Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep203: Episode 203: Holiday Horror Special

Episode Date: December 24, 2024

The opening story in tonight’s collection of tales told in the pouring rain is ''It’s Inside your House'', an original work by Michael Paige, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://twitter.com/Atrophied_Hush Next, we have ‘Meat’, an anonymously written story featuring Count Julius and Wolfykinz Tales: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/meat Our third story is ‘I’m Meredith Garland, dispatcher for the souls of the damned’ by Polonium Poisoning, featuring Gamma Akutabi and Musey’s Modern Dreadfuls: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/jge4o5/im_meredith_garland_dispatcher_for_the_souls_of/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share Link to the writers book: https://www.amazon.nl/dp/B09DWVWRVH?geniuslink=true Fourth in tonight’s collection is ‘There’s Something off about my New Girlfriend’, a brilliant tale by Deacon Clarke, shared with me directly on my sub-reddit so I could regale you all with it here. https://www.reddit.com/user/DeaconClarke/  Corpse child then gives us ‘The Night The Pack Came’ featuring Sir Creepington Pasta and Wolfykinz Tales: https://www.reddit.com/r/FreeToReadCreepypasta/comments/poj9pj/the_night_the_pack_came/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf Our next tale of terror is ‘Father’ by Kaitlen Green, featuring Scarecrow Tales and Ceresdeath: https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/r6unln/father ‘I Know What I'll Do When I Become Immortal’ by RoseBlack2222 follows, featuring Ceresdeath and your good doctor: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/fchjhz/i_know_what_ill_do_when_i_become_immortal Next up in this evening’s feats of the macabre is ‘They Walk among Us’ by Corpse Child, once more kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/ Our next tale of terror is ‘The End of Infinity’ by Crypticwander, featuring Crazy Ken’s Story Time and A Clock Strikes 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/comments/ov59hm/the_end_of_infinity/ Author Jojo then offers us ‘I Fell In Love With The Girl From The True Crime Podcast’, featuring Viidith22 and Pumpkin Queen: https://www.reddit.com/r/JoJoHorror/comments/rkjlio/i_fell_in_love_with_the_girl_from_the_true_crime/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share Azazel Codex and Disturbed Kay then follow with ‘Krampusnacht’, written by Azazel Codex. Our next story is ''Something watches me while I sleep'', an original work by Kallier Devdi 6359, once again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/KallierDevdi6359 Next up in this evening’s tales of terror is ‘My daughter fell into a well, but I'm not sure what came back up is really her’ by Hyperobscure, featuring Gensen and Museys Modern Dreadfuls: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/fkrk6q/my_daughter_fell_into_a_well_but_im_not_sure_what/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share As the Raven dreams and To_42reads then perform ‘A chat in chains’, a story written by To_42reads: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SQ_5DvtMf23n1R371SlJmKYNn7YQflrF5rnJ5uENLD8/edit Our next story is ‘Looking for a good time? Get Casey Lacy on the line’ by Author Jojo, featuring Possessedradio and Sprit Voices (Lucy Kay): https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/i5nm4t/looking_for_a_good_time_get_casey_lacy_on_the_line Our penultimate tale is ‘My Friend is Odd’ by To_42reads, featuring Madame Raven and Midnight Chills:  https://www.to42reads.com/stories/my-friend-is-odd Hood Horror writes and performs in our final story ‘I Love My VooDoo Slave’, alongside DisturbedKay.

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Book an eye exam at Spexsavers.cavers.ca.caps. Are provided by independent optometrists. Visit Spexsavers.com to learn more. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Horror stories at Christmas tap into the contrast between the season's warmth and joy in the chilling thrill of the macabre. This juxtaposition heightens the experience as the darkness of a ghosty tale feels even more vivid against the backdrop of twinkling lights and cozy fires. Historically, sharing spooky stories during long winter nights was a way to bond, adding a sense of communal excitement. Today they serve as a thrilling reminder that the heart.

The holiday season is not just about cheer, but also mystery, reflection, and the timeless allure of the unknown, as we shall see in this giant collection of festive stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. We'll start with a story just from me. This is It's Inside Your House by Michael Page. It wakes you.

Not the moan of a withered hag or the fleeting voice of a dead man, but a low trill of wind slipping past your window. Air being pressed into hush breath. The shadows melt themselves back into your bedroom. You blink. The blurred, hazy object of your alarm clock focuses back to existence. 2.48 a.m., the numbers decree. You don't want to be awake.

you don't even want to keep your eyes open yet here you are outside the air stirs in utter turmoil churning up to 50 miles an hour and beating against your home you'd known this was coming in fact you'd known at the moment you'd seen those thunderheads pulling in from the west

lightning forking within them when the storm's down draft came bursts of pine lace wind sharpened deceptively sweet a destructive force careening from the Atlantic all the way through the barrens a large tract of wild unbroken wilderness you've often seen in the distance the tall storky pines of his dark woods shivering in the gales it's been a gusty time for jersey this year what was it you were dreaming about anyway who knows the information is already lost to the

senseless grumble of thoughts trying to piece the dream back together gone although an image of falling water still rest vividly in your mind. Your bladder sends a signal to your brain, demanding relief. Half awake, you mechanically saunter down the short hall to the bathroom. You flick the lights on, too bright. You rub away the floaters and zigzags from your eyes. You yawn as your soul scrape over the cold tiles and then yawn again as you complete your natural business. Sweet release.

You flush and lift the forciet handle to wash your hands. A sound. Your gaze flicks toward the door. You listen again. Silence save the occasional squeak and groan of the walls, probably from the breeze battering them outside. Whatever it was, you're too tired to care. Glass shatters.

Wakefulness spikes through you now as this new sound resonates crawling up from the dark of downstairs. You put a sharp inhale down your throat. Your wet hands flinched soapy pellets over the countertop. Stop, breathe, calm yourself. It could have been anything, like a tree branch or some other debris that got swept up and propelled through the window. That's it, you tell yourself, nodding, hoping.

Allow powerful thud bangs downstairs, and hope flee. now muffled movement a breaking a burglar horror films you haven't seen in years slide through your mind like celluloid movie reels your reflection in the mirror turns goosey white contorted with fear the police your thoughts propose call the police your eyes trace the room for your phone is still lying on your bed there's still time you can rush back there barricade the door and call the police from the closets.

How long will it take them to get here? It doesn't matter. Just call them. You go up the doorknob, ready to sprint straight to your room. The dump on the stairs freezes your limbs. Something fast and large bounds down your hallway just beyond the door. Something so terrible so lively that even the deepest fault of your nightmares could never recreate this moment. Vibrations wrong by your toes.

Feet like heavy pegs tromp up to your bedroom door. It swings open, bashing clumsily against the wall at the forced entry. You stand there, anchored to the cold tiles of the bathroom, paralyzed by the shock of it all. The short space to your room fills with thrashing sounds, bedsheets being ripped and torn asunder. The box brings squeaking and jittering violently. your fingers still welded to the doorknob refused to twist it an inch further a few steps away something of significant size and savagery guts your mattress the place you'd be in just moments ago when cold wash starts at your chest and drips down to your groin your breathing is now terse as your heart pumps with a new and sudden weight your mouth is dry your throat rubber focus these are the impulses you must hold on to, the hot blood mounting up in your throat, the intensity

dilating your pupils and lacing your eyes red, the lifting your gut from an absolute freefall. These things hardwired into your system will keep you alive tonight. The thrashing stops, a rapid cackling emerges. High scratchy sounds grow louder as they echo down the hallway, expelling from a mouth you dare not imagine. The cackles sputter into bleating like a goat coughing up mucus, not the sound of a burglar, not at all. The thing moves again, its hammer feet pound in chaotic pacing until it finally stops and settles on something, a succession of bangs on the closet door. Why? Because it thinks that's where you are. But what is it exactly? No, you can't stay here.

You need to leave before it finds you. The cord in your hand tighten over the handle. You mentally prepare to enter the hallway. In your periphery, your bleached reflection in the mirror verifies your struggle with that simple action. But still, the hope of escape eases the gritty feelings of leaving this small, safe place. You turn the knob fully now. The door opens, thankfully without a creek. You move quietly down the hall, light on the bottom.

balls on your feet. The walls grown again as another draught clambers over them. The windows flash. The lightning is so close you can hear the crackling particles. You peer back towards your bedroom to make sure its attention hasn't left the closet. Another pound against its signals back, much louder out here. You continue, each measured step as slow as possible. Just one sound, one small little thump in the carpet. That's all it will take to alert something truly horrible. As you draw closer to the stairs,

a sullen urgency pushes you to move just a little faster. You have the screaming urge to run to borrow down the stairs and leave out the front door in nothing but your underwear. But you resist. Judging by how quickly it closed the gap from the stairs to your bed,

you have no difficulty guessing who would win in the mad scramble, not without a head start at least. A terrible crash reverberates behind you. The closet's been freed from its hinges. Heavy feet start moving again. It's coming. You kick off from your heels and practically vault the rest of the way.

You round the stairs and take the first few steps. The grandfather clock that you kept in the entryway has toppled flat on its face and now blocks the front doorway. No, not toppled. Push. Chunks of glass riddled the floor from the broken window in the living room. You could push the clock out of the way, open the door just enough to slide through and get out, but there's no time. Deranged chatters move down the hallway behind you. It's closing in fast.

Your bare souls clap against the stairs. You reach the bottom and wind around to the living room. Pain jorts up your leg. A sharp bit of glass has pricked into your foot. The shark crunches and embeds itself deep. deeper into the nerve. Desperate, you fall toward the coffee table and roll beneath it. Heavy storms now bang all the way down to the bottom step. You put a hand over your mouth, you squeeze your eyes shut. Another sickish bleak croaks out of the thing. It wanders around

the room. Wind whips through the broken window, kicking up the drapes. The steps are loud like the hard heel of a dress shoe as it clucks against hard wood. Different scents now trace your nose. A scent you can almost recognize. Something sharp and green, like being outside. It's that eulish scent of pine needles again, now blended with a thick, manurey musk,

that smell of the dark woods. Each hard step sends tremors through you. Don't look. don't even take a breath Don't think of what it'll do if it finds you How vivid those thoughts teeming with horrors are How quickly your screams will be silenced by teeth How great the amount of blood

That will pull out of your newly open flesh Ripped and tattered like your bedsheets Do not look But of course You look Your eyes negotiate with the surrounding darkness and you immediately regret looking the deep sting of your foot no longer reaches you the shock numbs the bulking fear welling up in your chest long black legs canter near you teared with fur

they are like the legs of a winter skinny deer cap with bony gloven hoos behind them snakes are forked leathery tail a mouth you cannot see click its cuspids. The thing whops loudly and then cackles like a hyena. No, your thoughts murmur, like the devil. The bony feet circle around and vanish into the black gap of the kitchen. A chair scoots as though brushed involuntarily. A clatter of things clang onto the floor, pots and pans falling from their racks.

You cautiously adjust your placement beneath the table. The pain in your soul sharpens again. Are you bleeding? Will it be able to smell the blood? To taste it lingering in the air? No, if that were the case, it would have found you by now. A vision you don't feed for very long.

Perhaps you can wait it out. Stay hidden until it gives up and moves on. A vain hope. I'd heard you run down the stairs. It knows you're still here somewhere. You will allow yourself to solve. swallow, feeling unhinged by it all. This isn't your house anymore. It's somewhere else, some dark side of some distant planet you don't belong on, a place where something,

something with hooves, is stalking the halls, looking for you. The back door maybe. No, you recall how the rollers were starting to stick and squeak lately, too loud, and even if you did manage to squeeze through in time. The thought of having to outrun the thing, fills you with immense dread. You look to the broken window. The frame is spiked with shards waiting to slice through an artery, not to mention all the scattered fragments your feet would surely find again. Running would be impossible after that. An idea suddenly clicks. The car keys. You left them on the kitchen counter. They should still be there, mockingly close. If you can just reach them and sneak into the garage, you can get out of here. You can get out of here.

and that you reflect sounds like a good plan the thing migrates from the kitchen and clucks down the hall his cloven feet thumped down more stairs at the basement it must think you've gone there i'll buy you some time not very much though out you go from the coffee table you breathe softly small jitters rattling your lungs you pause a moment to brush you a few fingers across your foot to get the glass out. It works some, but you'll need tweezers to get the rest of those evil bits. In the kitchen you glance about for your keys. Some pans and a dirty skillet litter the floor.

The spice rack has toppled, and a feathery art piece of garlic powder has formed on the porcelain. You move forward toward the counter with cautious steps. From the lower level, a muted crash rises up. Something else has been forcibly shoved over. You must hurry. You spot the keys. You stretch out your blood, speckled fingers, and curl around them, carefully lifting them so as to not let them jingle in your grip.

Another thought dawns on you and leads your hand next to the cutlery draw. Sharp metal things rattle inside as you open it, much too loud for comfort. But you find and grab the sharpest knife there, so the noise is well worth it, a calculated risk. Having both the keys and the knife in your hands offers a small dose of victory, but you still need to make it down the hall, past the basement stairwell and into the garage. You peer down the corridor and hug the wall as you walk in. You pass by the basement quickly, imagining just for a moment something ready to screech its way out of the pitch. But in just a few paces, you've reached the doorway to the garage. You grasp the door knob and pull the door open.

A new sound reaches you from behind. A wet, acknowledging grunt, you turn. From out of the unseen stairwell along, muscular neck twists towards you. Its hooves scrape into the hall. The house flashes with another strobe of lightning, giving feature to its tall, amorphous shape. Its jagged horns extend outward, coiled back in a goatish curl.

Leathery skin hangs down from its heart. Leathery skin hangs down from its thick-haired body, hitting its backside in wrinkled folds. Eyes the colour of muddy water. Eyes that have finally found you. Reaching out of the mottled fur, a skinless, hoarsey face composed of yellowed still living bone. It clicks its teeth again. Sharp. Waiting.

Your hand does not move from the door handle. It clenches almost as tightly as the other hand does around the knife, both trembling. The blade is no more than a paperclip compared to the thing before you, twitching its talents. One of your feet is already out the door, squeezed into the small crack of the garage, but there was never going to be a clean escape. It would never allow such a thing. The fear now settles into your legs, grasping the inside of them. It seeps into your joints, turning them into mulch, thought.

cease altogether. In the next instant, you force yourself to move as everything else moves in rapid order. The door pulling open, hooves beating closer, a high shrillish cackle. You squeeze into the garage, chased by hot, bestial breath brushing up your neck and down your shoulder. You move to sweep the door closed, but three hellish claws slipped through the gap. They hook into the thin wood, propping the entry open against their leathery skin. It moves on the other end, tugging angrily at the panel.

You pull against it with every cord, every tendon burning in your forearm. You jam the key ring into your mouth while the other hand struggles to keep hold of the knife. The thing yips loudly from the other end. Its thick stench clings to your face. It's strong, and as the pressure from its grasp continues to climb, you know that it's winning. In one quick motion, you plunge the knife deep into the webbing of its talents. A horrible sound, much like the yowl of a dying cat, brazed from the other side of the door. Dark crimson blood runs down the steel and drips off in red tears.

The claws retract, taking the handle with them as the door finally closes. You climb inside your car, unwilling to take another breath until the keys finally find the slots. The engine rouses to life and all. all the symbols on the dash lighted up in green and amber. You yank the gear sticking to reverse, nearly back the trunk straight into the garage door, thankfully catching yourself and clicking the opener just above your head. The door pulls open with a squeal of rollers and hinges.

Even before the metal sheet comes to a stop overhead, you back out and slope down the street. Hands still shaking, you simultaneously switch the gear to drive and slam a hurt foot over the gas pedal. The car pears down the road, revving higher and higher until your house and street are out of sight completely. You look to the rear view, partially anticipating to see it back there, standing tall and upright beneath a street lamp. But there is nothing.

You've done it. You've escaped. Your wide, vainy eyes find the road again, as a spasm of wind nearly knocks you off course. It doesn't matter where you're going, not right now anyway. All that matters is getting as far away as possible. A thin laugh shivers out of you, perhaps jovial, perhaps just a bit too manic. You slow down a little, finally allowing some calmness to penetrate through the panic. The wind still howls and sweeps over your vehicle, but as it quiets a different sound rises behind it,

like two heavy tarps flapping about you look at the side mirrors and again at the rear view did you just see something the thud sounds on the roof you take another breath and depress the accelerator

now it's time to feature our first guest this evening here we have a story called meat featuring Count Julius and Wolfiekin's tale Chinese culture is a strange thing indeed. She found out the day her first came tearing, screaming,

and mulling out from her womb, tiny unformed fingers clawing out of her insides. The doctors and nurses crowded round, strange and deformed in her pain-fueled haze, babbling things that she, She could not hear. She remembered shuddering, drenched and an itching sweat that turned her light pink hospital gown into a shade of carmine red.

She let the congratulations wash over her, the excited exclamations of her husband, pulling her from much, much needed sleep, needling at her, drawing her mind long and tired. she took at her turn of clutching the baby, cooing softly, as quickly as she could, before she passed it on, swallowing down the rising vomit that clogged her throats, attempting to write the spinning room through sheer force of will. Then it was thrown onto her lap, her scream of disgust, pierced the sterile operating room, jolting the sleeping child into its first wails. She looked up, searching for the source of this outrage, and her eyes met two beady pupils staring at her behind a surgical mask. He was a short man, dressed in hospital blue.

His long fingers steepled together at his waist. His eyebrows suggesting a smile hidden between the white of the caud mask. A long silence dominated the room, broken only by the insisting crying of the newborn flesh. And the low hum of the air conditioning. Eyes traveled back down to the red pulsing mass of bloody flesh in her lap, and then back again to the shriveled doctor standing at the foot of her bed. standing at the foot of her bed. Eat is good for you.

But why is it raw? Just eat is good for you and the baby. Ryan just stood there. Forced grin, frozen on his face. He said nothing. He wouldn't. He actually believed in this Chinese nonsense. He reached out.

A claw swimming through the open space between her and him, and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it once. Her other hand shook, as it edged towards the battered metal plate, slipped slightly in the pooling blood, and finally managed to clasp around the oozing organ, picking it up. It squelched in her grass.

Small showers of blood dripped from it, slipping from the cracks between her fingers and back into the plates, merging with the symphony of expectant silence in the operating room. It smelled disgusting, loathsome. It smelled of fresh blood, of rotten flesh, of old torn clothes, soaked in vinegar. It smelled like fresh fish, gutted and smashed with the same. spoon. It took all of her willpower to not throw up there and then. To keep the vomit hidden deep

within her throat, to gulp it down, eyes were watching, waiting. She had to do it for the baby. Her mouth opened. An inch, two inches. It edged closer and closer. She could have sworn it pulsed in her hands. Once, as it neared her teeth, the stench invaded her nostrils, piercing inwards like a jagged spear, and she gagged. Lurching forward,

the piece of flesh squelched again, popping from a grasp to splash down on a plate, throwing rivulets of blood up onto her face, allowing her the sensation of cold liquid, snaking their way, down her cheeks. Still, no mercy. Nothing but the same waiting silence. She picked it up and held it against her face. Her tears of disgust mingled with the blood coursing down her cheeks. She looked at the lump of flesh that had forced her to do this, and she found that she hated it.

How strange, and as she experienced this new emotion, almost unknowingly, unwittingly, she bit into the placenta. She hadn't known by now what it was. She had known all along that she had to eat it, that it was customary. She had wished it wasn't. upon finding out that she had a say in the matter, placentaphagia, the practice of eating the placenta, was purported to help stem postpartum depression, contract the uterus after birth,

and give back to her the life source that she had shelled out. The doctor had said so. She still didn't want to. She had thought it would have been discussed, It wasn't, as her teeth pierced the livid red flesh of the organ, breaking apart stretched skin, into the pliable flesh beneath. She instead experienced ecstasy. Her mind broke behind waves of pleasure, flooding into her nerve centers, arcing lightning, burst through her mouth, and into her brain as the perfect taste filled her taste buds.

She had found heaven, found it in the organ of her own child, in what was essentially part of herself. All thoughts of cannibalism faded away beneath the rising tide of blood choking her throat, and all her disgust was drowned in the apex of the moment. She was complete once again. hungrily she wolfed down the rest of the placenta, each bite sending shudders and shivers down her spine, causing orgasmic delight to wreak her weak, tired body. By the end she could barely move, but the smile that was plastered across her face, thread to tear it in half, she'd never felt better.

The erupting cheer faded to the background. Everything did. She felt ashamed afterwards. Of course, as Ryan joked with her about how she looked like she really enjoyed the after-labor meal. She hadn't dared to tell him that she had. She didn't tell any of them of the mind-blown spikes that had lodged themselves in her chest. That sparked her fire and drove her insane. She couldn't. Instead, she just smiled and nodded.

Joked back with her husband, throwing small talk around the room as she tried to erase a memory from her mind, to forget the pleasure that she had experienced, to drive the hunger away. But it came back. A few weeks later, tearing at her insides with pure, maddening desire, she wanted, fucking needed it. it, more badly than she had ever needed anything. She drew into herself, trying to control her urges, to chain the beast. But it was useless. Ryan thought she was suffering post-natal depression, had asked kindly about it.

What could she say? Her silence continued. It went on like this, for days, weeks. She cradled her child absently, ignoring a little. cries as she screamed inside, drowning out the piercing whales with her own desperate pleas for the madness, the hunger to stop. It went on, until one day she could take no more. She found herself alone that day. Ryan must have gone out for drinks with his buddies. She was alone with the baby, feeding it her precious milk, enduring the needling pain jabbing her breast,

as a hungry child tore into her nipple. Her life-giving fluid spurted out sporadically. Tiny drops flicking the chin of the hungry monster. Minut amounts of blood bitten from tender flesh mingling in with the milk. She stared at the child, transfixed, as she wondered. What if her hunger... What if... She had no time to think.

The scraping against the back of her head has started again, the aching of her jaws and the tightness in her chest. She reached out with her left hand, her right still clutching the baby, holding it against herself, trapping it with nowhere for it to run. Her fingers closed about the fleshy, tender leg of her child, pulling it upwards with agonizing slowness.

