Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep193: Episode 193: Liminal Spaces Horror

Episode Date: November 14, 2024

Tonight’s opening tale of liminal space insanity is ‘Trapped in the Backlogs’, by Review Cultist, 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/User:ReviewCultist https://aldenterigamortis.podbean.com/   Our second tale from the liminal world is ''The Defect'', an original work by Tetsuya H., kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Fandom site and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Defect https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:TetsuyaH  Today’s next fantastic offering is ''I was Trapped in a Hallway with No Ending'', an original work by Black Friday’s Witch 13, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://preternaturalclubgirl.blog/  Today’s fourth fantastic offering is ''Time out of My Mind'', an original work by Jay-Dee-British, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  user/Jay-Dee-British/  Our next tale from the liminal world is ''Final Penance'', an original work by Gomez Capulet, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Fandom site and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Gomez_Capulet https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Final_Penance  Today’s penultimate fantastic offering is ''The Room'', an original story by Densu Kishaa, kindly shared directly with me and narrated with the author’s permission:  r/DrCreepensVault/comments/8uxl0w/the_room_by_densukishaa_fiction/  We round off with ''People in Gas Masks are Outside a Building in a Dead Cornfield'', an original story by Mr. Outlaw, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and narrated with the author’s express permission:  r/nosleep/comments/88gumm/some_people_in_gas_masks_have_been_standing/

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Aliminal space is captivate us because they exist in a strange in-between, blur the lines between familiarity and strangeness. These places, like empty stairwells, deserted playgrounds at night, or endless hallways, feel both recognizable and unsettling, triggering a sense of unease mixed with curiosity. They seem timeless, frozen moments outside of our daily reality, where the normal rules feel suspended.

Our fascination may come from a primal need to make sense of these ambiguous environments, places that remind us of transitions in our lives, the moments where we are on the cusp of something unknown, drawing us in with both dread and intrigue, as we shall see in 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. That sounds like your kind of thing.

And let's begin. Case one. The defect. Awaken. Always more of a bodily demand than a desire of the brain or heart. All too many times I've dreamt of sleeping the rest of my existence away here. An eternal peace from the corroding waves and the incessant thinking. Dancing to the beat of my circadian rhythm, however, is the only option that has ever presented itself.

I imagine that it was a cruel summer's mind. morning, with an onslaught of heat tearing its way through the building, fighting mercilessly until it's forced to retreat from the threat of the night. Of course I never do get to feel the reprieve of daylight. The soft sprinkle of sunlight cascading across my skin, jumping from my forearm to my head and neck, and leaving its sweet nature is something that I've only ever been able to dream of. Morning is when I awake, and night is when I become weary.

the only two constants that I have ever been able to rely on. As always, after a brief pause to orient myself from a slumber that seemed more akin to interdimensional travel than rest, I climbed to my feet and inspected my surroundings, surveying every minute detail for any level of change. Every morning I prayed that something would be different, that anything would be different but always to no avail. It had long dawned on me that my prayers were unheard, but it had long dawned on me that my prayers were unheard, it had become more of a ritual rather than any plea for help, serving as a way to comfort myself

in the face of the known, unknown that I found myself in. As I began to trudge around, spending what seemed like hours mentally willing my legs to move, I finally managed to break out into a mere shuffle. I took a look at the same four walls that entombed me day after day. They always greeted me with the same intrinsic pattern etched into them, almost like a code begging me to be deciphered. seemed more like a taunting than a begging though mocking my amnesia and daring me to delve into the murky depths of my memory looking out further into the corridor brought my eyes to meet the same ashen door deriding me with its endless possibilities and tricking me into thinking that one day

there might be a way out always the same corridor leading to the same doorway past the same four walls overlooking the same sea i pounded on it for a few minutes hoping to hear a cry out from the void, but was met only with the echoes of disappointment reverberating in my ear drums and telling me to, stop. Of course, I gave up almost immediately. Like a compulsion demanding to be fulfilled, I caved. What was driving me to listen to what seemed like auditory hallucinations brought about by

my isolation in this cave? I couldn't muster a guess. Decided not to think about it, for I'd be left with nothing but thinking shortly. anyway. I allow myself to go into autopilot and let my legs take me to my final destination, the screen door at the end of my abode overlooking the waves. With each step that I descended, the more awake I felt. The fresh ocean air wafting on the waves and projecting its fleeting fragrance into my nostrils drew me into something of a trance. Just the smell alone seemed to fill me with life and a purpose for the day ahead. As I finally arrived at the screen door,

door, which was always jammed open, acting almost as a gateway between worlds that was unsealable by any mortal force. The crashing of the waves brought me to a standstill. If not for the omniscient force driving me forward, I would have crumbled to my knees at the immense pressure of the sight before me. I stood firm and faced off against the dreary sky, which always seemed to look more pallid than blue, before casting my gaze downwards into the waves that lay before me. Every morning before I was taken by the waves, I tried to start with the things that I knew, the things that I was absolutely sure of, about myself as well as this place. My hope was that my memory could be jaunted somehow, and that I could add something to my list. I knew that the ashen door was impenetrable.

That was a certainty. I knew that the weather never changed here. There's no day or night cycle either. I knew that I could still feel emotions, and I seemed human. enough. I knew that I didn't have normal bodily functions, though. I had no desire to eat or to satiate my thirst. Yet sleep still befell me when I'd exerted too much mental energy. My list had not changed for as long as I could remember, except for one thing. The waves. My peering soon turned into a fixed stare where my eyes became magnetized to the waves.

My peripheral vision began to muddy as I drifted outside the physical plane and prepared myself. for yet another day. The waves began to ripple and contort, before eventually swirling into a sort of maelstrom that wasn't quite corporeal. As a spiraling continued, I began to see another person, almost as if I was watching them through a TV screen.

I started to ponder what kind of life I would see, what lessons I would learn, what entertainment would I be given. Every day I saw one new life almost in its entirety, the joyous moments, the heart-wrenching failures. Sometimes I even found it fun,

watching each person's endeavours and trying to imagine how I would do it differently. Maybe I wouldn't pursue that goal, maybe I put my time into this hobby instead. It seemed almost neurotic to take the sum of one's life and to review it as if it were a movie,

but this place never gave me another option. Even if I wanted to resist the pull of the moor to try and live my days out in silent isolation, I don't think it would have let me. With everything around me so far and so vast and rich with possibilities that I was unable to achieve, I began to find comfort in the cycles of their lives. Their routines all so similar, sleep and eat and work and play and love and then die. With the first few lives that they ever watched, I'd imagine that they were my neighbours.

A sweet elderly couple living on the floor below me, always baking something exotic so that I could almost smell it if I tried hard enough. The ruddy squat man living in his childhood flat at the back of the building with his equally ruddy dog. The pretty blonde woman having two doors down from me with two loud children who would squeal with laughter into the early hours of the morning. Just doors apart, lives existing that directly impacted mine. My fate moved by each action, however small. Then I watched those two loud children who are now quiet adults, say goodbye to the their mother. My mort, I wept, I searched for some great cosmic power to undo the timeline to give them even one more hour with their blessed mother. Even the empty gesture of flowers was beyond my reach.

Took a few viewings before I realized that there was no use in getting attached. I could do nothing more than to take what was imparted onto me, take it into my very being and hope that I could allow their memories to live on through myself. By now they were just framed. in a long movie quick flashes of color kindling to fire and ash in a moment the dying embers searing themselves into my retinas people living and dying indiscriminately short specks of nothing in a world that would forget them soon enough couldn't hide my envy watching as they arrived in strong waves and departed in soft sea foam coming and going whenever they chose their lives their love for one another what was once a strange question

to me had now become a fading curiosity. Had I ever had that? Had I ever been held, ever been called child? So many times I'd been tempted to rock on the edge of my perch and fall headfirst into the waves below me. I wondered if I'd land into their world, be able to touch their warm faces and hear their stories, or if I would just flow to top the water until whatever force put me here decided to put me back to keep the order, to keep the schedule. Whether I was put here as some sort of cruel lesson, a lifetime of watching others to a tone for my sinister deeds, or if there was some other deep purpose, it was all the same to me now.

Punishment or purpose, I was driven only by the ways. They guided my every action, my every thought and feeling, and drove me to keep existing. If I questioned this purpose that I'd been given, then what would I have left? I found it better to act than to agonise, and I believe that the waves did too. It became very apparent to me. I was not viewing a person, but a child. This immediately grabbed my attention as all the lives I'd viewed so far had not started until they were almost adults. I watched as this child entered the world and took its very first, albeit hurried, breaths.

My brain was beginning to salivate at all the moments that lay ahead of me. A life all the way from birth. Ah, there was so much that I could see and learn from this. Not mere moments after I had this thought, though, the vision had already ended. Amidst my bewilderment, the more seemed to spit a torrent at me, causing me to recoil backwards through the screen door and fall to the floor in shelter. I wondered if this was maybe a game, a test to see my reaction if my daily routine was cut short. I questioned if this really was a punishment,

and if this was the ultimate proof. As I thought a little longer, though, my mind began to sink deep into an abyss as I came to a much darker conclusion. Neonatal death. Based on what I knew about the lives I'd seen so far, it added up almost perfectly. I grimaced as my mind tried desperately to process what I'd just seen,

my thought seemingly buffering in order to cope with the mental overload that had just been placed upon it, before spiraling rapidly. I retreated away from the waves as quickly as I could, stumbling multiple times as I attempted to find my footing and escape back through the screen door, back to my own world. A collapse to the floor in exhaustion. In previous viewings, I'd been tired, especially with some of the longer lives.

Yet this one life had sat the energy of twenty. As I lay curled up into a ball, I thought about the parents. I thought about their solemn faces, drowning in a sea of thought before being overcome with the waterfall of pain. I thought about them, and then I thought about the mother being watched by her two boys as she passed away. I thought about her life trickling away right before their eyes, and then the child's evaporating before their parents ever caught sight of them.

Before I could even begin to sob to regurgitate the emotions that had been stuffed inside of me, that same familiar voice imparted to me a singular, soft-spoken word. Slee! When I finally came to, I must have already been dragged out to the waves again because I found myself already in the middle of another viewing. Perhaps I'd slept too long, and instead of spending time rousing me, the waves had decided to bring me here first so as to not waste any precious time. All my viewings felt surreal and unexplainable, as if I was staring into an infinite unknown. At this time it felt different. I was looking down, hovering above four seemingly identical walls, and I was staring at a man's sleep.

The ghastly haze was permeating throughout the place, impeding my vision and disabling me from seeing beyond the confines of the room. This body looked cold, almost as if it was shivering. The man looked weak and frail in the fact that he was curled up into a ball made me doubt that he would survive even another night. The man's body began to twitch suddenly, before writhing in visible pain, twisting and contorting while my eyes were still glued to him. It was a pathetic sight.

I tried to feel sympathy for him, but I couldn't even muster that. I felt disgusted. His body didn't even try to put up a fight against its demise, to try and cling on to every precious second that it could. His body continued to convulse for a few minutes before finally freezing, making it seem as if time had stopped in that very instant, before everything snapped to a solid blackness. I was confused as to why I was only seeing the very last moments of this man's life.

but guessed that it was another lesson being taught to me. A brief life with so much untapped potential, so many questions unanswered, alongside a life seemingly wasted, drowning in self-pity. But it made me angry. Why should this man get so many years, yet that child didn't even get a chance? Before I could think any further,

the blackness had faded, and I found myself overlooking the same sleeping body once more, still unable to break my gaze as the man studied to twitch and convulse again, before the vision had faded to black for a second time. And by this point I was utterly dumbfounded. I had no possible explanation for being shown this man's life a second time, but as I watched the same events replay several more times, I began to grasp the situation that I'd found myself in.

