Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep222: Episode 222: American Ghost Stories

Episode Date: February 27, 2025

American ghost stories wield a unique power that captures our imagination and taps into the nation’s diverse and often turbulent history. They blend regional folklore, urban legends, and historical events into narratives that evoke both nostalgia and fear, reminding us of the unseen forces lurking just beyond the veil of everyday life. These tales resonate deeply, reflecting the cultural anxieties and mysteries of America, and they continue to evolve, captivating audiences with their haunting blend of truth and myth. Tonight’s collection of stories is by Jake Beach, shared with me so I could read them all for you.  These are available for purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/Nameless-Jacob-Beach/dp/1523225815

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Book an eye exam at Spexsavers.cavers.ca.caps are provided by independent optometrists. Visit Spexsavers.caver to learn more. Welcome to Doctor Creepin's Dungeon. American ghost stories wield a unique power that captures our imagination and taps into the nation's diverse and often turbulent history. They blend regional folklore, urban legends and historical events into narratives that evoke both nostalgia and fear, reminding us of the unseen forces lurking just beyond the veil of everyday life. These tales resonate deeply, reflecting the cultural anxieties and mysteries of America, and they continue to it. evolve, captivating audiences with their haunting blend of truth and myth, as we shall see in

tonight's collection of tales. Now as ever before we begin a word of caution, tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Parish. As soon as she stepped out of the door, she could smell the autumn air. The smell of dried leaves filled her nostrils. It was her favourite part of the year. The moon lit up the ground enough to see her feet as she walked along the dark ground. She took the opportunity to watch her shoes

as they stamped down on the leaves, crunching with each step, punctuated only occasionally by the chirp of some distant bird or insect. She found the path with no issues. Once she was more than a few feet into the woods, so she found herself softening her steps. as if not to be heard by something, and she felt her palms beginning to moisten with sweat. She tugged at her backpack, immediately remembering its additional weight and feeling suddenly taxed by it.

Apparently, she had overestimated how courageous she would be walking through the woods in the dark. She held on to the end of her scarf, interlacing her fingers into the fringes, as if holding someone's hand for security. Despite her fear, she was excited to be going out. She'd never gone on a late-night photography excursion before. She'd heard about an old, abandoned church online, and it ended up being surprisingly close to her home. It didn't take too long for the thin canopy of the forest to begin diminishing the light from the moon

so that her path was not quite as lit up as it had been. The wind also began to pick up, seemingly more and more as she progressed deeper into the woods. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. She had never been this deep into the woods, though. So, maybe, she thought, this was normal. The girl began to get nervous that she'd taken a wrong turn, but she continued walking, each step more hesitant and fearful than the last. She looked around for landmarks, but the only things she saw were trees.

She had not left the path yet. Knowing that she could make it back home, she continued onward. She zipped up her jacket as the air grew colder around her. Scanning the area to make sure she was not just walking past the church, she noticed that the path had, at some point, faded from beneath her feet. She turned around in a quick panic, hoping to see the path, only to realize that she had noticed too late. The path had gone. She decided then it was time to go back.

She did one quick turnaround to make sure she was not just making a mistake, but when she did, she saw what she had come for. Directly in front of her was the church. The steeple rose as high as summer. the nearby trees, but she could still see the sky through several holes within its roof and walls. The silhouette of a crooked bell hung within the belfry. The entryway consisted of two large doors that appeared to open from the centre. The windows, which probably had stained glass in them at one point, were just empty holes in the walls, having been broken, either from weather or mischievous kids.

The sides, to her surprise, were pitch black and looked charred. A few headstones, each in great disrepair, were in the yard of the church as well. She took a few steps toward one of the stones, unshouldering her backpack to take out her camera and gear. She set up a small tripod on the ground, placed a camera on it, and took a photo of one of the stones. She checked the screen on the camera and saw a strange light, like a glare on the lens. She took a second photo and the glare was still there, only larger, closer. It had a vague shape to it. She took one more and the shape was recognizable.

It looked like a hand. She changed the angle of it, assuming she was getting some glare from the moon or off of a piece of shattered glass, took a photo and the glare was gone. She took the camera off of the tripod and walked so that she was directly facing the church. After finding the right angle, she pressed the button and looked at the screen. The glare was back and its shape was even more like that of her hand. Confused, she looked up from the screen and at the church. When she raised her head, she saw the glare again, and it was, in fact, a hand.

