Sick, creachio, are dead. This time, though, I noticed the voice wasn't actually coming from the speakers in the room at all, but instead from the guy himself. His eyes were bugging, and his mouth was wide open, almost impossibly so. I was about to rush and tried to help him when Jenna threw her arm out in front of me,

stopping him. That was when, in a single motion so quick that it was startling, plus a bit painful to watch. The guy shot upright, staring right at me in Jenna, wide-eyed and slagged jaw. From there he started jerking while disjointedly standing up. Jenna grabbed my arm and pulled us toward the door when it slammed itself shut, jamming itself in place. Jenna tried pulling and pulling, even battering against it with her shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. The droning was now heart-stoppingly loud.

God, I could feel it like it was actually part of the air itself. It was an all-consuming force. The owner took a disjointed step forward and the two of her step back in response. Damn it, it won't open. Jenna shouted above the droning. The owner's jaw distended in the deep, distorted voice spoke. We awake, and thus creation bird. What? I asked. Too confused to even properly be terrified.

It took another step. With each second, his body jerked more and more, actively dislocating and relocating several of his bones simultaneously. We have been awakened after thousands of his bones. years, and we've heard the call. Creation's time has come. Now it must end, starting now, with you. Who are you? Jenna yelled.

We are the outers of all creation. My eyes grew. The man stopped suddenly doubling over in pain. I was bright, glowing, orbs of light appear all over his body, followed with him screaming in a way that resembled a hundred people screaming in pain all at the same time. He always began to char and burn themselves into his skin like cattle brandings before revealing themselves as a multitude of eyeballs.

They were all different colors and twitching anxiously all over his body. Jenna screamed, What the? I just froze. I couldn't feel my heart pounded away in my chest. The man, the thing, whatever the hell you want to call it, took two more disjointed steps towards us. Jen was back to beating on the door, shouting, Hey, open up, get us out of here.

He can't save you. No one can. His arm raised and Jenner was suddenly thrown from the door into the wall. Before my brain could even register what had just happened. The man's arm raised again to the ceiling. causing a handful of the electrical cords to coil around her wrists and ankles, suspending her in the air. She struggled furiously but couldn't break herself free, and watched the prongs of the different

plugs embed themselves into her arms, causing her to cry out in sharp pain. The cord started to glow bright orange and the smell of burnt matches filled the room. Plumes of smoke started to rise from the different points where the plugs were embedded into her arms. Her eyes rolled back and her body started to shake and twist. I ran to save her, but was stopped before I even made my fifth step by a rogue cord that had suddenly come to life as well, wrapping around my leg and likewise stabbing my thigh with its prongs. Immediately I felt something searing the nerves in my leg before, then feeling nothing at all. I wrestled furiously, but just like with Jenna, this thing had me start.

I looked fast and I wasn't going anywhere. I looked up to see black spots growing all across her arms and all the way up to and around her shoulders. Others were even forming up her neck. I reached out to keep trying to pull myself to her but I couldn't move. Smoke then began coming out of her mouth and blood rained down from her eyes. Jenna! I screamed.

I then turned to the figure, still holding its arm outstretched. What are you doing to her? The figure turned to face me but didn't speak. Instead, the voice came from Jenna, whose jaw now moved up and down, all wonky like she was trying to talk while it was broken. I told you, we are bringing creations end. We have seen the error in its creation, and we can no longer stand for it. In seconds, the lights from the room blinked rapidly for a couple of seconds before going out completely. The room began to glow again when Jenna's body emanated a bright,

orange aura, just like the club owner's body had done before. Her eyes were gone, with all the other ones from before, now opening up across her body. Her jaw began to move again, and she said, This will suit us nicely. She is one of our strongest disciples. Thus she will be our voice to the world. She ended this with a screech that almost immediately deafened me. Jenna! I cried out, feebly attempting once again to wrestle my foot. free from the cold. Let it go, you son of a bitch. We cannot. We will not.

She is with us now. The eyes twitching intensified, as did the glowing around them. She'll be the voice of life's end, the bugle of the end of day. I'll do whatever you want, okay? Just give Jenna back to me. And then struggled forward again. and this made the prong sink itself deeper into my thigh. It would have hurt like hell had the electrical surge not fright all the nerves

until a black patch had formed all around the muscle itself. Still, I couldn't move, even if I'd been able to rip my leg free without feeling anything. You're of no use to us. Your mind was weak when you heard alcohol, but hers is strong. Only the strong can vessel us. Before I had any time to think about anything, I was yanked back by my leg and hurled into the back wall, smashing into the control panel in front of the recording room. The impact of my body, small and mousy as it was, total of the panel itself,

causing several sparks to shoot out everywhere, catching the carpet floor a flame. It only took about five seconds for the entire floor to turn into an inferno, and only a further three before the flames were going up the wall. My consciousness didn't last any longer than that, though, having cracked my head hard against the panel. I was out cold, too. No voices, no dreams, nothing. Just silence, which made me think I was finally done in until just a few moments later, at least I'm assuming only a few moments, when I was being shaken awake by Tano and a couple of firemen. My head felt light, when I opened my mouth to take a breath in, smoke and carbons stuffed themselves like lead weights into my lungs,

and I coughed. Oh, easy there, said one of the firefighters. He held up an oxygen mask and said, Here, put this on. I did, and after a few seconds, I was able to breathe a bit more normally again. I looked around the room. Everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was charmed. While the door was a discarded fire extinguisher,

and a few areas covered with foam. I looked over to where Jenna was and I almost wanted to vomit right there and there. She was burned almost beyond recognition, having just enough of her intact from me, though probably very few others, to even realize that was or had ever been her. The plugs were still hooked permanently into her carcass.

The club owner's body was likewise scorched, only he had absolutely no flogged, flesh left uncooked. A few seconds later, two policemen entered the room and came over to me, asking me if I was okay. I was taken out of there in a stretcher and rushed to the burn ward at the hospital. From there, I was treated as best they could for me. I ended up having the leg amputated and fitted with a prosthetic. Fortunately, I happened to have the insurance and a good bit saved up to have afforded that. Of course, that meant I couldn't go to the club anymore. Not that that mattered anymore.

Jenna wouldn't be there anymore. My Jenna. She's ours now. Those words have resonated with me ever since that moment. About a week ago now. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me. The being, the elder ones, claim that my mind was too weak to be used as a vessel like she and the club owner were.

I was unsure of what they meant at first. but I thought back to that night at Jenner's, as well as the club before that. And that's when the dots started connecting, realizing that both Jenna, the club owner, and God knows how many others had all listened to Ghost Whisper's I.O. before. No, I'm having suffered any sort of effects like me and the kid from the club that night had. I thought at first that it may have been something of Rolf E. Cole

had done in the event. Someone tried pirating the music like the club. owner allegedly had. But then the thought came back to me that that couldn't have been it, given that Jenna couldn't have paid the price he was asking for just to download the track that she played that night, never mind the others she probably had. That led to the conclusion that certain people could and couldn't be affected in any such ways by the music. The only thing I could think to do was to try actually reaching out to Rolf E. Cowell directly, see if he could explain any of it.

But everything I've tried, emails, various phone numbers, social media outlets, have all resulted in nothing. I'm stuck on what to do now. I was finally released from the hospital to go back home two days ago. Didn't feel as relieving as it had the first time.

My Jenna wasn't there with a snarky whid to greet me. No, it was just some random Uber guy who wouldn't shut the hell up. But it was what happened when I was leaving the hospital and on my way back to my apartment. Over the driver's radio, it was on some comedic radio show. I heard the all-too-familiar droning noise in the backgrounds, the built-in pitch to overtake the audio. It was followed by a deep, garbled voice bellowing.

Homenom, Flaherbe. The Side Tunnel by Eric Dole. I hated that town. Sprawled across the rotting foothills of a dead mountain chain. The city was a massive old South racism and corruption. Bird with inhabitants too poor or too sentimental to leave for someplace better. The city sweltered in the midsummer heat. Smog from traffic mixing with lethal amounts of pollen and dust

to form a soup that killed asthmatics as effectively as a whiff of mustard gas. I had acquired a sum of money from a job a few months back. Now my needs were modest, so I had nothing better to do than hang out at the fountain downtown, or at the coffee shop nearby. I met Charlie first when I noticed some truly phenomenal photographs on his laptop. There were all of old, beautiful, decayed structures, some of which I'd seen around town. Charlie never made eye contact, as he explained, in his mild halting speech, that he didn't take the photos, those were Jacks, but he handled setting up Jack's website.

A few evenings later, I was sitting on the floor of Jack's tiny apartment, drinking beer and talking with a small group of kids that were mostly excited by abandoned and condemned buildings, fire hazards and other signs of urban decay. They called themselves urbexes or urban explorers. The leader of the group was Jack. He was passionate about his photography and was working his art into his college thesis.

Jack was tall with a surface build that could have landed him a contractor model for Abercrombian Fitch if it weren't for his shock of unruly blonde hair. Jack's girlfriend Annie at first seemed to perform no function aside from looking very good and hanging on to Jack. I asked Charlie about at once and he said that Annie was a very good listener,

which is what Jack seemed to want. Shane was huge. He taught 400 pounds standing one over six feet tall with thick slabs of muscle overlaid by thicker slabs of fat. He was from some no-name community in the forested hill, of middle Alabama, and he dressed it if he was prepping for a deer hunt.

For all of his size and massive presence, he was calm and very quiet, perhaps in response to Jack's constant diatribe about the architectural methodologies of whatever. The last member of the route was Petching. She was a transplant from some formerly Soviet blog country, uprooted from all that she knew, and rudely shoved into the semi-rural Alabama soil, watered a bit and watered a bit, told to deal with it. Lucky for her, Petya was tough as a weed and thrived here.

She was short and hard, looking more like a 13-year-old boy than a 19-year-old woman. She'd discovered country music early after a move, and took to it with a passion that verged on neurotic, to a point that her speech

was a heavy southern draw punctuated with weird Slavic inflections. Jack's obsession with photography, specifically taking pictures of decaying urban structures, well, If given a chance, he'd talk at great and exhausting length about the moral imperative of photographing ruins, as we mowed the original labourers and craftsmen some of our attention to the artisanship of their hard work.

Jack had met Charlie in high school. Over the next few years, the pair developed their infiltration skills and expanded their group to encompass others with similar interests. Jack seemed to be the idea man, and had an uncanny talent for finding unexplored sites all over the area. Once Jack had located the site, Charlie would come up with a way to get in. But only was Charlie an expert locksmith. He'd made friends with many of the librarians and city recordskeepers in the area. He was often able to provide historical maps and records for the sites. We bounced along a poorly maintained road in Shane's van,

listening to Jack Crow about our target for the night. Shane didn't appear to be a very smart person, given his size and usual closed-mouthedness. However, it was his idea to buy a white panel van and a fixed official-looking State Department of Infrastructure, Deccards to it. It mounted yellow bubble lights to the top, black and yellow caution tape around the bottom. When we stopped, we pulled a few orange traffic cones off of a metal mount on the front of the van and placed them in front and behind it. Isn't that kind of conspicuous? I asked. Jane smiled.

Yeah, you know damn hooligan kids want to be conspicuous. so the van must be here on official business. Ah, here it is, man. Jack clapped me on the back. Holy of holies, the waterworks tunnel. Half a mile straight through a mountain. Charlie can get us in. I turned and looked at the small metal door set into the side of a hill.

Doesn't look like much. I don't think it was that hard to get into. It's not, Charlie said. But we're going into the side tunnel. Charlie walked around to the rear of the van and pulled out a pickaxe. I wouldn't have been more shocked if he'd poured out a severed head. As are all urbexes greatly disapprove of any actions that change their sight. They don't litter.

Don't do graffiti. On some message boards, there are long-running arguments about even using chalk to mark for wayfinding. What's the side tunnel? I asked. You'll see soon enough. Betia said, handing me a head-mounted flashlight. I grabbed my backpack, which was heavy with gear, snacks, extra flashlights and water bottles. Jack grabbed a shovel from the back of the van and Shane another pick-outs.

Moments later, the van was closed and locked, orange cones glowing in the dim light. Charlie produced an actual key to the lock on the metal door and hauled it open. He caught my look and said, helps to have friends a city hall one by one we walk single file through the door

into the Waterworks Tunnel that you closed the metal door with a grunt. And the boom echoed through the darkness. The Waterworks Tunnel was much like every other tunnel low, cramped and moist

with an unpleasant smell. Dirk-Kateley exposed brickwork and in some places iron piping lay exposed. Like back a hundred years ago when the Don brothers built this thing. There wasn't any good way to get water from the Kahaba River into town,

Jack said. So they bought this tunnel right through the mountain, out the other side to where the river is. The side tunnel, though. Please, be quiet, Charlie said. I'm trying to count. We've been steadily making our way down the tunnel. The darkness before and behind was absolute.

I've been in darker places, but the close confines were beginning to make me anxious. Jack moved away from Charlie, back to me. Anyway, like about halfway through the mountain, the Don brothers got to a spot they really couldn't get through. And they had to bring in heavier machine on it, some kind of steam drill rig. You see how tight it is here, man? He dug a tunnel off to the side.

Then they expanded it. We were under a deadline, like, about to lose their contract. So they made the miners work. day and night. They actually set up a small camp in the side tunnel. Those sleeping areas with beds built right into the walls. Even at a small camp store. Eventually, the miners got through the tough spot.

The dumb brothers just ward up the side tunnel. Nobody's been in there since. Jack's words echoed sibilantly down the tunnel. Nobody until us. Shane laughed. It's bullshit. It just said. It's no such thing as side tunnel.

His Jack being full of the shits again, like with that room under the fountain downtown. Hey, that was real, Annie said. He couldn't get the... Please be quiet, guys, Charlie said again, laying his flashlight around the floor and sides of the tunnel. He helped me look for an iron valve or gear or something. We all stopped talking then,

and began looking around the tunnel. I followed the large iron pipe for a few feet and then said, Hey, um, is this it? Charlie shone his light on the valve, down on a folded black photocopy of his map. Yeah, that's it. Now, Shane, try that wall right there. Right across from here, you see if it's brick behind that dirt.