The horrible realisation began to dawn on me as I started to pay more attention to the four identical walls that the man was stuck in. I noticed the ashen door towering over him, I saw the patterns etched into the ceiling above, mocking him, mocking me. It was me. That frail, weak man, that disgusting waste of a life. I was seeing myself.

I was stuck in a time loop of watching myself succumb to the darkness. It struck me again that I must have been in some kind of nightmare. But why? In all my time in this place, I'd never dreamt yet now. I find myself in this hellscape, a premonitioner. of myself. Was this actually how I would die? Even though my mind had become aware that it was inside a dream, I was unable to jot myself awake,

cursed to watch myself as I completed the loop time and time again. Awaken! Waking up was a mercy that I was not afforded for at least a few hundred loops. I almost cried when I heard those familiar words to bring me back to reality. At the time I rose to my feet, I could feel the weight of the smog inside my head. slowing me down and delaying all of my actions. No matter how much I told myself to forget, to remember that it was just a dream.

The authenticity that I felt within the chamber of my mind made it next to impossible to pretend that it didn't happen. What I saw that night was something that shook me deeply. That image of me, that same image, that infinite image of a familiar individual. Me, but not quite. Everything here felt orderly. And even though the nightmare was chaotic, it was a control chaos, meticulous in its heinousness.

It had to serve a purpose, and it left my mind with an infinite number of questions. I wanted nothing more than to remain horizontal and to ponder my mental ordeal, but I was brought to my feet. I felt the shadow of the day looming over me, as I made my way closer and closer to that haunting screen door, I grew angry. God, I had no way. memory of myself and the image that I was met with left me furious. The only thing that had driven me to keep going with the lives that I was viewing, made me feel as though I was special somehow. I felt as though I were above these people that I was watching,

like I was given this cosmic task for a reason. In reality, though, the quivering husk that was right before me was just like any other that I'd seen in my viewings. Anyone could do what I'd been doing. I wasn't even needed. The waves could have picked my neighbour just as easily as me or someone down the street from me, and the result would not have changed. Why was I here?

What was the point? By this point, it was like dragging a child kicking and screaming to a birthday party that they were dreading. Why would I continue to look at these lives if it was all pointless anyway? As I thought more and more about it, I wondered what I would actually see when I finally got around to viewing my own life. If my life was the last one on the list, would I see myself inside these four walls, day after day doing nothing but watching other people live their lives while I waste away here. Or would I see a life far away from here? A different world where I could do good and have an impact on the world around me,

until being cruelly plucked away to reside here. I thought of watching myself watch others day after day. That thought may be queasy, seasick. All this time I comforted myself with this role I made myself believe that I was immune to the tribulations of those that I watched But I am doomed to become just another vision, just another viewing I'd finally been brought to the precipice between worlds Between this world and my world

I sat myself down on my perch and steel myself I decided that this cycle would be broken I'd do the bidding of the waves no longer So I stood up firmly and tiptoed along the edge, doing my best to slow my breathing. I turned to look over my shoulder to give one final look to my abode, one final goodbye. I closed my eyes and let go of my emotions. I felt myself become weightless, before beginning to drift and finally coming to a crash. Splash in my last moments, before succumbing to the weight of the waves and surrendering my opportunity at a discreet.

I thought about my home. I wondered if there were some before me. I thought about if someone would take my place. If I had condemned another to my fate, my cowardice serving only to inflict suffering on another. I do not believe that I was a coward, though. I know that I was strong, to last for as long as I had, for however long that may have been.

I weathered every storm. I swam through the sea of myself, and I refused to be taken until the very end. It's my own strength that had carried me so far, and it's through my own strength that I chose to relieve myself. And on every wave is the same. Some stretch tall and crash down with the power of the gods. Some stretch wide and carve themselves into the rocks, immovable as they seem. In the end, the waves will never cease, for they are eternal.

I let the waves take me, as they'll take us all eventually. case two. Andrews Exchange Enterprises. I blankly stared off into the distance at the newly hung sign on the wall, lost in my thoughts, thinking about an article I'd read over coffee this morning. It was about a woman who'd won the lottery and quit her job to build homes for the less fortunate in third world countries. I imagine what it must be like to have that type of freedom. The sound of a jackhammer rattled in an obscure part of our office building. I'd grown accustomed to the sound these last several months as they worked on some upgrades to our shipping warehouse. My phone buzzed me out of my daydream.

Jessica, may I see you in my office? It was my boss, Mr. Huley, on my phone. Sure thing, Mr. Huley, I'll be right in. I sighed to myself. If there's one thing I hated, it was when my boss wanted to see me in his office because that was never a good sign. I grabbed a notepad, a pen, and took one large gob of my now lukewarm coffee, and made my way towards Mr. Hulie's office. To get there, you had to walk back towards our shipping warehouse. It was a bit of a hike all the way there. Well, what could he want? As far as I knew, I'd not done anything wrong to warrant a reprimand. I hadn't caught off sick in over a year, nor I'd made any mistakes worth mentioning, because I'd just had my annual

review the week before and even received a raise. I was nervous though because he never asked to see me unless something was wrong. The last time he caught me into his office was the week I was hired to tell me I'd made several mistakes that needed correction. That was five years ago now. When I got to his door, it was closed, so I knocked gently on it. Come in, his voice was stern. I walked in and quietly shut the door behind me. Jessica, please sit down. I sat down, my hands trembling slightly for my anxiety. There's an issue with these reports, James dropped up.

I was wondering if you could help me decipher them. He smiled and I became at ease. I took a deep breath and took the paper he handed to me. What exactly am I looking for, sir? The numbers in regards to recent shipments are all. off. The products he mentioned aren't even something we would have ordered. He says most of the products were ordered from us from India. It makes no sense. We only get our toolpast from China. Two million dollar mistake. I could see the sweat on his brow beckoning to be wiped away. I started the

orders. Then I saw the mistake. How did Mr. Hulie miss it? Well, it appears as though the order was cancelled and a re-order was created two days later. It's red-lined here. It was an honest mistake because the company you order from has a similar name to the company in India. Mr. Huley looked to me as though he didn't believe it. So I pointed towards the bottom of the shipping receipt. Shame, he said under his breath. I had to let go of James when we caught the error yesterday. I looked at Mr. Hulie in shock. I had no idea. I said genuinely amazed because James had been a model employee. He'd never made a single error in the five years I'd been with the company. I need you to walk this over to accounting so they can correct the books. That's all for now.

Thank you, Jessica. You've become a prime example of what this company needs. I smiled, relieved. My anxiety was gone for the time being. However, I did feel terrible for my ex-co-worker James. I thought about James and what a nice guy he was as I left Mr. hughley's office i'd miss his polite demeanour and corny jokes it was in a bit of a days after what i'd learned only moments before as i made my way to the accounting department i walked down the long hallway and turned right i was still looking at the report when i realized i'd hit a dead end there was a door at the end so i stopped in my tracks i thought there was a door that led to the warehouse from this hallway I must have been mistaken.

I turned around and walked back the way I'd come from, making my way around the corner. Only the way I'd come from was now a dead end as well. How did I make this mistake? I need to pay closer attention. I needed to get these updated corrections to accounting. I became even more nervous at the thought of Mr. Hulie reprimanding me if it wasn't done properly.

He often checked up on your work and what you were doing throughout the day, and he even had spies. I was afraid he was already on the phone with the accounting department to see if I'd taken over the reports explaining the mistake. Why hadn't the accounting department caught the error?

Well, I was growing more concerned when I got to the end of the hallway and once again, it was a wall. There was no exit except to go back the way it came. The walls were clean and freshly painted white except for black and white paintings of a woman standing by a window.

I began to think maybe I'd only made a wrong turn once again, since the building had recently been under construction. Took a deep breath and walked back towards where I thought I'd come. I heard a group of men coming round the corner. I smiled and waved at them, trying to grab their attention. Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the accounting department? I think since the renovations in this building has caused me to lose my sense of direction, I made a wrong turn.

Three men, all in suits, stopped and looked at me. They said nothing to me as if someone pressed the pause button on them. They watched me blankly, and then two more men walked up behind them. Can you tell me which way accounting is? Now I had five men all staring at me in suits. As they were foreign, we had visitors from other countries all the time. English? It was met with more blank stairs.

I felt stupid as a thought occurred to me that if they were visiting, they might not know where accounting was either. Then they turned to look at each other, and almost as if someone pressed play, they began walking towards me. The strange men walked around me, all talking in unison, but I couldn't seem to make out a word they were saying. They continued past me, walking around the corner, and I heard a door slammed shut. I followed in their direction, but I couldn't find the door that they would have left from. Bewildered, I stood to look from right to left, up and down. I had footsteps behind me, and I turned to see James. Oh, hello, Jessica, he smiled at me.

Did Mr. Hulie hire you back? If so, I'm so glad. Hire me back, he chuckled. Yes, the error on the shipping report. He looked at me, confused. I finally gave up. "'Never mind. I'm trying to find my way to the accounting department.' "'Ah, that's easy, peasy,' he smiled. "'First dawn on your ride at the end of the hallway.'

"'I might just come from that end of the hallway.' "'James, this might sound like an odd request, but could you walk me towards the door?' "'Of course, Jessica,' he grinned. "'He walked me towards that part of the hallway, and sure enough, there was a door.' Over it was a sign that said, accounting. Relieved, I thanked him and went in. I was ecstatic. I'd finally gotten to my destination.

When I walked into the accounting office, the head of accounting, Julia, greeted me with a smile. There was a rather large mess on the floor. Her computer was on the floor next to a very crooked desk. Above her was a large hole in the ceiling where a cement block had been dropped. It was a construction accident. Can you believe it?

If I come through that door fifteen moments earlier, you would have walked in as this was happening, Julia said, clearly still shaking, but grinning from ear to ear in shock. Oh, are you okay? I asked. Yeah, just so happens my daughter's school called me seconds before. I couldn't get reception, so I had to leave the room.

Peanut allergy concern after she came in contact with a friend's sandwich. Such a crazy Monday. I gave Julie the updated shipping order and then left as a crew of construction workers were coming in to assess the damage. I made it back to my desk when Tessa, our receptionist, came up to me crying. Oh my God!

Tears were falling down her face. Tessa, my God, what happened? I just heard the most horrible news. James from shipping was found in his living room after he'd hung himself. I think it's because that mean old Mr. Huley fired him. How? I'd seen him just moments ago. I checked a day later. There was an obituary stating he'd passed away. I'm grateful that I'm alive and not seriously injured from the construction accident. I don't fully understand what happened that day in the hallway, or if it was a glitch.

One thing's for sure. I'm still afraid to go down that hallway and haven't since. Case three. So, Oh, my boss is a dick. He called me up on the phone and told me he needed someone to check on the office space. That someone was me because I live closest and I'm also the keyholder if the alarm goes off. I told him if he thought we'd had a break in, he should call the police and he said, Oh, he can't have plop stomping about all over the place, not with all the sensitive material the office deals with. Just to be clear, we deal in personal finance, not state secrets.

So sensitive material in this case meant something not kosher is at the office. And, Dominic, that was likely to be something in his desk. I told him we have the shelter-in-place rules and it's essential trips only. But is he having any of that? Of course not. Like I said, he's a dick. Apparently it's essential that I go to the office. Never mind the fact we have a damn quarantine at the moment,

or that me being stopped and questioned getting there is a real possibility. I don't even know what he expected me to do with the office. I'm not some secret ninja skilled office worker able to take intruders down with a few flying kicks, nor am I qualified to check the in-house server for problems. Well, he did say that my not doing this might result in him thinking about my position in the company when this is all over. So, not just a dick, but a blackmailing dick. Well, I said I'd go, but I wasn't bringing drugs out so I could get pinch for carrying.

and he said that was fine. It wasn't about the drugs. Damn, I knew it. I knew he had that stuff in his desk. It was about the fact that he was getting some odd video on his feed from the office cameras, which meant someone was probably on site and didn't mean God knows what.