The baby continued to suck at her, to drain from her. She wondered, for a brief moment, if it was a sort of poetic justice, has her teeth bit into the milky white skin, her canines puncture with epidermis, and flesh found its way into her mouth. The baby began to scream, pain driving its tiny mind wild. But she wouldn't let go. She couldn't. Her teeth were already halfway in, the lower jaw resting lightly against the puckered portion of the baby's meat.

She couldn't do anything except bite harder and harder. Her stained yellow teeth turning red has blood flooded her throat, filled her mouth. Her eyes watered. her grip tightened. The wriggling lump of flesh bowled, thrashing about, but it couldn't escape her. Finally, her teeth met, parting aside prepubescent flesh with the sculch in order to hit the other half of the soft click. She tore her prize free from the baby, chewing with a furiousness born from desperation. She chewed and chewed, the blood spurting out of her mouth.

and onto her chin, dribbling and frothing bubbles onto her dress. She chewed until she realized this wasn't what she needed. In horror, it dawned upon her what lay in her mouth. The bubbling mass of pink that rolled about her tongue actually was, and she screamed for the first time, out loud. She had explained afterwards that a wild stray dog had bit the baby, while she had brought it downstairs to the void deck, and that the blood on her dress was from her rushing the baby to the hospital. She had cried, tears streaming down blood-stained cheeks, and Ryan's arms, sobbing her heart on what Ryan thought to be relief, but she knew to be frustration. She needed something else, something more. She needed what she had tasted before. She had grown to hunger for.

She needed the placenta, the prime cut. She tried looking for it, searching online, and only came back with animal placentas, pills and dried facsimiles that she found no interest in, no desire for. She bought slabs of raw meat, hid it from Ryan, from her baby, who now lay in the cot recovering, wolfed them down in the sink. spat the mountain into the bin. It was no use. She needed the real thing,

and that's why she found herself where she was now, sneaking into the hospital at two in the morning, drifting along the hallways with furtive glances cast behind her. Turn left, two turns right, the maternity ward is just ahead. She made it there without anyone noticing. Against all her wishes, all her hopes,

she hadn't been caught. She imagined what it would have been like if she had bumped into a nurse if they had found her. The relief would have washed over her. The madness and dark dust evaporated beneath the soothing touch of humanity, suffocated by the constricting nods of the straitjacket. But no. Instead, she found herself at the door,

whirls of laminated woods stared back at her. her as her fingers rested against the knob. She walked in. Ryan thought she was having a night out, watching a movie and taking a break from watching the kid. He was at home, dozing off at the TV, rocking the cradle once every few minutes. And here she was, holding a pillow above the face of some woman she didn't know, pressing it down as hands clawed at her. The woman's body young, and light, except for the discended belly possessing her spawn, struggled and bucked under her grip. She held on, a strength that could come only from insane hunger pressing down her arms. The monitor rattled on the table, unplugged, cords scattering about the floor.

The bed shivered with the dying woman's convulsions. Her grip upon the pillow softened as the woman struggled less and less. Until finally, the flannelian hands fell limply against the sides of the bed. The room was silent, except for her panting, and dispersed with mumbled apologies and hungry growls. Her hand gripped the scalpel, tightly, pilfered from a small room adjacent. Her knuckles were white, barely visible in the dark room. Trebling has her fingers dug into her palm. closer to the corpse. Her hand touched upon the protruding belly filling about.

She felt something move, the jolt, the spawn, the woman's larvae. It still lived. She was supposed to feel remorse now, as if one life taken was fine, but two had across an invisible line. She was supposed to hate herself. Instead, she raised a scapull high, cheek burning smiles, splitting her face in two, frame shivering in anticipation. She plunged it down. She prepared to dine once again. Hey, Ontario.

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So you teach your family craft. I was 27 when my grandfather started training me in the family. People didn't know or didn't talk about what he did for a living. So I was more than happy to be elected his successor, to be preview of some of the incredible secret. The happiness didn't last. The room where he were took a whole floor from his house. It was filled with complex.

almost alien machinery that twinkle and buzz softly. Something that seemed right out of science fiction to me. He handed me some headphones. Sometimes souls get lost in the afterlife. And even being in the right plane, they're on the wrong spot. These machines capture the frequency of lost souls and allows you to communicate with guardians

from all planes of afterlife. Yes, Blay. I don't understand what he meant. To put it simply, us garlands are dispatchers for dead people. We simply connect them with whoever in charge. Try it. I felt like there was a lot more I needed to know before getting started. But my ancestor simply shook his head no and promised me that I will learn as I go.

I put on the headphones. After a few seconds, I heard some shy prayers. Hello? I said, after taking a deep breath. Is anyone there? The voice replied. I had no doubt it was a child. Yes.

How can I help you? I'm lost. My eyes hurt because there's too much light. Hold on a second. I replied on the microphone, then repeated the information to my grandfather. It's heaven, for sure. Press that button. He instructed.

I did it. This is team Edad. number zero zero four five. How can I help you today? This time, it was the voice of an adult woman on the other side. I... I have a lost child in heaven? I reply. Navigate me. She promptly responded. She told me to navigate her.

I muttered to my professor. That one button. After one minute of conversation, the equipment can identify where the lost soul is. He instructed. Talk to the little kid again. I'll get back to you in one second. I told the woman, then change the line and my tone. Hey, hey, help is on the way.

Just stay with me a little more. Okay, miss. It's Garland, dear. What's your name? I'm Judy. The kid replies shyly. The light is hurting me now. Hang in there just.

A bit more, okay? You have a beautiful name. Tell me more about you, Judy. What's your favorite food? I think I liked hot dogs. Mom said I could eat lots of them after the chemo was over. I'm sure the good people rescuing you will give you some hot dogs, darling. In reply, she whimpering pain for a fraction of a second.

I almost saw Judy, a seven-year-old girl with the face of a kitten, bawled from the devastating treatment for an even more devastating illness, but always, smiling. The machine beep, and one of the many monitors show a map with coordinates. I changed the line again and gave the rescuer Judy's coordinates. It's a bad rift. We're going there with maximum priority. The woman replied, I spent three more minutes distracting a little duty from her pain.

The rescue team then think and dismiss me. Your first mission is such a success, Meredith. I'm proud. My grandfather patted my shoulder. After that, I started spending 16 hours a day inside that room. When I was there, my body didn't need food, water, or using the toilet. And only four hours went by in real life. I aged at a slower rate too.

The physiological niece came back as soon as I left the room. I ended up loving my job, at least at first. My grandfather warned me about spending too much time inside the room, but since only four hours went by outside, I figured I could easily spend thrice the recommended time a day working and still have plenty of time to sleep and do other things. I became a workaholic, but it was fine. Nothing was more important to me than helping the mesquatic ghosts that roam the afterlife.

After I learned more about the riffs, falls, and pockets in the dimensions, I figured how terrifying they must be, and how the strange souls must be scared to end up there. There were all kinds of flaws in each dimension, where the light, panumbra, darkness was so overwhelming that it could disintegrate it, very essence of a soul, but only after a few centuries of suffering. My job was of utmost importance for the dead and loss. Besides, as long as I worked this job, all my financial needs will be taken care of.

I never again paid a bill or worry about rent, and, although I was never one to splurge, whenever I left the house, I visited cafes, museums, and stores, as much as I wanted, never having to pay a single penny for anything. I lived a comfortable upper-middle-class life, so it felt wrong to me to only spend four hours a day working, while so many people seemed to need the aid that only I could provide. Most of my calls were either to heaven or to the limbo, to make a very long story short.

The limbo is the average afterlife, meaning neither eternal suffering nor perpetual bless. From my experience with it, it looks a lot like earth, but the cities are more scattered and primitive, and the sky is gray all the time. I've never been there, but people described it to me so many times that it's almost as I've been. My first call to hell started to change how I view my job. The color was none other than my grandfather, who had been dead for two years by then. Myr, can you hear me? The familiar voice rang in my ears.

Grandpa? It's been so long. I've been trying to reach you for days. I'm glad to hear you. I wonder if time goes by differently on the other side, or if something happens to the soul right before dead that makes one wrong, unknowingly, and unable to ask for help. Maybe they don't remember the judgment that decided what

their afterlife will be. Either way, what a scary thought. Hang in there! Help is on the way. I reply, assuming that he, a man who helped guide millions of stray souls, ended up in no place other than heaven. You should think, Bear, I'm not where you think I end up. He bitterly laughed. I'm sharing my memories with you. My job allows me to see flashes of the colors live. As long as they're thinking about them, it's not necessary to allow me to, and he knows it. He just wanted to make sure that I didn't feel like I was invading his darker secrets. My grandfather was a cruel commander in a cruel war.

He committed every despicable act you could think of. When he returned home, his own predecessor, my great-grandfather, forcing him to become the new dispatcher of the family, in the hopes of saving his soul. You live a long life, helping stray sheep and pray that it's enough to earn you enough forgiveness, son. In tears, he spent the next ten years guiding mostly people he had a role in murdering, and people who die in the cruel war he gladly took part in. From the moment I was born, he was the gentlest man one could imagine. I never saw him raise his boys to my grandmother, or to anyone.

And all his kindness was insufficient to atone for his wife. I'm in a red red place mirror. Do you think you're in hell? I've never had a call to hell before. Obviously, the machine is projected to prioritize calls from the good people, and then from the ordinary people. Bad people like me rarely get true. As if, to proof his point, the sound started glishing with static.

Stay with me! me. I just have to call the rescue team, right? For each afterlife, the rescue team was the perfect embodiment of the plane. In heaven, they were really, really nice and went above and beyond to help. And when they found a stray soul, they were more than happy to cater to their every need. In limbo, everyone sounded uninterested and slightly annoyed, and they quickly explained to the rescue person about the city they were heading to. I wonder how it will be like in hell. Listen, Mer, the rescue team here in the abyss would literally eat me alive and then grab me somewhere else where again I'll

be eating them alive, more meticulously now, first gouging the eyes off, then removing every finger, etc. And the red hill is only the good upper layer of the abyss. For the less bad ones. No. you want to help me. The only way is to convince one of the goodies to come and get me here. Do they take refugees? I ask, that's up to you to find. I'll keep quiet for now so they'll don't find me. And that's when my line of war changed completely. Instead of being a dispatcher of the pure-hearted and the run of the male man, an ultra-employee of afterlife, I started dedicating myself to giving some people a second judgment. Instead of working, they recommend the 16 to

four hours a day, or the 42 through 12 hours I have been working. I was now working 64 through 16 hours. Every first 48 through 12 hours, I dedicated myself to the lost sheep. Then I changed the frequency of the machine and helped the lost the lost wolves. It was easy to lose track of time. and my mortal body suffered, but I didn't care. I was performing some larger-than-life tasks, and I stood above King Minus, Asius, and Radamantus as an one woman jury that will provide people a second chance. I didn't bat an eyelash before calling the demons in charge

on Ronald Reagan or King John Hill, and I even rejoiced at the sound of them being chewed, But I provided a second chance for many like my grandfather. People who have fought really hard to be more than their horrible deeds, and to bear them with good. Watching people's past life became more than a necessity, or an entertaining hobby, but an obsession. I learned dark secrets that I shouldn't. I cried and laughed with the wicked, and the degenerate.

I even fell in love with some of my collars. And that's how I ended up spending 45 years straight inside the room. I kept telling myself that I was almost leaving. Just another call. Just another call. Just another call. Just another call. The moment I left the room, I collapsed. I was weak from not eating. My knees were all unfrail. I smelled terribly. I pitifully soiled myself as the poor tenants scream. After I disappeared, my family put my house on real still.

After counting on the tenant's kindness to eat, and then helping me get up, and managed to shower by myself, I then slept for three whole days. When I woke up, I found out how many years have passed and what happened after I went missing. Apparently, the door to the room only shows up for authorized personnel. No one was able to find me. My parents suffered from my loss, and then suffer some more after my only brother died, a car accident a few years after that. They moved to my house where they live until they died. They never had grandchildren.

The rest of my grandfather's family is nowhere to be found. Long story short, all my family is dead now, and I have no descendants. I'm almost 80 now. I don't have a lot of time, so I came here to make a request. If my story is inspiring to you, or if the benefits of the job seem tempting. I invite you to come and take my place. Message me and I'll send you the directions. I'm sure you'll be a far better dispatcher and won't throw your life away

in the hopes of becoming a supreme being. My time is coming, and I need someone to teach the crafts of the garlands. Desperately. I want to make sure the stray souls still get help after I'm gone. But, more than everything, after I play God so many times, I fear for how my afterlife is going to be like I need to find and train a successor to rescue me

I hope you're enjoying this New Year's Eve festival of storytelling time now for another one from me this is a brilliant tale by Deacon Clark called something off about my new girlfriend family the best thing in the world in my opinion I love both my mom and my dad and I'm sure they both love

me, but sadly they just didn't love each other. In the aftermath of one of their loud nights, my mum packed up her things and forced me to move away from her old home. The split up was messy, and after an argued legal battle, my mom lost almost everything from the house, to the car and even our dog. She lost everything except me. The following weeks left a bitter feeling in my mind as I packed my clothes and other essentials, and as I left the house I'd grown up in, never once did I make eye contact with my dad, or I would have made a scene. It felt horrible leaving on my friends and school behind. The memories we'd formed together would last a lifetime,

but the worst was leaving Ashley behind, the first girl I'd ever had feelings for. We'd first met when I found her smoking behind the sports shed. I needed a place to hide from a bully. Well, me and Ashley still talked on a regular basis, through text and face time. Well, that was until about two weeks ago when she broke the news that I'd always feared was coming.

She told me that, after I'd left, she'd been getting close to someone else at school. That person was Ryan Hollows, my now ex-best friend. Well, I felt a rush of emotions flood into me from betrayal, anger, upset. All of them forced me to choke and tear up. Well, I know it was inevitably going to happen,

but why, Ryan? Well, it wasn't a secret that Ryan had developed a crush on Ashley, mainly out of a childish rival with me. He knew he'd have a free opportunity with my folks' divorce. I'll admit my last words to Ashley were not good ones. They went something like this. You don't care about me, I bet you only care about having someone to grab and squeeze. Not surprisingly, she blocked me afterwards. And as for Ryan, he spent no time at all plastering the argument all over social media.

I was then faced with a new problem, finding someone else to replace Ashley. I tried at my new school, but all the nice girls were taken, and as for the strange girls, they were surprisingly not interested. During my lunch break at school, I unintentionally bumped into a cook named Hilton, spilling my drink onto him. Not wanting to fight, I quickly ran from the dining hall and out of the school. I decided from then on I'd leave and buy myself a fresh sandwich and a packet of crisp. from the nearby co-op.

I did, however, need somewhere to eat. I checked the park, but it was occupied by hoodies. My next location was at the train station, but the noise just kept on bothering me. After around 15 minutes of searching, I finally found the best place to eat, a small wooden bench that sat atop a hill overlooking the church in its cemetery.

The area was nice, with a large tree hanging over the seat, providing shade, and although the bench was wooden, it still felt very comfortable. I felt at ease next to the graveyard and all the tendered graves. It made me feel like I belonged there. Crazy, I know, but I wasn't really normal.

In fact, I was about as abnormal as you could get. I had a very morbid sense of humour and enjoyed the macabre. As I sat eating my sandwich, a girl who couldn't have been any older than myself crashed down onto the bench, almost uplifting it. She was crying loudly and burying her face into her hands. Her hair was dark brown in a ponytail, with straggly hairs jutting out. Odd as still, she had bits of what looked like dried dirt haphazardly thrown about it. Her dress was loose-fitting, black and stained, all in one with a cut-off point just at the knee.

She wore black leggings underneath that were riddled with rips, some of which had been quickly but unprofessionally sewn shut. The main thing that stuck out most of her was her shoes, all like a sceptive. own combination of smart shoes and boots that were caked in dried mud. I couldn't help but draw parallels to the outfit of something you would wear to a funeral. As it was just the two of us there, my mind wanted to know what was wrong. I recklessly swallowed the large chunks of sandwich in my mouth and turned to her. Hi, are you okay? I asked, slightly shaking in my voice. I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would be here. That usually isn't, said the girl from behind her hands.

She seemed afraid and withdrawn at first, but slowly began to open up to me. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Aaron. I quickly added. Nice to meet you. I'm Debbie. We exchanged pleasantries for a few brief moments until the sound of the Imperial March began blaring from my phone.

As soon as my ear sat next to the phone, my mum began screaming, complaining down the line. The questions began with, why wasn't I at school? And then they became more personal attacks like, do I want to end up like a useless pile of rubbish like my dad? After eventually getting her to calm down, much to Debbie's amusement, my mum informed me that it was ten minutes past three. I looked at my watch in horror.

It was indeed the time my mum had bellowed at me. I profusely apologised to Debbie as I gathered all my items and made a hasty run back home. Unsurprisingly I was suspended for the next few days for playing truant and because the best thing for a student who skipped school is to give them extra time off. Well, I made the most of that time. Once my mum left for work, I set up my bed to look as if I'd not gotten out and I slipped out the kitchen window.

It was really only one place I was going to, but back to the cemetery hoping to meet Debbie again. Oh sure enough, there she was sat on the bench crying as if she'd never move to her. mood. She got the exact same clothing as yesterday, the dirty black dress, the rip tights, and the scruffy ponytail. I sat down next to her as I'd done yesterday and asked if she was still okay. Debbie turned to me, her tears streaming down her face. Oh, Aaron, yes, I'm fine, it's just my ex-boyfriend. He's been violent towards me, hitting me and using me to put out his cigarettes. I keep getting away, but no matter what, he always finds me.

I moved up close to Debbie. You know, if he shows up, I'll keep you safe. I said, bearing far too much confidence. Debbie smiled and placed her head on my arm. Her head was freezing, as was her entire body. I know that English summers could be cold, but it was surprisingly warm today. I used my hoodie to cover Debbie as she huddled closer to me. I felt a tingle run through my body like I'd finally met a truly special person.

a feeling I thought I'd forgotten after Ashley. I met up with Debbie every day of my suspension until I had to go back to school. The very fact I had to return angered me. When he arrived back at school, I wasted no time telling the closest thing I had to have a friend there, Dale, all about Debbie. Now, Dale was like me in which I mean he had also a fascination in the macabre.

Dale had never known anyone named Debbie, and being that his family were local councilmen, members, he did legitimately know everyone. I even told Dale about how we'd met in the cemetery. After saying this, I could see Dale become very suspicious and excused himself. His reason was that he needed to do some investigation on the story he'd heard. As I left school and headed home, I felt as if I was being followed. Every now and then I glanced backwards, feeling as if someone was right behind me. When I got home, I found that my mom had left to go on a speech.

date. Ever since leaving my dad, she would do this from time to time and always left me home alone. Around 10pm, there was a knock at the door. I had just expected that it was my mum who'd been drinking after another unsuccessful time at the speed dating thing. To my surprise, it was Debbie, standing in the doorway, shivering and looking half dead. I invited her in, and we got set up in my bedroom. Debbie sat down blankly and kicked off her muddy shoes, getting settled in the process. I thought I was incredibly lucky that I had a beautiful girl on my bed. As I cuddled up to her, I slowly ran my fingers through her hair, but stopped as I brushed past something that felt like a soft dint. Debbie wince, but tried to hide it, as if she just had a chill.

I leaned into Debbie, going for a kiss. when once again there was a loud knock at my front door, filled with annoyance at being stopped at what was most definitely the best part of my life, I began to leave when Debbie spoke in a very frail, almost dying voice. Please, don't go. In my mind, I was wondering who it could be now, my mom or the rest of the village. I was knocked over by Dale who walked in frantically, trying to explain something, the words constantly spilling out of his mouth.

I slapped Dale, snapping him out of his panicked and confused states. Dale then took out a folder from his bag, with Debbie's name crudely written on it. Inside was an article from a newspaper about how a girl was abused and assaulted by a boyfriend and then beaden to death by him with a baseball bat. The picture underneath the article was Debbie, wearing the same black-stained dress and her hair styled in the same ponytail. The newspaper article was dated almost a decade ago, and there was no way at all that the girl in the photo was Debbie. Then Dale also told me something that left me cold to the bone and unable to move.

Every morning her grave would be dug up, and her coffin empty. The townsfolk could even try to chain her coffin up, but it was no use. Her lifeless body would always be found on the memorial bench, not far from where she was buried. I became angry and livid and ran upstairs, closely followed by Dale. I took a deep breath and entered my room. Debbie laid on the bed,

her body withering away. I stood, unable to move at the sight. Debbie's once dark hair was now grey and her skin was dried to a crisp. Dale moved ever closer and in a flash Debbie jumped and tackled him to the ground and drove her fingers into his eyes. Liquid from Dale's body began to transfer over to Debbie reinvigorating her. The grey straggly hair became dark brown again and her skin became hydrated once more.

When she was done, Debbie stood up from the now withered corpse of Dale. Debbie looked towards me, yet even after all I'd just seen, I wasn't scared. In a harsh whisper, Debbie told me, I need one more. Then my pact is complete. Please find me someone with little to no resistance. I picked up my phone and rang the person I knew was best. Hey Ryan.

It's Aaron. Would you like to come and visit me? Well, a quick reminder that all the details of these stories and these storytellers is in the video description. please go and check out all of their channels. There's some great stories out there waiting for you. Now, next up, we have The Night the Pack Came, my corpse child, featuring Sir Creepington Pastor and Wolfiekin's tale.

I'm so scared right now, more than I ever thought I could be. I'm scared for me, my baby, but most of all, I'm scared for John. It's been two days now, and I still haven't seen or heard from him. I tried asking the guy at the front desk if he's heard from the ranger, but nothing. God, wherever you are, John, please be okay. It all happened so fast. One moment, everything was peachy keen, snuggled up under the nice soft blankets, fast asleep for once. something that doesn't happen too often when two months pregnant.