Pickax was incredibly loud in the tunnel. Good thing there's a mountain between us and anyone that might hear that. I said, hot in my hands over my ears. Perches smirked and handed out ear-covers from her backpacks. Shane bashed the wall with a pickaxe a few times more, then scraped at it with the side of the axe. Yeah, there's concrete over a brick right here,

Shane said, pulling a crumbling red brick loose with his pit. Jack eagerly grabbed the sledgehammer. He and I took up positions on either side of Shane. We began to hammer away at small spots. on the wall. Several minutes later, Jack's sledge punched through the wall a few feet farther down the tunnel. Hey, I'm through, Jack yelled. Come here, help me. Chen and I moved near him, breaking the hundred-year-old brickwork. And he made a few feeble attempts at moving bricks out of the way until Petcher shoved her aside. You might break a knell. Petcher growled and began stacking the

rubble into two careful piles on either side of the widening hole in the wall. Charlie donned gloves and helped, as soon we stood before a small hole that appeared to open into a larger chamber. Charlie handed Jack the large spotlight. Yeah, after you, sir, Charlie said, bowing slightly and extending his arm towards the hole in the wall. Jack grinned and ducked into the hole, followed by Annie, Charlie, Shane, Petya, and finally me. From the other side, the bricked-over section was much larger than the small opening we went, nearly six yards across. There were a few wooden crates stacked on the size of the tunnel

covered by dirt and dust-covered tarpaulin. The tunnel was narrow at first, it seemed to widen at some distance away. Its walls receded into the gloom, out of the reach of a small bright beam of light cast by Jack Spotlight. Jack moved the light around slowly. illuminating the side tunnel for the first time in over a hundred years. Yeah, how big was this tunnel supposed to be? I asked. According to the map, maybe 30 feet wide and 200 feet long, Charlie said. It's a hell of a lot bigger than that, said Shane, staring off into the darkness. I think it gets a lot wider down there.

Okay, guys, let's get what we came for, Jack said. Annie, hand me my camera back. We need to document this as we go through it so we can have photos of the tunnel in its pristine state. As Jack set up his photography gear, we dispersed, each of us shining lights around the first part of the tunnel. I noted to myself that none of the groups

seem particularly willing to go farther down the tunnel. Jack began snapping photos, the flash flaring like lightning. Guys, look at this, Jane called from harder down the tunnel. The light from his flashlight made him seem small in the darkness, and his voice echoed strangely. Charlie Petya and I walked down the tunnel to where Shane stood. This isn't supposed to be here, Charlie whispered. I'd heard that line before. Hell, I've said it before. Suddenly I was gripped with a panicky certainty that I should leave. Drop my pack, ditched these fools,

and run all the way to the doorway in the mound side, open it, and keep running. Hey, maybe all the way to the ocean, even. I shuddered once, swallowed, and pushed this thought down. I had a job to do. Shane was standing in front of the first building of what seemed to be an abandoned town. I counted over eight buildings on either side of a smooth dirt street, extending down the tunnel. The buildings were rudely finished, with un-painted greyboards cracked and warped with age, but mostly whole. The cabin in which they stood was quite large, but the roof was low enough to see by flashlight.

Jeez, Jack said, startling all of us. With that asshole, Pet your growled, punching Jack in the arm. You scared the shit out of me, standing in scary tunnel with ghost down. You got closer to him, with a finger in his face. We got full of shit again, Jack. You set this up to pull prank on this new guy, yes. You all knew this was down here. Jack backed up a step.

Hey man, back off, we had no idea this was down here. I mean, seriously, we had to break through a damn wall. How could we have known this place was even down here? The news articles I found it say they built a camp for the miners, Jolly said. This whole area was sealed up to where we. we know to hold in the wall. Seems pretty dry down here. So the buildings are basically mummified.

That you rode our eyes. It's exactly what we need. Mami buildings. She slugged Jack on the arm again, and then stomped off. Yeah, camp, Charlie, Jane said. This ain't a camp. This is a whole town. There's what?

A dozen old buildings down here? I want to get out of here, Jack. "'Take me back to the van,' Annie said, "'and then leaned on Jack in such a way as to press many exciting parts against him.' "'Bedja rolled her eyes. "'We are not going back now, Annie. "'We just got here. "'If Jack is right, we are first.

"'We are never first at anything.' "'That seemed to steal Jack's resolve. "'Ah, she's right, Annie. "'This is the type of thing that lands me a National Geographic dude.' Charlie then glanced back at Jack. Yes, Jack. All of us? Yeah, of course, man.

We'll all be famous. Now, let's get a shot of that building there, Jack said, with the distracted look that indicated he was no longer thinking about the current conversation. Annie and Shane cautiously investigated the shack on the opposite side of the tunnel. Petchette and I walked down the tunnel, past the first few buildings to a larger clearing. The centre of the clearing had a large stack of ancient, mostly burned wood in a circular fire pit. A few rusted metal cans lay scattered around the pit. To the left and right of this pit, tunnels extended and disappeared into the darkness.

I'd done my research for months, looking in the basements of dusty college libraries and used bookstores, scouring thrift stores, yard sales, and once I got to Birmingham, reading the papers, looking for reports of the missing. I had more doubts than clues, with only the scars upon my face as evidence that the thing that I saw it was real, and not a paranoid fantasy of my own making. I knew I was in the right place when I saw what lay in front of her. Part two, at the end of the side tunnel, carved into the raw rock wall like some hillbilly petra, rose the face for a large building that could only be a church. The carving set of crew looked at them, columns and lintels hammered out of the stone with miners' chisels by men who might have seen a drawing of a Roman column in a newsprint. Crosses decorated the facing at various points, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the

symbol above the only door. I recognised the symbol's loops and angles, but only in reverse, as I have only seen it on one other place, my own mirror. The faint white tracery only visible now under the bright glare of the light reflecting of the scarred skin of my forehead. At that moment of recognition, as if in sympathy, my scars began to itch. Faintly, but the itch was there. Suttled warning. Get out.

I knew I should listen, but it had taken so long to catch the faintest trace of this trail that... Hey, look, a cave. I wonder what's inside. Hatcher said with a knowing smirk. She shouldered her pack and walked into the doorway. I had no choice but to follow her. The doorway opened into a small, low tunnel, carved out of solid rock. After a few feet the tunnel turned sharply left,

turned again to the right, then opened into a larger room with a downward sloping floor. The remnants of wooden pew sat rotting silently on either side of the narrow aisle leading down to the front of the room. At the front, a few large leather sacks leaned against a round structure that appeared to be an altar. As we moved closer, Petya let out a stifled squeak and stopped. She glanced at me, but I already knew. The leather sacks were in fact the desiccated remains of three people, hunched, headless, and kneeling at the altar.

I stepped closer. What I'd originally thought of as an altar, was in fact a pit or a deep well, its bottom hidden far below. Bodies, etcher said. A sidelong glance at her face showed me the shots, a bruised look about her eyes. She grimaced and then shouldered her back. Jack will not be happy about this. Indeed, Urbex's hate finding bodies.

At the least, bodies are creepy and unpleasant. At the worst, they can entangle a crew in much, months of police investigations, red tape, and possible trespassing charges. Yeah, let's try to steer Jack away from this for now, I said. In fact, let's head back. Petya nodded when we left the church. Petya glancing over a shoulder at that well. When we arrived back at the clearing, Jack was missing. Well, Annie was furious. Eyes rubbed red and raw, berating Charlie and Shane. That's rule number one, Shane. Stick with your bow. buddy. You guys act like I'm just eye candy. Treat me like I'm Jack's Barbie doll who can't do anything.

But I've been on more crows than either of you two in the last year. Where were you, Shane? What were you doing? Jane stared at the ground, scuffing the dirt floor of the tunnel with his work pools. We were just... We were making out, Charlie said. It happened. Only world on Charlie. Oh, for Christ's sake, Charlie. Can you have kept your hands in your pants in your pants? pants for an hour. Both have jobs to do. Same goes for you, Annie. Where were you? And what were you doing? You've been stuck up Jack's ass all night, so we figured he'd be fine, Jolly said. In the glow of the flashlights, Charlie glanced at Petcher and I, and blushed.

This isn't helping. We need to find Jack. Couldn't have gotten far. Probably down the tunnel, taking pictures. Yeah, you know how he gets when he's found a good subject. We then spread out. Annie ran to the entrance, but saw no sign of jazz. I checked a few of the wooden structures, but found nothing. We reached the end of the side tunnel in front of the church. Charlie wanted to check inside. Boy, Petra and I just came from inside there, I said.

I glanced over at Petcher, who shook her head. She knew as well as I that the revelation of the three mummified corpses in the church would send the rest of the crew into a panic. If you want, I'll run in a check. You go and look in these other buildings, I'll be right back. Charlie rounded up the others and walked down the tunnel to the right, calling Jack's name as they went. I turned and walked back into the church. As I followed the tunnel's turns, I noticed light shining from the well room.

Reading what I'd find, I walked into the small room and found it as Petya and I had left it. empty, save for the three mummified bodies clustered around the well, and Jack's large spotlight positioned at the top of the well. Well, she said, in that peculiarly southern way that splits a single syllable word into seven or eight more syllables. He peered into the well, but his flashlight was unable to pierce the gloom at the bottom. Looks like Jack's exploring without us, I said. We should probably go down after him. Don't think that's a good idea, man, Charlie said.

He was visibly shaken. What the whole group was? The three headless, mummified corpses, squatting near the well did not help ease the tension in the room. And the group was decidedly angry at Petra and I for not mentioning them before. You're going to go in there after him, Charlie, Annie said. You owe it to him.

If you're too pussy to go in, then I'll go. We all go, Petja said. I have seen the scary movies. We don't split up. Plitting up is when monsters get us. She shoved Shane out of the way, adjusted her headlamp, and began the descent.

Annie followed, then Shane and then Charlie. I climbed down the shaft after all the others, leaving that strange church in near darkness, illuminated only by the cold green glow of a few long-duration chemlights left at the top of the well. I've been lost in the dark before,

a little extra light can make all the difference. The tunnel at the bottom of the well smelled like blood. The others noticed it, and so Charlie began some tentative explanation about the amount of iron ore in the walls, then trailed off. They could sense the wrongness of this place. Under the pervasive smell of rust and blood there was another fouler stink. Not so much a scent, but the memory of a scent, a recollection of the odor of something horrible that once passed this way,

might yet come again. When we reached the first intersection, Charlie asked us to stop. He fished around in his backpack and pulled out a can of highly reflective spray paint. Charlie, Jane said, Rebecca's don't leave traces. Worst case, they use chalk,

because it washes away with water. They don't spray paint anything. Fuck this place, man. Charlie popped the top, shook the can, sprayed a large arrow on the tunnel wall, pointing back to the world. Yeah, fuck it in the rear. Petya startled us all with her cackled laughter. Ah, in year, good one, Charlie.

That set the rest of the group off, and for a time eased the growing sense of fear. We turned to the right and followed the new tunnel, periodically calling for Jack. The tunnel forked, split, and forked again. There's miles of tunnels down here, Shane said. How are we going to find Jack in all of this? He's not leaving any markers, and the floor's too hard to see his footprints. I will find him, Charlie said. These tunnels have to go somewhere.

What I'd like to know is why they're here. When at first I thought this was a coal mine, there's no bracing like I expected. I thought maybe it was a saltpeter mine. That'd explain the lack of bracing and the crazy tunnels. But I haven't seen neither on these walls. None of this makes any sense. Annie, who'd been quiet for a while, stopped.

Guys, I saw someone up ahead. Jack! She yelled and ran forward. We followed running in astute, half run so as not to hit our heads on the low tunnel ceilings. Annie called for Jack as she ran, gradually outdistancing us with a frantic pace. Up ahead in the gloom, we saw her pause, turn her head to the left, then lunged down a tunnel branch.

Annie, slow down, Jane yelled. Even though the air was cool in the tunnels, sweat beated his face. We heard a thin shriek then, followed by sobs. Annie! Shane yelled again. We found Annie sitting on the floor of a room. The first of its size that we'd encountered. The floor was hard-packed earth.

Like the rest of the tunnels, there were a few old wooden boards scattered around. Her pack was opened in front of her, and she was muttering a quiet stream of obscenities. She'd removed a boot and was wrapping her foot in gauze from her first aid kit. Sorry, guys. Tripped over a damn board. Guess I was going too fast and wasn't watching where I was going.

Jane and Charlie hurried over to her. her clucking like upset hair. Charlie pronounced Annie's ankle to be sprained. I guess we should take a rest break, Jane said. Then what time is it? About three in the morning, Charlie replied, looking at his watch. Feels like we've been down here for hours. We should go back, Petya said.

And Annie shook her head firmly. No, I'm not leaving without Jack. Look, Annie, I know you thought you saw him, Shane said. We don't even know if he's down here, Charlie replied. Yeah, he is. We saw a spotlight at the top of the well, Annie said. I know, but that's just it, pointed out, Charlie, taking a bite to her protein bar. Jack's a pro.

He wouldn't come down here without us. I've been thinking, what if we have it all wrong? What if he left the spotlight behind? Well, he went to fight us. You maybe somehow missed him. Oh my God, said Annie. I bet he's terrified. Someone needs to go back and leave a note or something.

As you climb to her feet, her ankle turned, and Shane and Charlie both caught her. You're definitely done exploring, said Shane. Okay, I'll take Annie back to the van. We'll leave nose for Jack along the way. And Charlie? Jane looked down. I think it's time to call the cops.

Charlie blew out, compressed breath. Jack is going to be pissed. Yeah, he will, but shouldn't have run off like this. There's bodies down here. And we have an injury. You want to keep going on these field trips? We better play by the rules.