He hadn't seen people per se, but shadows and movement on the footage. And we did have some expensive equipment so I guess I could understand his insistence, but I still wasn't happy that I had to go and check it out because his stash meant he wasn't about to call the cops. Well, it took me about ten minutes to get down there.

It was odd walking almost alone in the normally busy streets. Very few cars and buses too. It would have been creepy if it hadn't been daylight hours. Our office was on the high street, above what started out as a travel agent and was now an upmarket handbag shop. At the side of the storefront was an ordinary front door, which opened to a long, steep staircase, currently dark.

We had the two stories above the shop. The main floor was our offices, mostly open plan, and above that Dominic's office and the on-site server room. I opened the door, keyed in the alarm code to turn it off, noting that it was still showing secure, and turned on the light. In and out was the plan. Check if there's a burglar or damage. Check the fire escape, any locked boxes, and something.

one. Of course if there was a burglar, I was noping out and calling the police myself. Screw Dominic in his shady desk contents. Out the stairs to the first floor. So far, nothing hinky. No mass stranger tiptoeing around the edge of the door, or indeed any sign of disturbance that I could see. No papers on the floor, no drawers opened, all the PCs and laptops still on the desks, none missing that I could see. One of the overheads was flickering annoyingly though. Not new it had been doing that since before the lockdown, but now in the relative silence, it was slightly disquieting.

So I went around checking corners, opening storage cabinets, now feeling slightly foolish. No doubt Dominic was watching all this through the CCTV and laughing at me, the office monkey, skulking around inspecting everything like a good little someone. I sighed. Thought about flipping the bird at the camera. Decided against it. I went upstairs to Dom's big suites. There'd been no odd noises so far, no shadows or shapes that he'd said he'd seen on the security feed. I was starting to get fed up with this. I deliberately banged open his office door and started loudly opening

and closing things I didn't need to open. That is unless a five-year-old child burglar was suspected of breaking in and hiding in the liquor cabinets. And then, the desk phone rang. I groaned inwardly. This was my own fault for being annoyed and showing it. Now Dominic was calling to rip me a new one. I rested one hand on my forehead, rubbed it, and picked up the phone. Hello?

But the first rung, the time will be 6.30pm precisely. at the third stroke the time oh I hung up didn't you have to call the speaking clock directly in order to use it did Dominic have it pre-programmed to call him back at a certain time of day every day what is even a thing to have it call you I picked the phone hand set up again and listened

dial to Okay, so that was weird. Maybe Dominic had had it called from his house and had it forwarded to the office to mess with me. Yeah, that sounded about right. I found myself getting annoyed all over again. The desk phone rang. I picked it up slowly. This time it was, Dominic.

Tim, what the hell are you doing? I waved at the camera. How long does it take the search? the office. I frowned at the handset. Dom, there's no one here, mate. I'm ready to leave. Wait, what do you mean? How long does it take? You wanted me to look on both floors, right? I just got to your office like five minutes ago. Look, downstairs is fine. Nothing missing. Tim, you were down on the main floor for like two hours just staring into space.

do I need to drug test you when you get back to work then he barked out of laugh or better stay out of my top drawer seems he can't handle it I could hear the amusement in his voice well I'm heading out now anyway going off for the weekend to the in-laws now this is sorted

I had no idea what he was talking about two hours I'd been here all of 30 minutes maybe 40 I'd arrived at 4pm I used my fingers to make a gap in the blinds on the big window. It was dark outside. Not full-on night-time dark, but for sure the sun's just going down, dark.

This didn't make any sense. I've been here for 40 minutes. Yeah, sorry, Don. I guess I let time get away from me. I'm going to go lock up again and leave. Have a great weekend. I hung up and ran downstairs to the main office. The door to the front of the front of the door to the front of.

photocopier room was slightly open, I knew I'd closed it. I'd closed all the doors to the peripheral rooms as had gone along. Maybe it just hadn't caught and I hadn't noticed it. I opened it more fully to peek inside. Nothing, well a photocopier and paper

and a shelf full of stationery but nothing else. I closed the door and made sure the latch bolt had engaged to keep the door shut. then the wall phone rang I sighed oh Dom I'd already told him I was leaving

I picked up the handset at the third stroke the time will be 9.14 p.m. and 10 seconds I slammed the phone down what the actual hell was going on I knew I hadn't caught the speaking clock myself and now I was pretty sure Dom wasn't doing it either. My mind suddenly went to the time. It was quoting me. 9 p.m. How? I ran over to the window

on the main floor and yanked up the blind forcefully. It was pitch black outside. The moon was out. The street was quiet, empty. No traffic now. There was something seriously wrong with me if I was losing time like this. Maybe I was sick. I wasn't spending another minute. in this damn place. I went to the end of the office to go down the stairs and leave, and I ran. The stairs weren't there. The office just went on. It looked like the same floor plan as the part I just walked through, but there was no exit door. I turned around. Obviously I've missed the door, got confused, taking a wrong turn. I slowly retraced my steps back to the photocopy room. The door was slightly open. I kicked it closed, then I pushed hard against it, making sure it was

properly shut. I leave my back on the door, try not to breathe too hard, irritated and confused, attempting to reorient myself. The copy of the room was here, which meant the stairs must be. I looked down the corridor. The door definitely wasn't where I remembered it. being. I placed two fingers on my wrist, feeling my pulse race, trying to slow it down. I feel like I'm having a bloody stroke. It was supposed to be a lighthearted remark, self-deprecating, but my voice sounded really terribly loud in this stillness. The flickering overhead started to buzz intermittently. I looked up briefly and then sighed. Again, it sounded much too loud.

what was I supposed to do? How could an entire staircase move? I moved away back into the main office, trying to ignore the strip lights blinking and fizzing and went back into the break room. I sat down at the table and remember my mobile phone was in my pockets. I pulled it out. It came on but said there was no signal.

I shook it. Don't ask me why I shook it, but I did. The zero bars didn't change at all. I tried to connect to the Wi-Fi, but it said there was no connection available. That was odd, too. I mean, the office definitely had Wi-Fi because Dominic had put it in for his own convenience. I suppose it was possible he'd turn everything off due to the lockdown. There's no one to be here to use it.

That sound like a reasonable explanation. Except, I still had an uneasy feeling. By now, I can't honestly tell you what I was thinking. if I was still thinking rationally. I was hoping I was asleep and dreaming, and I'd wake up at any moment, finding I'd nodded off while checking the rooms, and this was just fantasy.

Yes, I know that someone falling asleep in what still felt like the afternoon while casually walking around seemed unlikely, or about as unlikely as a set of stairs going missing, but what else could it be? As a test, I hit my arm against the tabletop, and then swore loudly. that really hurt

I don't recall ever having a dream where pain seemed so real I shook the cell phone again nothing no bars I opened the blinds in the break room looked outside still dark

couldn't believe I'd been in here this long I wasn't hungry or thirsty but I picked a can of coke out of the fridge and drank some just to have something to do I sat for a few moments drumming my fingers on the table. I didn't want to talk out loud again,

although I didn't want to admit it, hearing myself in the echoing quiet was starting to disturb me. I decided to call Dominic, except that he'd never let me forget this ever, and it would make him send someone else over. If he wasn't at home, I was going to call the police and have them come get me

and live with the shame that I was lost inside my own office. I went back outside, looking for the nearest landline. The copier room door was open slightly. I know I made some sort of noise. Somewhere between a faint scream and a wail. This is ridiculous. I glared at the door and went back into the break room, grabbed a chair and dragged it outside.

I jammed the back of the chair under the copier door handle. I could feel my temper rising as I did so. Right, there. I would store out this chair. stupidity. Go on, open it now. I went to one of the desks in the open plan room and grabbed the phone. No dialto. I threw it at the wall. Another phone, still no dialto. What the hell? I marched back towards the end of the corridor where the stairs should be and started banging on the wall. The wall sounded solid like the rest of the walls. I had a thought that maybe Dom had to be.

played some evil prank on me by having someone put up a false wall over the stairs to make me crazy. But these walls all seemed like plaster-covered brick. None of them sounded hollow. I laughed, but I stopped suddenly as I didn't like the sound of it at all. There was an edge of hysteria to it. Well, my next idea was the window. We're only two stories up. I could jump.

Even if I hurt myself a bit, I wasn't likely to kill myself at 25 or 30 feet. up. Of course, I smacked my head with a heel of my hand. I was an idiot. The window was a great idea. The break-room window had been painted shut from the looks of it, against the fire regulations, but there were other windows. I did try opening it, rattling it like a champion, but it wouldn't budge. Okay, there were other windows. I tried the one at the front office next. The one over the handbag shop awning. It should have opened. It didn't. I know it should have opened because I'd seen it open during the previous summer. The office didn't have AC. We're in South London, not South LA. Most offices in older buildings didn't have AC, but I tried the window again. Nothing. It wasn't

painted shut. It was just not opening. I could feel ahead. I could feel ahead. headache starting. I picked up one of the useless desk phones and threw it at the stubborn window. bounced off. A stapler had no effect either. Didn't even chip the glass. This wasn't happening. I don't remember the next few minutes because I think I went a little bit crazy. I must have thrown everything at that window, including a stool and a small printer table. Nothing even made the smallest crack or chip in the glass. It wasn't even scratched. I trudged back towards the breakroom. The wall phone rang.

I stared at it. It kept ringing. I picked up the handset. At the third stroke, the time will... I cut the call off before it could tell me. It was still dark outside. I didn't care what the damn time was, what time it was, what time it was. What time it said it was.

was wrong or I was wrong everything about this day was wrong took a deep breath let it out somewhat shakily I'll omit but it did calm me a little as I headed back to the break room I noticed the door to the copy room was slightly open no came out as a whisper the chair was gone I dashed into the break room the chair I'd taken from there to put under the door was still not there. I slumped into one of the remaining chairs and put my head on the table. I had lost a flight of stairs and a chair now. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't.

I was going to ignore that door from now on. From the corner of my eye I saw something, a shadow, maybe from the moonlight now shining in through the indifference. indestructible window. It was nothing, just a tree bright shadow I told myself. A tree bright shadow from the non-existent trees in the high street. I laid my head down on the table again. I think I slept for a few minutes. It could have been longer. I had no way of telling. I seemed to lose time again. I wanted to go check the copy of room door, but I didn't move. I left it open this time.

Couldn't scare me now. I drank some of the Coke. Grab some chocolate out of the snack drawer in there too. Wulfed it down. Something definitely passed by the outside door. It wasn't a branch shadow. It moved as if someone was walking past, but there was no accompanying sound.

No, footfalls. Footfalls! I said out loud and grinned. Foot? I drew in a breath false I started crying the phone in the break room ran

I stopped my tears abruptly and white my eyes on my sleeve since when was there a phone in the break room I'd been in and out of their full what was apparently hours and there hadn't been a phone why would there be

I looked around the room until I saw it was sitting on a chair the chair that had been under the handle of the copy of room door. The phone wasn't plugged in. It continued to ring. I don't give a shit what time it is, I said, glaring at it. It kept ringing. I bit my lip and picked it up, answered it.

What? I could hear breathing on the line. It sounded heavy, but not. Like someone panting, it was much more. It sounded purposeful, intense. Hello, who's there? I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice. More breathing.