Expecting at any moment I feel John's firm, yet gentle arms embrace me, letting me know that he was home from another night in the woods. Two nights ago, however, I was violently shaken awake. Loretta. It was dark. I could barely register his voice. Loretta! This time, he barked my voice. name a little more abrasively, causing me to jolt a bit.

Uh-huh. Come on, honey, we have to go now. I could tell by now that something wasn't right. He never spoken to me like this before. I could hear him breathing heavily. When I turned over and clicked on the light, my heart damn near stopped dead. His clothes were in tatters, and he had scratches all over him, as well as what looked like teeth marks from some wild.

animal. I almost screamed. Oh my God. John, what in the name? I said now. Come on. He shouted, cutting me off. I was frozen, both from shock and fear. Never once had that man raise his voice to me like this. Even when we'd fight, I was usually the loudmouth while he was the speak soft and carry the bigger stick type.

Don't just sit there staring like an idiot at me. Get moving. Sure enough, my stupor was broken, and I made my way out of the bed. Start unpacking the dresser. Grab a few changes of clothes. We may be gone for a good while. My head spun furiously. What the hell's going on?

Why do we have to leave? Where are we going? Does he even know? Why is he covered in scratches? How long are we good? Going to be gone. I finally managed to stammer out. Panicked and still somewhat half asleep.

He rubbed his face and said through his palms. I... God, I don't know. Just come on. Get moving. I shambled to the dresser as he stomped down the hallway. I started opening the drawers and slowly pulling out the neatly folded clothes and sending them on the bed.

Soon, he returned with our vacation suitcases. Here, just throw him in, he said, snatching a handful and tossing it half-hazardly into the suitcase. I noticed as he continued to cram our clothes in the suitcase that he was shaking. Like at any second he would explode, I pleaded. Johnny, baby, what is it? What's... As I went to try and put my hand on his shoulder to calm him down, he batted my hand way.

Damn it, woman. Not now. Startled. I retracted my hand away like I just touched the hot ring of the stove. He looked at me like he just committed a murder. His eyes were bulging, and were covered in large red veins. My eyes bargained to burn. And I could feel tears filling them up.

He winced and buried his face in his palms again. God. Loretta. baby I'm so sorry I could hear his voice shaking when he said that now the tears were in full swing on top of the confusion as to why we had to leave in the dead of night like fugitives

now I was petrified with thoughts of something out in the woods that's making my husband break down like this keep in mind John Redwood was not one to frighten easily for starters the man was built like a lumberjack almost all muscle too. He was also very much an outdoorsman, always spending most of his downtime in the woods.

It was half the reason we even bought this house in the mountains of Jackal's Peak. Now, add in the fact that he's also a full-time bouncer at the nearby tavern, especially known for dealing with the larger-sized patrons who became unruly, and you see how chilling it was seeing him in that moment. Utterly terrified for dear life.

His trembling turned into violent spasms. I almost thought he'd driven himself straight into a heart attack. John, please, I squeaked. My voice broken. Talk to me. What's going on? What happened out there? His face remained in his palms and I thought I heard him mumble something like.

They're coming. They're coming. Over and over. Who? Who's coming? He brought his face back up and looked at me. His face all red and puffy. And replied,

The pack. Who? He rubbed his face again before saying. Look, there are things about me I haven't told you. And for good reason. Right now, I need you to just trust me and do what I say. Frightened as I was. I couldn't take this cryptic crap anymore.

Then talk to me, Goddammit. What is going on? Who is the pack? And what do they want? His body started jerking more and more. You'd have thought Pazuzu was trying to possess him or something. Suddenly he roared. Why can't you just listen to me?

This made me shrink again. This time, it wasn't just that he scream at me again, but rather because of the way he, his voice sounded. I can't really explain it, but it was like his voice was distorting somehow, getting deeper and sounding more subhuman. It actually caused my heart to skip a few beats as it seemed to resonate through my body. His face then winced and twisted, like he was in pain. And he didn't know what to do or say anymore. Just please, Loretta.

He forced out through gritted teeth. That was when I heard the sounds of howling coming from outside. Judging from how loud and clear I could make them out, it wasn't far away from our hells. Oh, Jesus. John whispered. They're here. In an instant, he grabbed my shoulders tightly. It actually kind of heard how tight he had me.

His terrified eyes locked onto mine, and he shook more violently than ever as he spoke. Lurata, my sweet baby blossom, I love you. I love you and I love this baby more than anything in this godforsaken world. I would never let anything in this world take that away from me. He was briefly interrupted by a sharp seizure of pain. But I need you to do as I say. I have to get you out of here. Just then, I heard the howl in again.

This time, much closer. I could hear from all around the house. Get down. He ordered. I dug down to my hands and knees as he quickly clicked the lamp off. Stay low and don't make a sound. We're going to have to go out through the cellar. I began crawling out of the bedroom as quickly as possible while still trying to stay quiet.

The hallway was still dark and my eyes had to take a minute to readjust as I crawled towards a basement door at the other end. I could now hear what sounded like scratching coming from. from the front door in the living room. Another series of howls almost caused my heart to burst. It froze in place. What is that? Wolves? Well, he told me before that there were wolves in Jackals Peak.

I was told they usually stay closer to the top of the mountain range and the more densely forested area. What are they doing down here? Keep moving. I heard from behind me. It was John. also crawling on his hands and knees. Only got about another two or feet further.

However, when I heard a crash, I sent the door straight off of its hinges. I couldn't hold back a scream at that. Go! Run! John shouted, shoving me forward. I clumsily bolted the last little bit to the door and threw it open. From the living room, I could hear the sounds of snarled growling. It sounded deeper and bigger than any wolf or dog I'd ever heard before. I could hear stamping footsteps coming straight for the hallway.

Instantly, I threw myself into the cellar with John right behind me. As he was trying to close the door, a blow from the other side sent him tumbling backward. John! I was about to rush over to him when he shot out his hand, stopping me. Just go! Just then, my blood froze solid when I watched the door get ripped right off the wall. Silhouetted in the doorway. I saw what looked like a giant wolf. Its ears perked up and standing on its hind legs,

and staring straight at me with glowing, burning orange eyes. It was huge, standing at least seven to eight feet tall, covered with pitch dark fur with long lean muscular arms and a vulpine muzzle with long jagged teeth. Soon, another just like it joined its side before simultaneously howling to the air. This time, it was almost deafening, and I think I actually felt my eardrums pop. I said run!

Now! His voice was further distorted now. As I turned to run for the hatch leading to the backyard, I could hear one of the creatures leap forward and crash land just a couple inches behind me. That was a fire under my ass that had me essentially sprinting to the other end of the cellar. It's right on my heels. About a few feet away from it, though. I felt its claws slashed my back and I fell face down. Extreme pain shot all through my body.

More than that, however, I was worried that I may have hurt the baby with my fall. Unfortunately, I couldn't think about any of that because the next thing I knew, I felt to grab my ankle and drag me backwards. I almost tore out my nails feebly trying to keep from being pulled towards the beach. It was no use, though. Even as skinny as it looked, it was strong. Enough so that, when it dragged me close enough, it was able to hoist me up one-handed by my right leg.

It brought me right up to eye-level before bursting out a terrifying roar in my face. I squirmed and tried frantically to kick myself free. Finally, as it unhinged its jaws, John bashed over the head with a metal rod. The creature retracted, roaring and howling in pain, before hurling me into the wall. I felt my ribs crack when I crash into the wall. My vision started blurring as I tried to catch my breath.

When I looked up again, there the beast was, stomping towards me. It's growling sounding noticeably more pissed off. I tried to get up, but the pain in my ribs made a different. to do much in the way of movement. It was almost right up on me again when, out of nowhere, John sprang up from behind and wrapped his arms around its throat. While eyes were two seconds from shooting straight from their sockets when I saw this.

Get out of here! Despite the beast thrashing around worse than a mechanical bull, he held on tight to its throat. Eventually, it was able to break his hold and hurl him away too. By then, I was able to shambled to the cellar door and began climbing the ladder. I could hear stomping towards me, and I all but flew up the ladder. Once I made it out, I quickly bolted the hatch. I knew I wouldn't hold long, but I figured it'd be enough to get away.

Not even a minute after doing this. I saw the hatch begin to splinter and stuff outwards. Luckily, I was still able to make it to the car when I heard the sounds of them darting for me from behind. Right as I got in the front seat and was about to shut the door, another one of them leapt onto the roof, causing it to cave inwards. Before I could get the door shut, it went its massive clawed pall in between them and wrapped them around the frame. I tried to pry them loose.

And when that didn't work, I tried to open and shut the door again. Big mistake. As soon as I opened the door again, the beast grabbed me by the arm and tried to jerk me from the driver's seat. I quickly went to reach for the glove compartment for the 9mm John has stashed for his strips to the range. I wasn't able to reach far enough from the beast's grass on my arm to open it, only far enough to barely brush it with my fingertips as I was being forcefully pulled upward towards the roof of the car. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a shotgun blast ringing out from the passenger side of the car.

The next thing I knew, I felt it released my arm and I was able to close the door. Looking to my right, there was John, standing in the front yard, loading another run into the shotgun he inherited from his father. He raised up to aim for another shot when I saw one of the other two charge up behind him. With a giant leap, he brought him down before he could get the shot off. That's when the one on the roof decided to join in with its partner in devouring a husband. husband. As the other one sculted closer, you could see John was struggling fiercely against the one holding him down, attempting to use a shotgun as a barrier to hold the beast in its ravenous

jaws back. Thinking quickly, I put the keys in the ignition and threw it into dry before flooring it. Sure enough, it worked, and the one in front of me was sent to the ground. The one on top of John now fixed its enraged glowing eyes on me. I let go of him and raised back up on its high legs before letting out an ear-shattering howled to the air. I put the car in reverse and back into drive again, ready to ram it as I had the other one. When it bounded through the air and landed right on the hood of the car. Immediately, I sent a giant hand crashing through the windshield and started groping to grab onto me.

As I hysterically went for a second time for the gun in the glove compartment, I felt his claws wrapped tightly around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. I could feel the air being forced from my lungs and the beast's face began to blur. I tried as hard as I possibly could to pry its fingers from around my throat. But it was no good. As my sight started to darken, I thought about my baby. All the memories that now would never happen. Before I could finish suffocating me,

I heard something strike the beast's head that caused it to immediately release my throat. It was John, using the butt of the shotgun to bludgeon the beast. causing it to snap and have. I told you, you damn mutt. You can't have her. I was relieved, yet confused at the same time. What is he talking about? For a second, I remember what he told me about things I don't know about him,

things he never told me. Did he somehow know about these things? I wasn't given time to think any further about that at the time though. John ducked down, dodging a massive swipe of the beast's claw before clamoring in to the passenger seat. Immediately, he went for the glove compartment and drew the nine millimeter. Flore it! He sent six rounds straight in between its eyes and staggered back and off the car. Come on, get this thing moving.

He barked, snapping me for my days. I threw the car into reverse again as I saw the beast staring back at me. Its eyes now burning and enraged. It reared back to bounce just as I was swerving to turn around into the street, causing it to slam face-first into the right door of the back seat. The car was shaken almost to the point of turning over on its side with the impact, and the door was caved inwards. Fortunately, that seemed to knock the beast dizzy as I chanced a quick look back and saw that it was staggering around. Before it had the chance of regain a moment, it had the chance of regain its bearings. I peeled out of the front yard and slammed on the accelerator down the street. We were flying down the mountain paths at at least 65 going on 70 miles per hour. I couldn't bring

myself to slow down. My mind was bouncing erratically in 10 million thoughts at once. What if they're following? What if there's more of them out here in the dense woods? What the hell even are they? What do they want? What was John talking about when he said that they couldn't have me? I was cut off when I felt John perked the wheel to the left. When I was aware again, I saw that he just narrowly kept us from careening off the side of Jackal's Peak, a 2,500 foot drop.

Once we were safely back on the pass again, we pulled over and stopped the car. For almost five minutes, neither of us could do or say anything. just sat there, trying to catch our breath and steady out our heartbeat. John was the first to break the silence. All right, here's what we're going to do. You remember the old motel we stayed at last weekend, the one with the hot tub out back. I remained quiet.

We're going to go there, and you're going to check in for a few days. I'm going to sort everything out with the house. I'll come back to let you know when it's clear to come back. My teeth clenched and my knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. Oh, sure, and I'm just supposed to take that as my reassurance that you'll come back. And I'm just not supposed to bother ask you what in the name of fucking God happened back there, right? I felt myself spiraling into the usual screaming psycho mode I mentioned before. But this time, I knew I had every right in the world and more to be.

judging from the sunken, sullen look in his eyes. I could tell he felt the same. Loretta, I... No, I shouted, cutting him off dead. I don't want to hear any more of your cryptic cockamammy excuses. I want answers, and I want them now. Admittedly, I was a little more abrasive than I meant to be with that last bit. But again, was I not justified?

For a moment. He sat there staring back at me, figuring I'd frightened him, and rightfully so. I pressed further. Well? Again, he said nothing. Just sat there, looking guilty. Wow, I scoffed. I was utterly baffled, somehow even more so than I was earlier.

Three years I've been married to this man, and I find out that he'd been keeping secrets from me. Not only that, but apparently secrets I have now put the lives of me and him in very real danger, not to mention our incoming child. And now, to top it all off, he can't even have the decency to at least try and tell me what's going on. He opened his door and began to get out of the car. I nearly saw red. Oh, and exactly where the hell do you think you're going? immediately

I threw up in the driver door and got out stomping towards him so that's just it you're just going to walk away you're not even going to say anything to explain or justify what just happened why a bunch of

things just broke into our home and almost tore us apart what is going on what the fuck are you so afraid of Loretta please not now He shouted. I wasn't able to back down that easily, though.

Why? Why can't you just talk to me? Your wife? For God's sake. Just tell me what's going on. I said enough. He roared. This time, his voice sounded almost subhuman, and I felt all of my stamina to keep pushing him strip away. He stood at the ledge, profusely shaking and twitching. I felt so small standing there,

facing his back. I felt the tear is well up in my eyes again, and I couldn't help but to squeak out a small sob. Please, just listen to me, Loretta. He said in a shaking, almost completely growling voice, I watched as his body continued to convulse. I thought he was in the middle of a seizure or a stroke. John?

I softly whimpered. I love you. Baby Blossom. And I love our baby. I'm so sorry that it came to this. I never wanted to allow you to get hurt. I never wanted you to have to be a part of any of this. Of what?

I cried. I felt like in two seconds flat, I was going to end up dropping into a full-blown panic attack. I made an agreement a long time ago with the pack. That people I loved, of people like you would be left alone if I brought them offerings. That's why I've been in the woods a lot. I stood there, jaw slack,

in the middle of trying to fully register what he just said, while also trying to decide if he was telling the truth. It was easy at first, just a couple of small farm animals and woodland critters here and there. His body jerked so violently now as he spoke that I could see his knees shaking, threatening at any moment to buckle from beneath him. After a sharp growing of pain, he continued. Eventually, it wasn't enough anymore.

They kept winning bigger and bigger morsels. Tonight, they wanted me to offer them... He hesitated, still spasming. A baby! I was now hopelessly lost and confused. What is he talking about? None of what he was saying was making sense to me. Or maybe it did, deep down, and I was just too afraid to admit it to myself then.

I couldn't do it. He said, his voice shaking even worse now. I couldn't do it, and now I... Now they want to punish me by going after you. Another spasm caused him to finally fall to his knees. instantly my instincts kicked in and I rushed over to him that's when he looked back and bellowed in a now completely unrecognizable voice no stay back

I once again stopped dead in my tracks my heart almost stopped when I saw his eyes they were now pulsing burning orange another series in the most violent drugs I'd ever seen before erupted throughout his entire body causing him to seize and cry out in pain. For the next minute, I watched frozen in terror as John's body seemed to break and reshape itself. I could hear bones breaking, and his muscles somehow began to swell in size, tearing through his plaid shirt. Before too much longer, I could see his face start to poke outwards, and his nose deformed and reformed itself into what resembled the muzzle of a dog.

his body began to be covered in thick silver hair or fur. I was too frozen in terror to even scream. Once the metamorphosis was finished, and John no longer looked like, well, like John anymore, it raced up on its hind legs before blasting an aggressive howl up to the night sky. The intensity caused me to collapse to my knees and press my ears as tightly as possible. When I opened my eyes again, he, it's whatever was leering down at me, snarling, and barring its long, jagged teeth.

J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-on? I squeaked, shuddering, nothing. He just stood there, growling at me like he was ready to pounce. Oh, sweet God, my own husband's going to eat me and our unbored child alive. I slowly began stepping back towards a car Just Take it slow It took a staggered step forward towards me

Before going down on all fours and continuing For a second I froze Just waiting for him to leap for the kill John Johnny Baby Please I knew it was no use

But I couldn't help it A very small part of me was still somehow expecting to wake up from this. I'd be woken up with the smell of pancakes, bacon, and fresh coffee in the morning, and I rushed down to the kitchen, squeezed John until he started to suffocate, like how I was earlier in the front yard. And we laugh all morning at such a weird dream. He crept closer and closer to me. When I started backwards again, something caught the heel on my foot and I fell.

He was now right on top of me. I could feel its hot, snarled breaths in my face. When I saw him begin to unhitch his jaws, I closed my eyes, trying to picture me and him holding our baby. The family, that never be. I love you, John. I opened my eyes just a bit. He was still in front of me.

It almost saw. sounded like he was trying to say something. That's when he started growling and lowered himself like he was about to attack. I still wasn't 100% sure I actually had heard him speak. Maybe it was still just all wishful thinking, but that didn't keep me from obeying when I started hearing the growls come from behind me as well. When I turned around, I saw that the other two from the house had somehow followed us and were closing in around me.

I sprang up and darted for the car. I saw one of the others bound for me, attempting to cut me off. John caught it in the air and pinned it down. It began wrestling like two rapid dogs in a cage on the ground. The partner then charged full head towards me. I made it to the car and immediately turned the engine over. I hesitated for a moment and looked back to John. He was now on the ground with the other one biting at his throat.

I almost wanted to try running it over again to try and help John. That was when the other one jumped onto the roof of the car. I slammed the accelerator, started flying further down the pass. I tried swerving left and right violently to shake the beasts off the roof of the car, but had his claws anchored into it and I couldn't. I started to hear the grinding of his claws tearing into the metal. It was going to tear the roof off. Eventually, a really stupid idea formed in my head.

It was almost certifiably suicidal. It was the only thing I had. With a sharp jerk of the wheel, the car swirred over to the edge of the pass before hammering the brakes. Sure enough, this managed to actually throw the beast off and hurtling over the edge, tearing half of the roof clean off as it went. The front wheels were hanging off the edge. I quickly put the car into reverse and managed to inch my way back into the edge. the pass. From there, I made a bee line for the bottom of the mountain. I knew that I need to

at least see a doctor, if not a surgeon. But to me, that could wait. Right then, I was more worried about John. I figured, once I got to the motel, I could maybe call the local rangers or the state troopers or something to send somebody out there for him. The road felt like it wouldn't end, despite the fact that I knew it actually only stretched for about another few miles from where I'd started from. A small wave of relief swept over me when I finally reached the turnoff, seeing the large bright green sign reading, Welcome to Jackal's Peak. After that, the motel was just around the corner. I pulled into the empty parking lot, not even into an actual space, and stumbled drunkenly out of the car. It was completely quiet.

The lights in the lobby were still on. I still remember the guy's face when he saw me. Ma'am? Are you okay? His eyes looked like he was staring at a dead body, which, to be fair, I probably didn't look far from it at the time. I... I... I need... Here.

He said, getting up from his chair and walking towards me. Come sit down. He guided me over to the torn beat-up sofa in the lobby. Just sit tight for a second. I've got a first-aid kit here in the back. I was sitting down when I realized that I didn't have my purse with me. I had no way of paying for a room. Not only that, but I also killed any ideas of calling for help as my phone was also in my purse. I started to feel dizzy by this point from the way my head was spiraling. and he came back about 30 seconds later,

for a kid in hand. He asked me if he needed to call somebody. No, but could... Could I use the phone? Sure, it's in the back, but, uh, why don't we get those cuts looked at first? I nodded, and you started treating my wounds. If you don't mind my asking, ma'am,

how'd you get so banged up? You fall hiking in the mountain or some? I just blankly shook my head. Somebody after you? Again, I just shook my head. No. Yeah, I'm sorry, I don't mean to me nosy. Just some pretty bad ones you got here.

He finished up before leading me to the phone in the back. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help. He said before leaving me with the phone. The first thing I did was to call. the local ranger station. To my luck, I was only on hold for a minute before the call was connected. Terrace County Ranger Station, what is the nature of your call? My husband, he's... I could hardly slow down enough to form a proper sentence.

My husband is hurt. He's stuck on the mountain pass. You have to send somebody out there. All right. I cleared my throne and told him my name. Loretta Redwood. He then asked me for John's name. John Redwood. Left him somewhere on the pass. Yes, at the 30-mile marker.

Please, sir, he's hurt. You've got to send somebody out there. He went on to ask me my current location, and I gave him the name of the motel. He told me that he was dispatching a unit to me as well, as one to the location I gave him before hanging up. Ten minutes later, they showed up and took my statement. When they asked what it was that attacked us,

I told him that it was a pack of wild coyotes. Surprisingly, they actually bought it, despite it being an extremely piss-poor lie. I declined their offer to be taken to the hospital. Like I said, I was fully aware that my wounds and the possible damage to the baby might have been severe. That said, something compelled me to stay put at the motel. He said he'd come back for me.

Again, this was two nights ago. The ranger told me to keep an ear out and he let me know when they found him. The guy at the motel, plus him, is letting me stay in an unused room for free until they send word on John. I was essentially glued next to the phone in the back for most of the daytime yesterday and today. It was this morning, seeing the front page of the terrace ledger. The guy brought in with his early morning breakfast run that I very nearly had a heart attack. Large canine found dead in the middle of Road Pass and Jackal's Peak. I couldn't hold back a scream, startling the poor guy while he was eating.