A ghostly white hand. It hung, disembodied, directly in front of her face. She stared at it, mouth open, and screamed. It lunged for her. She dodged it, jumping to the side, forgetting her camera. It appeared in front of her again, and she saw that it was no longer disembodied. Its owner, just as ghostly, was now attached to it. It was a strange form, slightly human, but not quite.

Its hands were bright white, as was its face. The rest of its body was more translucent, consisting of a thither. sterile grey strands, creating nebulous connections between the hands and face. The face was as ambiguous as the rest of it, but visibly angry. Its eyes and mouth were oversized and gaping, seemingly forcing fear directly into the girl. As soon as she gained control of her body, she ran directly to the church and hoped that the doors were unlocked. She rushed through and closed the door quickly behind her. She turned to continue running and find somewhere to hide,

but as soon as she did, she was met with a startling sight. She was not a lo. There were several people in the pews, staring forward as though listening to some sermon. However, the church was completely silent. There was a man standing up for, front, right around where the pulpit should be, were this church not so decrepit? The man had a grey pallor. He looked as though all the life had been drawn out of him years ago,

yet there he stood, mouth open, staring off into the crowd, gesticulating slightly every few moments. He appeared to be preaching, yet no sound came from his mouth. The girl could not believe what she was seeing. This was impossible. She was stricken with absolute terror. First the figure outside and now an entire group. She could not force herself to move, not that she wanted to. She stared, trying to control her breath and her voice, but a small, barely perceptible shriek, sounding more like a squeak, came out of her throat. she quickly closed her mouth, hoping that none of this peculiar congregation had noticed. She kept her eyes on them.

The pastor was the first to react. He closed his mouth and moved his body to face toward the door. Each member of the congregation as well began turning their torsos and head around to look at where the noise came from. They moved so slowly that she was uncertain if they were even moving, but all of their faces soon became visible. All of their countenances were contorted into terrible expressions, as though they were all suffering some immense physical and emotional pain. While there were about eight entities sitting in the seats, they only had about three eyes between them. The rest of the sockets were empty, containing nothing but a deep blackness. Some of their mouths were also open, and dark in the same manner as their eyes.

None of them made a noise, not even their clothes shuffled on their twisting bodies. She was staying as still as she possibly could, though they obviously saw her. To her disbelief and comfort, they began turning back around. And the pastor opened his mouth again and continued his mysterious sermon. She took a step forward, and she saw, gladly, that they did not respond this time. This, along with no sign of the creature outside trying to get in, allowed her to breathe a bit more easily. Behind the pastor, there was an open door that led to a little. another room. That was her goal. She did not want to risk going out of the same door that she

came in, as she was sure it was still out there, though she somehow could not see out of any of the windows in the place. Only thick blackness was visible through them. As well, she certainly did not want to stay in this room any longer than she absolutely had to. Slowly, she continued her walk down the centre aisle between the pews. As she walked by the seats, a few of the patrons did turn again and stare at her, but they seemed not to mind her presence, regardless of the horrified looks on all of their faces. They were both men and women in attendance, and even two children. The men were in dirty, tattered suits, the women in moth-eaten, wrinkled dresses. The children wore miniature versions of the clothes the adults were wearing.

All of the clothes, she noticed first of all, seemed to be fashions from quite some time ago, though several of them appeared not to be from the same era. However, what most interested her was that they all showed signs of having been burned. She remembered that the church looked burned down on the outside. She could not understand how. they didn't get out the building was only two rooms with easily accessible doors she walked on getting quickly used to these strange onlookers she even found herself muttering and excuse me as she walked between the pastor and his congregation in her newly achieved calm she was able to look around a bit

she surmised that were it not for the fire this would be a beautiful church The pews had beautiful carvings on their sides, or what was left of them, and there were ornate, though rusted, candelabas on the walls with lit candles in them, though the flames look strange and unnatural, casting a light that seemed too bright for the tiny flames. Apart from these mysterious lights, it reminded her of a quaint little country church. She made it into the back room beyond the sanctuary, and she felt herself draw in a breath sharply. There were three people, women, she assumed by their shapes, crouched around in an attempted circle, frenetically moving their heads and hands. Their posture looked as though they were trying to pray, but their movements made it seem like they were looking for something.