I need help. I'm stuck here. Well, at this point I threw caution to the wind. I needed out of this craziness. I just wanted to go home. The breathing intensified and seemed to become lower pitched. Please stop this. I want to leave. My own voice had sunk to a pleading whisper. I didn't care.

Dialed her. One second of hope to call out. Then, dead line. Outside the break room I heard a door creak open. I knew immediately which door it was. I tried to ignore it, but it creaked again. I got up, now suddenly, shockingly, furious, ran out to the copier room, grabbed that goddamn door and slammed it over and over and over again.

I now must have yelled because my throat was hoarse after I stopped taking out my frustrations and came back to my senses. I bent over my hands on my thighs, trying to control myself breathing as heavily as whoever, whatever, had made that life. phone call. I did wonder if I was just losing my mind, but the stairs leading to the outside door was still missing. I wasn't hallucinating that. They were just not there anymore. Of course, if I had lost my mind, maybe they were there and I was just hallucinating them being missing. I took in a deep breath. My sanity seemed to be hanging by a thread, but I couldn't

succumb to madness. I stood up, trying to form some coherent thought. I needed to get out. I needed to get out now before whatever it was got worse, before I lost more time. I wondered if I should just explore the extra part of the office, the part that had replaced the exit door and just kept on going. I'll be honest. I didn't really want to go walking into an area that could very well be part of my hallucination. if I had gone mental and the stairs were actually present, I'd just fall straight down them. On the other hand, I probably wouldn't die from tumbling down one, albeit steep flight of stairs, and as a plus, I'd be out of the office at last. A plan with a few drawbacks then, so why did I feel so uneasy about it all?

What could be worse than just sitting here? I started moving forward, very slowly, still unsure about it. the situation. At the edge of my vision, something moved, a shadow again. I turned, but there was nothing. I began to walk just a few steps at a time, and with my senses all on full alert, towards the new part of the floor. A slight creep behind me told me the door of the copier room had opened. I ignored it, gritting my teeth and wiping the tears that had welled up in my eyes. It didn't matter. It was just a crap door. It could stay open or creak or whatever it was going to do and I was going to take no notice of it this time. None. I had to resist the urge to turn back and look at it. I clenched both of my fists at my sides. Not looking, not caring about the door. The copy of a room door that refused to stay shut. Nope. Not going to think about it. I don't. I moved forward a little more, a little further into the new office.

A couple of hesitant steps. I stopped and listened intently. Nothing. No noises, no shadows. I looked up ahead. There was a big window at the end of the office, bigger than the one I'd try to smash open in the real part. What did this window even overlook? The building didn't go into this direction and if it did, if it was possible, it would be hanging

over the corner of the next street. I was suddenly really, really reluctant to get close enough to look out of it. I could feel myself starting to sweat, even though it wasn't hot. I felt slightly nauseous too on more steps. A phone in the large faux office began to ring. I swallowed audibly. I wasn't going to speed up to get to it. I wasn't even sure I wanted to get to it at all.

I could only see one phone in the big space, and it was very close to the large dark window, not right under it, but at the centre on a desk, a little ways in front. A few more steps, still hesitant. The phone continued to ring, and it looked almost like it was glowing now. I don't think it was,

I was just staring so hard at it that I'd lost all peripheral vision. Something outside the window moved from left to right. It was dark out, night time still, but whatever moves seemed just as dark, like dark water against dark sky. My eyes snapped up to track it. The phone stopped ringing.

We were at least 30 foot off the ground here. What the heck could be moving outside that I could see? What? Nothing good, I thought to myself. another step forward closer to the window to the desk at the phone another liquid ripple across the blackness i could hear my heart hammering against my ribs it sounded so loud to me that i wasn't sure if it was actually audible one more step the phone started ringing once more my breath was coming hard and fast now and I felt dizzy, far behind me.

I didn't turn, but I did flinch, I couldn't help it. Rippling at the window, faster now, almost closer. The ringing sounded louder. Oh, I wanted to scream and run and set fire to the entire office. Fire. Fire! The fire escape! It was as if light.

had gone off in my head. The fire escape. I hadn't checked it as I'd planned. It couldn't be locked as it only opened from the pushbar on the inside. The fire escape. I turned around sharply as I heard breaking glass and then a swishing noise and on the back of my neck, breathing hot and intense and wet. Yelling, I ran full tilt, down past the open copier door, past the open copier door, past the break room down the hallway up some stairs to the mezzanine where the fire door the fire escaped or stood closed i hit the bar at speed pressing down on it with all my weight and it shot open to the chilly night the metal stairs were gone though i barely noticed it as i flew past still picking up speed i sail through it out and down into the dark darkness. Oh, I landed hard, really hard. It seemed that I fell a lot further than 30 feet. Something broke inside me as I smashed into the dirt, and then I passed out and knew no more. I woke up here, in hospital. My legs broken, I have crushed ribs. I tried telling them what

happened, but inspecting the building, the police found no absence of stairs or any evidence to support what I'd said. And I've been referred for mental health assistance. Well, I've quit my job, obviously. There's no way I'm ever going back to that office. Oh, I have to go now. The phone in my room is ringing.

Case four. Final Penance. I should look before crossing the road. I didn't know, so there's that. I'd done it so many times but today I was in a hurry I had a date or a meeting or something it's funny I remember urgency and the feeling like this was a big and definitive moment in my life now that I'm dead the specifics seem to just float away

all I know for sure is that I wanted to get somewhere quick so I rushed down the stairs of my apartment right into the road I remember the van colliding with my right side and the feeling of being thrown into the air as my bones cracked and contorted and then I was somewhere else. It smelled like old books and horseshit and rain. It smelled like half-melted memories. It was dark too, but not like you think of dark,

almost sort of grey in a way I can't put words to. The floor was hard and dull looking. The ceiling was much the same, safe for white spaces, letting in light more powerful than any shadow. No one had to tell me I was dead. I'd done fucked up. and they were chairs lining the wall in front of me and they were empty except they weren't when i tilted my head i could see the shapes of beings made of fire wriggling snakes or darkness itself they sat in those chairs as much as they could be said to sit and they watch me with cold and infinite eyes and there was a doorway smack dab in the middle of the wall felt like a black hole ought to feel it was a bitter and a sucking nightmare thing. I knew without being told that there was something hungry behind it.

The angels watched me from their seats, and they produced a noise like a nuclear bomb or television static. It was a question that demanded a complete and irreversible answer. I flashed back to being a child in Catholic school. When it came time to confess my sins, there was no room for refusal. I get so nervous waiting in the pews I used to laugh and some permanently frowning teacher would stare daggers into my skull. When it was my turn I'd march right up to the old priest in his little room and tell him of my masturbatory habits or stolen candy or cheating on a test or whatever it was. I'd cry sometimes I'd shit myself a little bit out of fear of hell. I'd leave feeling sick but relieved to have passed on my shame to a

afraid a little man in God's employ. Now my sins came pouring out like vomit after a night of shitty cocktails. I told them about the time I hit my mother as a child. I told them about the time I said a slur when drunk. I told them of all the nasty, unforgivable things, and they laughed and laughed and laughed like the demons, which were their cousins.

The angel saw me as the pointless and pathetic thing I was. it was unbelievably freeing not to matter oh one by one the heavenly beings departed they just faded away like images on decaying film now I'm alone in a room which reminds me of every half-remembered dream I ever had but it's somehow so unremarkable it's painful this must be purgatory this must be where they cook away the sin and wipe off the shit of life

from the asshole of your soul. At least that's what the Catholic part of me thinks. Other parts of me are just freaked the fuck out. Maybe I'm still dying, sprawled out on the pavement. And God is coming. At least that's what I'm calling it. God, I can hear it. It sounds like rushing water.

It's in the doorway now. Oh, forgive me, Father, for I have sin. Case five. The woman sat in the chilly upstairs room of her two-story house where she kept her computer. She stared at its blank screen, waiting for some sort of inspiration to hit. It usually came in sporadic bursts of typing, with long intervals of blank staring. She merely sat and waited for it to come. Of course, it always did come, though sometimes it took a long time and sometimes it didn't.

Sometimes she feared it never would, and she would just sit in front of the screen, staring at it, and waiting while life slipped by unnoticed. Other times she feared something else might come instead, like the hand that she kept feeling lightly touch her shoulder, or the face in the mirror, or worse still, the figure emerging from behind her. But that was all in her head, of course. At least that was what everyone kept telling her. But lately, she started to wonder if that was true. She hated the upstairs computer room, as they called it. It was a small room with a little addition on the back of it. Her stepfather had put it on,

and then nailed a thick jean quilt between the two rooms. He had done this because the addition had never been finished, and there was no insulation on the walls. He got so cold that she often became afraid that she would simply freeze solid in her chair. Fingers poised above the keyboard, ready but never moving. The computer room was originally a bedroom. Okay, it was still a bedroom, but now it was an extra bedroom slash computer room. It contained a desk with a computer on it, an open closet, a window, a bed, and of course,

the addition. The blanket wasn't so bad. It was the mirror next to the screen that frightened her late at night when her parents lay nestled in bed and the house was deathly silent. She would sit there waiting for inspiration to hit her and her eyes would drift to the right of the screen

and settle on the reflection of that blanket hanging in the doorway. Then she would stare at it until she would see a bone, thin hand, curl its withered black fingers around the edge of the blanket, and she would jerk her eyes back to the screen and shiver. After that she began turning music on as she typed. It helped, if only a little. She'd always had a hard time with horror flicks.

She loved watching them, but she hated it too. It was hard to explain. She did like to watch them, but there was a little. were always the nightmares afterwards. She would lie in the dark when it was over and shudder with fear. It was always a little better if she was at home because then she could cuddle up close to her little dog.

Feeling his comforting warm body next to her always dispelled some of the mind-numbing fear. It seemed to bring her somewhat back to reality. But when she was at her sister's house or staying the night at one of her four aunt's houses, it was a lot different. She would often be alone in one of the extra bedrooms or on the couch, in the seething darkness. Her sister loved to watch scary movies with her, and then afterwards she would lie awake on the couch underneath the big window,

wishing to God that sleep would come soon. Of course, this didn't help at all, with the growing fear of the mirror and the world. blanket in the computer room. She would imagine all sorts of horror movie monsters lurking behind it, waiting for her to turn her back to them so they could drag her back there. In the light of day, she would tell herself she was being silly and to quit imagining things. But come dark, she always typed quickly. She would often ask herself why, if she was so afraid of that room, did she insist on using it? The obvious reason was that her computer was in it. There were two computers owned by her family, the downstairs computer, which was everybody's

to use, and her computer that she'd bought with her own money. It would have been easy to move to a new room in the house, but the only other place it would fit in was in the back room downstairs, but that was where the family computer was set up. She might even have put it. She might even have put in her own room. But her PlayStation was in there, and there was no room or a plug for both. And so, she was stuck with it in the extra bedroom. She could also type in the morning instead of at night, and that was really the only time of day she wasn't busy, and she couldn't just give up on typing. It was her passion. She loved it more than anything else. And besides, she felt strangely compelled to the room, and repulsed by it.

at the same time. She felt the need to go into it at night, even though her mind screamed at her to just leave it alone. It wasn't just constantly seeing the mirror out of the corner of her eye that concerned her. It was all the little things in the room that added up to her growing alarm.

He gave her chills just thinking about it. The first thing that happened was when her nephew slept in it one night. This was before her came. computer had been put in there. He told her it happened just before he fell asleep, you know, right before you drop off into Dreamland. He said he felt a slight pressure on his right shoulder, like someone had lightly put a hand on it. He was instantly awake, but no one was there. He never slept in that room again. He used the futon in her mum's craft room instead.