I bolted back to the room and immediately locked the door before burying my face in the pillow like I was 14 again, and just letting everything loose. I refuse to believe it, and I still do. It may not be him, right? It's just the other one, right? Please, please, John, little sweet Jesus God, Johnny, baby, please don't let them be you. I'm in the back room right now, typing this out on the guy's computer as I'm waiting. Just wanting this damn phone to ring and hear the ranger tell me that my Johnny,

is okay, that he's coming back and that we can go home. That's all I want, to have my husband back, and to go home. I don't even care anymore about the stuff he kept from me, or that he's some sort of man-wolf monster. I just want my Johnny back. Please, John, please come back. Moving on now, our next story is called Father by Caitlin Green. featuring Scarecrow Tales and Sarah's death. Lillian sat on her pink chair in front of her father as he suddenly hummed and brushed her blonde hair. Lillian's father is the man that wakes up each morning, feeds her, takes care of her. However, he isn't her father and she's his daughter.

Lillian adjusted her tank top and sighed. What's wrong, dear? The man said in a sweet tone. Nothing's wrong. I just don't feel too well. The man stopped brushing her hair and turned to her chair to face him. He put the backside of his hand on her forehead and found with concern. You're a bit warm, but hopefully nothing to worry about. Lillian disliked the word nothing.

It reminded her of what she had, which was nothing. This man had kidnapped her from her family and made her life absolutely miserable. The reason why he took her is unknown. as Lily knows that this man thinks and believes that she's his daughter villain's theory is that he somehow lost his daughter in a freak accident but knowing how this man treated her that Lillian to believe that he could have her being next to him made her throat clamp up and feel like she was suffocating she couldn't scream or cry she couldn't run and she couldn't hide

Lillian had nothing the way of being powerless and hopeless and cults her entire being Lillian hated being called that horrendous name he gave her, Mallory. The name made her feel with more trapped in this horrible situation.

Personally, Lillian loved her name. Not many people had a name like hers and made her feel special. But being called Mallory lets a terrible taste to her mouth and a pit in the bottom of her stomach. Smiling, happy. The man tapped her shoulder and she stood up.

He pointed to the mirror. You look so pretty, don't you think so? Lillian turned to look at the mirror next to her and forced a smile. The man rested his hands on her shoulders and I at least squeezed him for response. Lillian nodded. Yes, it looks very nice. Thank you. Thank you. The man squeezed her shoulders once more and held her with a tight clinch.

Thank you, father. That's more likely. like it. Lillian and her father had a strict routine that they followed every day. Wake up, eat, homeschool, lunch, TV, play,

dinner, bath and bed. For as long as she can remember, they followed the same routine. Currently her time was between play and dinner, because it made her the safest and most secure. The man took Lillian's hand and walked her into the dining room where the food was laid out on the table.

It's your favorite. I made cornish hens, mashed potatoes, and cake for dessert. Lillian knew this was not her favorite food, but she also knew something bad what happened if she didn't say it was. But she again forced to smile and nodded. Her father pulled out a chair for her and set her down, and he excitedly clapped his hands and smiled. You wait here, I have something for you.

Lillian's eyes widened as she feared for the, the worst. What is it? What do you have for me? Not now, city girl. You'll see. He said, walking out of the dining room. Panicked, Lillian quickly darted under the table,

seeing some sign of safety from what the man would do. She held her knees close to her head. Her knuckles turned a bright white as she gripped her legs, preparing herself for what was coming. Her seconds turned into hours as she sat curled in the fetal position. She could only help the worst wouldn't. come. Horific thoughts fluttered her head as she sat under the table. All she wanted was for this nightmare to end, but this isn't the way she wanted it to end. After what felt like hours,

she heard the man call out. Mallory, he said sweetly. Billian didn't answer. Malory, he repeated. Billion crawled out front of the table and looked at him with pure fear in her eyes. The man raised one of his eyebrows. Yes, it is. You're my Mallory. He stood out in front of her and intimidatedly towered over her small figure. The man raised his voice. Your name is Mallory. No, my name is Lillian. Lillian isn't my daughter's name. My daughter's name is Mallory. You are Mallory. No, I'm not Mallory. My name is Lillian. The man violently jerked Lillian up by her arms and made eye contact with her. The man held her close to his face. in his dark brown eyes pierced her soul.

sternly, he repeated, you are Mallory. Are you not? Fearful, the Lynn quickly nodded. Yes, I'm Mallory. You're my daughter. You are Mallory. He repeated.

With tears coming to Lillian's eyes, she responded. Yes, I'm Mallory. I'm your daughter. Finally satisfied. Her father knelt down in front of her and held her close to him in a tight hug. You're my Mallory. he said in a soft cracked voice. With tears running down her cheek,

Lillian agreed with her father once again. As he held her in his arms, she questioned how she got into this situation. She beat herself up every day for trusting him. She regret her decisions, and she wondered what would happen if she had made different choices. All I want is for another chance to be a good father. I wasn't there for Mallory,

but I can be there for you. you're my second chance Lillian still didn't respond She was too shaken up from the previous encounter to formulate a valid answer As a last resort to get her to respond The man pulled a golden necklace with a heart-shaped locket out of his pocket He then opened the locket to reveal a picture of him and a girl who was identical to Lillian Look

He said as he tapped the picture inside the locket It's us. You have her blonde hair, her beautifully chiseled nose, and her sweet voice. You're even the same height. You're my Mallory. As much as she hate to admit it, she did look exactly like her. William didn't want to feel sympathy for this man, but she couldn't help it. This man's mind had rotted into mush after losing his daughter.

How couldn't she feel sympathy for him? The debate in her mind started about whether or not she could feel for him. She remembered how the man was before and how his current attitude constantly changed. It was like flicking the light switch. She thought about what started this, how he lured her in with promises of sweet candy and how she instantly got into his car. A few moments ago, he jerked her around like a piece of furniture. Now they lay on the dining room floor with her cradle in his arms.

you know today is your birthday I thought you remember I made your cake and I got you good luck it Lillian's hopefulness settled in as she laid there in his arms the only choices she had

were to either agree with the psychotic man or to be badly hurt defying him In this situation she couldn't choose the latter because she highly feared the other option All Lillian can do was wish someone would come to a rescue

someone like a prince our knight in shining armor she knew it would never happen it was reassuring to have a solid hopeful thought one more reminder that the details of all these wonderful channels can be found in the video description

please listen and then go and check out their channels and give them a like, thumbs up and a subscription now our next story once again features Sarah's death and me by Rose Black 2-2-2-2-2-2 this is, I don't know what I'll do when I become immortal.

I had always had a strange fear of death, even from a young age. I was very aware of my own mortality. While the other kids were doing things like riding bikes down bumpy hills, I was inside playing games or reading. Hell, I was even too scared to learn how to swim. Even though I'm not as paranoid, I was back then. I still take care to make sure I'm safe. I have always had an obsession with the concept of immortality.

The idea of being able to do whatever I want without dying appealed to me greatly. Now that isn't to say that I'm not aware of the downside of it. I have heard the arguments against it, practically things like outliving your loved ones, or ending up traps somewhere and going insane. With that being said, though, those possibility drawbacks have never really swayed me from wanting, However, a recent visitor I had had tried to. He gave me a short but impactful visit. I had finished putting out my groceries when I heard him knock on my door.

He had an imposing but very familiar presence to him, a hoodie shrouding his face. Can I help you? I asked hesitantly. It's been a really long time since I've been here. Did you still live here or something? Well, you could say that. May I come in? What for, and who are you? I've come here to give you some important information. About what?

About your future, and you'll find out who I am very soon. I had thought that he was not well. If the scars were any indications, still, I didn't want to leave a mentally ill man out in the cold, but inviting a random stranger into my house did not seem like a smart idea either. Listen, I'm not sure what you are on about, but if you need a place to stay, there is a hotel up the street. and give you some money and call you a ride too. This isn't about me.

This is about your obsession with living forever. That took me back. Nobody knew that. Not even my closest family and friends. I've never told a single person that. So how? Could this, albeit, vaguely familiar, your stranger, possibly know that? How did you?

If that's the case, can't you just tell me right here? Do you really want to stand in the freezing cold while I explain everything? I considered what he said, for a moment, then stepped aside to let him in. Sure, he didn't strike me as someone who was entirely mentally sound, but what he said had piqued my interest. Besides, if he wanted to harm me, he could have done so when I opened the door for him. He closed the door behind him, and pulled down his hood, making me gasp. Wow, you look almost exactly like me, I said surprised. It was true. the man before me shared a strong resemblance to me.

Only his hair was white in concept to mine, which is black. Are you my long last twin or something? You're twin? No. I don't know how to tell you this of being direct. So I'll go ahead and do that. I'm a future version of you. Whoa, whoa, what? I know, it's hard to believe, but please have a seat and I can explain everything.

Look, man, I'm not sure if you are my brother or whatever, but I'm starting to get concerned for you. Now, if you want help, I can give you some. He sighed. I figured you will, maybe I should say, hi, will be difficult. So, I brought some proof. From his pocket, he pulled out a phone and handed it to me. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about it. What does this prove, I said.

Looking it over, go ahead and unlock it. Passwords should be the same as the one from the phone you can. have. Sure enough it was. He then took me to check the storage capability. 10 BP. What the hell does BP stand for? It means petabytes. It's a measurement of storage dwarfing that of gigabytes and even terabytes. Phones like this will become common in the 2100s. While he was talking, I checked out the phone specs. I was blown away by them, to say the released and it was made of some sort of flexible material. The phone made the most advanced computers we know of today seem like typewriters by comparison. Wait, did you say 2100s?

I did. People keep using phones like that for a couple of hundred more years. Then they switch to the contacts. How old are you exactly? He started to count out his fingers. Biologically, I'm a decade older than you are now. In actuality, I turned 2,552,668 before I came here. I was stunned to say anything. I know it's a lot to take in, but allow me to explain myself. Why am I? I glanced down at my hands and I saw that they were shaking. Don't worry, the same thing happened to me. Happened to you, when?

Oh, explain later. For now, can you fix some hot chocolate? I haven't had it in quite a while. He really was me. I fixed up a pot of hot chocolate on the stove, then gave him a cup with marshmallows and whipped cream. From that way he took it, I could tell it had been a long time since he indulged in such a treat. Ah, it's the little things like this I missed. So you managed to become immortal, or can you still be killed, I asked? Well, what I have is full immortality. Meaning you can't be killed. That is what being immortal means, yes. Yes. It still seems hard to believe, even with everything you've showed me, and are you the only one? I am. And if you need proof, I can give it to you.

Without words, he walked over to my, or I should say, R-sink, and pulled out a bottle of drain cleaner. What are you? He replied, by screwing out the cap and downing its contents. Jesus Christ, I yelled. Why would you do that? Do you need a doctor? He burped. I could smell the faint scent of. of the drain clear on his breath, which caused me to step back. I'm good. That stuff tastes horrible, though. That didn't hurt you?

Oh, no. It hurt like hell, but I trust now that I've given you adequate proof of my claim. Yeah, yeah. How did we become like this? You don't have to refer to everything like that. I've lived so long that even though we're technically the same person, you and I may as well be two separate people. Anyway, my process of becoming immortal began in 2030.

I was still as cautious as you are now. Something changed, though. You see, as things got more expensive, it was harder for me to cover expenses, even working 60 hours a week. So I had to find other means of income. What did you do? I became a human guinea pit. And you've got your immortality from some super drug or something similar? No, I actually got it from service.

surgery, although I did have to pop my fair share of pills. What kind of surgery could possibly do that? They gave me some info what it would be like before I went in. It never outright said it would make me immortal, but they'd say it could give me fast regenerative abilities. Basically nanobots that were of their own design were to be injected into every possible part of my body. That means some were to be injected into my blood, my organs, my muscles, and even my bones directly.

Does that mean that they have to expose each part? It does. The entire thing took about eight hours. Well, it had an 88% mortality rate. What? I said in shock. I had a similar reaction upon first hearing that fact. Put it simply, I was told the nanobots that were supposed to heal me

had a high chance of tearing my body apart. This doesn't make sense. You said you were still cautious up until then. So why do something so risky? Unless, did something happen? Yep. I got a disease. He explained that he experienced burning pain all over his body two years before,

finding out about the surgery. He saw a doctor about it, however, working outside a lot, and it was a especially hot summer. His condition was dismissed as the extreme case of sunburn. They gave him some special cream to rub on himself. For a couple of months, it worked. He had pain, and though he had pain, and though, the problem was behind him. This was until he woke up one night and felt like he was in a furnace,

turning on his lights, showing him that his clothes were soaked in blood. He figured that he must have coughed it up in his sleep. Another trip to the hospital, coupled with some scans and seeing some specialists determined that a disease was reverging his body. They weren't able to discern a starting point for it. All they knew was that it was spreading fast. They weren't able to say since it was brand new. Just my luck, right? They gave me two years to live at most. Medicine helped with the pain, but never made it go away completely. Nothing could rid me of the disease. Well, that is, until the surgery. My legs felt numb. I flopped onto one of my kitchen chairs. Earlier, my hands were shaking. Now, they were trembling. Yes, as unfortunate as this is. Why would tell me about this? I yelled,

grabbing his hoodie and pulling him close. Now, I had what may as well be a literal death cloud hanging over my head for the next 10 years. Wait, I said, letting go of him. Since you're here, maybe you can stick around and see if we can find a way to prevent me from getting the disease. That'll be a waste of time, I'm afraid. I can't be in this time for very long. Why not? For now, let's just say I had to go over some people's heads to do all this.

I don't have a lot of time here. besides, I kind of already tried what you're suggesting with no lot. How? I'll explain later. My fear turned into annoyance. Whatever, you know what? You haven't even convinced me why being immortal would be bad. If I'm being honest, I prefer to die so soon.

My future self had a look at him, like he had been expecting me to say that. If it was all rainbows and roses, would I be here right now? nonetheless, I'll make a case. The results of the surgery were a lot better than expected. Along with no longer having the disease, I healed from any injury. One of the surgeons tested this, making a small cut to my arm. Although it hurt, it healed up faster that I could blink. Even though it seemed to work, I wasn't ready to throw caution to the wind, well, at least not yet.

What exactly does someone who will live forever do anyways? For a while, it was business as usual for me, besides the appointments. What were there for? Just checkups and to conduct further tests of my regeneration. They happen once every four months at the same facility I got the surgery at. They involve me getting progressively worse injuries to test how fast I'd regenerate. I'm not going to tell you about all of them. However, I will say that the worst one was having my hand chopped up.

What happened when it was? Not much, actually. They thought I'd grow another one, but it didn't happen. What did was me being able to reattach my hand by lining it up to the wound. No stitches or bandages were needed. They wanted to show me off to the rest of the world. I'm sure you can relate to not finding that sort of lifestyle appealing. What you are also very aware of is that things, for the most part, do not turn out how you want.

One day I got involved in a car accident. Two years after the surgery, as a matter of fact, I was out for a walk. Next thing I knew, two cars got into a head-on collision. Several other vehicles slammed into them, which caused one of them to flip forwards onto me. Couldn't get out of the way in time. Landed on me and crushed my head.

Did you see anything? If you're referring to an afterlife, not that I can recall. My head must have grown back as I woke up to a crowd of people looking at me. Judging by their expressions, they saw what had happened to me. Some of them were cops whose body cams captured the whole thing. Of course, the drivers involved in the wreck were held, but I became the focus of the event. I explained to them why I recovered as best I could. After the incident, I became a celebrity.

The footage of my regeneration spread fast, as you've probably figured out. Due to it, my career changed drastically. Did you go on a bunch of medical tours? I did, and because of them, the researchers who gave me the ability were. able to get heavy funding for the research. That meant they were able to afford other subjects to test them. Like what? Well, apes and monkeys mostly.

Wait, they didn't test on animals before humans. They did, but with how expensive their research was, they were limited to smaller mammals like rats and squirrels, also birds. With the money they got, though, they were able to afford closer to human subjects. An animal rights activists protested this, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Turns out people are willing to look the other way on something horribly if they, well, if they could benefit them in some way. I never even found out what they were doing until years later. How the hell could you have not known about it?

I was too busy with my stunt work. You got into that of everything out there. Well, I was approached by several government officials who wanted to turn me into a weapon, but I really wasn't feeling that. What I did want was the ultimate thrill. after all, what was there for me to worry about? So, I became a stuntman. From movies? Sometimes, but for the most part, what I did was get seriously injured for entertainment.

Usually it was at some performance theater. Performed in Vegas a few times. It started small at first. Nails were hammered into my arms and legs, then pulled out to let my injuries heal. I got progressively more extreme. I remember this one time. time when a dude shot off half my face with a shotgun. Some of the audience lost their lunch. It hurt like hell, but the reactions were priceless.

How long did you do it for? A decade. I decided to stop after one particular event went wrong. It involved me going into a literal oven. I thought that experiencing my disease and my previous stunts would prepare me for how painful it would be. Well, I was wrong. The door to it was supposed to be able to open from the inside. However, something went wrong. The door got jammed somehow. I was stuck in that oven for two hours straight while it was on the highest degree. Jesus, didn't they think to cut it off? Well, they would have. As it turned out, though the oven they used was faulty. The theatre owner knew about it, but didn't say anything. After the oven gave out, I was able to be freed. I took him to court. He got a large

fine and had a long prison sentence for what he did. Being in the oven was the first time I started regretting my immortality. Well, compared to what I experienced later, however, that was nothing. What could be worse than being burned alive?

That's like literally being in hell. Have you heard what's been said about climate change? I know. It's bad, especially with what's been going on. What about it? Whatever the worst prediction is for this time, I want you to multidis. supply it by a thousand.

It's that bad? It is. The earth ends up being practically uninhabitable because it got far too hot in spring and summer, way too cold in fall and winter. Lizards and droughts ended up destroying the world's crops, despite extensive efforts to prevent that. Wars eventually broke out over what little resources were left.

Soon the only people left on earth were the rich and those apocalypse preppers. They didn't last long, though. They too fought for resources, and eventually died out. By 24-50, the human race went extinct. Either because of warfare, or they starved and died of disease. That soon, I heard something about wealthy people making spacecrafts or something to live in. Did anything else come of that?

Some work was being done in regards to that. However, when war broke out, all over the globe, a focus shifted to designing weapons, so they were never finished. Why did you go after that? You were the only person left, right? Well, I was the only human left. There was one other mammal left, save for the one still living in the ocean. It was a gorilla.

How did it survive? The experiments. Mastering nanotechnology for immortality was a lot harder than they thought. Most of the animals they tested on perished. But the gorilla lucked out like I did. When did you find out about him? A couple of hundred years after humanity's extinction. I found him playing with some rocks in the middle of the rock.

road. First, I thought he got unlucky and managed to outlive everyone else. I was until I saw what he did next. Woods were on both sides of the road. He climbed a tree and started swinging into the other ones. A branch snapped under his weight and he fell to the ground. He happened to land in front of me. I heard his neck snap when he did. Why were you there in the first place? It wasn't really much to do after everyone died. Played some video games and watch some movies for a while. However, the electronics required for them never lasted long. So I took up traveling and happened across him. I thought the fall had killed him. The fact he started moving proved otherwise. How did he react when he first saw him? He attacked me. Wasn't fast enough to outrun him,

and he caught me and started tearing my limbs off. And I guess he got bored because he stopped after a few hours. I figured that he must have somehow acquired immortality in the same way I did. I started observing him from a distance. Seeing a being who shared my ability, yet was comparatively more ignorant, made me jealous. It went about without a care in the world, while I didn't have another human to talk to. Did you name him?

Oh, he isn't my pet. It did take to calling him Constantine, though. He and I eventually got more comfortable around each other. That isn't to say I tread lightly around him. If I'd piss him off, there's still a good chance he'll rip my head off. With that being said, however, he was helpful to me. That one, that you just said tore off your limbs. Even though he's a brute, his strength calms in handy.

Namely, when it came to finishing ships. What ship? Well, those spacecrafts we talked about earlier. Constantine and I often traveled together, and we stumbled across some of them. I was able to get him to help me finish them. How did you manage to do that? A reward of some kind, usually a toy. Whenever he helped me move some things, I'd give him one more to play with.

Took us four tries to successfully get a working shed. Usually they'd end up exploding. Building up and learning how to operate them took about 200 years. Keep in mind I had to forge the medal for them myself, and that required a whole subject I had to learn. Afterward, learning how to operate it and getting enough fuel for it took another decade. Alas, though, I was able to leave her. How did Constantine handle leaving?

He didn't. The turbulence frightened him. So he decided to stay behind. He had the entire planet to himself, as well as the sea creatures, low enough to avoid the fallout. You were all alone from your journey then. Yep. Just like before. It was for the best.

Doubt he would have handled being stuck on the ship very well. Where did you go? Didn't have a destination in mind. Just kept going forward. Hoping to come across. across some kind of life. What was your plan if you ran out of fuel? That wouldn't have been an issue.

The ship I had was solar powered, in addition to using regular fuel. On top of that, I had spare fuel and panels on standby if something went wrong. How long were you out there for? I'd say 50 years. Time tends to go by fast out in the vastness of space. I did bring entertainment with me, mostly books. I didn't have enough to last me. Seeing as how I don't like re-reading stories, I got down to my last few, and at last I saw something.

Of all the barren planets, stars, asteroids, and everything in between, there it was. It being? This thing made Jupiter look like Pluto. The best way I can describe it is this. Imagine a bunch of giant pipes made of coral sticking into a round, spongy-looking body. I was hesitant to approach such a large creature. Unfortunately, the creatures inside. of it took notice of me. I saw them emerge from the top pipes. They looked like a cross between

octopi and squids except far larger. Just one dwarfed my ship. Well, if you're here now, that's obviously means you got away from them. Oh, that's where you're wrong. These things are fast. I had no chance to escape them. They grabbed my ship and pulled me into what I've taken to calling the piper. From the outside, I was expecting the inside of it to resemble a hive of sorts. While I did, it was also metal. Don't you have a name for these living things in it? Pipettes. I broke into my ship with ease and yanked me out.