She thought that if she stood very still, she could hear a mumbling sound coming from the strange ceremony. But stillness for more than a few moments let her know that this noise was only in her mind. Just the sight of them caused her heart to race and her breath to leave her chest. Having lost the calmness she'd gained from the previous room, she looked at them carefully and she could see that their clothes, and hair too had signs of having been burned, try as she might not to make a sound. She could not avoid stepping on a board which protested loudly under her foot. The movement of the strange ladies stopped, and they looked over toward the sound.

Their faces were even worse than those she'd previously seen. Much of their hair had been burned off. None of them had any eyes or noses, and their mouths had been melted shut into the most terrible frowns she'd ever seen. She held still, due in large part, to the fear gripping her body, hoping that they would soon go back to their previous activity, like the people in the pews. To her dismay, however, each of them quickly crawled over to where the creek came from. Holding her breath, she hopped out of their path. Holding her breath, she hopped out of their path, trying her best to absorb the shock of her jump by bending her knees and waist. The women once again moved into a circle and began their worship or search, whichever it may have been.

She kept staring at them, unable to look away as though her gaze was anchored to their terrible forms. When she was finally able to pull her eyes away from them, she caught sight of another doorway and began creeping towards it, making sure to test her weight gradually on each board she stepped on. She felt a breeze coming from this direction, and as she got closer she was able to make out some moonlit foliage, so she knew that this door led outside. She continued toward it, but not without trepidation.

That thing that chased her into this church had not followed her in, so it could very well still be outside, and probably was. The door seemed miles away from her. After painstakingly tiptoeing to the door, she slowly, carefully opened the door that led to the outside. A small, cold breeze blew in onto her hand. The cool, comforting air of autumn belied the horror that she knew was present in these woods. The breeze increased suddenly, ripping the door from her hand. As it swung, she saw a small twister of the reds and yellows of the leaves that had fallen, held together by the same tenuous grey matter that she had seen between the hands and face

she encountered just minutes ago in front of the church. As she stared, she felt a change in presence behind her. She looked back and saw that the three forms which were just searching the floor were now huddled together in the corner of the room, staring at one another, yet glancing outside, half covering their faces, watching for the object of their terror, yet hoping not to see it. Their fear soon became her own

as she watched the terrible swirls grow and darken. The face appeared within the centre. It resembled the strange face from before, but was far, far worse. In and of itself, its appearance was not terribly frightful, and yet it filled her with terror, the likes of which she had never before felt, far beyond that which she thought humanly possible to endure. Its eyes grew and became deep voids of nothingness, however no light could be seen

coming from behind it. The mouth, likewise, grew much larger and into a sadistic sort of grin, as leaves and sticks careened around the strange face, trees bending in toward the epicenter of this being. Such an evil, terrible presence, unimaginable. Surmising that the church must be safer than outside, she mustered every bit of willpower she had and ran back, past the three women carrying in the corner, into the sanctuary. She continued, past the pews, now empty, as the congregation sat together behind the pulpit, as if trying to hide, and toward the door. She tried to open it, hoping this small head start would be enough to escape the entity which plagued all of them.

She pounded on the door, but it would not budge. Scared and frustrated, the girl let out a scream. As if on cue, every flame on each candle in the place grew at once, becoming several inches high, licking the air violently. She looked over at the huddled mass of people. Their faces, now in the bright light, seemed more pathetic than unnerving. The light, she noticed, was steadily increasing.

She took a glance over at the candles and saw that their flames were growing too large. The wax itself was being consumed by fire, dripping flaming globs onto the floor. law, which was now also on fire, though already burned to charcoal. The flame spread quickly, moving on to devour the pews and walls of the church. She looked again at the people. They were staring at the flame, preoccupied, and had seemingly forgotten about the terror outside. All of them stared, but one, one of the smaller ones, a child.

This child looked only at the girl. Once the child realised he had made eye contact with the girl, despite his lack of any actual eyes, he gestured to the girl to join the group. She was hesitant. While they seemed harmless so far, she still feared their grotesque appearance. The heat of the fire, however, could now be felt,

but the group of parishioners was first. from the flame than she was, so she quickly but cautiously joined them, seating herself next to the boy. He held out his hand as if requesting to hold it. Once again, finding herself struggling with fear, she knew she would not be making it out of these woods alive, so she convinced herself to hold the boy's hand. To her surprise, it actually gave her some comfort even though his skin, if one could call it that, was rough and flaked away at her touch. The congregation, and now the girl as well, tried their best to squeeze against the wall, delaying the inevitable as the all-consuming fire inch closer to their position in the room.