The second thing to happen was the chair. She put one of those big, backed roller chairs in the room for her computer, and then she started to notice that no matter where the chair was facing when she left the room, it was always facing the window, which was directly across from the door, when she walked back in. After that, things began to fall into place a little quicker. She began to hear funny noises. like whispers. She started seeing things out of the corner of her eye. And most recently,

she started seeing that bone, thin hand curling around the edge of the blanket. Of course, the hand was never there when she turned around. After all, there are no such things as demons or ghost, if that was really what they were. I mean, come on, who believes in that crap anyways? She did. The girl's eyes slowly drifted to the right again, and she suddenly stiffened. It was in the mirror. That horribly thin, black face with a tiny red eyes sunk into the sockets. The face floated above her right shoulder, and she leapt from the chair, banging her hip hard against the keyboard as she whirled around, ready to sprint to the door. There was nothing there. She laughed uneasily as she sat back down,

nervously batting a look of curly blonde hair from her face. Okay, she thought, just getting a little tired, that's all. Her thigh throbbed when she sat, and she knew there would be an ugly bruise there in the morning. She sighed, slumped back on the chair, and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she felt a bolt of horror run through her. The screen had gone black, and red words had begun to scroll across it.

She instantly jammed the keyboard in and stood up, intent on leaving and never coming back. But as she went to the door, it suddenly slammed shut in her face. She stood for a second, unbelieving. Okay, that was weird. She said aloud, and winced as the room seemed to absorb the sound of her words. She took a deep breath and reached with the door handle, savagely twisting and yanking on it when it didn't move. Is it locked? she wondered.

It can't be locked, and there is no lock. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the computer screen flash, and she turned around to look at it. The words had changed. changed from we're waiting for you to what's wrong don't you want to play with us okay okay okay the girl thought this isn't happening it can't be happening she took a deep breath and sat down cautiously at the computer staring at the words they had changed again so you do want to play the small

more prompt blinked below the words. Shivering, she pulled out the keyboard and gently placed her hands on the keys, index fingers lightly touching the small dents on the letters J and F. The room seemed to swim for a second and she blinked rapidly until it righted itself. Steady, she thought, steady. Swallowing hard, she typed. play what a couple of seconds passed and a new line of text drifted across the screen and see she wasn't scared she was terrified but she closed her eyes and steadied herself again telling herself that none of this was real she'd merely fallen asleep in the chair it was all just a dream she opened her eyes and her hands fluttered across the keyboard Who are you?

The response was almost instant. Half a second. Forty-nine. Half a second. Forty-eight. Her eyes widened. 47. It was counting down.

Forty-six. What happened when it reached zero? Forty-five. Hide and seek? Suddenly it clicked. 43. It wanted to play hide and seek, and it wanted her to play. Whether she wanted to or not, you should hide now, she thought. She stood up and backed away from the computer, almost tripped over the chair. 37. She looked wildly around the room. 36. She had to hide. But what happens when it

finds me. Her heart beat furiously in her chest. Thirty-three. God, where should she hide? Her breath quickened. The closet? No, the door had been taken off long ago. Under the bed? Maybe. But was she fit? Under the desk? 26. It would find her for sure. The addition. She couldn't go in there. She just Couldn't. She bent down and looked under her bed. Nothing. Then she got on her stomach and tried to wedge herself under. The metal base jammed into her shoulder. 80. She was too big. 17. She stood up and looked around wildly. Her terror? 16. Threatening to choke her. The addition

was the only place she could go. just stand here and wait for it to find her. God help me. Please, don't make me go in there. Her fear was irrational. There was nothing in there. But her own imagination, seven, and a pile of junk. Six.

She backed towards the quilt. Five. Reached out behind her, touched its rough surface. she gripped it two yanked it aside and stepped back zero

let it fall before her eyes as she glimpsed the words on the computer ready or not here I before the quilt slid before her eyes she found herself staring at it framed against the light it was hard to see

see detail, but she saw enough. It was tall, its head almost touching the doorframe, its skin reflecting the light from the bedroom, almost making it glow with demonic energy. It stepped towards her, its outline shivering somehow. She stepped back, stumbled over something and fell. She kept falling, falling through the dark. It pressed in on her from all sides, suffocating her. With a thud, she hit the floor.

Dazed for a minute she lay there, blinking away the pain. Suddenly, she realized there was no light. The quilt had fallen back into place, but there should be light around the edges of the quilt. Yet, there was nothing but the soft, very very, very, velvet of black all around her. She sat up and the floor creaked. She froze. Had that been her? The floor creaking as she had sat up. It came again. This time from the left of her. That hadn't been her. What if it was in here with her? What if it was just waiting for her to move and give away her

position. She had to get out, had to get out of here before it came for her. Fear fluttered in her chest again. Something moved behind her. She could feel it moving, sliding through the dark like a hot knife through butter. It melted her fear away to free the panic waiting beneath. She scrambled to her feet and began to stumble about the room, looking for a woman. Looking for a wall, or better yet, the quilt. Strange objects jammed into her sides, and she tripped and fell, scraping her hands on something sharp, banging her knees and elbows, she fought her way forward to move so quietly through this mess.

Suddenly, her hand hit something slimy, and she jerked away. Turning away from it, she stumbled forward. The need to get out became more urgent, and she hit her sly. side on something sharp and hard, hissing in pain. She stopped and grabbed her sight, feeling a wetness beginning to spread. Bright yellow eyes opened before her, and she suddenly forgot about the pain. The eyes widened, opening into deep pits of darkness, darker even than that which surrounded her. She felt mesmerized by them, compelled. felt to step into their darkness, to step inside them and never look back.

She tried to resist it, knowing if she gave in to that impulse that she would never walk out of the room alive. She pulled away from the eyes, but it hurt to do so. It felt like claws digging into her mind, forcing her to look back. She barely turned away when she did feel claws. her arm, dragging her back into those terrible eyes. She felt long strips of flesh being torn away as they clung desperately to her. She sucked in a deep breath and with one last effort wrenched herself from their eager grasp. She squeezed her eyes shut and reached out behind her. She felt the heavy weight of the

quilt beneath her fingers and tore it back, excited her. a shout of victory rising in her throat. The cry died on her lips as she stares into. The girl sat up suddenly. Sweat was dripping down her spine, yet she was as cold as ice. Was this what a chill sweat felt like? She shuddered. What was wrong with her?

Her sleep blurred vision began to clear, and the sweat froze. living little ice trails down her back. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room. She closed her eyes and let the chill sweep through her again. What had happened last night? She could barely remember a thing. She'd been sitting at the computer,

working on her latest story when... Her eyes flew open. The computer, she was in the computer room. Dashing from the bed, rushed over to it. It was still running, but the screen was blank. No words. Relief flowed through her. Her tense muscles relaxed, and she realized she'd been expecting something to be there. As the initial shock passed, she began to wonder, how did she ended up in the bed? Think back, think back, what had happened last night? Her thought,

swirled around as she tried to make sense of them. The computer. It had to be something to do with the computer. She'd been trying to come up with the next chapter to her story when suddenly words. Words had begun scrolling across the screen. Then they'd begun to count down. She had gone scared and had she stopped, turned around, the quilt. She'd gone behind it to hide from from something. An image suddenly comes to mind. She is standing in the dark behind the quilt, little streams of light flicking around the edges of the blanket,

her hand pulling it back, long, dark claws jutting from the black fleshed fingers. The light flickers again and goes out. She is alone. Only she. is not. There is something on the other side of the quilt, and it's coming to get her. She shakes her head, bringing herself back from the memory. A memory she can't quite grasp. Gratefully, she lets it slide away instead. She walked over to the door, her eyes never leaving

the quilt. She was sure that once she looked away, it would be the there, waiting for her. She reached out for the handle, but stopped. It was locked. She knew it was. It had been locked before, and it would be locked again. She would be stuck in this room, playing cat and mouse with this monster forever. Or at least, until it finally caught her.

Pulling herself together, she grabbed the handle. It was ice cold in her palm, sealing her skin to its hollow metal surface, forever trapping her within its world. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she twisted it, afraid it would shatter in her hand, but even more afraid it would devour her with its cold, turning her very insides to ice. It wasn't locked. She's shaking with a relief, and, Somehow she finds the ability to laugh.

But the laugh comes out wrong. It sounds like a madman laughing at the world. Comfortable in his delusions. She pulls the door open. It is heavy in her hand. She looks out into the hallway, but the hallway isn't there. She screams. Case six. People in gas masks are outside a building in a dead cornfield.

We'd been driving around Texas for a while. Clayton, Tom and I had recently graduated, so we had no destination. We were just there to dick around and create some memories until we had to snap back to real life. At one point, Tom had gotten into a heated bar fight at some dingy joint in Bexar County. The police were called. Although we hadn't gotten any charges, the cops pretty much warned us that we weren't welcome back in the area. Fair enough. We decided to tone it down a bit.

That's when we started planning some shit that wouldn't get us potentially stabbed and or arrested. We all settled on the paranormal. That stuff was just so interesting, you know. I guess it preys on that esoteric fear of the unknown that the unknown that the world. the human psyche implicitly holds, stimulating some kind of fucked-up rush to the brain. Anyways, we were in the market for some spooky shit. We looked around and did some research, but no potential destinations popped out at us immediately. They were either too far away, sounded boring or sounded like absolute made-up horseshit. It wasn't until we found ourselves

at another obscure barn near the other end of the county, where something truly interesting popped up. We'd gotten shit-faced during Happy Hour and couldn't stop ourselves from talking to all the locals. In the midst of a conversation with a construction worker, we brought up the fact that we were looking for some paranormal thrills. He scoffed when we said this. Yeah, everyone's got their stories round here. Let me guess. You went to some shitty abandoned barn. Somebody claimed it a little ghost girl. Found nothing. Now you want something real.

Not exactly, Clayton responded. We haven't gone anywhere yet. We're looking, though. The man nodded. Well, I've got something for you. As he said this, we all perked up. Now, our expectations weren't high at this point. I mean, the chances of him lying and feeding us some BS story were astronomical.

However, we still listened. We were looking for anything at this point. The man continued. I don't know if this has anything to do with ghosts or demons, but it's weird enough. If you drive about 15 miles west from here, you'll find an abandoned cornfield maze. Used to be a big tourist drawer, but it didn't pan out long term. The place is dead now. Creepier shit.

But here's what you'll be looking for. At the center of the maze, there's a building. I saw it with a few buddies of mine when we went exploring there a few weeks back. It's only got one floor, but I ain't sure of how far it goes. Here's the fucked up part. Apparently, that building wasn't there when the cornfield was still functioning. Nobody knows. when it was built.

Weird shit, huh? We couldn't get a close to look at it because, well, because there were five people standing at the entrance wearing these freaky-looking masks, like the ones people use in those Apocalypse movies. Gas masks? I piped up. Yeah, sure.

He continued. Anyways, the minute they saw us, We bought it. I mean, we weren't sticking around for that shit. He paused, taking a big swig of his beer. You guys can check it out, though. Personally, I wouldn't go back. But it's up to you if you're looking for that kind of stuff.

There's directions in there, so probably you won't get lost. I try to keep out of sight from those people, though. Who the fuck knows what they're up to? As soon as he finished his explanation, I exchanged glances as Tom and Clayton. They had the same looks on their faces that I probably did. There was no way in hell that we weren't going. Didn't even matter too much if the guy was completely lying about the building. A dead cornfield maid sounded fun enough to explore.