They had such cold tentacles. Their eyes conveyed a sort of morbid curiosity. Their first act was for one of them to put me in their beak and try to eat me. I thought my time trapped in the oven was painful. There was nothing compared to being ground in his beak. You don't have to keep going, I said, with my voice so much shaking. I won't go for it. I still haven't convinced you then.

Well, fine. What I tell you next will make you see death as a gift. The pipettes are advanced. On the way to my prison, we passed advanced machinery that would probably take me millenniums to understand. I resemble crystals more than anything. What did they do to you? Oh, what haven't they done to me?

Besides being a chew toy, they took to dissecting me. It's not a good feeling to have your body parts and organs separated from each other. other. My guess is that what they've done to me is an attempt to figure out immortality for themselves. Well, here's the thing. I was trapped in there for an insanely long amount of time. I had to count just to keep them going insane. I was trapped there for over two million years, being tortured by them. One of them liked playing with me more than the others. It's light blue, and this has led me to believe they have extremely long natural lifespans, which means immortality is something. that never occurred to them.

Either that or they evolved to the point of not needing it. Haven't you ever tried? You know, to talk with them? It didn't do any good. They don't seem to make any sounds to communicate. I think how they do is either through some sort of sign language or telepathy. Well, try as I might, I can't imitate. Then, how did you escape from them?

I don't think I have. Well, not truly anyway. Are they looking for you? They already have me. Once my time here is up, I'll go right back to them. Honestly, it was by accident. Something happened with the piper that allowed me to escape my prison. I had it grown like it was having a stomachate.

Luckily, I was whole at the time. I had a massive tremor that coincidentally opened my prison. To summarize what happened, I did a lot of sneaking around. I was hoping to find a ship or something that would allow me to escape. Hell, even get into an exit and drifting out in space was probably. preferable to what they were doing to me. I wasn't so lucky though. It didn't take them long to find me. How were you able to get away? I ran into the nearest corridor. So I had a room at the end. With two pipettes close behind me, I took my chances and went into it. Here I saw a room.

However, it was different from the ones I'd seen there. This one looked to me like a glass box. Touched to the inside of it was a control panel. Not knowing what to do, I jumped into it and started hidden buttons. I vanished the instant in the pipettes that were chasing me burst into the room. I happened to end up in this time at this location, so I decided to try and change your course, and well, here I am. Now then? My time here is almost up. I can feel it. Before I go, though, there's one more thing I need to tell you. What is it? I've heard what you have tonight. From who? For another version of us. See, there are a bit. You see, there are a bit of you. I've heard. I've heard what you have. I'm been millions of versions of us that have gone through what we're going through now.

Get an incurable disease, become immortal, get captured by the pipettes, then travel back in time to try and warn their past self of what will happen should they become immortal. Does anyone else ever change with the versions of us? Well, only what jobs we choose and where we decide to head when leaving Earth. I foolishly thought that if I had it in a different way from the one the future version of myself chose, and I'd be able to avoid the piper. Needless to say, it didn't work. Now it's time for me to go.

You heed my warning. I know a decade left to live is not long, but it's better than what the pipettes will do to you. I'll just stay on Earth then. Well, you won't be able to. I already tried that. The urge to escape this planet became two great. You'll have the same problem.

Now, if everything I've shared hasn't convinced you, maybe this will. Before I could clarify what he meant, the wall behind me began to glow. From it, I saw dozens of tentacles shootout. I leapt back, nearly knocking over my chair in the process. They surrounded the future me, giving him no chance to escape. Still think it'll be worth it. All the while he was laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

I saw them fold him in half before dragging him through the wall. When the pipeats did, I saw them for only a moment. They had such knowing eyes. Regardless, I made my decision. I had to dwell on it for a while, but now I have a plan. My future self said that one of the few variations was the fact that the future version of me has different jobs for each other. Nanotechnology is a key to my longevity. I wonder if anything would change if I applied myself to the field of study,

Relating to it, perhaps I will be able to create a weapon with which I will be able to combat the puppets. Only time will tell, I suppose, now I must go. I have a lot of work to do. Hope you enjoying this, everyone? Well, time for another one just from me, I think. So here we have, they walk among us by corpse child. It's getting dark again. The dreaded fog is rolling in again. I'm cold, hungry, and most of all, fearing for the agonizing end that will surely await me as it did for the others they will be coming again coming from the heavy mist itself ghoulish creatures with long wispy tendrils sinisterly coiling out from their shadow-like forms it's my punishment for what i've done it's all my fault i should never have chanted those damn words i'm making my final stand here on the porch of the cabin in the woods with my forty-four

Magnum Revolver and this notebook with these last few pages. Leaving these pages behind is a warning for any unlucky soul who comes here. If you're reading this, if you don't take anything else away from this, remember these words. They walk among us. There's not much time now. The sun is only barely able to beam its light over the lake and trees. I guess I should clear my conscience while I still have the time.

I'll start from the beginning. It all started last night. Me, my girlfriend Scarlett, and my best friend Trevor all went camping here in the forest. We came upon this cabin about an hour or so, went out our hike into the woods. We went in and unpacked our gear and set up inside. We gathered around the main area and opened up a case of beers. I wish I had one right about now. The three of us got completely wasted.

I'd found a book, still. sticking out of one of the floorboards. Out of morbid curiosity, I picked it up and opened it. Even drunk, I knew this was no ordinary book. It appeared to contain ancient text. I was nervous but excited. So were Scarlett and Trevor. We were into that kind of crap.

So the three of us sat in a circle after lighting a few candles and chanted the text in the book. The outside sky cracked with lightning as we went on. Well, at first the three of us noticed absolutely nothing. We thought nothing had happened. How wrong we were. Only an hour later, ear-splitting shrieks were heard outside the window behind me. They sent me out first to investigate.

And what I saw was them. The outside air was thick and heavy, laden with fog, so much so that I could only barely breathe. It began materializing slowly, one by one. Another inhuman shriek was let out. I ran quickly back into the house and told the others what I'd seen. Trevor went out next to see what I was talking about. Poor son of a bitch.

I begged and pleaded with him not to go out there. He wouldn't heed my warnings. He went out the door and only about a minute later, we heard yet another in human shriek followed by Trevor's horrified screams. I know it was a jerk thing to do, but Scarlett and I could only stand inside while Trevor screams her trailing off. I hate to even imagine what End met him. I only hope that he didn't suffer, unlike my poor Scarlet. Scarlett studied screaming. I ran my arms around her to try and calm her

down. She was way too freaked out, pushing me away and running out of the cabin. I quickly bolted out in pursuit of her. I couldn't bear losing her, too. It seemed that no matter my efforts, I'd never be able to hold on to her. I finally caught up to her. I seized her once more and pulled her close. I told her that I loved her, and I wouldn't let what happened to Trevor happened to her. I kept assuring her of this, and sure enough, these words consoled her. But dear God, how wrong I was. The thick, heavy fog was all around us now. When we tried to make our way back to the cabin, within an instant they had us surrounded. I, in panicked instincts, drew my gun and fired three shots into the black, demonic, mislike creature towering over me.

The bullets had absolutely no effects, passing right through it. Might as well have been shooting thin air. I was horrified by this point, but not nearly as horrified as I was when I realized that Scarlet was no longer in my arms. Frantically, I started calling out for her. I kept running through the fog, fearing the worst. However, nothing even in my greatest nightmares could have made me even imagine what I saw next. There she was, my beloved scarlet strung up by her intestines. The worst part, however, was she was still screaming.

I did the only thing I could do now. I embraced her, severed waist, and told her I would always love her. I kissed her, closing my eyes. and put one round in her head. I fell to my knees and sobbed until I heard a shriek coming from all around me. I got up and bolted. I ran until I found the cabin again.

By the time I'd found it, it was already morning. Stumbled up to the porch, exhausted it. No matter how fatigued I was, sleep would not before me, not after last night. I just stared and watched the outside world around me, knowing it would not be this beautiful at night. I know that I will not survive this night.

As nightfall envelops the once beautiful outside world, I feel that I only have a few options left. I cannot let those bastards have me, so I've settled on the only alternative I have left. To those that I may hurt with my next course of action, I can only say that I'm truly sorry. They will not claim me. No, I have one round remaining in the chamber.

I'm going to do it. It's the only way. Once again, stay away from here. They walk amongst us. The fog's all around me now. The air's getting hard to breathe again. I can hear their menacing shrieks. It's now or never. Goodbye.

And the evening's extravaganza continues. Now we have the end of infinity by cryptic wonder, featuring Crazy Ken's Storytime, and a clock strikes three. The sun will be darkened. The moon will not give its light. The stars will fall from the sky and the powers of heaven will be shaken. Mark 1325. It was getting late in the evening.

That part of dusk where the last hangnail of sun gets swallowed by the night, fading into perfect darkness. The stars began to appear across the sky, twinkling their cosmic beauty all over the people down below as they ran through the streets for their lives. Jasmine said in awe as both the moon and sun fell to the earth in the garden of a small city. Their cryptic smiles shone upon the stampede that rushed by,

as if sharing a private joke with one another that only they were privy to. Jasmine ran through the crowd as they tore their way in every direction, threatening to sweep her off her feet and trample her without so much as a second thought. Most of the buildings that still stood were covered in flames that quickly spread to those that weren't. She ran over to one of the buildings that stood still and went up the wooden steps. The door was unlocked and she threw herself in, slamming it shut behind her.

She lay against it, breathing heavily while wiping the sweat from her face. She was surprised to see her family. Her older sister lay on the floor, much younger than she would have been, crying with her mother. Her father, who had died a grisly death from stomach cancer, worked an old television with a rotting fist yelling, shit, as he couldn't get anything else but static. If they noticed Jasmine, they didn't say. She was about to ask what was happening when the rumble began. Soft at first, but then the window started rattling.

It grew until it shattered the glass and anything that was inhaled. down was toppled to the floor. Outside a huge wall of flame stretched towards them, swallowing everybody on the street. A bright yellow filled the room as she backed up, and the walls imploded. She felt her body disintegrated into nothing, then woke up. Jasmine's dreams were always wild, vivid and marvelous, her mother would say. The shock of them would always leave a big impression, but they were nothing new. Now, in her 30s, She had them long enough that they were inconsequential. Like watching a movie.

The dark scene replayed in her head for about an hour or so, then faded into nothing. The world was going to end, and she already knew that. It was only a month ago since the asteroid made the news. All across social media, the story of the asteroid heading towards Earth was all anyone would talk about. It was first played off. scientists and other officials assuring the public that it would only be a near miss, or that it wasn't possibly big enough to do any real damage if it hit. She believed it, wanting desperately to believe it as so many others did.

The truth couldn't stay denied, though. A few amateur observers saw the truth and were heavily mocked for being conspiracy theorists and spreading misinformation. Others began to speak up, and soon NASA was even confirming it. The President of the United States convened with other world leaders, and they tried to destroy it with a large arsenal of nuclear warheads. The explosion could be seen from Earth, but it didn't even put it dead in the monster. The only thing they accomplished was possibly speeding up everybody's death, as radiation peppered back down across the globe. Soon enough, everybody was sick from radiation poisoning, and most of the plant life had withered.

The final report that aired was a farewell message from the President of the United States. It more or less said, so long we had a good run. Make peace with your loved ones and yourself because it was game over. The asteroid was supposed to be bigger than the one that killed the dinosaurs and would probably destroy the Earth for good. The power cut out after that. Four days left. Jasmine crossed the days off like a gruesome advent calendar, the 23rd circle in bright red. That was the day that the meteorite was supposed to destroy the world. It was visible during the day now.

Just a speck in the sky. She did her best to avoid the windows in direct sunlight, as it made the burns from her radiation sickness worse, but she made it a point to look at its progress each morning. Most of the people in her apartment complex were gone. It was the way she preferred it, as people usually led to problems and disappointment. There was still a handful, though,

what she was thankful for, especially Chris. He was an older fella who lived a few doors down. Even before the disaster, the two of them would get together once in a while for a game of cribbage. He was a sweet man with a great sense of humor. Although, she thought about romance with him once or twice, neither really wanted anything more than to skunk each other if they happened to be lucky enough that day.

They would toss back a few beers while playing, and Bonnie, his German Shepherd, periodically come by to give a leg to her hand or see if she had a scrap of food to spare. There was a family of three that lived across the hall and close to the stairs. The Coleman's, Edward and Michelle, were a married couple that seemed to argue over anything. It was usually this arguing that would break Jasmine from her strange dreams. She felt bad for their son Nathan. He was bright nine-year-old who always looked much sadder than a boy his age should.

There was nobody in his generational bracket around anymore. And whenever his parents caught Jasmine talking to him, they would hurry him inside while shooting her a dirty look. Old Miss Breyer lived next to the family. She was a quiet old woman that usually kept to herself. It seemed like everyone did these days. Chris once told her that both her husband and her kids had died in a bad car accident. He was drinking and must have overcorrected sending the car off a small cliff.

She always blamed herself, and over the years her mind began to slip. There used to be a nurse that came by in the mornings and evenings. As the winks went by, Jasmine could only assume that she was one of the people to left town. She wasn't sure why people left. Maybe they thought it couldn't get to them that far up, like some magical force would protect them from the fall of radioactive dust. Or they could just get far enough away to be safe from the impact of the monster in the sky. It frustrated her, but she knew how powerful denial could be.

After all, she denied her family most of her life. There wasn't much of a story there. Her parents split up when she and her sister were young, and neither wanted them. So over time, while growing up with a foster family, she grew to resent them. Food was becoming scarce. Most of the places around them had already been looted, and stepping outside would mean drastically accelerating their sickness. So Jasmine, Chris, and Sweet Miss Breyer pulled what they had left and rationed it out each night. The Coleman's, of course, snubbed their offer.

When they finished a meal of buttered bread and chips, Jasmine made her way over to Chris's. Before long, she was losing her third game of cribbage against him, gently scratching Bonnie's tummy. Even the dog was in poor shape as more patches of fur came off each day exposing bright pink skin below. You know, I kind of wish I'd kind of wish I'd be able to be able to. I had a gun, Chris said abruptly. Part of her wanted to be shocked, but she knew how much Bonnie meant to him. She must have been suffering so badly because of it.

Yeah, I know what you mean. It's such a cruel way to go out, for all of us. Baked to a crisp in our own skin, then bam, hit over the head by a giant rock. What would you do differently if you knew what was coming? Would you have spent more time with your friends and loved ones? Try to warn the government? Jasmine considered this looking over at her cards. She found it incredible after all these years of playing,

and with the apocalypse knocking at the door, that she could still get excited over a good hand. Then she scoffed trying to push her sister from her mind. You gotta have friends to spend time with them, and family is a joke. Pretty much everyone that I knew before moving here was already gone. That must have been hard.

I suppose it helps in this case, though. Nobody to have to worry over. Yeah, I guess. Maybe I'd just get loaded every night and eat until my ass jiggled. Her smile turned into a frown when she saw the cut card was seven. What would you do? Chris let out a sigh and put his finger over the top of his lip. He often did this when he was deep in thought. I suppose I would undo every tie I ever had. Never would have gotten married or had kids.

I also never would have gotten this managly old mutt, he said, given her near scratch. Either that, he spoke again throwing two cards into her crib, or, I've always wanted to fly someday. Take me and old Bonnie here across the city to a faraway place, he said, with a warm smile. As he pet Bonnie's head, more fur came away in his hands. Jasmine could see the pain in his eyes. It was heartbreaking. Well, we still got time.

Maybe we should go to an airport and go for a ride. She said with a smirk. Chris chuckled and they continued their game, Jasmine losing 64 points. It was still early in the evening when Jasmine went home. She, along with everyone else, it seemed slept more these days. The sickness that ran its course took a lot out of them.

Not that there was much else to do anyway. The water no longer worked, but it was so contaminated that it was. it would have been a death sentence to use, so showering was out of the question. She settled for just removing her clothes and flopping on the bed. She was close to drifting off, too, when she heard angry screaming coming from down the hall. It was Mrs. Breyer. Frustrated, she threw her dirty blood-spotted clothes back on and went out to the hall.

The door to Mrs. Breyer's apartment was wide open. She made her way over to it, and then poked her head in. Mrs. Breyer? She moved further inside and was stunned to see it. a man she didn't recognize standing over the terrified old woman. The man had clearly been living outside in the city. The skin on his face was mostly gone, leaving only a brown mask of dried-up leathery meat. Jasmine wasn't entirely sure if he could blink still. The tip of the long knife rested against a woman's red skin and Jasmine began to backpedal. He was on her in a flash,

squeezing a tight hand around the back of her neck. At this, she jumped, yelping in both fear and pain. No, please. What do you want? Water, you're going to give me all your goddamn water, or you're going to get the knife jammed into your face. Got it? Jasmine nodded as crazed eyes took her in. They were ugly yellow and the muscle that still somehow managed to encase them was an angry shade of red that seemed to be slowly burning towards them. When he talked, she could see several of his teeth were missing. She thought of her own teeth that started to become loose the last week and it scared her. No one was going to be spared.

You get me the water all of it. I might just stab her to put her out of her misery. He growled, pointing the boy to Mrs. Breyer again. No, please, my apartment's this way. She yelled, pulling him back from his coat. You can take every bottle I have, okay? Nobody has to get hurt. She was crying and amazed by it.

After all this time, she still didn't want to die, or Miss Breyer. He nodded at this and the two slowly made the... their way back to Jasmine's door. As she walked through, a loud gas shot out from behind her. She turned her head and Chris was standing there holding a rolling pin that dripped with blood. The man laid on the floor, a nasty wound to the back of his scalp that leaked with little blood still pumped from inside his body. Please, I need water for my daughter, her fever. Gonna die. With a loud roar, he slammed the pin down on his skull again and again.

No, Chris! She pleaded. You want this asshole to get up again? Don't get suckered by him. He's desperate. There's no daughter. She turned away as he continued raining down blows. Sharp cracks turned into wet thumps until he was sure the man didn't feel a thing. Somewhere out there in the city, possibly the next building over was a little girl who would die a sad death. She went into her apartment, locked the door where she cried herself into a deep sleep. Jasmine was running down the street. Jasmine was running down the street. Jasmine was running down the street. street she grew up on. Ahead of her, a field of skeletons stood in her direction. All of them pointing towards her, jaws open in a noiseless scream. She took a quick look behind her to see a great ball of fire and smoke dropping from the sky. She ran faster. She felt the earth began to shake, and then the behemoth touched down. Even as she continued to pump her legs, she was lifted into the air along with the skeletons. Their screams became audible as they joined hers in a grim chorus. The first thing to hit her was nausea.

It quickly rose up from the depths of her stomach as she wrenched up last night's meagermy. The next thing she noticed was how badly it hurt. It was as though she swallowed a glowing cold that made its permanent home in her core. After a few more dry heaves, she was shocked to see how much blood there was on the carpet. Her sickness was getting worse,

and at this rate the radiation might seal the deal before the asteroid. She ground as she got out of bed. Everything hurt. The glistening blisters on her unnaturally red skin had gotten bigger. She stumbled up to the hall and was surprised that she didn't hear the Coleman's. Maybe they finally worked it out, she decided. She was going towards Mrs. Breyers to see how she was holding up after last night when the Coleman's door was opened.

Chris stepped out, looking surprised to see Jasmine. He was looking about as bad as she felt as blood seemed to paint his face and arms. Chris, what's going on? What happened? He sighed deeply. It's Coleman's. They passed away last night. What?

How? I knew they were sick, but all three in one night? Jasmine's eyes had widened at this. It wasn't the radiation that got him. I think Edward must have finally given into the futility of all of it. At some point he took a knife, stabbed Nate, Michelle, and then did himself in. She felt tears well up and brought her hands to her face. Chris walked over and put his arms around her.

She took hold of him and sobbed quietly into his shoulder. As the moment ticked by, the door to Miss Breyer softly opened. She walked out wearing a robe, covered in a mess of red, and crept up behind him. Neither of them saw the knife lash out. The very same knife the man from last night dropped. With a starting quickness for a woman her age, she drugged the blade deep into his ribs while raving like a banshee, twisting the blade back and forth. You'll thank me later, dear.

She said nodding. Once again she reached back, and as the blade came forward, Jasmine shoved her against the guardrail of the steps. The once sweet old woman screamed as she tumbled down the stairs below. It would have been a relief had she died there, but she laid at the bottom, howling at the jagged piece of railing that pinned her to the fourth step up. Jasmine went to Chris, putting her hand on his wound.

It was wide and blood seemed to pour between her fingers. Crazy bitch! He yelled as the two of them struggled to their feet. They made their way over to his apartment, and she sat him down at the table. They played cards at so many times together. She rifled through his bathroom for first aid supplies and came back with alcohol and gauze.

She poured the stinging liquid. He screamed so loud that it made Bonnie howl in a tandem. She hadn't seen Bonnie until now, as she really wish she hadn't. There was barely any fur on the poor animal and his bloody bits of her bowels trained from her bottom. She wasn't going to last much longer.

It was clear. None of them were. She busied herself with Chris and pressed the gauze firmly against his wound. Tapping it up, she gave Chris a pathetic smile. If you're done torturing me, I'd lack my lollipop now. Jasmine giggled, despite her urge to cry. Tears burned a lot more today. she noticed. Fresh out, I'm afraid. What a world, I suppose I'll settle for a beer then.

There's only two left. She called from the kitchen. I can go out and try to find more. Well, ain't that a bitch? Don't worry about it, been meaning to quit drinking anyway, and this seems like as good of an opportunity as any. You can deal me in a game, though. She quickly grabbed the cards and set up the board, then the two played cribbage for the rest of the day. That night, Jasmine stayed with Chris at his apartment. Miss Breyer shouted off and on, but Jasmine couldn't bring herself to go out there. Before long, she was in a faraway land where everything appeared as a Renaissance painting. Min was shining armor rode upon mighty horses.

They were off to slay some fantastical beasts when up in the sky. A large diamond star fell to the earth. When it touched down upon mottled ground, it sent men and horses alike off in every direction, setting them ablaze. Flames sped out quickly ate through the picturesque setting, consuming everything until there was only darkness and the scent of death. When she opened her eyes, she felt her skin was wet and slick. Blood was now heading out of the wounds that grew upon her burning skin, and the smell was putrid. She cried as she had struggled to get to her feet and looked around. She didn't see Chris or Bonnie anywhere.