Her entire mind was wracked by the pain and heat, engulfing her feet and legs. This was by far the worst way she could imagine to go, though she would no longer have to imagine it. However, it was still better than being outside, subjected to the horrible wrath that awaited any who would dare exit. She could feel her consciousness fading as the pain became too much for her. But, for a brief time, her entire body, went numb. Shock was setting in. The doors, which had previously been immovable, then crashed open.

She stared out the door and saw the swirling leaves caught in the torrent of the horrible presence which seemed to rule the forest beyond the confines of these walls. Its face appeared, unholy and twisted, staring at her and the others, apparently, Apparently laughing as she faded into unconsciousness while her body was taken by the flames. Ultimately, adding another member to this place of worship's otherworldly parish. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price's Right Fortune Pick is only available at BetMGM Casino.

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He'd been driving for hours, and he still had hours more to go. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, but his GPS knew. It hadn't spoken to him for quite some distance, though. These roads were so long that it was sometimes more than an hour between turns. The drive, however daunting, or was beautiful at least. This road was taking him to some of the highest points in the country. The dusting of snow on the ground made it feel very picturesque, and the fact that it was still snowing.

only exaggerated the effect. The mountains seemed to be climbing one another as the range stretched out passed beyond where he could see. They looked so sheer to him and he was amazed that the roads could be as smooth as they were. Man has surely conquered the mountain, he said to the air.

The sunset reflected in his rear-view mirror. There was something almost poetic about seeing the darkness of night ahead while still being able to see the light in the mirror. He pulled over, got out of his car and looked back at it, taking in all the brilliant reds, pinks and oranges of the day's end. As he got back into his car, he smiled at the warmth coming from the vents. He wasn't outside long, but the cold, crisp air cooled his skin quickly.

He signalled, pulled back into his lane and was once again on his way. He wasn't sure why he signalled. He hadn't seen a car on the road for a couple of hours now. The snow was beginning to pile up along the landscape and was even starting to stick to the road. He wasn't used to that, so he shifted to a lower gear and made sure to drive slowly. The snow started to fall a bit faster,

looking like shooting stars within the shine of the headlights. As he topped one of the smaller mountains peaks, he realized that there were tire tracks in the snow. He didn't remember seeing them before, and he knew he hadn't seen any cars anywhere. Maybe they were pulled over for some reason. Campers or hikers will often find a spot that looks good, park their car, and then wander away from it, not returning until they're done with their outing.

Once he remembered this, he thought nothing of the tracks. He followed them for quite some time, which wasn't surprising, considering the lack of connecting roads on this route. What he did find surprising was that he saw no other sign of this car. From the road, you could see much of the road twisting and turning over and between the other mountains, with only a few blind spots here and there. He, however, saw no headlights or tail lights anywhere. He remembered that he was driving quite slow,

and an avid camper probably had a lot of experience on these roads and in the snow, so they were probably being less cautious than he was. This answer satisfied his curiosity. The radio had been spotty for quite some time, but now he couldn't pick up anything on FM, and only one station on AM, which was quite distorted. A word could be understood every so often, but not enough for him to want to listen to it.

He still went back to it every so often to see if he could pick anything up. He felt like he would go mad if he was stuck in it. this silence for too long the only sounds being the hum from his engine and the snow beneath his tires as much as he resented the silence he hesitated to so much as clear his throat as though the sound would break the silence and all of reality with it and was almost as though he felt like something might hear him shaking that thought from his mind he cleared his throat and was comforted when nothing terrible happened. He had felt silly at even partially expecting it to have done so.

His comfort was relatively short-lived, however, as he saw the tire tracks that he'd been following were no longer beneath him. He stopped the car and, looking in the rear view, he saw the tracks curving sharply off the road, lit up in the crimson of his brake lights. He pulled over and put on his hazard lights. He got out of the car to investigate. but the blinking and the glow did not make it any easier to see where the car was, which meant it must have ended up far from the road. He backed up his car and placed it along the rogue tracks so that he could see as far down the mountain as his beams would let him.