He gave us some more detailed directions before leaving. We decided to take a few hours in order to sober up. before heading over there. It was only 3pm after all. At around 6 we started driving. The sun was still high and probably not coming down any time soon, so we had no fear of getting lost in the maze. A little while later we found the place. The crops were taller than we'd expected, but they were indeed dead. There seemed to be a small lot to the side, so we parked there, Funny enough, it was empty, safe for us. Looks like we won't be seeing any spooky gas mask, man.

Clayton blurted out. Oh, what a shame. Yeah, I'm sure if you were part of some weird cult located in the middle of a cornfield. You'd leave your vehicles out for everyone to see. Yeah, good thinking, Tom responded. Clayton looked as if he was about to make a comeback, but closed his mouth. I heard him mutter some excitement. expletives as he walked past me. As we stepped foot into the somewhat foreboding labyrinth. We noticed what

the construction worker was talking about. There was duct tape on the ground, forming the shape of arrows. Like the guy told us, we just followed them. While we traversed our way through the maze, Tom raised a concern. What if those arrows aren't actually leading us to the center? What the fuck are you talking about, I responded. Well, think about it. This is the easiest way to rob someone. That guy didn't seem a little bit sketchy to you? What if we're being led directly to him, where he's waiting with like six other guys or something? Yeah, I don't know, Matt, I told him. It sounds like paranoia to me. In retrospect, what he was saying made a lot of sense. However, that would have been a way better outcome than the one we actually got.

Don't worry about it, Clayton piped up. He then lifted up his shirt to reveal a small revolver strapped to his waist. Dude, what the fuck? Tom flinched at the sight. Gun laws in Texas, he smiled, just in case, you know. Whatever, man. Just don't wave that shit around. Jesus Christ, Tom retorted.

Although my own initial reaction was one of shock, I couldn't help but feel my nerves calm a bit, knowing that Clayton had the weapon. We follow the arrows for what felt like ten more minutes before we finally reached a clearing. To our absolute bewilderment, a building was right there in front of us. Actually, calling it a building is kind of a stretch.

There was only one floor, after all. It really didn't even look too big. Maybe the size of three convenience stores mashed together in a mesh of stone. But, as creepy as it was, there was nobody in sight. Well, at first, we must have stood there and stared at the thing for five minutes before the door swung open. In that instant, we all retracted back into the maze. Fortunately, there was a small hole in the stalks where we could peek out from. It was small, so we went one at a time.

Being deathly quiet, I strained my vision, eventually managing to make out four figures standing right by the entrance. Funnily enough, they did indeed have gas masks on, but other than that, they seemed to be wearing casual clothing. I looked at Tom and Clayton, trying to get a read on how they were feeling about this. They just shrugged. I guess that we all made some kind of silent agreement not to leave because none of us budged.

I don't know why we didn't. Looking back on it, there were a multitude of things that were obviously wrong with the situation that we'd put ourselves in. However, I suppose that adrenaline makes you do a lot of crazy shit. We must have waited in the maze for about an hour before the gas-mast people left. They didn't go inside, however. They went around to the sides of the building and disappeared from view. We waited for about ten more minutes, but nobody came back.

Let's go, Clayton whispered. Are you kidding? Tom barked back. So you're telling me that we waited here for nothing? Don't be a pussy. This is fucking crazy. A few more moments of silence passed

while Tom and I contemplated this. Fuck it. He finally spoke up. Clayton gestured to his waist. If anything goes wrong, right? If anything goes wrong, we're calling the damn cops. I told him. I wasn't exactly excited at the prospect of a shootout. Moving quickly and quietly,

we made our way to the front door. I couldn't locate a knob anywhere, so I tried pushing. At first, I just thought it wasn't supposed to open that way, but then I realized it was just really heavy. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to get through. The three of the three of the stepped into what appeared to be a living room. There were no windows, but a light bulb dangling from the ceiling gave us all the illumination we needed. All in all, there was a couch, a table with a few chairs, and some stools. We walked around, but couldn't find anything worth mentioning. However, we started hearing footsteps coming from outside a few moments later, although we should have been expecting this, our faces still went pale.

Shit, I heard Tom mutter under his breath. I scanned the room and located another door near the far corner. It was pretty obvious what choices we had here. We snuck our way over to it and barged in. Thankfully, this one wasn't heavy as shit. We were suddenly plunged into pitch black, as we heard the front entrance open. We all collectively turned on our cell phone flashlights in order to see where the hell we were. I nearly dropped my phone as the light struck our surroundings.

We were in a tunnel. In fact, it nearly resembled the catacombs, but without skulls. The walls and ceiling were rough and uneven, and the whole place just gave off her, get the fuck out of their vibe. It was long as well. No clear end in sight. We didn't move.

Clearly, none of us really wanted to go further. However, what we heard from the entrance room made us reconsider. It sounded like somebody was dragging a large crate out there. We could make out voices, but they were too muffled to understand. Nearly shouted out in surprise when an abrupt, heavy stomping echoed in from under the door it sounded like an elephant was moving around out there it was immediately followed by a deep grating voice that was nowhere near human it was laughing but without emotion if you can imagine that we took off once we heard the stomping coming towards us there was no way out here we ran quietly using the walls and shaking

phone lights in order to navigate. Eventually, we found a ladder, climbing upwards just as we heard the door to the tunnel swing open. We must have climbed for about five minutes. We were all exhausted when we finally made it up. However, it was still pitch-fucking black. We shone our lights around, but this time we couldn't see anything. It was as if we were in a large cave or something. At some point, we managed to locate a wall and used it to guide us along. But then again, we had no idea where we were going. About five minutes later, Tom stopped. Guys, where the fuck are we? I had no idea why he'd chosen to ask this now. What are we supposed to know? I responded. I showed my light on his face, revealing a

Mina, there was equal parts confused and terrified. He shook his head. When we were looking at it from the outside, this place didn't have a second floor. That's when it hit me. I guess there had been too much adrenaline pumping through my veins. I hadn't even noticed it up until that point. We'd been climbing up that ladder for a while. We hadn't gone down any stairs, but there was also no second floor. So, where the fuck were we? My attempts to rationalise this were cut short as a light flicked on some metres away from us. We all snapped our heads toward that direction. The area that had actually been illuminated was rather small. It was maybe about the size of a bedroom. However, standing right under that light was a person. The person wearing a gas mask.

But unlike the people that had been standing outside, this person, or thing, or whatever, was also wearing a full hazmat suit. We watched in abject horror as it started walking towards us. As soon as it left the light, we heard it start running. Wasting no time, we started booking it. The only direction that we had was away from the thing chasing us. As we ran, more and more light started coming on, and under each newly illuminated space was another figure in a gas mask and hazmat suit. At one point, there had to have been 12 sets of footsteps coming at us from all directions.

out of sheer luck I managed to spot a metal door in the wall up ahead I pushed my legs which were about to buckle at that point and made a surge towards it I tried shouting out for the others but only Clayton was in sight we made brief eye contact before he and I managed to reach and close the door behind us they didn't seem to be a lock so we just pushed our body weight against it hoping to hell that that would be enough to keep those things out eventually we felt someone pushing back there was no way in hell that we were letting up not even when we heard tom's voice coming from the other side guys what the fuck are you doing let me in we didn't budge that was not tom there was something

about his tone, his cadence that made it pretty obvious. He was speaking in broken patterns, like a text to speech translator. Oh God, I can see them coming after me. They're getting close. Guys, guys, guys. His voice had been getting deeper and deeper ever since he started talking. It had pretty much turned into a guttural growl at that point. Eventually, whatever was on the other side stopped speaking English altogether, replacing it with some kind of language that I'm pretty sure wasn't meant for the human ear. It was making noises that made my brain feel like it was about to implode. Eventually, it got to be too much, and I had to cover my ears. It was at that moment when the door swung open and the thing stepped in.

My phone had fallen onto the ground, facing upwards, so I could see the illumination of the horrific figure slowly making its way towards me. When it was mere centimetres away, I heard the gunshots. Clayton had fired all six rounds into the back of this thing. I watched as the creature jerked around violently before slumping to the floor. I got up trying to regain my bearings. Clayton's breaths were heavy and scattered as he bent down towards the thing. What the hell are you doing? I asked him. I just need to know, was all that he said back.

It looked as if he were trying to rip the mask off of whatever was wearing it, but instantly winced upon touching it. It's slippery. What the hell? I bent down myself to get a better look. This is when I nearly burst into hysterics. What I had initially thought to be, the rubber of the mask, seemed to be something else entirely. It was squirming like black intestines.

Clayton cursed again before taking the revolver and smashing the eye-holes. But instead of shattering glass, we were met, but the sight and sound of something bursting open. Some kind of black goo had gotten all over both the weapon and Clayton's hand. He shrieked in pain as he flung the revolver away. A few seconds later, I noticed movement on the ground. There were things pouring out of the burst eye-hole. They looked to be some kind of dark insect with a mum.

multitude of legs. We didn't waste any more time. We started running. I can't say how long for. All I know is that once we started, we couldn't stop. Still trapped in the ever-engulfing darkness of whatever hellhole we had stumbled upon. The cell phone flashlights were our only hope of navigation. We made our way through what appeared to be a twisted maze of halls. But nearly every turn we took, There seemed to be more and more of those masked creatures wandering around. Whenever we saw one of them, we just took another route. Sometime later, we found steps leading downwards. At that point, it seemed like the best option.

Before we descended, Clayton held out his arm and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. That's when I noticed his hand. It looked as if he were wearing a rubber glove. I told him and he just stared at it in dismal confusion. What the fuck? He exclaimed before trying to take it off. However, it wouldn't move.

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

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

in addition to four buckets filled with dark liquid sitting in each corner. There was also one door on the other side. But the real story was at the center. Right in the middle of the room was what I can only describe as a purple void. A hole in the concrete that was devoid of time and space. A path to oblivion. I don't know how long I stared at the thing. All that I know is that I snapped out of my trance once a figure.

started emerging from it. It was another one of those gas-masked creatures. The entity made a sickening shriek as it crawled its way out of an unknown reality and into hours. I turned around to see Clayton kneeling down in a corner. He was whimpering. I took a few steps toward him

before he spun around to look at me. His face, it had changed. Half of it was still the same Clayton that I'd always known, but the other half, he was turning into one of them. The next few moments were a blur. I remember making a bee-line towards the door and rushing through it. It led to another tunnel, and I had nowhere to go but forwards. After an ungodly amount of running, I was met with another door at the end.

I pushed it open to find myself back in the first room of the building. I looked around, but nobody seemed to be there. I bolted out into the night. It was a bit disorienting trying to find my way back through the maze, but I eventually did. Thankfully, I hadn't let go of the car keys at any point, so I was able to drive out of there. I called the police immediately

and pointed them towards the car keys at any point. direction of the cornfield maze. I told them that we'd stumbled upon the building when we were jumped and that only I had gotten away. There was no way in hell that they'd believe the truth. They said that they go check it out, but I never did hear back from them. In fact, every time I called asking for an update, the operator acted like it was the first time I'd spoken to them. I just gave up after that, not knowing what to do, I just made my way to another bar. I knew that drinking this kind of experience away probably wasn't possible. But I was going to give it a shot anyways.

But guess what? Sitting down in the first bar that I went to was the same construction worker who had initially told us about the cornfield. Note that this was a different bar that I went to. the one we'd met him in. He was talking to what appeared to be a young couple. When we made eye contact, he didn't smile, wave or gesture me over. He just glared at me with a stunned expression on his face. Trapped in the backlogs. I review cultist. Entry 1.