A small trail of blood, most likely. likely left by Bonnie, let out the door. She followed it out to the hallway and noticed the smell of death was stronger out here. Miss Breyer was silent and would be forevermore. The trail of Gore continued to the rooftop and she opened the door where she saw the two sitting on the ledge. Chris, what are you doing? Get back in here! She yelled knowing how much worse the levels of radiation were out in the open. He didn't respond. Only waved a hand back towards her. She briefly considered going back in, but what was the point now? The pinprick in the sky was much larger now, like a small moon in the morning sky. The sunlight made her already fiery skin burn even hotter, but still, she walked out towards her old friend. Chris? Jasmine, he replied half turning to her.

Oh my God, Chris! She cried. His exposed face and arms had the appearance of a rotting corpse, nose, ears, and lips from gone and as he tried in vain to pet his dog, it was obvious he was now blind. Bonnie was just as bad. How long have you been up here? We came out last night. Didn't think it would be this bad.

Doesn't matter. We still get to fly at least once, he chuckled painfully. If you stay to the end, give that rock a big kick in the ass for me, eh? Before she had time to react, he leaned his ruined body forward and went off the side of the roof. He pulled Bonnie with him and she heard the sickening thought. thuds below. She couldn't bear to look and ran back to her apartment. Now, the only person left. Her condition was already bad, but the time she spent on the roof did her no favors. She slept off and on the rest of the day, thinking about Chris. She thought about her neighbors, how she would

never see anyone again. She thought about the man who would kill just to get his daughter some water. Then she thought about her own family. She found that as much as she tried to deny them in her life, As much as she tried to block them out, she missed them deeply and wanted nothing more than to be with them one last time. Mercifully, no dreams haunted her that night. When she awoke on the final day, she had to unstick the blanket from her skin. A froth of blood and flesh cloded her bedding. Her screen was weak as she sat up. Outside, the tempest of wind was savagely blowing, sending large pieces of debris through the city.

The end was finally here, and she was alone. As she struggled to make her way to the hall, something in her stomach gave out. Blood began to seep down her legs and she found she no longer had the ability to throw up. She continued her way to the roof top, her wet, sticky feet slapping against the floor with each agonizing step. Throwing the door open, she was met with a gray cloudy sky. The wind was of hurricane proportions, and off in the distant horizon, the greener, great burning harbinger of death filled the sky, blocking out the sun. It was larger than she could have ever dreamed of, and so close she felt she could almost reach out and touch it.

She shakily sat down on the ledge where she last talked to Chris. Jasmine wasn't going to take the easy way out. She spent too long fighting to give in to this monster. The wind grew ever stronger, but she sat there smiling, thinking of all the loved ones she would soon see again. The earth gave a teeth-jarring shake as it touched. touchdown. Light filled her vision as a great war ripped away all the sound. At least I won't be alone now. Was her final thought before heading into oblivion.

Our next story features Vieth 22 and Pumpkin Queen. A story by author Jojo. This is I fell in love with the girl from the True Crime Podcast. The dating world is bizarre. It used to be that we had to go out to meet people, go to bars and sit next to strangers hoping we could capture their attention for just long enough that just enough drinks would slide down their throats

and that they would open up to you and slowly but surely you could build a bond then if you were really lucky and really charming the two of you would leave the bar together with just enough of a connection and blood that was just thin enough that you could share something wonderful and hope beyond hope it wouldn't be gone the next day Truly it was the wild west of getting to know someone

Maybe you had a friend that wanted to introduce you to someone else Or maybe somebody knew had shorn up to the club you were a regular at Beasts all of us opening our flower-like tails and fluffing out our mains Trying to appeal to someone nearby Hungry for one small but spectacular spark to be shared before the night is over Now though God, it's so different. We sit alone in our room nestled into our bedding

with our faces illuminated by our phones. That deep urge to find connection is gone. Now our fingers hold so much power over our lives. Do you ever really think about that? When you stare at your phone making split-second decisions over superficial flaws, one detail we don't like, and we can decide that our paths will never cross with someone.

So many possibilities. So many lives and loves passed by in an instant. Have you ever seen it? Your life with them? I tried it for so long and I could feel my brain rotting, cells dying off, burned by the light of the screen. I would stare at smiling faces while my headphones chirped into my ear. The host from my favorite podcast going over true crime cases one after another,

talking about the lives of serial killers and what could have led them to do such horrible things. Really makes you wonder what people are like when they're not around you, who that stranger you passed on the street is behind closed doors. As I continued to swipe, I could feel a tension of unease growing in me, and eventually I just couldn't do it anymore. I had made a few connections, sure, met a few girls here and there, but nothing meaningful.

I never felt like myself when leaving their homes. The passion just wasn't there. I need that face-to-face connection, that meaningful discussion you can only have four shots of gin in, when your face is starting to fuzz up and your body feels light. So for me, that's what I stuck with, and it felt like sheer coincidence when I saw her walk in. She had a powerful aura about her, something that I could feel on the back of my neck while she walked into the room, and when she sat next to me, flashing a quick smile to acknowledge our proximity, I felt like a fool, wrapped and coiled around her like a snake, smitten perhaps.

We exchanged pleasantries as she sat down, pulling a thick gray beanie that shielded her from the wind air loose from her head. Strands of bright auburn hair clung to the fabric as she pulled it away. Reaching over, I slid my finger through the space between her. beanie and her head, pulling the hairs loose. She looked over to me, somber, dark lipstick curving around the corners of her mouth. Thank you kindly, sir. She whispered, leaning in closer to me. Her lipstick was so dark and her teeth were so white, I felt as though she was trying to hypnotize me. If that were her intention, it worked like nothing else. She raked her fingers through her hair, parting the crimson until they were neat and tidy once more.

How does it look? She asked. I barely managed to hear the words coming from her lips. I was too busy wondering how someone's eyes could be so green. Beautiful, I spoke. Words plucked from my throat by her charm like fishing wire, dragging my deeper thoughts to the surface. I watched her laugh, bright and boastful,

as she leaned back in her seat and rested her fingers on her chest. It was cold out, and she was wearing so many layers, but somehow her shape beneath it was more alluring than I had ever felt. I was able to sympathize with mountain lions watching an animal stray from their pack. The bartender asked her what she wanted. No surprise, the man was eager to speak to her. She had a voice like smoke. It was rough and sounded like it had been dressed.

dragged across the gravel, but once it entered her lungs, all you wanted was another hit. Another dose of her savory musings. Just a glass of whiskey. I don't care much for the price of brand. She spoke before giving me a cursory glance. Oh, make it too. Gotta thank my hero here. Her voice stung the bartender like venom, but to me it felt like honey. After a moment the man returned with two glasses, setting one in front of me, hitting the counter noticeably harder than he did while setting down her drink.

If that's all it takes to be a hero these days? I asked her, watching the deep, burgundy liquid vanishing between her lips. I was rife with envy. These days? She pondered, her back pressing against the chair as she tilted her head back, staring off into the ceiling like my question was painted on it. Yeah, I guess. She turned her heads to look at me.

Ain't that many heroes these days, huh? She said the words as if it was a question I was meant to follow up on, but the way she looked at me, her words were stern statements, and in the moment I wondered what she could have been through before walking into the bar. Well, here's to the villains, adjusted, holding my glass up.

Her cup pressed against mine. harder than she meant to. I could see a hairline fracture appear on the glass. I was that kind of drunk where details seemed like they're in high definition, that golden hour between buzzed and completely knackered. The crack in my glass was so vibrant, but it vanished from my eyesight as the liquid filled my mouth. The slight sting I had gotten to know all too well was slashed down my throat, a drip of gold on to the dragon's hoard. As my drink was finished, I thought it only fair to buy the next round. Lord knows I wasn't ready to let her leave yet. Drinks were poured and consumed. As she drank enough, her body must have begun feeling warm. I watched her pull down the zipper of her jacket.

It was slow. Slow enough that even if my attention was elsewhere, I would have had the time to return focus to her and catch her still halfway down. As she, she wanted me to see. With each tooth freed from its counterpart on her zipper, I could feel a desire rising up from within me. It was just a shirt, had nothing fancy under her coat, such a meaningless white cotton t-shirt, something that so badly wanted to be discarded, thrown to the floor where it deserved to rest all night. The world melted away more and more with each breath she took. Every time her chest would rise, every roll of her shoulder or fact about herself.

I was a fish on a line, tugged in ever so gently, and once I had stopped resisting, she looked at me and smiled. We should get out of here. This guy keeps giving me to dirty looks. I was so drunk that when her words hit me, I took a quick look around a mostly empty bar. It's okay. I like dirty look.

I agreed and pulled my phone loose from its pocket, haphazardly smashing my finger against the screen as I navigated to ride-share apps. Then her finger rested on my hand, calling my attention to her. I don't live far. Let's enjoy the night there. My feet were feeling lights, and my body was ready to fall into bed. But if the bed I was going to fall into was hers, then I'd walk however many blocks I had.

to. She pulled the cap loose over her head and paid her tab. The bartender gave me another uncertain look. I thought it was envy, but maybe if I was more sober, I would have been able to parse a different emotion from the short glance. Still, the effects of the alcohol made themselves very known as I pulled myself out of the chair. I had been hammered before. Back when I was a teen, I'd blacked out on floors, but it felt so off. I could hardly keep my balance. It was her hand that guided me through the street. Her tender fingers felt like lit pyres warding off that she'll attempt to grasp us. I couldn't say for certain how long it took us to get to her place, how many times we turned or which way I didn't even get a good look at her address. I can just recall numbers that shift

every time I try to think of them. I can remember. a waft of hot air that pressed against my face. I can remember her leading me to the bedroom. A pile of messy blankets and pillows had never felt so good, but even the exquisite sensation of a new stranger's bedding couldn't compare to the way she felt. The way our skin meshed together, the way the alcohol caused us to clumsily rub against each other. Her breath on my neck nearly sent me into a frenzy. There wasn't any point. of me that could or wanted to resist. Her skin, her eyes, her mouth. Everything that she was pulled me down, sinking me into the depths of her sheets like a siren. I was enraptured,

and just as I reached the bottom with her. Hands bracing on my chest, feeling her weight crash into me and recede like a torrent of waves. Small bits of my flesh clenched between a soft bite. My memory shuts down, and the next thing I remember is waking up in her room. My eyes were heavy. Just getting a peak of the room felt like trying to push open large wooden doors. I could feel the hangover already settling. We must have both passed out after making a mess of the bed. It was still dark, though. I could only see the faint figures of furniture in her room dimly lit by moonlight. You can stay here tonight. Her words echoed in my head, and I remember her face next to me.

I could feel her behind me. We had rolled over in our sleep and ended up facing away from each other. There was that feeling that I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep for quite some time. Here, take this. More words echoed, visions of her bare and shapely frame holding out a pill and a glass of water. Looking to the nightstand beside me, I could see the remnants of that glass, dry and empty. My hand drifted off to the side of the bed. Thankfully, I felt the pile of clothing, including my jeans.

I could leave, just get up and walk out, but it felt different with her. That tingle on the back of my neck I wanted. She gave that in spades. Instead of pulling my pants to my legs, I instead searched the, through my pockets, sighing when I found my phone and the pair of headphones plugged into it. It was like when you had a sleepover at your friend's house, and you woke up before them, but you didn't want to wake them, so you just lay there waiting. Pushing the soft rubber into my ear, I searched through my phone until I eventually ended up

on the podcast I often listened to. Serial Thrills. The episode I was listening to recently ended, and another one started. playing. I was getting close to catching up, so I was on a newer batch of episodes. A special on Femfetals. The episode started playing, and the time slipped on and on, as the hosts spoke to each other about various female serial killers. It was a long episode, and it was doing the trick to keep me distracted, until I felt a familiar pressure. The only thing that made me have to pee more than alcohol is being hung over. Slowly and carefully, I moved my legs trying to get out of bed.

My body felt so heavy, though. It was unusual. I'm normally pretty good with fighting a hangover. I wasn't getting that old yet. Standing out of bed, I tugged my earbuds out and winced. Then I heard a faint whisper behind me. Are you okay? Her voice was groggy and meshed into the night air.

Yeah, sorry. um bathroom i replied trying to match the volume by my voice with hers i could only imagine if my head was aching hers must have been on fire the way she threw back shots after shots i'm used to operating like that half drunk out of my mind it actually made these one-night stands easier for me easier to leave down the hall second door on the left i let out of breath as I started stepping away from the bed, attempting to keep my stumbling to a minimum. It felt so weird walking through her house. Still, I made my way through the darkness as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light,

still hearing the podcast playing in my ears. They had started speaking about this woman who was surgical with the way she killed people. My fingers reached out to the second door and wrapped it around the knob. I twisted the handle and pushed the door in. I started walking in as the podcast spoke about how the woman would carefully remove body parts, using professional equipment that left neat and clean wounds. My fingers hit the light switch, and it became clear to me that I wasn't in the bedroom. The chill of the night smacking me in the face hard enough to sober me up.

Sorry, it's the second door on the right. I always messed her up. Her voice was nothing like it had been moments ago. It was like she had just sat down at the bar. The podcast spoke about how all her victims were found with high amounts of alcohol in their blood, suggesting that she met them at bars. Looking around, the lit-up room, the icy atmosphere, tightened up my heart until I felt a churn in my chest. What the hell is going on?

My lips trembled out. The hosts conversed how the men were found with organs and limbs missing, that there was no sign they returned home the night they left to go to the bar, meaning they had been taken elsewhere. And as I stared at the collection of pull-taught sheets of skin, flayed hearts and stomachs displayed in glass cases pins to canvas like people who collect butterflies. For what it's worth, I had a lot of fun.

Her voice, still so sickly, so unbelled, Viding. Turning around, I saw her standing in the doorway, a small iron knife in her hand. No, a scalpel. It wasn't that I was hung over. No, I was drugged. I could tell by the way my vision shifted around. My hand rested on the metal table next to me, trying to keep my body up. Like you said, ain't many heroes left these days. She spoke, stepping forward. My breathing started to cling into my throat. No, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

That's not how these knights are supposed to go. I'm the one who walks out of the house. I just leave. Me. The host continued speaking as I pleaded with her, just trying to get her attention as an idea brewed into my head. They're... They're talking about you.

I spoke, tugging at the phone jack until the cord popped free of the cell phone, allowing the audio to play through the built-in speaker. As I did, my body fell back and smacked against the cold floor. The room looked so clinical and sterile. I could see a washing station as I laid on the ground. Somewhere she could drain the blood. So day off. She spoke almost gleefully.

Like she was speaking to a fan of hers, and I guess she wasn't wrong. My body was getting weak, though. I wonder what they have to say about you. She smiled. The moonlight bouncing off her teeth. She looked like she belonged in Wonderland. I didn't have much time. My facilities were failing me.

My fingers tapped against the phone's screen. She started leaning forward, kneeling down to get closer. You're such a pretty thing. I'll remember you. I felt the cold steel touch against my face. Maybe. I'll take this, so I can look at you whenever I want. The metal started pressing down.

I knew I was bleeding, but I couldn't feel it. There was no guarantee it would work, but my thumb finally found its mark. I pressed to start an episode I had listened to, to a hundred times. My mind started going numb. Wonder what they'll say about me? I managed to slip out. No longer could I lift my arms or legs to fight back as she dragged the knife down my face. I couldn't feel anything. That was a kindness she offered, something I never did. The host started speaking. I don't know how much time went by, but I watched her becoming more

and more distracted. Her face lit up with curiosity as she was unable to pull her attention away from my phone. A story of a man traveling from one bar to the next trying to find love, a real connection, always leaving disappointed. She was smart, as sharp as the blade she held. Her face turns to me, blank, wandering. Whenever this man would leave the house, failing to find that connection, he left a wake of destruction. Women would be found in their beds, ribcages broken by blunt force trauma, skin parted by cruel blades,

whatever the man could find in the house. I wasn't surprised to see a smile returning on her face. It was do or die, but it had reached her, that wonderful beating heart in her chest. I knew it. From the very beginning, I knew it. We had a connection.

Both of her hands pressed against my cheek. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against mine. You wouldn't hurt me, would you? Confident as ever, her words pursed a laugh that made her eyes light up. She grabbed my hand and placed it against her chest. It's all yours, as long as it stays inside. She jested. Oh, God, it worked.

Better than ever. All those houses, those fake people. We were both missing something, things that we tried to drag out of people we spent the night with. It wasn't even a week later that we walked into the bar, one resting just outside of town. Sitting down, we ordered drinks. We leaned forward, peeking through loose strands of hair at the other patrons.

Lonely men and women sipping down booze. Okay, rock paper scissors. She whispered in my ear. I looked over. There was a girl with such dark hair. Okay, deal. I replied, trying to guess which one of the guys she had marked already. I lifted my hand and bawled my fist to match hers.

To villains. She proclaimed. Rock. Paper Scissors Shoot And as we move into our fourth hour this evening The excitement continues

Next up is Kramus Nucked By Azazel Codex Featuring the vocals of Azazel Codex and Disturbed K When I lost my grandmother at 15 Before Christmas I learned that sorrow is in the end That those of the darkness

Aren't always evil Sometimes they keep us all safe The night which changed my life, history knows as crampas knocked. My mom was getting ready for her office's Christmas party, going with my friend Amelia's parents, Mary and Steve, her co-workers. I knew that my mom needed this since she too was still mourning like me. Turning off my Ennis, as I went downstairs, seeing our Christmas tree with mine and mom's stockings over the fireplace, I remembered my grandma. Christmas would feel empty without her, and being this healthy was still new to me. I reminded of how last year's Halloween got ruined after I got that stupid sinus infection.

My friend Amelia got to go trick-or-treating while I stayed home, recuperating, and miserable. Later on that night, though, she visited me, saving a whole lot of candy for me. Maybe tonight will cheer me up. Mom, I'm in the living room, turning on the TV, watching as I waited. It's 6.30, and now your KTSB 11 evening weather report for a Tuesday, December 5th, 1989. Weather patterns from across the country show heavy snow. Paul, combining the strong cold winds from the north. Leading the possible more snowstorms predicted last through the week here also in the Twin Cities, Minnesota area. Heed your local

traffic advisories and drive safely on the roads. Now back to the news desk. The once of our fireplace felt good. In recent news, reports of unusually large wolf sightings here, the Twin Cities Minnesota area has prompted the spokesman from the U.S. Department of Fish and Wildlife to comment on My mom walked in in the living room, all dressed up. As she put on her thick coat, she made sure to remind me my dinner was made, and in the oven, wrapped in foil when I was hungry. And on the kitchen counter cooling off her brownies, she made for me and Amelia. She hooked me and asked that we try not to stay up past midnight,

since she may get home late. Then pointed to the paper on the fridge door, showing the nonsense, our next door neighbor's number, and to call them if we needed anything. Feeling confident, I replied to her. I will, Mom. Don't worry about me. Enjoy yourself. I think we should enjoy ourselves tonight. It's almost Christmas in three weeks. Expressing a genuine smile. My mom called me, honey, and generally, feeling happiness in her face, told me to have a good time.

I thank my mom, replying as she opened the door, with the outside wind blowing in with some snow. There was Amelia's parents, dressed up as well, covered in warm coats. Greeted my mom, saying hi to me also, and dropping off their daughter. My mom also telling Amelia to have fun. Thanks, Mrs. Matthews. Mom and Amelia replied to each other. Wow, it's a blizzard tonight, huh? She asked me, yeah, it seems that way. Make herself comfortable.

Taking off her thick beanie and coat, I went to her front window, seeing my mom get into Amelia's parents' car, watching them drive off to their Christmas party. Hey, Robbie. You eat already? I'm about to eat some dinner. Mom meet me. Good. Asking, because... Going to her coat, taking a small plastic bag out of her coat pocket. Here, help yourself to some of these chocolate chip cookies my mom baked. I saved you some.

Wow, thank you. No problem. Um, anything good on TV? Talking as I was eating my plate. You'll finish with the channel. There's some news about the snowing all week and some wolf sightings. Wolf sightings? Huh. After dinner and brownies, we sat on the couch watching some MTV.

But after an hour there, I could see Amelia was slightly uncomfortable. Hey, Robbie, the warmth feels good in here, but I'm a little scared of being across your fireplace. It's just because of something stupid that happened to me when I was little with the fireplace. place at our house. Oh, well, we can go upstairs. Want to play some two-player games in my N.S? Totally. In fact, I got your high score beat on Double Dragon.

We happily went upstairs to my room, playing for a couple of hours. As Amelia was kicking my butt at WWF WrestleMania, I forgot about the cookies. Amelia saved me. I left them on the kitchen counter. I'm going downstairs real quick. I'll be right back. Feel afraid to play without me. I told her as I went back downstairs the kitchen. As I went to grab the cookies, suddenly the power went out.

It was totally dark in my house. The only room lit slightly was the limber because of the fireplace. Looking outside my window, the whole block was dark. Hope the Nutsons next are okay. And Mom, too. Started getting really cool fast, so I put up my coat from the closet. Then, I heard a loud crashing sound on the roof. down on the roof.

I heard Amelia scream. I rushed upstairs to my room quickly, reaching my room, out of breath. I asked her, are you okay? I'm okay. Just that noise freaked me out. It reminded me of a story my grandparents told me growing up.

Maybe the antenna on the roof got knocked down. The weather report said there were some strong winds with tonight's snow. Yeah, maybe that's it. Look, it's going to get cold up here too. And I don't know how long will be without power. Let's go downstairs to the living room. It's warmer there. Okay. If we have to. Being more uncomfortable with that,

rather than the impending cold, which I found odd, soon brushed off. I sneezed as we went back downstairs. Oh no, the cold is finally getting to me. I feel like my nose gets stuff being clogged with mucus. As we sat on the couch, I asked her. Um, want to play some board games? We can use the fireplace to see. No! I told you.