Give us three more hours, Shane. I said. We can't find Jack by door, no problem. We'll pack up and head to the entrance, and we'll call the cops. But I think we'll find it, before that. I'd call Roberto, Charlie said.

Shane tightened his jaw at this. Roberto was Shane's ex, and they'd had a bad breakup. Roberto was a long-term detective on the city's police force and could smooth things over for the group. I know you're still pissed at him, but we need his help. Shane helped Annie up, leaned on him as they staggered out of the room. I could tell from the set of Shane, Jane's jaw that he was pissed, but I knew Annie would make him call the cops.

So, I had three hours, maybe less. I hoped it would be enough time. I knew I would be able to break back into the side tunnel in another month or so. My guess was that the site was about to become very popular with a lot of different people. I clenched my fists. I was very close, close than I'd ever really been. I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away. I stood up, dusted off my jeans,

and gathered the few items I pulled from my pack. Time to go find Jack. There's a lot of branching tunnels down here, so remember to mark them, Charlie. I think we missed a few when we were running after Annie. I turned to Petcher. You're the best mapper we have. Do you have any idea of where we are?

Yep, Petya said. We're about half kilometer from the well. Pretty much straight line from there. Plenty of places for Jack to be. I say we do maze logic. Pick right-hand wall and follow it until it ends or loops back. We go for 90 minutes. If no, Jack, we head back too well.

Sure we'll find him before then, Charlie said. After three in the morning, he's got to be tired. It doesn't possibly be anything that interesting. Charlie stopped. Turned his head. Then I heard the same. scream. Part three. Mentally, I was prepared for this. I knew that I had made a conscious decision to lead these kids into a trap and to use them as bait. I rationalized that by putting a few

people at risk, I would ultimately be protecting many more. I knew that was just rationalization, though. In truth, I didn't feel guilty about putting my friends in danger. I felt guilty about not caring about them at all, when endangering them put me closer to my goal. Annie, Charlie yelled. We ran out of the room and down a tunnel towards the sound of her voice. I saw her first, lurching against the tunnel wall, dragging her injured foot, eyes deep-socketed and huge in the bleached white mask of her face. Her shirt was splattered with a spray of blood.

Shane, he said. You got Shane. What got Shane? Petcher asked. I don't know. Close to the well. Shane gets saying he heard something walking behind us. When we looked, there was nothing there. So we kept walking.

And then, there was something there. And it took him. The face crumpled in grief. Just pulled him right out of my hands. I don't... I don't know if he knew what happened. His face, he just looked so confused. Petya took Annie's hand, and Annie clung to her, sobbing.

I knelt with my pack on the tunnel floor and rummished through it. When Charlie saw the gun, he stepped back at pace. Geez, what the hell is that thing? The shotgun revolver, six chambers all loaded. You have to use it, be really careful. It's got no safety. to speak of. The gun scared their shit out of me.

It was huge, making dirty Harry's magnum look like a squirt gun. It was heavy and unwieldy, and hurt like a bastard to fire. But it was shorter than a shotgun and took shot shells, which was useful, as I'd hand-loaded every shell. I had no idea what might kill or even hurt the thing that I hunted. But I had my hopes. Buckshot mixed with the rock-salt, silver-shot. gold-shot, mercury, garlic, or finally, communion wafers and holy water. If that didn't work, I had some hollow point solid rounds that I could use on myself if it came to it.

I brought out two long hunting knives that I had hand silvered. Why would I have to use it? Charlie asked, pushing his glasses up and blinking rapidly. Case the thing down here with us. Guess me before it gets you. They handed the two knives to Charlie and Petcher. Be careful with those two. They're sharp. I electroplated them myself. Will they work?

Petcher asked. I have no idea, I replied. I picked most of this stuff up by watching supernatural reruns. Making the rest up as I go along. We are so fucked, Petcher said, and shook her head. Look, I think they'll work. Worst case, it'll drive the thing off for long enough that we can get away. Annie, who'd been very quiet, looked up at me.

You knew. She lunged forward and punched me hard in the side of my face. I fell back and cracked my head on the tunnel wall. You knew something was down here, you bastard. You let us all down here. Baked, Etcher said, and sighed. She looked up from her near crouch and eyed me with contempt. I got up, rubbing my throbbing heads.

Look, I've been hunting this thing for a long time. It's killed people, and it's my fault. I let it out. So it's my responsibility to take it down. You're the one with a gun, Charlie said. Right. I'm the best chance any of you have of living through this. And I think that if there's anyone with a chance of heard in this thing, it's me.

I stood up, put the gun into a holster, put two moon clips each into my jacket pockets. I shouldered my pack. Let's go. Annie, take us back to where I got shame. Everyone stay behind me. Bought out the gun again, we started walking back down the tunnel toward the well, when the trek back was far worse. Charlie's markers glittered like cat's eyes in the distant gloom

and we all kept seeing shadows at the corners of our vision. Twice I nearly wasted ammo on a slight imperfection in the tunnel wall. The weight and bulk of the shotgun pistol made it extremely uncomfortable to carry for any length of time, so I eventually settled for keeping it in the holster, pulling it out any time I thought I saw something. We could see the handholds of the wall when we reached the area where Shane was taken. There was a great deal of blood splashed on the wall, and more trailed off down a tunnel that

thwart off from the main one. There's the well, I said. You three take the knives, climb up and get out of here. Call for help. I'm going after the thing that got Shane. I'm not leaving without Jack, Petcher said. She looked at Annie, and then looked away. I remember the way Petcher looked at Jack, and she thought nobody was looking at her.

Fair enough. I think we all know that Jack's not... Jack... Didn't make it. Charlie said, wiping his eyes. But I'm not going without Shane. Or at least finding out what happened to. He turned away then, weeping silently.

We're coming with you, Annie said. I'm not leaving without Jack either. Or at least without knowing what happened to him. Like Petcher said, we don't split up. You saw what happened to me and Shane when we went off on our own. I looked at all of the blood on the ground. Nobody knows we're down here. You might find the van, but they won't find the entrance to the side tunnel.

I've been in this type of situation before. Things change when the cops show up. There'll be a cave-in or a flood. Or the cops will walk all the way down the length of the Waterworks Tunnel, they simply won't see the hole we made because they can't. Or because they really don't want to. If you follow me, I'm probably not going to survive this, so you won't either. Nanny took a step closer to me and shook a fist in my face.

You can't get off your white knight hero horse now, asshole. She grabbed my collar and began to punctuate her sentences by shaking my head. Find my boyfriend now. I stepped back against the wall and pushed her away. Okay, fine. So be it. We followed the spatters and smears of blood down a long tunnel that snaked and twisted and sloped downwards, gently at first and then more steeply. My scars have been itching faintly since I climbed down the well, but the itching had increased to a shrill, insistent whine against the nerve endings of my skin. I could feel the looping scrawl of each scar, so faint as to be invisible in daylight, etched into my face as if held in place by a net of white-hot white.

the air in the tunnel began to thicken with moisture, the walls shining wetly in the reflected beams of our lights. I stopped, holding up a hand to warn the others. I see light from upper head, I whispered. Somewhere down the tunnel, a pale golden light flickers. I pulled the revolver from its holster, cursing its weight for the hundredth time. We continued down the corridor, cautiously and slowly, partly due to fear and partly due to the floor.

which was very steep and slick with moisture. The tunnel ended abruptly into thin ledge that bordered a space, wide and open and chaotic with shapes. First I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing, the lines and forms overlapping and merging, like looking skyward at the moon through an ancient tree. We all stood on that ledge for a moment, gasping, maybe making some small sounds,

as our minds fought to process that view. gradually my eyes traced the subtle lines and edges of structures clustered against the walls in claustrophobic clots and knots like a type of architectural tumour the walls of the cavern receded out in a way plunging down into mist shrouded depths fading from my view the structures were lit from indeterminate light sources lined in a dim gold light that did more to cast shadow than to reveal As I stared, I began to notice the crumbled ledges, the blank and open entryways, the empty areas on distant walls where whole sections of the buildings had sloughed off and fallen to the pit far below. I noticed the stillness, the silence of the place. It's a city, Charlie said. A dead city, I replied.

How can it be a city? Annie asked. There's no streets. those doors open out onto thin air. That makes no sense. It makes perfect sense if you have wings, I said. I gestured at a brighter area down the ledge to our right. That's where we're going.

The ledge was smooth, its surface glassy but not slipped. It seemed to emit a faint gold light that was only visible from the corner of my vision. We crept down the ledge for a few hundred yards, reaching a wide platform. Against one low wall was a large seat of sorts, and in front of that seat was a long, rounded, metallic table. Shane's corpse glistened wetly on the table. Chess cracked open, ribs spayed wide like two open skeletal hands. The top of his skull had been removed, and a mass of black tube snaked from the opening down to the table. Oh!

Charlie wailed and ran to the walled. the table. Charlie, don't, I yelled. Charlie reached the table and stopped. He reached out an arm and gently touched Shane's bloody face. Shane's eyes snapped open. I could see his lungs flutter in the raw cavity of his chest. His mouth worked silently, lips pulled back in a rictus grin, tongue thrusting against his teeth. His body began to twitch and spasm. And there, he was a little. He was And the black chutes, penetrating his skull writhed and pulled taut. And the spasm ceased. Chains' eyes rolled up in its sockets and his eyelids closed, almost peacefully.

Charlie whirled to face me. Face contorted with rage and grief. Silver hunting knife held in the murderous grip in his hand. What did this? God, the fuck did this to him. But four. as if in answer to his question the thing hit him so fast

it was a blur Charlie let out a brief scream as he was hooked high up into the air then screamed again in rage I saw Charlie plunge the knife deep into the thing's abdomen pull it out and plunge it in again the thing let out an ear-spitting shriek

and let Charlie go Annie Petya and I watched as Charlie fell tumbling over and over into the depths. The thing crashed to the floor and skidded to a stop against the cavern wall. Shoot it! Annie yelled. Kill it now!

The creature stood as I raised the gun with two shaking hands. Another thing was huge, standing over 12 feet high. Took a staggering step forward on curiously back-bent legs, and then another. Shuddered. I could see a milky, iridescent fluid seeping out of a wound in its belly. His head snapped up and thawed and its eyes. There were so many. Focused on me. Felt a disorienting tilt in my perspective, as if I was seeing myself and the room, and Hatcher and Annie, and the creature all at once.

I had a curiously mechanical ticking, felt that the size of the thing was a mistake. It was much, much larger than it actually appeared. The creature spread its wings, two or four or six, feathered and broad and black and leathery, tipped with hooks and talons, and flapped them all at once. The scent billowed over us all. The scent we'd smelled in the tunnels,

acrid and dry like oranges rotting in the desert sun. Came closer to us, and I felt it outside my mind, pressure that was immense and cold and horribly, inhumanly logical. I waited, even though I could still hear Annie and Petya screaming behind me, screaming for me to shoot this thing. My scars were now twisting and rippling on my skin, wide-hearted reaching a point so far beyond pain I could not name it.

I focused on that sensation and steadied my aim. The gunshot thundered deafeningly loud in the silence of this. dead city. The shotgun revolver kicked viciously in my fist and I nearly dropped it. The creature had closed nearly half the distance between us. It stopped and some of its eyes seemed to blink. One of its wings seemed to droop. I saw that my first round of rock-souled and buckshot had punched a small, ragged hole through its leathery membrane. I braced myself and fired again. The creature recoiled with a scream as a the silver shot ripped open a jagged swath across its chest. I fired once more and was rewarded

with another scream. It was so close that its stink was suffocating there. I fired again and again, the thing reaching out for me with so many arms, its wings fluttering so fast as they were a blur. And then it had me. Two of its arms clutched me around the waist and pulled me up close. Two more arms reached up with tallened hands, black and scaly, crusted with impossible jewelry, and clasped both sides of my face. Turn my head from side to side, almost gently, and then looked deeply into my eyes.

Of the many things I saw in those huge golden oars, with their rings within whirling and spinning rings, the worst was recognition. Pressure outside my mind intensified, And I felt a snap, like a green stick fracture from a short, sharp fall, and it came flooding through. Spoke to me then, not in words, but in a purer, an older form of communication. Thank me for bringing it more means, and thank me even for bringing information about the world from which it had been away for so very long. It promised that I was its favourites, and I'd be rewarded in some incomprehensible, impossible way.

I felt a deep and loathsome love welling up in me for this thing, as a dog would unconditionally love its master. Then the creature screamed, shrieking in real pain, and it was gone from my mind. I felt it recede like a tide, and missed that presence, hating myself of feeling so. I fell to the ground in a heap as the creature stepped back, arms raised through its head. Petya had leaped upon the creature's back and was stabbing her long, silvered knife deep into the creature's eyes. The thing scrabbled its many tallened hands at her, leaving deep scratches on her arms, but she dodged and kept plunging the knife into the thing's eyes. Finally, with a deep guttural bellow, she slammed the knife with both fists deep into the center

of the creature's skull. The wing stopped fluttering, and the thing toppled forward to the floor. Petya untangled herself from the thing's bulk, and half stumbled, to where I was sitting. The face was ashen, as she held one arm with the other, blood oozing from long scratches on both. Annie shook herself and ran to Petya, dropped her backpack and pulled out the first aid kit.

Neither of them looked at shame. Once Annie had bound the worst of Petya's wounds, Hedges stood up and walked over to the still form of the fallen creature. She kicked it, savagely once in the hands. And she stooped to remove the knife. Leave it, I said. She turned to look at me. I think it's better off where it is.

It's dead. They killed it, she said. Well, for now. But it might not be later. And that knife might postpone later for long enough. It's time to go. And he gestured at Shane's body. What about him?

We can't leave him here. I know we can't, he said. But none of us have the strength to carry him out. We don't know if that thing is going to wait back up, or if there's more of them. Well, that seemed to motivate Annie and Petya. Annie packed up her first acre, and we left the dead city by way of the tunnel from which we'd entered.