I finally managed to find this little notepad in a working pen, so I guess I might as well leave a record of my current circumstances. That's what you do write, when you're trapped in a liminal place. You read journal entries, notes or something for the next poor soul to find. That is assuming you don't make it out yourself. I always said if I had to die. I always said if I had to die, I wanted it to be immersed in creepy pasta, wish granted. I don't think I'm going to die here. Well, maybe, who knows? This place is certainly creepy. Feels dangerous, but I digress. Let's start at the beginning.

I go by Review Cultist. I'm a podcaster and reader of all things internet horror. I love collecting strange items and visiting places related to creepy pastures. Well, I went to West Virginia once just to drive by the spot where Iko Falls is supposed to be. So you can imagine my excitement when I was hiking in my local forest and found an old digital recorder in a plastic bag. Yeah, I was thrilled. Even with the bag's protection, it took some time to clean it up once I got back home. But once I popped in some fresh batteries, it worked.

There wasn't anything to play back as far as I could tell. So I did the tried and tested method of saying test test testicles into the mic to test the recorder itself and played it back. I probably should have noped away from it when I heard my voice through the grainy speaker. But it was saying stuff I'd never said, or at least I didn't recall saying at the time. Personally, I really enjoyed the setup for this story. The creature brought to mine swamping. There seemed to be stuff from my show, Aldente Rigamortes. On the show, my friends and I discussed and reviewed various creepy pastures,

plug, plug, plug, even in a weird space. The weirdest part was when a story's title was dropped in the fragmented sentences. It was one I knew we hadn't done yet. Also, as I would rewind and play things back, it'd play new lines or discussions. Now, at that point, I got really excited and a bit creeped out. I went to do what I usually do in these sorts of circumstances, grab my phone and send a message to one of my co-hosts

and maybe even post another update on Twitter about it. The problem was, I couldn't find my phone. I started looking around in futility, still clutching the recorder in my hand, and, well, I must have hit something. The recorder's speaker suddenly crackled to life on full blast this time and a high-pitched version of our show's intro music started playing. I'm not ashamed to say that it jumpscared me and dropped the recorder

onto a leafy forest floor. Well, I didn't even have time to fully process the sound of leaves crunching as the next thing I know, in the blink of an eye my house had suddenly been replaced with a darkened forest. Well, the jump and the sudden change in my surroundings caused me to trip up and I fell over. This resulted in sudden pain and the sound of my fat ass crushing the recorder under me. I sprung up and turned around to inspect the damage and, yep, that recorder was in pieces. As I was looking down at the bits strewn about and half-pressed into the dirt, however, I noticed another recorder.

And another. There were recorders of various makes, models, and age. scattered about the forest floor in and beneath the undergrowth. I picked a few up, but everyone I checked was heavily weather damage. As I looked around this weird forest, I'd found myself teleported, and that's when I noticed the sounds. If you live near forests, you get pretty familiar with the soundscape. Birds, insects chirping, trees creaking in a breeze, that sort of thing. I was hearing something like that kind of soundscape, but it was off.

It's training to listen closely, I realized that the sounds were actually the murmurs of people talking or chatting, but muffled and maybe even sped up and distorted. I tried to trace where the sounds were coming from, but it was coming from everywhere. I listened harder. As I got closer to one of the trees, I was able to make out one set of voices. Though I couldn't make out any of the words, I could tell it was coming from inside the tree. The call was coming from inside the goddamn trees. I had to be dreaming. I'd had some vivid dreams and even visceral nightmares in the past.

Some even with weird creepy trees, so maybe I was dreaming. I tried the methods I'd heard for waking myself up. Damny had pinched myself black and blue. All I had to show for it was a very real and painful bruise on my cheek. Either I was in a coma, well, this was some weird, surreal forest I'd just been teleported to. I know they say if you get lost in the woods You're supposed to stay put and wait for rescue

But does that count for weird audio forests Besides my personal saying about the woods is Maybe scary y'all I didn't want to be out in the open when it got dark I decided I should search for shelter It actually didn't take too long before I found a man-made path in the forest Though this trail proved to be quite the winding route There wasn't a clear choice this way or that

so I just started walking in one direction along the path. The whole time I walked, the background sounds of the muffled voices continued playing. Occasionally I'd hear other footsteps behind me, but every time I looked back, there was nothing. My pace were quickened every time, for a while anyway. I must have walked for several hours with no sign of a trailhead or other people, except for the muffled murmurings and the phantom footsteps. There were hills that the trail weaved around, climbed over or even went up along, and hugged areas densely carpeted with tall trees.

These were a mixture of pines, oaks and maples. The views would have been really cool if it wasn't for my circumstances and the weird atmosphere of this place. Night never really came and still hasn't come, just days of perpetual dusky twilight. As I continued, some voices up ahead. began to get clearer. I could understand a few words, and it sounded like some people talking to each other

just around the next bend. I slowed down to a cautious craw as I moved forward towards the people. It sounded like they were talking about some movie, like they were reviewing it. And there were others talking, but with other topics. A soft cacophony of conversational chatter was ahead of me, and as the source finally came into view, I was both confused and felt like I was further down some rabbit hole. It wasn't people. It was trees, or rather logs. They've been cut down and stacked, with the conversations bleeding out of the open ends of the logs. There were sores and other

old lumber cutting tools here and there, even a crane-like machine. Cabin-light shack loomed on the other side of this clearing. No people in sight, but I saw boot prints in the mud. and dirt, so I walked quickly across the cleared area where ghostly conversations played out from felled logs. I kept surveying the place, looking for signs of movement, but found none. The big machine had some brand on it. The graphic work was old-timey and gilded. Ards and Castor's company. Really, where the hell was I?

Come on, Alice, wake up. I made it to the little porch of the cabin when I heard it. the sound of a chainsaw revving up from the direction I'd come from. I looked out that way, scanning the tree line but saw nothing moving. I decided it was best to get inside the cabin, and thankfully the door was unlocked. Inside was a single empty office of rustic decor. There were some chairs, a couch, and a desk with some burned-out candles. Strewed on the desk were various bits of a device, some kind of dissected audio. I went around the desk and checked the drawers, hoping to find something useful.

That's where I found the small notepad and pen I'm currently writing this way. There were also some fresh candles, to give a bit more light in the cabin. I've barricaded the door with some of the chairs, but at this rate, if you think I'm purposefully to sleep after hearing that chainsaw, which I've heard again twice now outside, a little louder, a little closer maybe, well, sleep is going to have to come to me. I just figured I'd get this down in case the person or thing wielding the chainsaw gets in here and I end up, you know, entry too. I'm glad this notepad and pen was still in the bottom of my bag.

Guess I should play catch-up here while I can. A few hours after my last entry while I was in the cabin were a bit uninventful, but it proved to be a calm before the storm. I'd rummaged further through the office and found the aforementioned satchel and even a thermos of what small. smelled and looked like tomato soup and spaghettis. It tasted fresh and fine, and I was getting hungry at that point. After stuffing what I found down my gullet and into the bag, I must have fallen asleep on the couch.

That's where I awoke from, to the sound of a chainsaw cutting through the door. The figure wielding the chainsaw was tall and lanky. He wore a wife-beater with greasy coveralls, held the chainsaw with heavy leather gloves, and had a burlap sack over his head, held there with rope around his neck. There was a V splashed in paint on the sack's front. His exposed skin seemed to be glowing faintly with a pale green.

As he came crashing through the now destroyed door, I swear I heard a mechanical whirring and clicking sound from beneath the sack. I managed to put the desk between me and him, though I wasn't taking this as bravely as it might read. I was definitely in flight mode, scrambling as best I could, trying desperately not to be near the sore blade. I was able to kick the desk into the tall guy's shins, and he backed up enough for me to vault past and escape through the door. That's where I saw the other one. Same outfit, wielding an axe, but this one had a big, bold bee painted on the front of the sack over his head.

He was coming out of the woods quickly and quietly to my left, so I ran right. The path I'd walked earlier continued on this side of the cabin, so I just continued down it and away from the logging site with these slasher film rejects. Thankfully, in the panic of the cabin, I'd thought to grab the bag of stuff as I got off the couch. I kept running and running, and when my lungs burned and my feet were sore, I ran some more. Try my best to keep a lookout for various routes sticking up out of the path, as well as what was in front of me. The last thing I wanted was to trip and fall or run into another one of those loggers waiting in ambush. At the time I looked back, couldn't see any sign of the glowing fiends. So I started to slow down and eventually crashed next to a large oak by the trailside.

I shuffled behind it out of view, just in case. The lighting was still gloomy dusk, and I tried my best to quietly start controlling my heavy, ragged breath. Sweat was pouring down my face, and I tried to listen for any moment. movement coming my way as I wiped it with my sleeve. All I could hear around me was more soft muffled murmurs from the trees. Leaning this close to the oak, I realized that I could make out part of the conversation through a burl directly above me. It was my co-hosts and I on Aldente Rigamortis, and we were discussing a story as we do, but again I didn't recall the conversation. We also didn't mention the story's title as I listened, but it sounded like

It involved Halloween. That's when, on the recording, there was a knock at someone's door, mined by the sound of my recorded self's confusion. When I went to go to check, had said unmuted, there was a loud crash. This was followed by screaming, panic shouts, what sounded like fighting, and then static. I listened to that static for a prolonged period, and then I decided I didn't want to stick around that tree any longer. Hearing my own voice and the voices of my friends talking about stuff I had no recollection of was bad enough. But the distress of the latter part sent to chill down my spine. I decided I didn't want to have some kind of dissociative panic attack develop,

so I hopped up and tried not to think about it too much. As I got back up and on the path and saw a light a ways down, I froze. It was a light that wasn't there before. Initially I ducked back down in the ferns and brush, waiting to hear the chainsaw rev up. When all I heard was the murmuring forest, I poked back up to see the source of the light. It appeared to be a short old light post, near a building now on the side of the path. Another cabin-looking structure, a distance down where I'd been heading, but definitely not there when I was running, as far as I could tell. I approached the building cautiously, looking around and it.

expecting something to happen. When nothing did, I went to the door and opened it, nearly jumping out of my skin when a brass doorbell above me chimed. Even from the dirty windows on either side of the door, I could tell there were lights on inside, but I wasn't prepared for this as I entered. Interior was across between a modern gas station store with fluorescent bowls bathing everything and a soft humming light, and an old-timey trading post with a rustic decorum and antiquated yet new-looking good. my stomach grumbled as I looked at various snacks on shelves. As I went to grab the closest bag of corn nuts, the lights wavered and darkened as a deep voice bellowed nearby.

You're going to buy that song. The voice came from a shadow in a dapper suit behind the counter. Once I had recovered from my heart attack, I looked over, not expecting a well-dressed darkness to talk to me. Um, yeah, I responded eventually. Not sure if I actually had my wallet on me still. Well, that'll be two money units, the shadow claimed. Money units? I asked as I fished into my pockets, where a wallet was not.

Yes, sir. Company script. Arts and Castor's company issued money units. Set the darkness beyond the counter. I'm afraid I'm a bit short on funds. I guess you'll be a bit short on goods too, said the voice in the void. It had this melodic drawl similar to a friend of mine in Kentucky. I just stood there, dejected. I wasn't sure what I was really even talking to and I didn't want to make it mad.

I looked over and saw a small eating table with stools by the windows. Mind if I just go sit down over there for a bit? I'll go right ahead. That's free. a time anyway. So I sat down and checked the satchel, where I found the thermos, candles, and the notepad I find myself updating in that. After a few moments, I decided to brave the counter and ask some questions. As I approached, I noticed there was more intact radio equipment next to a register and the lights over the dapper-clad shadow were off. What I could really make out

was his dark green suit. Hey, where am I? My are in reverend's goods. In partnership with pods and casts... No, sorry, like, where is this place? What's this forest called? I swear the shadow must have leaned in closer.