I don't want to be that close to the fire. She shouted. Shocked, I asked her. Are you okay? Her expression changed. Sorry. It's been too long since I last eight, and I get a little crank if I don't eat.

Don't worry. Same thing used to have. to my grandma. You really miss her, huh? She asked. Absolutely. It was just her, my mom and me, and really it's felt like forever since I last saw her before she died.

Hey look, I'll make you some food from the fridge. Okay. So while I was making her a hefty ham and cheese sandwich, I asked her. That story you said your grandparents told you growing up, what was it? Oh? It's an old story about crampus. They were also told growing up by their parents as kids in Germany. Crampus? What's that? You mean, who's that? Well, almost everyone knows about Santa Claus that celebrates Christmas, right?

Yeah, listening intently. Well, before Christmas, today. Today's date exactly is said to be Crampas' holiday, Crompice not. On Christmas, Santa comes to all the good kids all over the world and one night bringing gifts and joy. She paused, see my expression of curiosity, and continued smiling slightly. But Crompice is different. He's a horned monster, a devil, actually who comes for all the bad kids all over the world.

on Santa's naughty list and one night. Devil? Uncomfortably replying. Yes, he comes down chimneys too, going to the children in their beds while they are asleep, wakes them and grabs them kicking and screaming, stuffing them whole into his great sack, making off with them, leaving a lump of coal in their beds as a warning,

to all the rest of the children not to be naughty before Christmas. Where does he take them? I finished making her sandwich asking her. Some say he takes them down to the underworld, collecting their souls as trophies. Or he just eats them for dinner. Taking back by her attitude. I could only say, well, that's messed up.

Well, he was celebrated in the old world, as much as Santa Claus, both of them providing balance of light and dark. As creepy as this sounds, this stuff is awesome to hear the way you tell him. Thank you. My parents encouraged me to learn about history and my grandparents' history. My parents and I are the first in our family, though, that don't believe the story. Really? Hey, can I get some water?

Sure, I said, grabbing a glass, filling it from the tap and handing to her. Because if I'm about to walk with her, I thought, to the warmer living room, I see her stand near the fireplace, throwing the water on it, putting it out completely. Oops. Hey, what the hell? That was no exit. You did that on purpose. Rush into the fireplace handing her a sandwich. Oh, no. All the wood's soaked. The cold will get us for sure. If that doesn't, my mom's going to kill me to make it sick again.

Oh, don't worry, Robbie. She won't kill you. That's my job. What? Did you eat those cookies I gave you? Oh, no. Not really. Too bad. I like my food fattened up. I guess beggars can't be choosers, especially near Christmas. Why are you being this way? As I turn to see her, she smiles at me with an evil grin.

The cold I felt was nothing compared to what I felt in my blood. It's right there in the dark. She changes in front of me. She falls to the floor, her face lengthening into a snout with sharpened teeth. Her clothes barely cover her large body, now thirkin gray hair. As she stands up, her legs now resemble dogs' hind legs, wagging a large tail. My parents will eat soon, and now I finally have you all to myself. You're so healthy and delicious. Delicious-looking Robbie.

Frozen fear. Emilio, what? We had planned to eat you, your mom and grandma last Halloween, but then you got sick. My parents were concerned about me getting sick from your germs. Our kind's immune system at my age, or more fragile to diseases. My mom and dad were on the news tonight, just stretching out their legs before today. Before I knew it, she swiped across my torso with one of her claws, breaking me down to the ground. Uh-huh.

And pain, blood dripping from my wound. You'll be with your grandma soon, Robbie. Just let this happen. Raising her claw again. The fireplace roared back to life. The fire glowing a bright blue. It didn't feel cold anymore. As the monster Amelia exclaimed,

What the hell is going on? We both heard another crash on the roof. Much louder than before, with distance snorts and growling. Suddenly, down the chimney, coming out through the blue fire, was a large white-orn creature, larger than Amelia, whose head almost reached the height of the nearby Christmas tree, wearing a black and red Santa-style jacket, carrying a large sack, ringed in silver bells in its left clawed hand, and a tied bundle of silver-tipped sticks in the other, still frightened and bleeding.

I knew this was Crampus in the flesh. As Amelia went to swipe at him with her claws, he hid her heart with the tied bundle of sticks, knocking her away from me onto the floor. Ben stood over her, mercilessly, whipping her with it, causing her extreme pain as she roared. The bloody wounds developing on her sizzled loudly with every whack he gave her.

As she roared at him, and he wore it louder at her. Finally, she gave up fighting back. Then Crompus grabbed her by our leg. as she slowly changed back into a human girl, stuffing her, kicking and screaming into his large sack, tying it off as she groaned loudly, stopping moving. He then took out of his coat pocket, a lump of coal. Before leaving back up the chimney, he looked at me.

I blacked out, until I woke up in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and monitor. monitor. My stomach area hurting like hell and sore, seeing that was cleaned and banished up. My mom ran into the room and hugged me, tighter than she ever has. Nearly crying, my mom explained. When they came back, the police were outside her house. She was horrified, but Amanda's parents were surprised and then concerned if they saw me taken unconscious into an ambulance and frightened asking the nearby officers about Amelia. Mom continued, saying that loud noises caught the attention of the Nudson's next door, with Mr. Nudsen coming over to check on us.

Concerned, he broke down the front door to find me near death, bleeding. Mary and Steve were beside themselves. And lastly, she asked me, what happened to Amelia? No one knew where she was, but I knew. Looking at Mom, what could I say? Would she believe me? Or the police? Who would?

Hearing that Amelia and her parents were really wear. were wolves who planned to kill us and eat us. Eventually, the police shocked up my memory loss. Its trauma is seeing an unknown intruder kidnap Amelia and tried to kill me. She was listed as missing. The next week, her parents, Mary and Steve, distanced themselves from my mom. She believed out of anger, but I knew better. Them still killing us would attract too much attention, and monsters are not, they lost their daughter. then two days before Christmas. Both quit their jobs

and moved away that same day. Good enough for me. My mom was targeted, too. Despite all that happened, that Christmas was the best I've had with my mom. Then what, Dad? How did you know Grandpa saved you? Well, John, one thing Amelia left out was

when he takes bad kids, he also leaves a single, silver-coated stick. Your grandma later, as it got older, told me when they found me I was lying on the living room couch, covered with a mysterious red and black patterned blanket, keeping me warm in the freezing cold, and placed in my right hand was that silver-coated stick. So one more from me then? Ah, go on then. This is, something watches me while I sleep. Like Calliard Devdi 6359. I'm terrified of waking up at night. not because I can't go back to sleep, but because I know that if I do, he'll be there watching me.

I first saw him a year ago, after going into a musky antique shop in town with my friends. The wrinkled old woman shopkeeper noticed that I was a fifth wheel and that my two friends seemed to be picking on me instantly. She pulled me to the side and asked if there were any improvements I was looking to make in my life. Slightly weirded out, I told her, of course, and that I hadn't realised I was being so obvious. She went behind the counter and grabbed this vial of liquid and then told me to put some on my hands. I was definitely suspicious, but she put some on hers first, so I figured, why not? It had an odd scent to it, like a strong lavender. Ready to leave, I walked outside, and was going to tell my friends about what the lady had done.

Turns out they'd forgotten about me altogether and had left to the next location. No big surprise there. Then around a corner came Carrie. A girl from school I'd had a crush on for months. To my surprise, she actually approached me to say hi. I mean, I wasn't ugly or anything, just average, I guess. But this kind of thing was definitely not normal. Sadly, I was too nervous to get her number or anything.

But it still gave me. me a nice little boost. Then later, once I got home, my mum, who had been sick for months with a suspicious illness that doctors hadn't been able to diagnose, said she was feeling way better. This was amazing, but I still chalked it up to coincidence. That was, until I was lying in bed later, and saw that I had a Facebook notification. It was from Carrie. She'd Facebook stalked me, found my profile, and added me. This was getting downright suspicious. After that, her and I started texting, and things were going surprisingly well. I also found out that I'd gotten one of the highest grades in the class on one of my math tests, which, I mean, well, I was terrible at math. So,

I actually seriously started considering whether this oil was doing all of this. I got home later that night, and after taking it, shower and go into bed, I sent out a good night text to carry. I waited a half hour or so got no response. Considering we'd been exchanging text I every couple of minutes for the last day, this was weird. Then I sniffed my hand and noticed that the scent was almost completely gone. Frustrated, I lay down and tried to sleep, but then began to hear the sounds of my mother coughing through the walls. Let's just say, I didn't sleep much that night.

The next day I noticed that Carrie still hadn't responded. That was it. I couldn't explain why this was happening. I definitely had to figure out how to get some more of that oil. So I showed up later at the shop that day and looked for the owner. She was in the back, organizing shelves as I approached her. I asked her if I could possibly purchase some of that oil she'd given me the other day. Ah, it works well, doesn't it?

She said with a grin. She then went on to tell me that it had been given to her by a deceased husband, who was an archaeologist, and she was unsure of what it was, or even where it had come from. So she told me that she could give me a little bit more, but only to be used sparingly. Otherwise, they'll take notice, she said with a sort of nervous grin. Not really understanding what she was talking about, but not really. really caring, I agreed. She put a single drop on my hand and I rubbed it in thoroughly. Upon smelling it, I immediately felt a sense of calm come over me. It seemed my mind had already associated good

things with the smell. I told her what had happened with my mom and how the oil was literally changing my life. Then she said she wanted to show me something and walked to the back of the store. But she left the vial sitting on the table, and the temptation to take it flared up inside me. It was just too easy. I started to hear a walking back from the storage area and impulsively grabbed the vial off the counter and ran out of the store with it. Totally expecting her to come out after me, I turned back to see the store. However, she never came out. I didn't even have to run really. I immediately poured a generous amount on my hands and rubbed it in. Not surprisingly, Carrie started returning my texts and we actually began dating soon after. By the end of the

week it was like I was a completely transformed person. I had the girl of my dreams and other kids were finally starting to see me differently. However, the night I first tried to kiss Carrie was when things began to take a turn for the worst. I'd walked her home, and while at her front door I tried to kiss her, and she shied away nervously, leaving me for the night. Down and defeated, I noticed I couldn't smell any scent from the oil. So I went home and immediately rubbed a bunch of it onto my hands. Then Carrie immediately texted me, saying she was sorry,

and that whenever I was ready to kiss again, she was. This stuff was almost too good. After that I just laid back in bed with a smile and dozed off for the night. I had a weird nightmare that night though, where the wrinkled old shopkeeper was giggling and playing in the street like a little girl. Then she looked at me and started laughing hysterically, laughing until she cried even. Then her tears became blood and I woke up.

My eyes still blurry. I blinked a few times and noticed something beside my hand. It was dark, but it looked like a man or something on its hands and knees, sniffing my hand. I screamed and turned the lights on, but there was no one there. Truly horrified, I turned the TV on and put on some cartoons. I figured I must not have been fully awake yet, and somehow I'd imagined it. Later that day, I went to school and everything was pretty much not. normal. I was still pretty shaken up though. Carrie started texting me again and I was excited

to see her later that day. Once the school bell rang, I bolted out to my bike to ride straight to her house. Then, when I got to her front door, she immediately came out, smiled and kissed me. Then she invited me in, so I went to park my bike, but when I rolled it around the house to put it up against a garage. I got the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. In the corner of my eye, I saw a man across the street, a man with a car accident face,

just staring at me. But then, by the time I turned my head towards him, he was gone. I went inside and tried to forget what I'd seen, but obviously I couldn't. So the next day, I went back to the shop, and that was when things really were. really started getting weird. The shop was closed, permanently. I got a cell phone number

off Google and called the number for it. Much to my surprise, the shopkeeper actually answered. I began to apologize furiously. I told her that I would give her back the oil. The next sound I heard over the phone sent chills down my spine. She started laughing. You've seen. You've seen. You've seen him, haven't you? Too scared to respond. I just stood there on the phone. They've taken an interest in you. What do you mean? I asked fearfully. It seems they can improve your life, because they want a better story, but you must entertain them. At least, that's what my husband thought. Shivering and almost in tears, I asked if I could make it stop. She told me flat out that I needed to try and give the oil to someone else before it ran out.

Then she rudely hung up the phone and I was left staring at the empty shop. I got back home later. Pulled the bottle out. And to my horror, it was empty. Clearly stressed beyond belief. I woke up again that night. A room was dark. But in the corner I saw a figure, his arms at his sides.

His head slightly tilted with a bizarre empty grin on his bag-like face His eyes, two little black holes I closed my eyelids tight and pretended he wasn't there Waiting for something to happen To my surprise, it never did At least not yet I haven't really slept a full night since then Only now, when I wake up and I know it's still night time

I don't open my eyes And I know I never will again So the evening just keeps rolling with one Great story after another And here's another one By the wonderful hyper-obscure This is, my daughter fell into a well

But I'm not sure what came back It was really her Featring Jensen And Musie's Modern Dreadfuls I never really spent a lot of time with my family I guess most of it falls on me. But I always had an excuse, though. I have to work.

Sorry, I'm busy right now. I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow. You know how it goes. I don't think I felt good about it, but at the same time, it couldn't be helped, you know? I had responsibilities and important stuff to take care of. Diane, my wife. Never saw it like that, of course.

She always went on and on about how I cared more about work than my family. And I did, to some extent. My family didn't need me home 24-7. They could manage without me. My company, under the hand, could not. Priorities. I guess that's why she stuck me with Amelia, when I had to drive up to Fletcher's Ridge to survey a property for a potential purchase. Priorities, she told me, get them fucking sorted. My wife was spending the day with her mother. Her health had been failing lately, and I suppose it was only a matter of time before the old back. kick the bucket. Good riddens, I say. Not sure my wife would agree, though. The property, an old abend farm, was generally in a bad state, but came with a viable shit bunch of land,

which I could easily flip for a massive profit to the county, with a little bit of fnagling. Apparently the place had some sort of dark history or other, but I never bothered with the details. If it didn't somehow interfere with my plans to level the ancient shit piled to the ground, I felt to see the importance. I let Amelia run around doing whatever kids do, whilst I pursed the state of the place. I guess she must have fallen into a well, almost instantly, because I didn't even make it to the piece of shit house before I heard her desperate cries for help. Help, Daddy!

I'm down here! I spent five minutes chasing her weirdly echoing voice. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. I was seriously starting to freak out. dark, sobbing thoughts running through my head. What would my wife think? Would she notice her daughter was gone? How do I spin this in my favor?

Daddy? I suddenly heard right below me, another step, and I would have tumbled right into the well with her. It was hidden more or less inside an overgrown brush. The roughly cut stones barely even visible if you didn't already know it was there. Honey! I yelled into the bush. Amelia, are you down there? Yes! She yelled back.

Help me up, Daddy. I wasn't much of a MacGyver. If that name even means anything to anyone anymore. But I quickly realized a rope would probably be the go-to utility for this particular task. Hang on, honey, I yelled. I'll get you up. I ran to the ramshackle looking outhouse and rummaged through the piles of old garbage. Before finally finding a coil of rope,

it looked like it was strong enough to cure an eight-year-old. I was in a state of rising panic, and I felt a nudge. not in my stomach, but I simply couldn't ignore. I paused a second to embrace the feeling, to let it fill every aspect of my being, before I returned to the well, quickly lowering down the rope. Can you grab it? I yelled. Yes. She yelled back.

I got it. It didn't take much to pull her out, but the well must have been pretty deep, because I had to use almost the entire length of rope. As soon as she was up, I hugged her tightly and carried her to the car. She seemed fine, though. Not a scratch in her body, not even any dirt on her white summer dress. I rejoice internally. My wife never had to know.

Let's go home, honey, I said. But let's not tell Mommy about this, okay? Wouldn't want to get or worried. I glanced periodically at her in the rear of your mirror on the way home, but she didn't even seem to be phased. Maybe she was in shock, or maybe kids are just better equipped to deal with shit like that. I shrugged mentally. It didn't really matter.

She was unharmed physically. That's the important part. Keep the innards on the inside, as they say. I started to worry already the moment we got home. Millie had been silent the whole ride, and she didn't seem like herself at all. That's the thing, though. I had absolutely no idea how she normally behave. Was she inquisitive or adventurous?

Or was she all quiet and introverted? Parents should know these things, shouldn't they? She sauntered out of the car without much of a glance my way and quietly disappeared inside. I followed hastily in my mind racing to connect years of missing dots. You want to watch some TV? I asked. I bet your favorite show is on. I flipped through the channels idly, sports, news, news, sports.

Nothing that seemed even remotely interesting for children. After a while, I just sat down with her on the couch, twiddling my thumbs and it became more and more apparent, that I was hopelessly out of my element. I like talking to faces. Amelia whispered. Inside out faces like in the ceiling. That's interesting, I offered. It wasn't, though.

It was very unnerving. She was staring at the ceiling, an intense, unflinching gaze that sent shivers down my spine. If you listen, really, really. carefully. She grimaced. You can hear them talking back. I nodded weakly and tried not to look directly at her. She had an active imagination.

That much seemed clear. How would I not notice this behavior earlier? I'll go fix with something neat, okay? I try to faint a warm smile. Are you hungry? She turned to me and nodded energetically. But I wasn't a normal nod, you know. It was like she threw her head all the way back.

and swung it forward with all their mind. Kids, right? I shrugged briefly, and hurried to the kitchen. So, what do you like? I asked. Peanut butter? Jelly? A combination thereof? Anything with a soul. Her voice whispered right into my ear.

Shit! I shrieked, nearly slicing off a finger as I lost control over the bread knife. I turned on the dime, almost losing it again. When I saw Muley standing right behind me, I felt not my stomach. tightening again. Amelia, honey?

I murmured. Are you okay? She was pallet snow and pallid face drained of all color. Her hair looked different too. How did it usually look?

It wasn't normally so sickly thin and graying, was it? And then there was the issue with her brown rotting teeth. We took dental hygiene pretty seriously in a household,

didn't we? I'm famished. She grinned. Need sustenance. She seemed unnaturally gaunt. Just skin stretched over bones, her dress hanging limply from her lethargic frame. She used to look healthy and lifelike, right? I'm sure she did.

Daddy? She gurgled hideously. Something living. She hadn't be sick, some bug or virus or something. Maybe she did hurt herself down in the well after all. Cut an infection possibly. Maybe she had rabies. I panicked.

My mind struggling to find references on what I should do next. Mom, I whispered. We need to call your mom. With trembling hands, I grabbed my phone and called Diane. She'd know what to do. She always knew what to do. Honey? Her soft voice answered.

Is everything okay at home? No. I mean, I don't know, maybe. I stammered. It's Amelia. Amelia smiled at the mention of her name. Only it wasn't. so much of a smile, as it was her lips curling back, really nothing but blackish flesh and

rotting teeth. I swallowed deeply. Amelia? Yes, Amelia, I yelled. Our daughter! There was a long pause, and I could hear her breathing heavily on the other end. Amelia was inches away from my face now. Her long, black tongue hanging out from her mouth limply. Her brown teeth were falling out one by one, as the expanding tongue demanded even more space. Noah? Diane said.

Are you okay? Have you been drinking? Doing shrooms again? What? No! I yelled. I really think there's something wrong with her daughter. Why is it so hard to believe?

Millie put her withering warm like hand in mine, squeezing gently. Her black hole eyes beckoned me to put down the phone. It's very hard to believe, Noah. Diane said, pausing momentarily. Because. We don't have any fucking kids. So just another quick reminder that you can find more information about all these wonderful channels in the video description. Now we move on to our next story by 242 Reads, A Chat in Chains, Featuring as the Raven Dreams and 242 Reeds.

It had been a long night for Detective Miller and his team. Their target had been on a killing spree over the last. last month, and when they had finally tracked it down, a thunderstorm had rolled in, knocking out the power in that part of the city. Despite things not going their way, they had managed to bring her in, and Miller had no plans to leave until he had got what he wanted. Miller walked into the interrogation room, a plain white folder in his hands, but it was pretty thick with the papers inside. A woman sat at the table, her hands chained to the table, and her feet chained to the floor. Her once nice blue dress was wet, and her hair hugged her face as water dripped to the ground.

Her cold, gray eyes looked at him when he got into sight. State your name for the record, Miller said after the red light on the wall started to blink. Maxine Evans. and said as she looked down at the chains around her wrists. He could tell she was trying to take in what was going on. Why am I here? Miller put down the file before sitting and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, opening it. You know why you're here, Miss Evans.

He put one of the sticks between his lips. Her eyes looked at it, and he could see the disgust form on her face. Can you not smoke in front of me, please? Oh, no, I can't. You made me chase you for a month. I will smoke as we talk. Now, let's get to it. Miller opened the folder, looking through the papers.

Now, Miss Evans... Call me, Max. She cut in, her right pointer fingernail tapping now on the desk. Okay, Max. Well, you've been leaving a blood trail in my city. His voice was ice cold. He found what he was looking for and put a photo in front of her. It was a man lying on the ground.

His eyes open and empty. What drew her eye right away was that his throat had been ripped out, and blood pulled around the wound. But not as much as one would think there should be. Max scanned the photo. a little bit. Who is this, and why are you showing me so much gore? Your first victim.

Most likely, you won't know his name since you randomly attacked him in an alley. In the photo, garbage was all around the body. Cigarette butts, broken glass, and even what looked to be a used diaper. I have no clue what you're talking about. Her voice was harsh. You have the wrong person. We don't have a person. What the hell does that mean?

The detective pointed at the throat. This was done by teeth, not a weapon. He took another drag from his cigarette. Only a few monsters rip out throats and eat the hearts. He blew the smoke out his nose while leaning back. That's why those chains are consecrated. Iron. Vampire Max. Max's eyes shot open. She looked down at the chains pulling on them, realizing that she was not able to break them. Her relaxed stance became more on guard.

You're not the police? Her voice was full of panic now. We never said that we were. He put a cigarette out. I mean, we were able to knock you out before you got here. He smiled slyly as he continued. You're in the Hunter's Guild, Max, and you won't be leaving here alive. Maxine looked at the chains and then him again. The Hunter's Guild. As in those who hunt what goes bump in the night. Miller nodded to confirm her statement.