I thought I saw the dim, golden light growing fainter as we left. And that made me feel a slight bit of hope. The walk back to the well was long, far longer than I'd remember. The lower tunnel floors were sloped upwards, and they were slick. Annie and I both fell at least twice, which did nothing to improve my headache or Annie's sprained ankle. Petcher had lost a shoe in the fight, and had kicked off the other one before leaving the cavern. I thought about that shoe a lot while walking out of those tunnels. I wondered what some future explorer would think upon discovering that platform.

in a dead city of angels, and on that platform, the creature's corpse, and a single shoe. When we reached the well, I realized something had changed. I could see light at the top, much brighter than the few chemlights I'd left behind.

Annie saw the light and began to shout for hell. A familiar voice sounded down from the top of the well, and a silhouette of a head blocked the light. Annie, what are you doing down there? Jack yelled. After much hugging and crying and kissing and a fair amount of punching, we got out of the well and back to the entrance at the side tunnel. Petchy was unable to climb due to her injured arm. Jack and I helped to get her out of the well,

using a Swiss seat that he'd fashioned out of grappling them. Annie was able to climb out of the well on her own, putting minimal weight on her injured foot. According to Jack, he left his spotlight at the edge of the well as a light source for some incredibly amazing photographs. midway through the cheap Zeiss lens somehow fell off of his camera and shattered on the stone floor

in a panic he ran to the tunnel entrance to find a replacement only to realize he'd left his case of spares back at the van thinking he wouldn't be long he ducked out into the waterworks tunnel and ran back to the van yeah man Jack said it was totally stupid guys I was dark and I was in a hurry to get back

so like I cut my spare case and shut the back doors and locked the van. Then like I ran around the side of the van. You know those big mirrors on that thing? Well, they stuck out three or four feet either side. Yeah, I clocked myself big time on one of those. I think you'd tore off the mount. Anyway, it knocked me completely unconscious.

Woke up maybe a half hour ago with a killer headache. My body was all bloody. It was light outside. I didn't know what the hell was going on. I got my shit together and came back down here, but I couldn't find you guys. It's a spookier shit down here when you're alone. I was about to freak out until I heard some noises coming from the well. Man, I was really going to freak out.

He paused to take a breath, a sip of water from a bottle. Oh man, Shane's going to be pissed when he sees what I did to the van. Hey, where is Shane? Where's Charley? Jack wanted to go back immediately. neither Annie nor Petcher would allow it. He swore he was going to get a group of people together to find Shane and Charlie, or at least their bodies. He said he called in every favour he was owed, do whatever it took.

His first call would be to Shane's brothers, both of whom were even larger than Shane, both of whom owned enough firepower to take over a small country. I agreed, and promised to help. But I was already planning to slip away as soon as I could. Jack's search party might find the side tunnel, but the entrance would be collapsed. Or the tunnel would be there, even the building inside. But the well would be full of dirt, or simply missing. No, no amount of drilling or explosives or ground-penetrating radar would ever uncover that dead city.

Annie and Petya both hugged me, to my surprise, as we stood in the parking lot across from Jack's apartment. I shook Jack's hand and promised to call it. call him after I got some rest, put my gear into the trunk of my old battered blue Toyota Corolla. As I was driving away, Annie embraced Jack again. His eyes caught mine over her shoulder. Then one lid drooped in a slow, lurid wink. In that moment, in the late morning lights, the other eye flashed gold, like gold rings spinning inside gold rings. And then it was gone. Well, it could have just been the trick of the light, I suppose.

Bloody Shores. Part 1. My corpse child. The shit I did for my job, let me tell you. I loved to write. I used to write for the school newsletter back in high school. In college, I actually earned my associates in creative writing. But I just decided to stick through high school

instead of taking the first offer of a journaling outlet hurled at me to come on full time with them, I could have easily made it out with my bachelor's, if not even my master's degree. Well, it would have kept me out of what happened, too, more than likely. Well, I guess it's a good thing I was involved the way I was. I'll say right now that none of the names have been changed of those that were involved in this. Well, at least any of the people I actually knew. If what I've seen escalates the way I fear it might, trust me, you'll be glad that you're reading this. I already tried publishing this story to Porterhouse Press for their magazine, but they said they won't accept it, claiming it's just too unrealistic and insensitive

to families of the victims. Ironic, if you ask me, given they were the ones to assign me the project in the fucking first place. Well, I guess their reach has gotten to them too. Okay, now that's out of the way. Here's what happens. I want to say it was about early to mid-sumid summer of 2018, the first body cropped up on the beach at Sunny Shore Resort, or at least the first body people noticed. A giant panic had started over it, as you'd figure it would. The body, a man by the name of Eugene Lester, seemingly washed up onto the outer edge of the beachfront when he was found in the middle of the afternoon. As a story goes, according to the mass media coverage of the incident at the time, a couple of kids ran screaming to their parents,

crying that there was a shark in the water when they'd found Eugene's body, evidently having been shredded all to the bits. The parents asked where they'd found the supposed shark attack victim, and they then led them to Eugene's body. The parents, now obviously hysterical, eloted both the lifeguard and the local police to the scene, resulting in the closing of the beach for the rest of the afternoon. The beach stayed closed too until 7 a.m. the next morning.

That's right. possible shark attack, and, you know, finding a fucking mutilated body wasn't reasonable enough course to keep the beaches closed until they could assure the public safety. For whatever reason, though, this was just swept under the rug for the most part too. Beachcoes and tourists couldn't give less than a single dam in the world, so long as they can get their tan on. Well, in any case, things were smooth sailing again afterwards until about a month later, when another incident was seen on the news.

This time it was two bodies, lying face down in the sand, torn apart like they'd just been passed through a paper shred. They were teenagers, 17-year-old Francis Wheeler, and 19-year-old Rhonda Casquillo. Both of them, just like Eugene, were only ID'd by dental records. From what I heard, even that was a challenge because of how few teeth they were left in the mouth. The biggest difference here is that while Eugene Lester had at least been found relatively, in one piece. Francis and Ronda were not so lucky. With them it was just their heads and about half of their torso as a piece. This would be when sunny sure would, of course, have to close off the beach for the rest of the year. I'll say real quick though, that I doubt they'd have kept it

closed like they did if it didn't happen near the end of summer anyway. Investigations into the murders were brief at best. Like I said, I didn't have to be Batman to look at a couple of scraps of meet on the sad and say, yep, shark attacks, case closed. People seem to accept this too, which was why there was no public outcry against the police as to why there were no real investigations. This, however, wasn't enough to quell the outrage about why they never bothered to take any real proper safety measures to ensure more people wouldn't fall victim to shark attacks. Even this was basically waved off by saying they'd take better precautions next year to ensure the safety of the public. In other words, sorry people were massacred here. And even though we knew,

well, he should have known. It was unsafe for patrons. Well, we opened the beach anyways. My bad. Won't happen again, Pinky promise. And of course, they actually bought it. So, okay, you're probably wondering now, what did they make good on their work? Was the beach safe to return to in the summer of 2019? Well, to that I answer with a question of my own. Would I be here telling you this shit now, if that were the case? Thus far, everything's been smooth sailing, right. No incident, no dismembered bodies spontaneously washing out from the ocean, just a smooth three weeks of fun at the sunny shore resort with the entire beachfront packed slam full with tourists and vacations, having a grand old time kicking off the summer.

Everyone was carefree and willing to put the incidents of 2018 behind them, move on, believing that surely they made good on their word to make sure the beaches were safe this year, right? And the first week of July rolls around with, you guessed it, another body. This time it was a 25-year-old aspiring model for Paramore Quarterly named Rita Kettle. Would-be Mrs. Paramore, 2019, was found early morning on the same outer edge of the beach as the other three, missing everything but half a torso. Unfortunately, the sharks didn't seem to want much else of them. Otherwise, her fingerprints lifted from her right palm wouldn't have ID'd her.

With this, of course, came once again, the masses crying foul at the Sunny Shore Resort administration and the authorities, and once again, they simply waved everything off as shark attacks. This wouldn't have raised any eyebrows with any other people who'd already been speculating that something else was behind the killings. It would raise eyebrows with the public in general. By mid-July, there was a distinct lack of patrons soaking in the sun along the beachfront at sunny shore.

Day by day, a number dwindled. Where before, you'd likely have had a hell of a time trying to find a spot to lounge along the beach. Now you'd be lucky to see any more than two, maybe 300 patrons, and I was pushing it out at any given moment. People were afraid. There were sharks in the water.

and went about to get suckered by another empty promise again. Though, as I said, it wasn't closed at any point, and enough people would still come out to catch the sun, and in turn, for some, an early funeral. The next few bodies were found within only a week of each other. Each one was more horrifically more than the other. None of them were found, though, well, not reported anyways, until the week after. This was the point where the public stopped believing the connoisse.

constant shark attack story, given the frequency of the deaths and the fact that these individuals were apparently among the masses who weren't fond of the ocean. This means it was unlikely they'd have been near the water at any point during their stay at Sunny Shore. That's when a new possibility was brought into question. Could there be a serial killer on the loose of the beach? This forced the beach to close down once again. This time it was made clear that until either a suspect was apprehended or, or under the beach. until it was clear that sharks were no longer any sort of issue, Sunny Shore Resort would not be opening again to the public.

And that was that. The rest of 2019, Sunny Shore Resort remained closed. It was hoped, of course, that everything would have blown right over by 2020, but not only had authorities found any suspects fitting the murders, but even if they had, well, the lockdown would have scared people away from wanting to vacation at Sunny Shore Resort. So, 2020 and 2021 also passed by without a word from Sunny Shore about when it might be opening the beaches back up again. By that point, I'm pretty sure most believe they weren't.

It's entirely likely, too, that they'd lost interest having had to remain indoors for almost two years. At least at home, there was no risk of ending up a shredded hunk of meat baking under the sun. Imagine then the surprise everyone felt when, at the beginning of the week, word spread through CNN and across social media that Sunny Shore Resort was finally going to be reopening its doors to the public at the beginning of June. Even though no word had spread yet of any arrests for the prior murders or anything,

the authorities gave them the green light. With that, people decided to give Sunny Shore one last chance. Obviously not without a sense of caution or controversy going around though. Over the two years, the place remained destitute. A small rumor began to be. and starting to go around about the Sunny Shore slashing. While admittedly, it wasn't a huge rumor in itself, at least not in my opinion, was enough for media and magazine outlets to want coverage and information on the topic.

Magazines like World of Weird. This is where I come into the picture. See, I've been doing small pathpieces as a freelancer for World of Weird quarterly for about a year and a half by that point. I was midway into my sophomore year of college, and I wanted to be really able to solidify my writing career with them. So when they offered me this chance, having garnered a small bit of praise for the aforementioned puff pieces, I, of course, said yes.

I will say, though, that I was curious as to why this case, in particular, was so interesting to them, given that most of their content dealt with mysteries surrounding supernatural phenomena or strange, unexplainable occurrences. Basically, think of the dollar store version of Ripley's Believe it or not. He told me that part of it was that they wanted to see if there even was such a thing as the sunny shore slasher. And if so, how hasn't he been caught? And why were the authorities so lax with letting the place open back up again, despite never having caught the gun? Well, that and because we'd also been running into a dry spell with new material.

We were also just taking anything we could even get at this point. Fair enough, I figured. And that's how I got involved with what I've affectionately dubbed the Sunny Shore. resort incident. It was around the first Friday in June that I got to the beach. It was about a three and a half to four hour long drive to Sunny Shore Resort from where I lived in Mount Holly, North Carolina. It probably would have taken me longer to get there if traffic were like it was two years

ago before the rumors with the Sunny Shore slasher. As it was, though, there was essentially no real traffic to speak on outside of the normal day-to-day fair. Folks, I guess, just well as hyped as we'd hoped that the beach. was opening back up again. That made me a bit worried about how much I was going to be able to dig up about the whole situation. This idea was solidified a bit further while I saw that the car lots were all but barren, save a few hundred cars here and there. Ah, great, real interesting story is going to be found here, I thought, as I got out and made my way to the reception desk to book

a room for the week. The woman at the reception desk looked like just about every stereotypical desk jockey does in the movies. Tired and wanting to be literally anywhere else than stuck behind a piss yellow counter, staring at a computer screen all day for a joint that, by just about all accounts, shouldn't have been operational. One room for the week, please. I said as enthusiastically as I could. She looked at me, eyes almost glazed, zombie-like. Let me see what I have a vacancy for, she said, sighing. I chuckled awkwardly and said, said, that doesn't have to be anything too fancy. You just ignored me and continued clacking away at her keyboard.

Looks like we got an opening for one along the beachfront, she said. That's perfect. All right, and you said you were planning to stay for a week? Yes, ma'am. She began typing on her keyboard again and asked me my name and date of birth. Maxwell Davidson, February 13, 1998. She typed that in and I remarked, You can just call me Maddie though.

I tried to snicker at this. It was an old in-joke my girlfriend would use to tease with me. Clearly it wasn't working on this chick, judging from the look on her face that said, Really, dude? With that, I just lowered my head and waited for her to do her thing so I could go in. She got out the reservation book and told me to initial and date the specified boxes. That'll be 27650.

Will it be cash, check or card? A card, I replied. I took out the company car given to me by the world of weird and paid for the room. Yes, it was an all-expense-paid venture. He seriously thought I'd pay almost 300 bucks for this trip out of my own pockets. Hell no. Then handed me the keys and I sped, walked out of the office area to my car without another word. The address on the key had me in room three of the Sunny Shore suite building.

Once I was at the resort, I went in and parked in front of the suite before grabbing my camera and journal and heading out to the beach. I was already getting to 6 o'clock by that point. The sun was going down, and I wanted to get started gathering as much information on the story as I could as early on as possible. So I figured I'd hold off for the time being on getting all set up in the room and all. When I got down to the beach, the air was a smooth breeze, and the sun was already a quarter of the way gone. In other words, the weather was perfect, relaxing even, yet there was still maybe about a hundred or so people out on the beach. Now, I bet you're probably thinking, well, yeah, but who usually lies on the beach at that time of night? You're not going to soak in the sun if there's no sun.