But just see the dark suit hushed forward. Everything else blended with the shadows around him. We call this place the backlog. Forest grown deep and expansive from the soils of what-ifs and what could be broadcasts, built on the ashes of old airwaves and nurtured by the waters of the eversstream. The company has prospered here for some time, logging and mining as it pleases. Okay, really, the backlogs? I thought to myself. Do the sackheads work for the company? V&B, yeah. They handle logging in these.

parts. I'd want to stay clear of them. They have anger issues sometimes. Yeah, I got that. Hey, is there a way out of the forest? Now, that is proprietary information, son. That's going to cost you. Ten money units are to do it. I just sort of slumped at this again. He knew I didn't have it, and despite the fact I couldn't see any expression, I could tell he had a smile on his face. He leaned back and chuckled. There might be someone who could help you out. There was another, like you, who came through not too long ago. Don't recall their face too well.

I think they called themselves ne'er. They asked where they could get some money units, and I may have mentioned they should head on out to the old company mine. It's a ways down the path. Over the Eversstream and up in the hills. Can't miss it, honestly. A word from the rumor mill is fortune favors the bold there. I looked to the door, looming and ominous.

If I wanted out of here, this liminal rustic dream scape from hell, I guess I was going to a mine. I hoped they weren't going to say I needed to work in the mines to get the money. What do they even mine here? Well, thanks, I guess I'll be back then. As I said this, the only response I got back was a suspicious cackling as he moved back into the shadows beyond the counter. It sounded like he'd started fidgeting with a radio back there. So I guess my next stop is the mine to get money units so I can find out how to get out of here. I'm not going to lie, this is weird and creepy and also kind of exciting, but mostly creepy and weird.

I still don't know if I'm just unconscious on my living room floor after some episode I've had that I've never had previously. The other option being, if I did indeed bite off more than I could chew, finding and tampering with a creepy item in the woods when I shouldn't have. Hopefully I make it and can maybe report back in this little journal. Oh God, this is cliche. I kind of love it. Entry three. Oh, story time. whoever ends up reading this.

After I left the Reverend's goods, I started hiking along the path away from where I'd walked and ran previously. There was no sign or sound of the loggers, once again just the soft murmurs of the tree recordings. The path eventually went by a small trail that led to a bridge that crossed the Eversstream, as the Sherry Clark had called it,

which had been running roughly parallel to the path I was on for some time. Something I'd come to notice in my travel, travels here. There were no stones or boulders on the ground. Instead, much like the recorders from earlier, there were old TV and computer monitors, as well as analog audio and video equipment poking out of the dirt, and among the undergrowth and tree roots. I guess these were the natural rocks of this place. The nearby bridge was one of those arching bridges that was made from old wooden planks. As I stepped onto the bridge, I looked over the edge to the passing water below and was

yet again reminded of the strangeness of this place. The water had a pattern running through it, similar to the light reflections you see in normal water, but this was much more angular and straight. The pattern reminded me of a circuit board, as it continued filtering through the water, I saw that the stream bed was covered in more older computer parts, like hard drives and routers. I shook my head at this nonsense and tried, in vain, to wake myself up from this weird nightmare. The other side of the stream had more hills and slopes than where I'd previously been walking. When the trail began to climb up, I began to pant from the extended climb and started seeing the signs. The signs were nailed to wood posts along the trail, only partially obscured by brush, and read the following.

Bards and cast as company. Mine work available. Inquire with the foreman. Warning. watch out for Knits Pick Nits pick. Like nitpick? Really? I exclaimed through heavy breaths as I reached the halfway point

in the path and this side. At this point I was about ready to pack it up and see where the main path kept going across the bridge when I heard a distant short scream up ahead. Part of me wanted to run. I even dug down reflexively and looked around frantically.

After a good friend, five minutes of nervously listening and looking about from the side of the trail in what I hoped wasn't some kind of poison ivy, I decided to keep going up and see what that was all about. As I reached the top of the trail, I could see some more signs similar to the ones on the way up the hill. There was a small but sheer cliff face jutting up from a leveled out area with an old prospector-like mine set up built into it. There were old and rusty carts and mining equipment the company's brand and a lit lantern by the entryway in the mine. I was working or around outside, of course.

I took the lantern, looked down the dark tunnel, recalling my mild claustrophobia. After a moment, I took a deep breath and started venturing into the dark. I swear to God that if the tunnel narrows and I have to crawl, I'm turning back. Fuck that noise. I whispered to myself as I moved forward. I've been in caves and mines before. I've also found that through reading various creepy pastures

and watching various YouTube videos about caving, I have no desire to try and squeeze through a tight spot in the earth. As it was, the tunnels were cramped, but walkable. It was really only one time where I had to crouch down and walked like a gears of war character, which, let me tell you, doing that for a prolonged period sucks. I wasn't sure what this mind was even for,

though I did occasionally come across what looked like some iridescent vein of material, I think, gave off a hum when I touched it. Aside from these stones and their faint glow, there were signs of old unused lanterns and even some spent candles. In this area the lighting was quite poor. Up ahead was a sign on the tunnel wall which read, Foreman's office, then an arrow pointing forward. I began to slow, that hum from the stone,

and other unpleasant hollow earth sounds were all around me now. I don't know which one was worse. This or the incessant forest whispers and murmurs outside. A lantern light shone on something glistening on the ground. A puddle of what I first thought was water. As I got closer, I saw the form of a person crumpled out on the bloody ground, head facing down and in my direction, like they'd been walking or running back the way I was coming.

No timey minor's cap was nearby. The person's clothes were modern. I crouched down beside them, after looking back and then behind the body for any movement. I didn't like what I found. They were dead. I didn't need to check for a pulse. The back of their head was a mangled hole, like something large had pierced it. Maybe a pickax.

I didn't even bother trying to lift and see their... face. The smell of blood and brains was gradually starting to set in over me. Strangely, the smell didn't hit me until I knelt down to the body. Now it was there combined with this gruesome sight. It was all I could do to stop from puking up the spaghetti I was from earlier. I decided to check their pan pockets for any type of ID. I had money units while fighting back the taste of tomato pushing up my throat. They didn't have a wallet. They didn't have some paper and bills. The paper was postcard-sized, basically a workers' note, stating their temporary worker status with the company and their signed name, Neur-E-Tor.

I groaned, and not just from my rebelling guts. It's an in-joke from my podcast, which apparently is a thing here. The bills were company money units, about 15 of it in ones, and twos, and a five. As I was putting those in my own pocket and getting up, away from the body. That's when I heard a new sound. Up ahead there was a soft orange light, likely another lantern around a bend. Coming from that direction was a distinct clinking sound, like metal hitting haphazardly against stone. As I stood there in a moment of nervous paralysis, I saw the source of its wielder. A tall, lanky, dark figure was slowly and methodically

walking into view, pickaxe dragging at his side. occasionally tapping the ground and wall. The orange light behind him casting a silhouette, leaving him still mostly in darkness. The light of my own lantern bounced off some writing on a name tag. Foreman knit. When his eyes lit up, red like a goddamn sleep paralysis demon, once when I broke from my own frozen state.

As I turned to escape this nightmare of a mine, I've heard a wush of air as the pit. narrowly miss where my head had just been. This guy, while lumbering when moving around, was very quick on the draw with that pickax. I heard it crash into the wall next to me as I began fleeing, the accompanying sound of his heavy boots stomping onto poor Neer's body, which was unpleasantly squishy. The next few minutes were a bit of a blur and a rush of darkness, dim light and sound. I wiped my head on the ceiling twice when I got to the low section.

As I felt the throbbing pain on my scalp, I hoped that the tall bastard behind me would have more trouble, but I didn't hold my breath on that. Eventually I saw the light at the end of the... You know, even with the twilight gloom outside, I didn't give myself a moment's pause to adjust, so my vision didn't quite catch the other tall, lanky fellow outside. He quietly wielded a wood axe with a sack over his head.

It was actually the repetitive click-clacking sound coming from beneath the cloth covering that gave me an indication of danger. I still ended up getting a nasty gash on my upper arm and immediately dropped the lantern that hand was holding as I frantically weaved and ran by. The lantern must have smashed on the ground because I think I heard the sound of fire right before I tripped down the trail. I proceeded to eat dirt, rolling and skidding a quarter of the way down toward the bridge.

When I finally stopped, the world was still spinning and my arm was burning and wet with blood from the slice. The wound wasn't deep, but I held it tightly with my other hand, tried to see where to go. I could hear both soft and heavy footfalls coming from above me, so aching all over, I got up and continued downhill. This was probably the most I'd run in years, but when you're being chased and attacked, I guess you'll do what it takes, or just die. I was really wishing I had the lantern as I crossed the bridge, since it might have helped to have had it burning between me and the two psychos.

In desperation, I decided to run back to the general store, hoping it might still be there and could help me. I raced looking back once as I ran ahead and didn't see anyone. Well, luck struck twice as the Reverend's goods was still there and open. I raced inside and practically sent the doorbell flying as I opened and slammed the door closed. "'M trouble at the mine, son,' asked the suit wearing darkness behind the counter. I didn't respond. I simply walked among the shelves, looking for some kind of first aid kit, which I found pretty quickly.

Put it on the counter and grabbed the money units from my pocket awkwardly. I needed the bandages. That'll be five money units,' said the shadow, beyond, definitely grinning as he spoke. I gave him some mixed ones and twos and took the kit to the eating table on the other side of the store, where I'd left my satchel. Glad to see my stuff was still there. I started performing some quick and dirty patching up of the cut in my upper arm.

Well, only ten money units left. I hoped when I found them that I could maybe buy some more food or a drink. I cursed that bee-sacked asshole with the axe. Nothing to be done about that any longer If I could get the info to leave I could eat back home Maybe I buy a sausage farmer's wrap with a coffee Or fuck it, maybe two farmers' wraps

Once more into the breach I crossed the anachronistic convenience store from hell again And put the remaining money units on the counter Right How do I get out of these woods Back to where I came from My turn was tired and straightforward The hand-sized shadow crept over the bills and took them.

After an agonizing moment, the voice in the darkness spoke. I suppose you've earned it. To go back to where you came from, must go off the path behind my humble shop, follow the eversetream away from the bridge and mine you visited. Well, I'd just go back the way I came in the first place? I was getting a bit flustered. The darkness spoke calmly and casually.

Follow along the stream back to the old tracks, into some of the oldest parts of the backlocks. Then from there, follow the tracks in the left direction. Them tracks go over the stream, so go left to the stream. Follow them for a spell and you'll make it back to where you came from. The shadow leaned back as though leaning back on a seat. That's it? Well, you want to keep an eye out for echoes. Echoes, what are those?

Like the logging psychos? As I asked this, the shadow moved closer again. Keep away from echoes. You'll know him when you see him, and if you do, run. He was practically whispering in hushed tones at this point. And he seemed to go and put the money units in the register and started tinkering again with the radio behind the counter. So that's my next step.

follow a stream off path till I find a set of old rail tracks and follow them home I guess I'll end up somewhere in the real world and I can find my way back home from there or who the hell knows maybe the tracks will pop up right inside my house and I can just call it a day

a really weird painful day as I've been writing this last entry I've been thinking of whether I should leave this notepad here or take it with me I still haven't decided but could post it online when I get back On the other hand, maybe I should leave it near the trail somewhere In case someone else gets trapped or lost here

Might save them some money units I'm also a bit worried about the echoes I can't get any more about them from the Reverend And hopefully I don't meet one Knock on wood So, till next time, maybe And so once again We'll reach the end of tonight's podcast

My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.