So why didn't you kill me on the street? Miller shook his head. If we can take a target without killing and we can Talk? Well, we do that. But you have too much blood on your hands to let you live. Your taste for human blood is far too great. Max laughed a little. Oh, but don't vampires need blood to live? Without it, we go mad. Lose our minds. You humans just hate that you're not on top of the food chain. They can drink animal blood. And don't even have to kill to live. He pulled out more photos.

Ten dead bodies on the table. Trash all around them. You didn't need to rip their throats out and eat their hearts. You chose that. You chose to end their lives, so we choose to end yours, Miss Evans. Thunder shook the walls as a lightning bolt hit right outside the building. Within a second, the lights went out. The emergency lights kicked on and lit the room in red.

Miller looked at his watch as he waited for the backup power to come on. You know, targets can look like humans, and it becomes easy to get into an organization like this. As Miller looked back at her, he heard bones cracking and breaking. She was becoming taller. Weh, there is no full moon, Miller said, getting to his feet. The chains holding her were only iron, not silver. James couldn't find the silver ones.

The light in the room went out, and he could no longer see her. He heard the chains fall to the ground. You've never met a pure-blood werewolf before. Loud steps could be heard moving towards him. him. You smokers are so gross. It seems to night you won't be leaving here alive. Miller let out a scream before he felt her teeth on his throat, and he knew what would happen next. Coming up to the four-hour mark, I do so hope you've enjoyed listening to me and my good friends here in this video this evening. Just a few more stories to go. Next up, we have a little.

work by author Jojo. Looking for a good time. Yet Casey Lacey on the line, featuring Possessed Radio and Spirit Voices. What's your name? Her voice was sweet when it reached my ear, just as I had expected it to be. It was the kind of voice you'd hear on TV ads, the kind that lulls you into buying a new pan that you didn't need, but that made you reconsider life insurance. I sat on the couch for a moment just staring at the dark wall. I couldn't believe I was put into a room that looked so worn down. I couldn't believe I was even hearing her voice.

It's Jack, I replied. I think I was contemplating using a fake name, but decided it wouldn't separate me from the shame. Looking for a good time? Get Casey Lacey on the line. The ad repeated in my head. A woman laying in the bed talking into the phone as the phone number flashed on the screen.

Bright red numbers with the white outline that seared into my memory. I had seen the ad plenty of times before during late-night television. Never had I thought about calling the number. But there I was, sitting on the crumbling couch, phone in hand. Wow. She responded. I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

My breath wafting against the fingers held in front of my lips. Remnants of chewed nails still in my mouth. It was funny because I had already accepted those charges and put in my credit card number, so it wasn't like I was expecting someone else. I've never done anything like this before, and I said, almost ignoring her formality, and I could hear her laugh on the other end of the line. Never thought I would be lonely enough to need to, I blurted out.

Not putting thought into the words escaping me. Her voice was so smooth, each word dripping into reason, one after the other. It was almost enough to calm my bouncing leg. She continued. her voice growing more sultry, more alluring by the second. If I was a sailor, I'd swear Casey was a siren. I needed fun.

It had been a while since I managed to find a semblance of happiness. Ever since my wife left me, taking little Andy with her. I miss seeing their faces. I tried calling them every day, but the call was never accepted. I called her numbers so much that eventually, I just ended up dialing another phone number from my memory. Casey Lacey. I'd like that, I said, standing up. I pace around whenever I'm on the phone, and sitting down was making me too anxious. Walking around the room, I looked down. My sock slowly becoming darker from the grime of the room. Disgusting, I thought to myself. I'd rather be

anywhere else, but I had nowhere else to go. I just had to sit in the filthy room and hope Casey could take my mind off things. All right. Well, why don't you tell me, Casey provided. The way she said fun was so heavily saturated with a suggestive tone that I could almost feel the phone get heavier in my hand. I replied, I told her things that I and my wife used to do together. The things she would say to me that would make me happy. Things that would turn me on. As we talked more and more, I could feel my heart beating in my chest.

The room was so still that I could almost hear it. My nerves were rising, and I paced around quicker. Soon enough, my socks had become almost completely black. Disgusting. Then Casey asked me about why my wife had left. It took me off guard, but I think she could tell I was distracted. I wasn't exactly playing along with the fantasy she was weaving for me. I told her about how I smoked, way too much.

One night I was sitting on the couch smoking, something I did far too often. Someone had knocked at the door and I got up to answer it. But I had forgotten my cigarette in the arm of the couch. It was my fault. I don't blame her for leaving me. I was always reckless like that. Never really changed. Even when there was a newborn in the house, I concluded.

My words drifting into the painfully dry air. I stood still in the room and looked around at where my carelessness had brought me, where my decisions pulled me. Uh-huh. Did you her wife? Her voice slowly morphed away from the silk that I had grown accustomed to over the past half hour. Is that like this?

She finished her sentence, but the words continued bouncing around in my head. I might have been grief-stricken, but the way Casey mimicked my wife's voice was uncanny. So much so that I could feel a tear forming in my eyes. How did you? I began to question before cutting myself off. She couldn't possibly know what my wife sounded like. Maybe I was so desperate to hear her voice again that I tricked myself into hearing it. I thought, until she spoke again.

Do you miss me, Jack? Casey spoke, mimicking my wife once again. I've heard my wife say that before, and somehow Casey copied each cadence of her voice. I'm so sorry. She continued. I felt a heat rising in my stomach. I remembered screaming at my wife in her bedroom the last time I saw her.

She was just laying there, refusing to respond to me. Casey gave me no time to understand her little gift. She was digging into my life and pulling out the things I so desperately wanted to hear from my wife. But the words I thought that I wanted to hear started causing pain in my chest. The memories of my life with her were too heavy, and now she was being replicated by some voice on the phone. Okay, that's enough. Let's do something else, I spoke, finally responding to Casey. The hot air escaping my lips.

My pacing had stopped, and all I could do was stared down at the dark floor below my feet. Come to me, Jack. She said, still in my wife's voice, her words were flirtatious, but also commanding, like I didn't have a say in the matter. I said, stop. I don't know why, why I couldn't hang up the phone. Maybe it was because it was her voice. I couldn't hang up as long as my wife's voice came from the other line.

She said, more forceful, more aroused. The words hiding within her heightened moaning. It sounded just like we were in bed together. I could picture my wife laying next to me, flashing me a quick smile back when things were still good. Stop, God damn it. I shouted into the phone. Just as my words came out of my mouth, I settled myself down. Casey calmly responded to me.

Her voice returning did the smooth one she had when she first picked up. The TV ad. I could feel the phone in my hand getting hotter as she laughed once again on the other line. Her voice sounded so confident, so sure of herself that she was going to be. to catch me with something. I thought back to the ad. The bright flashing numbers I'd see late at night. After my dad had fallen to sleep and I thought I could see some dirty stuff on late night

TV when I was a kid. I'd seen those ads when I was a kid. That's right, baby. Casey Lacey is dead. Her voice no longer like silk. It was like spikes digging into my head. And when you call one of us? This time Casey's voice had shifted back to my wife's.

or rather what I was hearing was my wife's voice. Come to me, Jack. She spoke once more before I dropped my phone to the floor. It clattered against the ashy floor as I stumbled backward, but her voice didn't stop. She continued the phrase, getting louder and louder with each passing, almost forcing me to think back on that night.

Sitting on the couch, tired from work, I grabbed a cigarette and started smoking. I could see how her baby bundled up on the couch next. to me there was a knock at the door and I got up to answer it just some kid at the wrong house I was so tired I wasn't thinking looking over at the baby she was so fast to sleep I figured I could just use the bathroom quickly the couch must have gone up so fast maybe I fell asleep in the bathroom for a moment and was so tired by the time the smoke was creeping under the bathroom door it was too late I tried rushing to

the couch where my little girl was, but instead I saw my wife. She was just standing by the couch, looking down at the roaring fire, almost ignoring the flames creeping around her. Without a word, she just turned around and headed back upstairs. She laid down in her bed and refused to move. Any time I touched her, she would fight me. She didn't say a word to me the whole time, but I screamed. I told her I was sorry, and that she could still make it out. All the oxygen I wasted yelling at her had me passing out on the floor. Being on the floor saved my life. I was away from the smoke, but my wife had been taken by it.

And nothing the firefighters or paramedics did brought her back. Night after night, I returned to the charred home, sitting on the couch and just being there, where I deserved to be, calling my wife hoping one day her charred and melted foam would pick up. And then? I called Casey. Listening to my wife yelling at me to go with her, I could see the flames creeping out from under the darkness.

Like they were called by her voice, conducted by her will. They of course started on the couch. I could feel the heat, and I couldn't move. I wanted to see her again. Her voice continued, and I could hear other voices under it. They were all screaming, trying to get the attention to the people they left behind. The fire crawled its way to my mind. hand, licking at the fingertips at my jagged and chewed fingernails. For a moment I let it reach

me. I began to let the fire crawl across my skin. The sensation wasn't like I was expecting. It wasn't hot. It was soothing. Like it would be easy for me to just slip away, staring at my chipped fingernails. Disgusting, I said to myself, echoing what my wife would say whenever she saw me chewing them. Maybe it was because I didn't fight the flames. that I was ready to accept retribution for what I had done to my family, because I was ready to step through that door, that not being able to would be my ultimate punishment. As the flames took me, wrapped my body like a blanket, and within a blink, and it was morning. The sun creeping through the windows shining over all the ash and burned furniture, I had its kind of beauty.

I can still feel it, the soothing fire just under my skin, soaked into my pores that never-ending sensation of being just a few inches from the burner. It's a feeling I'll have until I can feel much hotter flames. I tried calling Casey again, but just like my wife, no one ever picks up. Being allowed to hear her one more time feels like a blessing and a curse. I know I'll see her again someday, but judging by the things I heard those other voices saying, I imagine it is in such a fun place. So now we move on to our penultimate story of the evening. My friend is odd by two 42 reads, featuring Madame Raven and Midnight Chills. I had a friend in high school named Jack.

He was always very odd, even for a teenager. I remember him being interested in pimples of all things. If you had one on your face, he had to pop it. No matter what you did, he'd be all over you to pop it. pop it. We all just put up with it. He was a really nice guy besides this. So we just let him pop our zits and go back to what he was doing. It was the last month of our final year in high school. We were talking over lunch about what we were wearing from prom and all that when Jack walked up. He stopped dead and just stared at me. I knew this look too well. I had a zit and he wanted to pop it.

Please not today, Jack, I said. But it'll only take a second. He responded as he moved closer to me. No, really, ouch! I screamed and slapped his hand away. He had reached out to touch my Zit, and it hurt a lot just to be touched. I don't know how I hadn't realized it was there until this moment. It was a bad one, and it would have to wait.

Oh, I really should pop it if it hurts that much. His voice seemed a bit off. No, Jack, stop. You only touched it and it hurt that much. Just wait till tomorrow, I said, putting my hand between the Zit and his eyes. Jack pressed his lips and tried to reach out again. But I got up out of my chair. He wouldn't look away from me.

His eyes fixed on that Zit that my hand had hidden. You know what? Forget this. I grabbed my things and left the lunch area. Jack went to follow me, so I headed to the girl's washroom. I knew he wouldn't follow me in there. I looked in the mirror and on my chin was a very red blemish. I touched it and the pain was intense.

This one was bad, the worst I'd ever had. I stayed in the bathroom texting with my friends and asked another girl when she entered if Jack was still out there. He was. So I spent my whole lunch in that bathroom. Once the bell rang, I waited until I was already late before leaving. Jack was gone, but the way he acted was so odd. I got into trouble with my teacher,

but I just told them I ate something that didn't agree with me. Since it wasn't normal for me to be late, the teach let it slide. I also didn't have any classes with Jack, so I just beeline it to all my classes the rest of the day to stay away from him. My parents were away for the weekend. and some kind of business thing, so I was home alone. I made myself something to eat, watched YouTube before heading to bed.

I hadn't been feeling great all week, so I just wanted to rest and see if it helped. In the middle of the night, I woke up to hearing my front door open. I'd always been a light sleeper. I heard soft footsteps downstairs. They moved to the steps and headed up them. I won't lie. It took me longer than it should have to figure out that this was bad. I was never into scary movies or anything.

As the footsteps moved up the stairs, I got out of my bed silently. Looking around my room, I didn't have anything in it that could be used as a weapon. So I grabbed my phone off the stand and got into my closet, shutting it just before my bedroom door opened. I really couldn't see much through those slacks. in the middle of the door. The person huffed as they entered my room. I could hear them. Looking around and stopping at my bed,

I could see a figure all in black. They moved around my bed, looking around, careful not to step on anything. I lost sight of them as they headed to my door. I held my cell phone close to my chest, but my phone started to ring. I tried to turn it off, but before I did,

I saw Jack's name show up on my screen. Damn him for calling me at this time. My closet doors opened, and the man grabbed me and pushed me onto my desk chair. I tried to get up, but they punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of me. All the fight in me gone for an instant as they put handcuffs on my arms behind the chair

and then some of my legs. When I tried to move again, they just punched me in the stomach. once more and used rope to tie the two cuffs together so there was no way I could move or get away. I called the cops. They're on the way. I yelled as best as I could at the figure. A man, I guess, at this point. No, you didn't. They said back, with a voice I knew. They took their mask off and you guessed it. It was Jack. Jack stood there an odd smile on his face, like a kid getting something. They'd been asked for for months.

Plus, even if you had, it won't stop me. He moved closer to me. What the hell, Jack? I tried to move back, but the clothes around my chair stopped me from rolling, and I really couldn't too much. Just hold still. This will be over soon. He reached out to my face and touched the Zit.

The pain was intense. Was he really here because I wouldn't let him pop my Zip? Zit? He started to push on it, and I screamed in pain. After a few seconds, the pain faded as my Zit popped. He let out a sigh of relief as it popped. That's better. Now your beautiful face isn't ruined by such a terrible Zit. He said with a smile, Will you let me go now? Jack's face twitched for a moment.

Why would I do that? I can finally have you to myself. Before I could say anything, he put a rag over my face. All I remember before I passed out was him saying, I finally have you. It'll make sure your face is always perfect. And so as we move on to the final story this evening, a very special shout-out to all of the wonderful

storytellers who've joined me this evening. But special thanks, indeed, to creepy pastor Adam, who put in a lot of work editing these stories, and to Musie's modern dreadfuls for her patience in organizing this whole thing. Without you guys in particular,

this just wouldn't have happened. Now, without further ado, I love my voodoo slave by Hood Horror, featuring Hood Horror and Disturbed Kay. You know, I learned to not cry about it like some of these other guys out here, man. A bunch of babies, like, looking for their, you know,

their mommy to come and cuddle them or whatever. That's what I do. I coddle my babies. Make them feel safe. Make them feel warm. Make them feel protected. That's what I do right before I snatch their tongues out. It's easy to be lied to when you are in love because you already know they lie.

You already know it. You just look past it. you're trying to see the good and you're trying to look past the evil you know look past the sin and all that and it ain't nothing nobody can tell you to make you see them for who they is you just got to see them for who they is yourself and you will see them for who they is eventually you just have to wait them out don't get in a rush that's how you mess up just take your time and the true them will show sooner later. Now, I know what you're thinking. You probably ask yourself, what was he thinking? And you were

thinking my 30 years or whatever, you know, I would learn not to fall for a cute smile and a big old wide booty. But, no, man, that big old wide booty still, still got, you know, a hole on me. Why do they chase the cat so crazy? It must be the dog in me. And it's a whole lot of dog up in me, man. Like, I'm more wilder than a rock wilder and greater than any Dane shout than I'm trying to tell you. But that's what I always had a hard time realizing. It's not always about the biggest, baddest dog that survive. You know, it ain't always the biggest baddest dog that survive in this doggy dog world.

It's the dog that realizes when it's barking up the wrong tree. Now, it was raining cats and dogs out. outside. Even the dope fiends and stuff was up inside they holes and everybody was looking for shelter from this storm that was coming except for me. That night I had my mind made up. I tried to stop him. You know I did. I begged him. I knew he wasn't going to make it through the night. I know he wouldn't come back to me in one piece.

That's the problem with these men though. They so stupid. So much pride. don't they know that pride comes before the fall? The good thing about falling into a hole is that you say from falling into another hole just falling back into the same hole again and again trying to climb out of it. At least you know where you're at. But that's, you know, that's what I was willing to do, man.

I was willing to pull it all on the line. I was willing to risk it all for her, man. I know, you know, some folk going to call me stupid or whatever, but guess what? You see a stupid boy slap a stupid one. I bet you ain't gonna do that. Don't get me confused with the rest of these storytellers. You know, I ain't never just tell us stories.

I'll fold you up like a lawn chest show. I ain't the one. See, that's his problem. Always got to poke out his chest. Always got to show he the man. I've been telling him it's going to get him killed one day. He didn't believe me, though. I never know what I'm talking about as far.

as he's concerned. See, a woman is viewed as weak. I used that to my advantage. I told him about the guy who's been harassing me. I told him about the text messages, phone calls, emails. I told him, and he reacted exactly how I knew he would. I feel good with that pistol in my hand, man. You know, I never admit it now.

I never admit it, but they're good. That gun give me some power, man. And when I was younger, I was quick to, you know, raise my fists up and square up with somebody. But all since she gave me that thump-a, man, I ain't never looked back. You know, when I ain't got my piss with me, I feel naked, man. I feel like I'm all alone without it. You know, the same way I feel when I'm without her. When she ain't with me, I just feel like I'm just alone, man.

And she didn't help me so much, man. You know, I used to make a little money selling weed and all that junk. But, you know, she got me on a whole other level now. But, of course, you know, mugs just can't be decent and let me sell my little drugs in peace, man. You know, some guy she said she used to date found out, you know, she was with me and now he acting a fool, man. Some older guy or something. You know, it's always the same old story, man. Somebody got to get up in their feelings, man.

It's a million women's up out here. Why you got to mess with mine? You know, God, dang, man. You gotta come messing with my little place of peace, man. I finally get somebody that I really, you know, got some true feelings for. And he got to get mad and start hating on me. Bro, go get you somebody. Dang, y'all here's your little run now it's over with.

See, this is the stuff I be talking about, man. I'm his mama and his daddy. I feel the void left in his life. And in return, he belongs to me. He worships me. When I come home, He takes off my shoes and rubs my feet, cooks my dinner, runs my bath water, candles, whine, all that. Since I gave him the gun, he has changed so much.

He got so much confidence now. He's my little toy soldier. I wind to him up and set him loose, and he runs wild. I make all my plans sound like his idea. I may call his ideas sound like the greatest plan ever. This guy that disrespecting my woman, it's over, bro. He's going to get it. This is all I got to say.

This is all it is to it. He got to get it. I'm just waiting on the lights to go out, up in his house, and then I probably give him about another 30, 45 minutes, and I'm going to sneak up in the, and the best part about all this, I'm going to do it so smooth he ain't never going to know. He going to go to sleep in his life.

bed and he gonna wake up in hell. And I sat up watching that window, waiting for the lights to go off. Like I barely even blink, man. You know, I hardly even took a dang breath, bro. And all I kept telling myself was, I'm gonna show my baby that ain't nobody gonna disrespect her long as she with me. And that's the bottom line, man. Period.

You know, I like the rain, man. I always feel like it washed away. all the dirt from the streets, man. I feel like the rain always get a street's a fresh start. I always get a hood like a brand new star, man. But the hood always get right back dirty. I don't know all the details. I just know that he came in and closed the door and just stood there.

I heard him, but I stayed away. I knew he probably needed a moment. After a while, he came where I was soaking wet. I think he had been crying. But maybe it was just the rain in his eyes. I woke up staring at a dark ceiling. I had dreams with people in them that I knew, but I couldn't recognize him. And they just kept telling me how much I didn't change.

Just relax. Makes this easy. Easy for both of us. I tried to move, but I couldn't. What is this? What is you doing? I can't move. And she stood over me.

Like as beautiful as always. And she had on this long black dress and that was like real like Lacey and the drug on the flow and stuff. And she showed me some paperwork. You know, I wasn't really taking the time to read it, but I've seen a whole lot of zeros on there. I have a confession to make.

The man you killed, I had an arrangement with. He used to be a lover of mine. At least he thought so. But I used him. Tricked him into life insurance policies. And now I'm going to leave you and live my life probably somewhere near New Mexico, far, far away from the hood. Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Like, wait, you can take me with you. like jeway man what are you even what you even talking about like I'm down I'm with you like give me a chance to be with you like what are you talking about

I love you man I ain't never love nobody like the way I love you man me to meet my own mama what like what are you talking about I put a root on you that Kool-aid you love so much it's because a few drops of my blood

be in it I'm part of you I'm a beautiful fat booty cancer growing inside you. I do love you though, but we're talking about a million dollars. For a girl like me, and that kind of money comes at a serious cost.

She picked up her knife, but she couldn't do it. She just stared at me, and I can tell like she was fighting back tears. Let me prove myself to you, like whatever it takes for me to be with you, I'm willing to do it. Like, don't you see that?

Like, I don't just killed some man over, could you say he was talking junk to you? Like, tell you the truth, I don't even know if he was talking junk to you. I just killed him because you freaking say and do it, man. Like, what are you talking about? Yeah, you got me tied up some kind of day. I tell you what's wrong with? I love you, man.

I love you. Like, I don't understand this. You know I love you. Let me prove myself. Please, like, bro, whatever it takes. There's a ritual. I'm willing to do it. The only true test to see how much.

a man is willing to give. And if you want to submit to me, be my slave forever, it's the only way. I know you want to because you didn't ask to be set free. You asked, could you prove to me how much you loved me?

Hey, look, I don't know nothing about all that hoodoo voodoo, but you do whatever you got to do. Okay, I'm with it. I'm ready. My baby, I have to crush your manhood. I mean, for real, I'll have to break you even more than you are broken now. And once I get done crushing you, then I know you will be my slave, my zombie.

I'm sorry, but it's the only way I know you will be mine forever. And so once again, 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.