Fair point, except for the fact that, again, sunny shore was known to be a slam full from dust through door. Regardless, I started snapping some pictures for the piece. particularly looking for any unnatural or out-of-place aspects of the beachfront. Aspects such as a significantly secluded area that would serve as a dumping site or maybe even a hideout for the mysterious sunny shore slashing. Needless to say, though, no such place turned up. Everything was more or less calm, relaxing. Still, the scenery was nice enough, so I started snapping pictures anyways.

If nothing else, I figured, it would be nice to have a really. few picks of just the beach itself to go with the story. Of course that meant I actually had to find a story. With this in mind, I decided to start asking a few of the patrons on the beach for their thoughts. The first was an older, overweight, hairy-looking guy chowing down on one of the chili dogs from the nearby hot dog stands. Excuse me, sir, I asked. He didn't even look at me, too busy stuffing his fat cheeks with chili. So, um, I was wondering. See, I'm not from around. here and I was wondering, is it true what they say about this place? This time he looked at me, still full and dripping with meat and bean juice.

What's it do you? he responded, spewing chunks of food at me with every word out of his mouth. I sighed, wiping off a soggy bit of bread and meat mush that landed in my face. Really, asshole? Well, as collected as I could manage, I forced to smile and said, I was just curious to know if you think it's true what people are saying about there being a possible maniac on the loose. Fatsso just continued glaring at me, shomping his chili dog. Yeah, believe there's something out there, he snapped, spewing more food at me. I wiped my face off again and asked him what he meant. Well, it ain't an old man.

What? I asked, raising my eyebrows. He looked around anxiously before telling me to come closer to. to whisper in my ear. And I hesitated. Even if I was afraid of Big Brother or whatever, I'd rather deal with that than have this joker spewing literal shit in my ear. I waited for him to swallow his mouth full before leaning in to listen to him. I think there's something else going on, he whispered.

Don't think it was a man that did that to them folks way back then. What are you talking about? What did it then? I was understandably more than a little. little confused. I think something in the ocean's been getting up. Why, you mean like sharks? You think the rumors about them being shark attacks were real?

I thought you said you weren't from around here. He whispered suspiciously. But I'm not. Like I said, I've heard about the rumors surrounding this place and, well, I figured I got no further. Ah, you're with them, ain't you? You're a goddamn secret operative or something. Ain't you? What?

No, no, I... Yeah, I see what's going on here. You're trying to figure out what I know so you can take me away, ain't you? He started backing away from me, even cradling the last quarter of his chili dog to him, like he was an infant. Sir, wait, I... But before I could do anything else, Fatsa was already lumbering down the beach, yelling. Won't probe my mind. great after an amazing start here i said to myself sighing the sun was sinking further and further many of the already few patrons that were even on the beach had by that point left

they were however a group of three other younger-looking folks who hopefully weren't paranoid fucks who didn't know better than to talk with their mouths for well i was sort of right they were young and none of them were stuff in their faces with chili dogs around anything. They were all but stoned out of their minds. Yo, what's up? One of them, a lanky-looking kid with dread, scored out as I approached. The others turned to look at me, also calling out. Yeah, what's up? I sighed again. Another group of geniuses. Hey guys, uh, might have I asked you a few questions? They started laughing while also scrambling to snuff out the joint they had. Guys, it's all right. I'm not a cop.

The first one stopped, and his foot raised to stamp out the joint. He stooped back down to draw it back out of the sand before taking another drag of it. So, um, yeah, not from around here, and I was wondering, is it true what the news has been saying about this place? They all exchanged glances back and forth between each other before looking back at me, giggling. I rolled my eyes. This was getting me nowhere. I think they tried saying something, but between all the giggling and, oh shit, for real, banter, I couldn't make out heads or tails of a damn bit of it. One thing I fortunately was able to make out was a vague detail about the Sunnishore Slasher,

usually coming out at night. Again, it was vague and frankly kind of cliche. It was also the only consistent detail of the differing stories that they'd stick with, between different variants of the guy either being a disgrunt, vagrant, pissed off ex-resort employee, as well as the last one claiming he was some sort of Jason Voorhe's knockoff, an undead killer back from the dead after drowning in the beef. For professional purposes, I went ahead and jotted down what I could of these stories, including Fatso's half-baked conspiracy about whatever it was being from the ocean.

If nothing else, regardless of whether there was any credibility surrounding the Sunny Shore slasher, or any of the stories surrounding him or not, and I could at least provide a small piece on the effect of hysteria as such rumours caused. One way or another, I'd have a story. At the time the three stoners were finished barraging me with different versions of their stories, the sun was completely gone,

only the faintest light being shown over the horizon. I looked around, seeing nobody around besides us for it. I thanked the three for their insight, and began walking back to the corner. condo. I was exhausted from the long drive and several hours wasted on the beach with essentially nothing to show. Just time to get some rest. Tomorrow morning I'd wake up and have a fresh throng of interviewees once you might actually have a lick or two of damn sense. I made it back to the room where I took a quick shower and whipped up some dinner. Sat down on the couch to eat when my phone

burst. It was a text from Nolan. Nolan was sort of my sidekick on the project, offering to look into specific details about Sunny Shore Resort and its history, as well as any significant historical details about the surrounding area around the beach. There was a message from him asking if I'd made it yet. I told him if I had just a couple of hours ago. Found anything yet? Not really. You even started yet? Yeah, but nobody seems to know anything. Not anything useful anyways. What do you mean? Well, people think either this fuck is some sort of fish dude or Jason Vorhees.

You tell me. Wow, really? That's my ass off. Yeah, fucking stupid, right. Makes me wonder if there's going to be anything worth trying to send off to him. What about any sorts of posters or banners or shit like that? What do you mean? What banners?

You know, like, welcome to Sunny Shore Resort. Come visit our gift shop where we're. have the murder weapon used by the Sunny Shore Slasher himself. Shit like that. No. I don't think they want to publicize it like that. Anyway, I'm going to try again tomorrow with a few of the other locals in the area. See if any of them know anything useful.

All right, keep me posted. I'll keep seeing if there's anything interesting on my end. Okay, got you. I followed that with a thumbs up before putting the phone back down. After dinner, I decided to look over the little. data I'd actually gathered, seeing if there maybe was something there that I didn't want to risk overlooking by accident. At present, I couldn't connect any real dots, except that something around the beach area

was indeed killing people off, that who, or whatever it was, definitely had something to do with the ocean. I was already getting the impression, given the obviously lax approach so far, that the authorities and the Sunny Shore Resort management knew something, something they, for whatever reason, didn't want the public getting wise to. But what? I decided I'd call it a night at that. I figured, what's the sense in burning out this early on, you know?

I didn't have much, sure. I could have at least considered what I had a start right. Plan to go to the management office the next morning and schedule a meeting with either the CEO of Sunny Shore Resort himself, Harvey Whittaker, or at the very least, one of the upper management representatives of the company. basically just anybody who'd have enough insight to tell me if there'd been any sort of history with any shady characters in the past such as, say, an ex-employee or an ex-customer looking to get some sort of payback or something like that.

The next morning, when it opened at around 8 a.m., I went down to the office and was greeted by the tired-ass Tracy receptionist again. What can I do for you, sir? She groaned. Yes, I'd like to speak with one of the administrators, please. She rolled her eyes and began clacking away at the keyboard. Well, it looks like Mr. Whitaker isn't in his office right now. Are there any of the other higher-ups I can speak to?

She turned and typed on her keyboard before facing me again and telling me that there weren't any. Well, um, do you have any idea when he'll be back? She absently shook her head. If you like, I can take a message. Leave your name, phone number, and room number. If you're filing a complaint, I can also give you the number of HR. I just forced to smile. Yeah, maybe I will complain, I thought, saying goodbye and leaving the office.

I didn't actually call HR on her. What I did do, however, was head back down to the beachfront. It might not be a bad idea to try out the locals again. The sun was only about halfway up by that point, and I figured it'd be a few more hours before the idiots were sworn the beach again. Well, the beach was calm again, just like last night. Obviously, there weren't many people around at all, but I wasn't as caught off guard this time.

And now I said this place was usually stuffed to the gills, pun intended. But that wasn't usually until 1230 or 1 o'clock, somewhere in that period. I started snapping pigs again, wanting at least a variety of shots along the beachfront. Some of the nighttime sky, and now some of the early morning. I was going to end up with nothing for the piece story-wise, then I'd at least have some kind of variety with the pics right. So anyway, I stood for about 20 minutes snapping away photos. When I noticed at the far end of the beach, toward the boardwalk,

a flock of seagulls clustering together at one central spot just a few feet away from the receding tide. Curious, I snapped a picture before walking that way to investigate. I noticed how all of their heads were bobbing up and down from the spots, picking it something. He must be fighting over scraps of washed up fish or something like that. About a foot away from them.

One of the girls looked over and spotted me before spreading its wings and taking flights. The others soon followed. That's when I was met up close for the first time with the sunny shore slasher's first victim of the year. The body,

or maybe I should say just the torso, was covered in large, gashes that didn't leave any bit of it untouched. There were no arms or even a freaking head attached. No, just an armless, legless, headless hunk of meat. Sitting there in the sand having been a good deal picked away at by the gulls. I won't lie. I was sickened. Hell, it was everything I could do not to just up and dump my stomach right there on the beach. What the fuck had happened? Who is this? How long have they been here even?

I looked around. Nobody even seemed to notice. What am I going to do? I wondered. Panic's starting to mount in my head. Yeah, sure. Call the cops, obviously. But then what?

What'll happen then? The best case scenario, I'll shut the place down again. Great. Then I'll have wasted the trip down here. I wasn't big on the idea of going back to a world of weird empty hands. But then again, what if they didn't? In fact, it seemed more likely to me that they wouldn't have given their options from the past. One dismembered carcass on the beach, no biggie.

Three or four, then the authorities are concerned. In the end, I'll go ahead and say right now that I'm not entirely proud of doing this. Disrespectful to the dead and all, I guess. I took a few pictures of the remains before running from the sight and back to the condo. As soon as I got inside my room, I bolted the door and drew all the curtains before picking up the phone and frantically dialing 911. 911 dispatch. What is your emergency? Hello, yeah. My name's Maxwell Davidson. I'm in Sunny Shore Resort, and I need to report a murder.

Okay, and you said you were at the resort? Yes, ma'am. Okay, sir, and can you tell me where you saw this take place? I was on the beach, ma'am. I didn't see the murder. I only found the body. I see you. And you didn't see anyone fleeing the scene? No, ma'am, I didn't. I found it just a few minutes ago.

It's still there, though. All right, sir, I'm sending a unit there now. Are you somewhere safe? Yeah, yeah, I'm in my room in the sunny shore suite. Okay, and are there any sharp weapons on you? Is the door unlocked? Um, yeah. Good.

I want you to sit tight where you are. A unit is being sent to your location now. The line cut off after that. I was confused. Why was she asking me if I had any sharp weapons? Why did that matter? I mean, yeah, I knew sometimes they'd asked that for safety reasons. But I thought that was only done if they were suspicious of you

or if you were the one calling to confess to something like this. Granted, I never really knew much of standard police protocol. but still, something about that made me worried. I realized, though, that I told them that I didn't actually see who or what did it. That means whoever did it is lurking around the beach somewhere, possibly even in the suite. Even if they weren't suspecting me, that would mean I wasn't safe stepping out of the room. I went ahead and unlocked the door but remained braced against it. Once I heard the knock of the police, I figured I could open the door then.

While I was waiting, I went ahead and started sending the pictures to know. Dude, I just found this. What is this? Is this a body? Yeah. What the fuck? Where it went? Who? I don't know.

I was out on the beach again this morning, and there it was. Have you caught the police? Yeah, I just did. They're on the way now. Listen. I needed to print out. copies of those pictures for the story, okay? Um, I mean,

okay, yeah, but... What? I mean, isn't that kind of fucked up? Look, I know, I know. But I'm gonna have to end up giving the ones I took over to the cops when they get here. Dude, I can't really explain it, but something tells me they wouldn't exactly be big on the idea of showing any of this or letting anything reach the public. This might be the only way this isn't completely lost forever, you know. Yeah, all right, man.

Just please don't go pissing off the wrong people with this. I can't handle another snuffoo like what happened with your little stint at Area 51. I rolled my eyes. Oh, he was always teasing me with that one. God, it was one fucking time. I'll be fine. Just print those off for me. That way, if nothing else, we'll have at least something to show for the project.

I was jolted up when I heard the knock at the door. I slowly stood up and looked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was two female officers standing at my door. I opened it. Hello? Maxwell Davidson, the lead officer asked. Yeah. We're with the Mecklenburg County PD.

We're responding to a call about a body being discovered. I noticed her starting to peek around the room from the doorway. Yeah, on the beach, I replied. growing somewhat nervous now. Did you look back at me? Okay, could you step outside for us, please? The other officer asked. I hesitated.

Why? The two of them fixed me with a cold stare, the kind that told me without telling me that they really weren't in the mood to ask me twice. Stay outside, so, the lead repeated, somewhat harsher than before. I stepped outside, shaking. before I knew it

the partner was walking into the suite Yeah What the hell are you I was cut off When the lead officer began Hemming me against the wall What is this What are you doing

Maxwell Davidson You have the right to remain silent As anything you say or do can and will be What the hell What are you talking about Oh am I being arrested I got no answer for the instead she continued to cuff me while I heard the partner tearing through my room the fuck

I exclaimed what the fuck are you two doing the partner came out of the room holding my camera hey that's my camera move it sir but the lead officer harshly I was then shoved down the hallway and out of the suite once out I was rudely shoved in the back of the police cruiser before being driven to the station about ten to fifteen minutes away from Sunny Shore Resort. Once there, I was essentially dragged out of the cruiser into the station before being thrown into a chair. Hey, easy, what the hell's going on? The lead officer sat in the chair across from me.

She began laying out photos. Look, this is a mistake, I exclaimed. There's a maniac out there and you're harassing me. You recognize any of these folks? Her voice was monotone, cold and blunt. I looked at the photos. They were all of shredded human remains, all having been found on the beach. What the fuck?

No, I haven't seen these people before. The two officers glared at me. What, I didn't do this. How could I? How? Lead officer asked. Well, the way I understand, you had no trouble offing that poor bastard you confessed on the phone about. What?

Confessed? I didn't confess to shit. I was about to jump from my chair when I watched the partner reaching for something in her belt. Yeah, I'd advise keeping yourself in check there, boy. She said coldly. Well, I didn't kill anybody, okay? I saw that body and immediately called you.

Oh, really? The lead officer asked. The first thing you did, huh? Howed up my camera. You decided after you called us to start snapping pictures of your latest accomplishments. What? No, I didn't.

So here's the story, as I understand it. You, after all this time, come around here after we finally get the place opened back up again, just to start up your little killing spree once again. What? I screamed. The partner reared back to her belt again.

What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't kill anyone. She turned to her partner. Yeah, that'd sound about right to me. What about you? The partner just kept eyeing me, nodding in agreement. I couldn't have killed them. I don't know them.

Hell, I've never even seen those fuckers before in my life. Give me one good reason why I'm supposed to believe you. What do you mean? I already told you. I called you right after I found that body. Your lady's victim, you mean? She asked. My body began shaking violently.

God damn it. Have you heard a single word I've said? I did not kill anybody. The maniac's still out there. Why are you taking their pictures? The partner asked. Still glaring daggersome. You press? No, I mean, well, not... You're shooting a movie, is that it? You're trying to shoot a snuff film? Oh, the fuck. Do you people hear yourselves?

A snuff film, really? So you admit it was for your sick collection, the lead officer asked. No, I shouted, this time bolting from the chair. I was ready to wrap my hands around both their throats and start shaking the hell out of them to make them freaking listen to me. The only reason I didn't was because as soon as I was on my feet again, Ms. Trigger-happy partner drew her gun and aimed it directly between my eyes. You know, this isn't exactly helping your case here, the lead officer chided it.

I stayed locked in a staring match with the partner for another minute and a half before diverting my eyes back to the lead officer. And then closed my eyes and inhaled. I took those pictures because I'm here with a magazine company. The lead officer glanced over to a partner. The partner just remained focused on me. I thought you said you weren't with the press. I'm not. We're just a startup.

What magazine? She asked, using air quotes. World of Weird. Never heard of it. She looked at her partner again. The guy and the partner wouldn't take her eyes or her gun away from me as she shook her head. He probably wouldn't. Like I said, start up journaling house.

Just started back in late 2017. We haven't picked up much traction. Why did they send you? Why here? Well, to find the same thing you're looking for, more or less. Why do you mean? I was sent here to see if there was any truth to the stories. I only heard about it myself just a couple of weeks ago when I was given the assignments.

Like I've been saying, I'm not even from around here. So are they sent an out-of-town here to the resort and some sort of journalism sniper hunt? I noticed she had this weird sort of reassurance in her voice when she said this. Like she was glad to hear that I was an out-of-towner in a sniper. Sure, yeah, but I don't... She stood up and waved for the partner to take her gun off me. All right, Mr. Davidson. You're free to go.

Sorry for any inconvenience. We'll be escorting you back to the resort. I stood, don't know. What? You were right. We jumped the gun there. We will, however, be keeping your little camera here. Don't need you going around trying to spook folks around here

when it's clearly nothing but a shark attack. Wait, what? I exclaimed, but I need my camera. He just looked at me with a shit-eating smirk and replies. Again, give my regards to Planet of Bizarroland or whatever. The two then left before two more officers came in and escorted me out to the cruiser to take me back to the resort. On the ride back, one thing kept repeating in my mind. That was too easy.

Everything about that situation was wrong. The starters, despite being so quick to supposedly believe I'd done it, then confess over the phone, they never tried making me show them where I'd even found the body. Not only that, when they were so quick to let me go after I told them about world of weird, readily dismissing me as just a wing-knots spouting bullshit and riding off yet another murderer's just another shark attack. To top all of that off, they were adamant about keeping their camera, just to be able to keep to this story. In other words, I couldn't tell whether they themselves actually believed in the legends of the Sunny Shore slasher

or if they were just trying to shut everybody up. One thing I was 100% certain of, though, was that there was definitely something they didn't want me to see. They definitely had something to do with the body. Part 2. When we got back to Sunny Shore, I was dropped off, being left with a warning. Word to the wise. Next time, just remember that Sharpe. tend to feed at night here.

That's all. Got it? I didn't reply, nor did they wait for one before speeding off. Immediately I scurried back to my condo. It was about three o'clock or so by that point. Still enough time to try and figure out what I was going to do next. I will say one thing.

Those cops might have been desperate and wildly extreme in their approach, but thank God they were so desperate that they never thought to take my phone. Not only that, but thank God I was forward-thinking enough to go ahead and send the pictures they confiscated to Nolan. At least now I'm not completely starting from scratch. Nolan Peters, the human thumb-dry. But regardless, I still begged the other question. How was I supposed to proceed going forward? I found when I came back in the room, to both my dismay and utter chagrin,

that during her little rampage through my suite, Mrs. Trigger Happy went and also smashed the absolute shit out of my $400 laptop. Yeah, thanks, bitch. Not only that, but without the camera, the best quality I'd have been able to get was whatever my Nokia from back like in 2013 could manage. Not exactly ideal for someone like me who was trying to make a foothold with an up-and-coming journalism out. Especially not if I was trying to be taken seriously. It was bad enough, they were going to extremes just to shut me up.

Of course then, what exactly were my options? To simply give up and say, fuck this place, go back home, they'd win. Whoever and why they're doing it, they'd win, suppressing the truth, whatever it may be. Those that died, they get thrown under the rug as a bunch of unlucky nobody who were swept under that rug effectively forgotten about it. No, I'd find a way to keep going with this. either that or I'd make a way The first thing I did was try to call Nolan To tell him what was going on

And because I have a feeling I know what you're about to say Yes I'm all fucking aware They could have been tapping the phones But I needed someone to know Even if it wasn't the public as a whole Should I go missing or whatever As it happened

It was straight to voicemail all three times I ended up leaving a message Hey man, it's me, Max. Listen, I need you to make sure those pictures I sent you don't go anywhere. Shit's gotten fucking crazy around here. I don't know what it is, but for a fact, they don't want the public to know about it. So yeah, just, if anything happens, anything takes a jog sideways. I need you to make sure that stuff makes it into the hands of world of weird, okay, man.

Thanks. After that, I decided to make a little bit of a little bit of... food before trying to go back out onto the beach. A, because I was starving. I guess being arrested and harassed can work up that kind of appetite, huh? B, because I just figured, well, having only just gotten let go for poking around too much, it'd be wise to lay low at least for another couple of hours before trying to go out and start snapping away. It was about 5 a.m. when I decided to head back out again. Another detail that occurred to me, thinking back to the other cases, as well as the one from earlier, was that whatever was happening to these folks was happening overnight.

That would mean that if I were to catch anything interesting, it was most likely to be at night time. I just hope the flash on this piece of junk works. So back out on the beach I went. Like the previous night, it was next to absolutely nobody around on the beach. I started walking along the surf, constantly looking back and forth over my shoulder to see if either missed his trigger happy or her CO were keeping eyes on. The sun was quickly sinking below the horizon again, decided to pay attention to the tide

itself. If it was something from the water, I thought, I might have the best chance of spotting it by paying close attention to it. Of course, what exactly it was I was supposed to be looking for I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be looking for a person,

the dorsal fin of a shark, or what? Then from the distance across the horizon began to hear it was strange at first sounding like a mix between some sort of distant drumbeat and the sound of a humpback whale when it's doing a mating call deep and echoing i took out my phone and did my best to zoom in on where i thought the sound was coming from i couldn't see anything at first just the current rush of the night tide even maxing the zoom didn't help there was nothing there i looked around to see fennie if the other 10 or 12 people that happened to actually be on the beach could hear it too. Sure enough, I wasn't the only one who could hear it.

Though apparently I was the only one brave enough to stay where I was. All of them scrambled over each other, desperately trying to get away from the ocean. What the hell? What's going on? Why is everyone running? I look back toward the ocean. I still couldn't see anything coming out of the water, but I did spot a sea of foam seeming to come from the area where the wailish sounds were coming from. The foam travelled on a direct path toward the shoreline. I snapped a picture of it and instantly texted it to Nolan. Even if it was nothing, it was evidently enough to scare the absolute hell out of these people. I could at least use that in whatever piece I'd be able to scrape together for this project, right? About halfway to the shoreline, I actually saw

something emerge from the water. A fin, an actual fucking fin. Mind you, though, it wasn't the dorsal fin of a shark. No, this one was sort of webbed, the kind you'd find on trout or tuna. An actual saltwater fish, although neither of those was known for their ability to devour people like what was going on here. I squinted to try and get a closer look. The hell is that? I wondered, seeing the fin draw closer and closer. Whatever it was, it was moving fast. didn't even take two minutes before the thing and made it almost right up onto the shoreline,

almost right on fucking top of me from out in the middle of the ocean. Ashley stumbled trying to back pedal away from it. It kept coming. Soon I finally saw more of the thing break the surface of the water. That's when I damn near had a heart attack. There, along the shoreline, standing around six and a half to seven fucking feet tall and only about three feet away from me, was, was, well, fuck, it hurts to try imagining that thing again. Basically, think of the gill man, but if he was juicing every two hours before pumping mad iron,

one then had these weird tentacle things that were coming out of his fucking back, covered in what looked like thorns, giving them an appearance similar to barbed wire, and well, in the words of Bill Paxton, game over, man. Game over. Layed on my back in the sand, I couldn't move. I was frozen, every muscle in my body feeling like they'd been blasted with ice. The creature took two lumbering steps toward me. I kid you not when I tell you I could feel the ground tremble and fear beneath me with those two steps.

The creature took two more steps toward me. Its marbled, globulous eyes beat down on me, bulging and twitching erratically. The creature's breathing was heavy, almost snarling, if fish can snarl. Two rumbling steps more, driving the earth around me further and further toward an earthquake. My heart was skipping about five beats with each quaking step. Taking such huge strides like it was, the creature was. soon looming over me. It looked straight down at me,

like a grizzly looking down upon a wounded deer. Or rather a shark staring down at a guppy with his mouth caught on a big ass hook. It wasn't until I heard this sort of screeching sound that sounded like ten nails being dragged across a blackboard while underwater coming from behind me and I even found it in me to turn the fuck around. Behind me were two hooded figures holding torches.

Their hands were raised in the air, waving their torches almost in a sort of defensive manner at the creature. The creature responded with a roar of its own, and I swear to fucking God caused an actual earthquake. I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do. And before you decide to be a wise ass and say, run, Forest Row. Keep in mind, I was essentially cut off. Even if I could have made myself move, there was no telling how quickly the behemoth fishman thing would have snatched me right back up and planted my ass right back on the ground. Never mind, of course, the druid standing behind me.

They continued waving their torches at it, screeching. This went on back and forth between them for the better part of a minute, for I watched them step closer to me. The creature did not move. One of its twitching eyes remained fixed on me, while the other was deadlocked with the druids like a frigging chameleon. Then, from further off in the distance, behind the druids, I heard another slightly deeper screeching sound, accompanied by what sounded

like a woman screaming. No, I heard her cry, let me go. Looking close, or I saw another figure, taller than the two figures behind me. And at least at first glance, it appeared to be wearing a weird fish mask that looked similar to the creature. He had one hand raised in the air, with the other firmly grasping the struggling woman. I heard him cry out again, and the creature responded with another earth-shaking roar of its own. The masked figure approached the two hooded ones, dragging the woman behind almost effortlessly, despite her seemingly fighting for dear life. My heart sped up when I saw who the would-be victim was. It was the receptionist, tired tracing. Oh, holy mother of, they're not about to. He screamed out again for her

capped her to let go, but he paid her no attention, drowning out her screaming with his own screeches. Tired Tracy tried scratching at the man's face, only to have her arm twisted, causing her to cry out in pain. I was confused, frightened, dumbfounded, frankly, as well as just straight up fucking panicking. I was at a complete loss for what I was supposed to do. I knew I couldn't just sit there and watch as they would just up and feed her to this thing, but it looked like they were about to do this. I didn't like the chick, sure, but I didn't want to see her become live bait, either. But then, what the hell was I supposed to do? Even if this thing wasn't built like the Incredible Hulk and a baby with Ursula from the Little Mermaid, it was still four against one.

And pathetic as this might sound, being a dude, I'm no kind of fighter. Didn't have any weapons with me either, just my phone and the clothes on my back. phone that's when I looked up and realised that the creature's left eye was no longer watching me now its attention was fixed solely upon its impending supper I took my phone out then making sure the flash was on given that the sun had just about disappeared entirely and snapped photos of the scene around

I basically started snapping away not at all trying to focus on anything in particular this was done for two reasons First, obviously, for proof that what I was seeing here wasn't some sort of pipe dream or hallucination or something like that. The second was to hopefully divert their focus away from tired Tracy enough for her to possibly break free and run. Well, sure enough, this actually sort of worked, though it proved just how little I'd thought this plan out. I'd taken about 15 or 20 pictures with my phone before I realized they were all now staring at me. Fish Hulk, the Marsman, and the two druids, all of them now glaring right at me.

With this tired Tracy wrenched her wrist free from the man's grip and took off back toward the suite building. She was free, but now I was screwed. Four of them now had their sights set on me, and I could tell they were fucking pissed. I wasn't entirely clear on what the heck was going on, but I wasn't an idiot. This was apparently some human sacrifice ceremony, and I'd just gotten myself knee-deep in it where I evidently didn't belong. I looked around. Everywhere around me, I was cut off except for directly behind me. Thinking quickly, I chucked my phone at the masked man.

What else was I supposed to use? Again, no weapon, before turning and booking it in the opposite direction. I couldn't hear them, but I wasn't about to dare risk turning around to look behind me. A hatch with been gunning it at least 50 miles per hour. At least how I felt anyway. Didn't know where I was heading either. I couldn't think about that. Hell, I could barely even think at all,

aside from, oh, please God, don't let these fucking things catch me. Sure enough, God was actually listening. After a minute, maybe another five or ten minutes, for a total of close to 20 minutes straight, of running blindly, exhausting myself to the point where I was ready to, to collapse face first in the sand. I looked back to see the coast, appeared to be clear. They hadn't chased after me. Just about enough breath in me to allow myself a laugh of relief before I did end up falling to my side on the beach. The adrenaline wore off almost as quickly as it came. And only five

seconds after collapsing, my ass was out like a busted light. It was morning before I woke up again. It was two of the stoner kids from before. Dude, like, you still alive? One of them asked, looking like he'd just seen the face of God and was about to have the secrets of the universe told to him. What the fuck? What happened? Oh, you'll wipe the fuck out, my dude. Another kid squealed excitedly.

I looked around. Everything looks so fuzzy, clouded. Yeah, where am I? I asked. On the boardwalk. The first one replied again. Bro, I think the man wigged out a little too hard last night. The other exclaimed.

The poor joint he was puffing from behind his ear and extended it to me. Here, here, dude, take a puff. It helps you loosen up. I looked at him grogily. Well, I won't lie, I was stuck between wanting to put my foot in all three of their asses just out of sheer annoyance, and actually saying, fuck it, and taking the joint. About a minute later, I ended up doing neither of those things, and instead stood up and started trying to stumble my way back to where I thought I remembered

running from the previous night. Whether because of how exhausted I was, or because of the utterly bizarre nature of what happened that night, my mind was in a bit of a weird haze. I couldn't remember much of anything outside of these small fragments of seeing fish people. Eventually, though, I actually managed to find my phone lying buried in the sand, right next to a big-ass footprint that no one was going to mistake as being a person.

That's when everything came flooding back to me, and I swipe my phone up from the sand. I tried dusting it off and turning it on, only to find that the battery was dead and the SIM card had been removed. Ah, fuck. That was it. I was screwed, essentially.

Even getting the phone turned back on, I'd still lose all of the pictures from that night. I had the ones that had been sent to Nolan, sure. But no one was going to take that seriously. Just another shark attack. That'd be what they called him. it. Yeah, okay, it'd be a story and yeah, I'd make a bit of cash from it. That's not what the fuck happened here. I knew it. Tired Tracy, sure as hell knew it, and I was willing to bet every penny

to my name the police knew about it as well. That then became my next move. Find Trey-tracian to figure out what they were doing with her on the beach that night. Took a glance down at the footprint and back to the morning tide. I knew it wouldn't be long before that would be washed away. Oh, God damn it. What I wouldn't give to have my camera again. Part three. I went back to the Sunny Shore suite, only to find someone else at the reception desk.

This new girl was younger than tired, Tracy, and much more perky, annoyingly so, in fact. Well, hello there, sir. How can I help you? Oh, um... Yeah, um, I was wondering. What happened to the lady that was here yesterday? Oh, well, um... She gave me a plastic sort of smile and giggled.

She said she just didn't have the spirit for this anymore. But I'm here and I hope I can make your stay with us unforgettable. I just stood there looking at her, wondering just how much ecstasy she'd bob before I walked into the building. Admittedly, this further started to freak me out. Clearly something was up. Not only was tired Tracy gone, but the alibi on its own was suspicious as all.

all hell, made even worse by the fact I had seen what had happened on the beach. Well, yeah, in that case, I'll be heading back to my room. I chuckled nervously before turning and heading toward the room. Behind me, I heard the new girl call out to me. Okay, if you need anything, sweetheart, just a whisper away. I look back briefly to see her standing at the other end of the hall, a big ass grin and plastered on her face, waving at me like she was one of those inflated. at a car dealership.

Freaky-ass receptionist now. Great. I got back in the room, slamming and locking the door after making sure I wasn't being followed by the freaky new girl and stood for a moment in the middle of the room. I was stuck. I mean, the story was there. I saw it, but how the hell was I going to get others to? Couldn't take pictures anymore.

Couldn't message no one. I had no leads or witnesses. What am I supposed to do now? The answer, at least for the immediate time being, was to get another phone with a SIM card, get it working again. If nothing else, I needed to re-establish contact with Nolan if I was going to at least have a shot of turning something in for a world of weird. I managed to pick up a relatively cheap burner phone and took the SIM card out of it before texting Nolan. Yeah, Nolan, it's me, Max. You there? About another 20 or so minutes before he replied.

Hey Max, new phone? Sort of. Listen, some crazy shit's gone down here since yesterday afternoon, okay? What kind of shit? Dude, if I try and explain it here, I'm going to end up dropping a fucking brain hemorrhage, okay? Just trust me, it's beyond Fubar here. Okay, why are you telling me this? Well, you still got the picks I sent you earlier?

Yeah. Oh, good. I asked, man, because I believe that what I saw I wasn't supposed to, if you take my meaning. What? God damn it, Max. Didn't I tell you not to go pissing people off? Look, I didn't do a damn thing, okay. All I did was report the body to the police.

Next thing I knew, my laptop was getting smashed, and I was getting dragged out of the suite in handcuffs. Wait, you were arrested? What the fuck, ma'am? Why? I don't know. All I know is that after that, they... confiscated my camera on the photos. Now, after what the fuck happened last night, a few extra picks I managed to snag a gone too. That's why I wanted to make sure you still had a copy of.

Well, what are you going to do now, then? Aside, yeah, a great fucking question. Honestly, man, for the moment, I have absolutely no clue whatsoever. I'm kind of tapped out with options for the moment without my camera. That's when a light ball went off in my head. Hey, uh, I'll be here you for the next three or four days. I'm not. Half till Monday. Why? I've done just about everything I can here on my own. I was wondering, uh, you think you'd be game for coming down and checking this out with me? There wasn't a reply for another five to ten minutes after that.

Funny enough, he almost wouldn't have needed to. God knows I could hear his response coming a fucking mile away. Something along the lines of, if you lost your damn mind. No, but I'm not far off it. You mean, now, like right now? Yeah. I mean, fuck man, I could. But I don't know how I feel about getting into some weird shit where I'd get arrested.

You know, I'm still trying to get my degree rights. I know, I know, look, I'm not trying to see you get in any trouble, okay. Dude, something big is going on here. Trust me, if we can land this scoop, it'd be worth it. Yeah, all right. You've twisted my arm. Be there in half an hour. Awesome. Thanks, man. After that, I sat on the couch to wait. Past the time I grabbed my notepad and began going over as many of the details of the case as I could remember. I started with the background details, such as the killings themselves, and the rumor of the sunny shore slashing.

From there, I took note of the rumors I gathered from talking to the stoner gang and old fatsoll, with the individual conclusions being big government conspiracy on the one hand and some tribal shit on the other. An action between the two, having been established by both the cops and the jury's actions of sabotage, was that whatever was going on with the mutant fishman and whatever the hell was happening on the beach, they obviously didn't approve of prying curiosity and loose lips.

I decided to include the details of human sacrifice on the beach front as a side note. at least until I might be able to dig up a bit more of just who the fuck they actually are. No sense in trying to emphasize a detail that only looks weird, right? I may be an amateur, but I'm not mystery fucking ink here. Now, with all that laid out, I began planning what my next move was supposed to be. Obviously, the police were out of the question. Could have tried the locals again, sure. Even if I wasn't being watched, something I wasn't willing to bet on,

I doubted there'd be even anyone on the beach, not anybody with real answers anyone. My best hope at this point was to hope that Nolan brought a spare camera with him, but we'll be able to get lucky enough to get another shot at getting Fishman and his little fan club and a couple of group photos. At least then we'll have some tangible proof that this shit was real. Of course, I also realized that pick or no pick, those alone weren't going to hold up in calls. considering how much they'd already managed to keep this shit under lock and key for so long, just with a weak-ass story like shark attacks.

I was going to need something bolder, something I could actually show to people, some kind of DNA sample or something from the fish man himself. Therein laid the rub, though. How in the fuck was I going to pull that off? To start, it was by pure accident that I came face to face with him last time, even if I didn't know when and where he'd come back. What was it going to get a fucking DNA sample off of him? Well, hey, Mr. Fish, dude.

I'm sorry to bother you, but could I, like, have a sample of your spirit or something? Oh, nice biceps, by the way. How much do you live? Yeah, like, I'd be that charming, even to a fish man. Trying to confront him directly, that was out, but then what was my next option? Well, the answer to that actually hit me out of the blue. Talk to the stoner kids again. I know you're probably wondering just how the fuck that was supposed to help.

Believe me, at first, I was right there with you. The longer I kept sitting there, with playing the incident in my head, the more and more they began to stand out to me. Think about it. Sure, most people could have passed them off as just that, dumbass kids, just like how the murders themselves could be easily waved off as shark attacks, or like how just photos of the fish cult on the beach could, it likely would get waved right off as a group cosplay of Lovecraft on the beach

or some cockamamie or shit like that. But I could see something else. They were there all of them, giving absolute BS stories. Again, in and of itself no red flag, until you take into consideration that they likely didn't believe those stories themselves. They were afraid of me when I wanted to ask them about the murders. Like I said before, I just thought it was because they thought I was there to bust them over a little bit of Mary Jane.

What if it was something else? What if they too were afraid of me fighting out something else? It's a long shot, sure, but what if just maybe they were in on that whole situation? Not only that, but what if, perhaps, they were in cahoots with the trigger-happy cops? The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to start making sense to me. The problem again, though, was just how in the hell was it going to be able to actually prove that? Moreover, what was he going to cost me to do so? It was about 4.30 or so when Nolan showed up at the resort.

Hey, man, sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bit. Really? I asked, genuinely confused. Why was there traffic? This place was barely seeing any patrons. Yeah, he said, sighing. I guess because of the beach party they just tweeted about My eyes bugged Beach party, I asked a lot Yeah, didn't you know

Fuck no He frowned Ah, weird Here's the tweet He heard up his phone He was a tweet with a picture of the beachfront with Sunny Shore Beach Bash hashtag What the fuck? When was this?

Just this morning dude What's the problem? This place is about to be in awe. You can eat buffet, that's what. I didn't tell him this, though. You wouldn't have been able to understand. It wasn't exactly here, you know. Ah, nothing, dude. Just, um, hey, did you bring your camera? Yeah, both of them. Why? Good. Because we're going to that party. Huh? Well, okay, but why? I just looked at him and told him to trust me on this. He held up his hand, relenting. Trust me, if we're unfortunate enough, we'll soon see what I'm talking about come late tonight.

Afterwards, Nolan and I got the cameras out and headed to the beach. When we got there, the place was so crowded. It was tough as all held trying to even get onto the beach, much less actually trying to find a decent spot to snap some photos. All around us were throngs of people, mostly kids and young adults, like the stoners, who were moving and dancing all over the beach, the loud-ass music blaring over the speakers.

With a bit of shoving our way through, we actually managed to wage through the crowd without inciting an all-out brawl to the shoreline. Nolan started snapping picks of the tide while I kept on the lookout for either the stoners or the cops. And the fact that I hadn't seen either of them there yet only served to heighten my suspicions toward them. Well, shouldn't the cops be there

to at least make sure the party doesn't get out of hand or whatever? And the stoners, I mean, This is basically their kind of party rights. Weed, music and bikini chicks everywhere. I mean, come on. Unless, of course, they're not just a trio of stone teenagers. I noticed briefly that the music, which had been blaring some sort of trendy hip-hop,

had changed a bit. It's a sort of subtle change, one that you'd likely have overlooked unless you were on high alert like I was. It was about midway into the current song, and I noticed what sounded like a sort of deep-toned drum pitch starting to crescendo. At first, like I said, because of how well it managed to blend in with the actual music itself, it almost waved it off as just the bass from the speakers acting out.

That is, until the beats got louder and louder. Steadily the drums pounded harder and harder, shaking the ground and reverberating through my body. Listening closer, I noticed these weren't exactly just any drums either. The slow rhythm of the pounding, the rather hollow sound of the drums suggested that they were sort of kind of tribal drums, similar to what natives used to use. It sounded like there was a lot of deep-throated kind of choral vocalization to it. Sort of call, one you'd expect to hear from a whale, either for mating or for feeding. Feeding. Squinting, I looked over to where the music was blaring from.

To my shock, that's when I said. saw that the drums weren't coming from the speakers at all. Over at the far edge of the beach, the two druids from the previous night was standing there, watching the crowd while beating the drums. I looked up to the sky. The sun was nearly down to the horizon, bleaching the sky red.

I looked over to Nolan, who was still snapping picks for the sunset. I looked at my phone and caught another surprise. It only quarter past five. The sun shouldn't have been going down for at least another hour so. The drumbeat really began to pick up then. Still, people somehow weren't noticing. I, however, noticed how the chorus escalated from guttural throat singing to an almost ear-splitting, shrieking noise, similar to the ones I'd heard from the masked man the night

before. I noticed it was also a little more distance from the beach, despite still sounding so clear, at least to me anyways. I then spotted him, the masked man, standing in a man, standing at the top of one of the lifeguard decks with his arms outstretched. I noticed that he had a staff or something in his hand this time. Whatever the hell it was, it was glowing as well. And what the hell is that? I wondered before crumpling to my knees and covering my ears. Out of nowhere the masked man screeching was ringing in my ears so loud

I would have sworn he was taking a powder drill straight to my ear. No matter how tightly I pressed my hands to my ears, I couldn't muffle it a single bit. It was like the man's screeching wasn't actually in my ears at all. Like it wasn't actually something I was hearing, but instead something I was sort of sensing, if that makes any sense at all. It was like the masked man was trying to scream at me, but telepathically, where only I could hear a damn bit of it,

as evidenced by the fact no one else could hear this. The screeching eventually took on a sort of discordant effect in my ears, like it was being passed through a fan or something. That's when I began to hear words, some kind of articulation similar to words, whispering to me. Try and pronounce the actual words themselves would be a fucking nightmare, trust me. Just try to imagine what you'd think a mutant fishman

with the voice of a snake under water would sound like, trying to form words, and you'd have an idea of what it sounded like. Understanding or not of what it sounded like, though, I'd have been damned if I had any fucking clue as to what it meant. What was even more nerve-wracking was the question of why I was the only one hearing it. I felt myself being shaken. Hey man, are you okay?

A faint voice asked. Because the man's weird screeching was still running rampant. It was almost half a minute before my mind could even register the kid's voice. I looked up to see him standing over me, gently shaking me by the shoulder. I saw others beginning to crowd around me. The screeching slowly dissipated, and I could start to hear the music and chatter more clearly again. I looked around me, seeing at least 25 or 30 people gathered around, staring worriedly at me and whispering.

Is he okay? Do we need to get the paramedics out here? Are you okay, sir? repeated the kid standing over me. I looked back up at him, exchanged another passing glance around the group around me, and replied, Yeah, I'm fine. I then slowly made my way back up to my feet with the kid's help and looked around again. The sky was half dark now. The masked man was still there, standing on the pier, now with his arms by his side. What the fuck was happening to me? I wondered.

You can see both the masked man and his three druids all facing the ocean. Facing me almost, so it looked and felt anyways. My heart began racing and I pushed my way through. the crowd to fight Nolan. I was stopped again, though, when another roar blasted through the air. This one was deeper and earth-shaking. This time I wasn't the only one who heard it. People everywhere turned their heads toward the ocean, where it had come from. I could hear them anxiously whispering and crying out. What the heck was that? Not me, though. I was trying to get to Nolan. I knew what was coming. I didn't want to be around to see what it would do with

the crowd that was gathered there. I found him standing along the shoreline. Nolan, come on, man. We've got to get out of here now. He didn't move. Nolan, you hear me? Come on. I got closer to him, putting my hand on his shoulder.

Dude, what's going? I stopped. Nolan stared straight out to the ocean. His face completely albino and his jaw hanging numbly. Max? he whispered, shuddering in utter fear. What in the name of fucking God is that? I looked out toward the tide again.

Then my face went white. Just a few miles out from the shoreline, approaching rapidly was the largest webbed dorsal fin I'd ever seen and cutting viciously through the water. Jesus, it's here. I turned to Nolan. Listen, take a photo of it, then we've got to get these people off the beach, understand.

He stood still. I could feel him quivering in fear. I shook him and said, Nolan, hey, stay with me. You understand? Huh? He said, snapping from his trance. He exchanged another look toward the ocean and then back to me.

Finn was only a few feet away now. Yeah, he said finally, raising his camera. Yeah, I got you. I turned right as he snapped the photo. Everyone, I shouted, we have to get out of here now. They all stood staring, frightened at me for a moment, like how Nolan was. Come on.

Max, Nolan cried from behind me. Spun around and saw that fish man had risen from the water. He was leering down at Nolan. Nolan, get out of there. It was too late, though. Nolan had just enough time to spin around on his heel and attempt to run before the fish monster wrapped his entire tenebriol. webbed hand around Nolan's head and jerked him backwards.

I was about to rush over to somehow try and help him, but before I could even take two steps more, the creature had Nolan pressed above its head and, in another flashing instant, effortlessly ripped his head and neck away from his shoulder. That's when the crowd around me finally erupted into a cacophony of shrill screams. All at once, hordes of people began clamouring over each other, frantically fleeing from the beach.

I was frozen, paralyzed, and more than anything, just straight disgusted. I wanted to puke right there and then on the beach until there wasn't anything left in me. But at the same time, I felt like my stomach, as well as the rest of the muscles in my body, were just frozen. I watched Fishman throw its scaly head back, cramming Nolan's torso into its mouth, while hurling his head like a baseball. His head landed just four or five feet. feet away in the sand, immediately being trampled on by the fleeing beach gulls. Fishman let loose

another deafening, earth-shaking roar that reverberated through my body like it was gelatin. I finally broke. I took that as my cue to haul ass. Obviously, getting off the beach was a nightmare, even more so than getting in. That wasn't just me. I mean, everywhere I looked, some poor bastard or child. Yes, some of them were even actual fucking children. They were all getting stomped into the sand without a second fucking thought. I made the mistake of looking back and saw the fish man approaching, taking huge, lumbering strides like he did before. It wasn't long before he was upon the crowd, grabbing people left and right, ripping them apart,

and roaring to the night sky above. Soon blood and body parts were raining down all over the beach like a monsoon. Did my damnedest to ignore this, as well as the screams of terror and pain that surrounded me, just tried to push on. This all proved useless, however, as I couldn't break through the wall of people in front of me. I managed to make it about a quarter to, maybe halfway in, before I was joining the other unlucky sons of bitches on the ground being trampled on.

I couldn't see anything, safe a sand and the soles of people's feet stoving my head in. At one point, I was sure I could hear the bones in my arms and my ribcage snapping. I was lying there in the sand, coughing and wheezing, having to be able to beasing, having to one foot after another crushed the life out of me slowly. Then my vision began clouding over. Darkness crept upon the outlines of my vision. Stomp after stomp rained down on my head. Each time it felt like the next one would finally flatten me.

Just before my vision would go out completely, though, I heard and felt fish man stomping toward me. Fuck, this is it. I blacked out after that. I've been taken yet another foot to the face. The way I saw it, even if by whatever miracle, Fishman didn't decide to rip me apart, the constant head trauma would have done me right in. In short, imagine my surprise when I actually woke the fuck up again.

Though this brought me no relief, I saw what I'd woken up to, it was pitch dark out, everything was quiet, still, safe for the tide. I couldn't see anything at first. I had felt like I'd been stuffed by several brinked. tricks of lead and pain made trying to move my body, especially my arms, nigh on impossible. I managed to work my way up to a sitting position and looked around. The wind was still, like it too, was just too scared beyond belief to even make a fucking sound. I shifted around, finally and painfully working my way back to my feet.

I attempted to stagger forward, only to trip and face-plant over a discarded arm or leg. Trying to get up the second time took a bit more effort. But when I did, I heard that weird chorus again coming from far off to the right end of the beach. Looked over to see three figures kneeling down in front of the shoreline with their arms raised, holding a torch in their hands. Thankfully, I actually still had my camera. For what I could tell, by some divine miracle, it wasn't crushed to pieces. I struggled to stumble closer, trying not to make it.

a noise so I could snap a picture of them. Whoever they were, maybe I should say whatever they were, I wasn't about to leave this place without some kind of proof of them of what they'd done. So long as they don't see me, as long as from that point on, I kept a reasonably low profile, I'd be able to actually return home with a story for a world of weird. And then, well, then at least Nolan and everyone else on the beach, for that matter, might not have completely died for nothing. I managed to get to a distance where I could semi-decently make out their forms,

at least enough to where they wouldn't just easily be brushed off as shadows or tricks of the shadows, or, I don't know, some sort of horseshit scapegoat for it being anything other than what the fuck I knew it was. Well, sort of knew it was. What, you expected me just to warts up and ask? Hey, so, uh, you like a cold or something? Fat fucking chance. As far as I could care enough to know who. pool or whatever they were, they weren't human, and they weren't friendly.

My plan for stealth ended up being blown out of the water, pun intended, I guess, when I snapped a pick of the group. Not exactly being careful enough to make sure the flash wasn't noticeable. Maybe two seconds after the pick snapped, one of the hooded druids snapped their head toward me. That was when I was essentially forced to turn and limp away as fast as I could, all while trying not to trip and fall on my face again over other randomly discarded body parts. I guess some small stroke of luck was still on my side, however. Not only was I able to maneuver through without stumbling over anything in the dark, but along the way I came across the glint of something reflective in the moonlight lying in the sand.

Without stopping, I snatched it out of the sand, realizing it was Nolan's camera. Beside it was what appeared to be his shredded torso, lying on top of about 20 or so others. Now I'd have whatever pictures he took in his last moments, along with the one I took with the figures. I managed to make it off of the beach. When I was back on the boardwalk, I turned around to see that they actually hadn't followed after me. I was relieved by this, but I wasn't taking any chances, so I turned back around and kept going until I made it back to the suite building. I'll keep in mind that I was running off pure adrenaline by that point, and it was fading fast. I was actually able to make it into my room just before I collapsed onto my bed.

Oddly enough, though, I didn't actually fall asleep. Instead, I just lay there on my bed, surrounded by quiet darkness. The joints felt tight. Trying to move any part of my body resulted only in my entire body racking with pain. My mind was essentially a blur. Couldn't seem to focus on one single thing that had happened. Rather, everything just cycle through my mind. sort of simultaneously like a hive of hornets.

Images flashed across my mind like slides on a projector, one that just constantly looped. Every two seconds my mind was bouncing between scenes of blood and body parts flying everywhere, and the weird sort of call they made right before Fishman even showed up. That got me thinking. What was that exactly? Yeah, yeah, I know.

Mating call or whatever, right? But then how come only I could hear it? Why was I the only one that seemed to notice them? And why was I seeming the only one of Fishman and the others let go? I mean, the fucker had me right there. TV dinner, essentially, multiple times. Yet here I was, still in one piece, likely the only one in Sunny Shore Resort who could say as much.

Don't get me wrong, I was more than grateful for this. Nevertheless, I still couldn't help but find this both confusing as well as a bit frightening. The only logical explanation I could come up with for why I had been spared was that they had some unknown, probably horrific purpose for me, one that apparently required me to be alive. My first thought was obviously that I was supposed to be some sort of offering on the part of the cult, Fishman. But then, that's just it. Why had I not been torn apart and Eden yet like the others on the beach? So, okay, that ruled out life sacrifice. So what else was it?

Thought again about how the cult also let me go multiple times, at least from what I understood. Why did they let me go? Why was it the only one who could hear their call to fish man? The other possibility I considered was that I was left alive as a sort of messenger, spared to spread their prophecy or whatever. I would have believed this, except then why'd they remove the SIM card from my phone the night before? Not only that, but why me? Why was I apparently so special to them? especially if they didn't want me to spread the word about them. Plus, the whole beach massacre made absolutely no sense to me that they'd need me alive.

Unless... Hmm. Unless... I need you going around trying to spook folks around here, and it's clearly nothing but a shark attack. My body went cold. Could that really be it? Is that why they wanted to keep me alive? To try and convince people to come?

As much as I hated it, that conclusion began to make more and more sense to me. It would explain why they would want me to be alive, despite all that I'd seen. It would also somewhat explain why I was the one their call was directed to. I'd also put a new thought into my head. What if that wasn't actually a mating call of some sort, but some command? Still, though, this all boiled back down to the question of, why me? How would they have known I'd even be able to tell the public about sunny shore resort. What made them think I'd be able to convince anyone to come to the beach?

This too clicked in my head, not long after crossing my mind. They must have realized I was there to investigate. But how? I mean, it's not like I fucking knew them. Right? That's when I realized I've been ratted out. She said to give her regards. Everything had now fully fallen into place. It made sense, and it was confirmed after that night. When morning came, I packed my shit up and left Sunny Shore Resort. Didn't even bother with the checkout desk. No, I just kept forward right past New Girl receptionist and out the door without a single word.

But no, I still don't know what the hell happened to Tired Tracy. Mrs. Trigger Happy and her partner were outside the suite building, seemingly waiting on them. I say seemingly because they didn't actually try to try to. stop or call out for me or really noticed me at all. That was until I got to my car. That's when I heard it again. The weird chorus from the previous night. I was beginning to panic and when I looked over they were there staring daggers at me. They knew I could hear it just like they knew on the beach that night. Just like they knew I was there to tell a story about the place. This was all

back in June. I haven't been back to the place since. If I can help it at a time. If I can help it at all, that won't ever change. As I said at the start, the world of weird has already thumbed its nose up at publishing the article. No matter how much I begged, pleaded and fought tooth and fucking nail to get them to publish this story,

I was hit with the same response. This piece is far too speculative without any concrete evidence to support the allegations presented. Every time I attempted to point them to the photos, including the ones I'd had Nolan send in before he came to the resort, They brushed them off.

It was illogical, all of their reasonings, but it wasn't long before it clicked in my head as to why. I realised somewhere along the way that the editor-in-chief of the press must have talked with those two cops, who undoubtedly convinced him that I was full of shit.

I was told that if I was going to keep my job with the press, I was going to have to return to Sunny Shore and find a more believable story. And as you can imagine, I said to hell with it all, and left the place for good. I wasn't going to do the cult's dirty work,

regardless of if people believed it or not. Since then, I've gotten a job as a cashier at the Mega Mart just a few miles away from my house. It sucks, I won't lie. But the pay is actually a bit better than a bit of cash or scraping with the press. Still, occasionally write articles for various other magazine companies,

but I never tried publishing this story again, until now. Last week, while scrolling through my phone at work, I found an article on my Google feed about a fall festival beach bash at Sunny Shore Resort. Immediately I was taken back to the night of the Sunny Shore Beach Bash. That's when I realized I couldn't give up on this storm. Look, believe me here or don't. I get it, this is all a lot to take in, and it's bizarre. Believe me, I get it. But if you take nothing else away from this, then take this.

much away. There's something vicious on the beach at Sunny Shore Resort. It's not a serial killer. It sure as hell isn't a shark. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.