The terrain, not being made of asphalt, made it terribly difficult to see any tire tracks, and the snow was falling quickly, filling them in. He stepped out again to see if a different vantage point would help, but all that did was make him cold. It chilled him even faster than before, as though it were actively, emphatically pulling the heat from him. The air chilled him to the bone in a matter of seconds.

The thermometer in his car read 30 degrees Fahrenheit. That's chilly, but it shouldn't have made him quite so cold so quickly. Shivering, he dashed back into his car, but instead of smiling, He grimaced as the car's heat almost burned his skin. The air inside the car quickly warmed his body, and he was able to stop trembling. He checked his phone to see if he could get any service yet, but there were still no reception. It didn't even say emergency calls only on it, so it was beyond even the reach of 911 towers.

He scanned the radio stations, though he wasn't entirely sure why. It was probably to be reminded. find it that humanity, civilization, was out there somewhere. There was still only that one lone AM station getting out one or two inaudible words at a time. He pondered inside his car for a while. He still had half a tank of gas, and he couldn't bring himself to just leave this spot while someone could be stuck on the mountain, cold, scared, or worse. He knew that there wasn't anything he could do for them, but he also knew that he had no idea when or when, he'd find anyone who could help.

He decided to stay here for the night and see if he could see anything different in the morning. It was already after midnight, so he would have been stopping for sleep soon anyway. He turned off his car and set an alarm for an hour. The heat should stay in his car long enough to fall asleep, and his alarm will wake him up before he freezes, so he could start the car and warm it up again. This would be his night. sleeping in increments of less than an hour and waking up to make sure he didn't die he turned on his headlights one last time to make sure he couldn't see anything he noticed that the snow had slowed down significantly and looked more like a peaceful snow globe as opposed to a busy sky of shooting stars as he turned off the headlights he laid his head back and reclined in his seat quickly drifting off to sleep he awoke for his

and groggy, not rested, as the alarm on his phone beeped incessantly. As he reached for it to turn the alarm off, he realised something was wrong. First, the car felt far colder than it should have. It was much colder than 30 degrees his car had indicated earlier. Then he realized that that wasn't the only thing wrong right now. He could see. The sun was up. He had slept through the entire night. Thoughts raced through his head. How did I sleep through my alarm? How long have I been here? I'm amazed I didn't freeze to death. Once the fog of sleep fully lifted from his mind, pushed along by adrenaline, he thought to check the time and saw that it was only a little after sunrise. He couldn't even see the sun in the sky as the mountains gave this area a rather

high horizon. He knew his first priority. He knew his first priority. was to warm up, so he turned the key in the ignition. The car struggled to turn over, giving a pathetic grove. No, no, no, no, he spat out as he tried again. This time it turned over, and the car began. Nothing but cold air came from the vents, so while the car warmed up, he huddled against himself for warm. Relief washed over his trembling body as heat finally started for the wind. flowing through the vents. He immediately leaned toward the vent, holding his hands in front of it, as if it were dispensing gold. Once warmed, he reminded himself at the outside world, pulled himself away from the vents, and looked outside. He was surprised to see that the snow

hadn't covered much more than when he'd fallen asleep. With the help of his rested eyes and new daylight, he would be able to peer down the mountain. He ran the wipers to clear the dust. He ran the wipers to clear the dusting of snow and looked out to see something very puzzling. Confused, he continued staring, blinking to make sure his eyes were adjusted properly, trying to make sense of what he saw. The tired tracks that he'd been following all night just stopped dead, much like they started. Nothing about the appearance made it look like anything violent had happened. They didn't end in a splash of mud. They didn't swerve another direction. They didn't look flat as though from a sudden break.

They just stopped. He pressed the power button on his GPS and was met with a beep and blinking red light. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he knew the GPS wasn't going to turn on any time soon. Maybe it's just cold, he thought to himself. A part of him wanted to forget this whole thing and continue forward with his journey. part of him, however, needed to know what happened with the car. He decided to go with the more pressing part of himself. He did a K-turn and followed the tire tracks backwards. It was only a few

seconds in when he realized how silly this was. His tire tracks were also on the road, so it would be quite difficult to differentiate them while driving. After only about half a mile, though, the tracks disappeared both the mysterious ones and his own the road was just covered in snow with no sign of anyone having traveled on it must have been windy last night he rationalized at a loss he turned around once more and headed back to where he was parked upon turning around he saw that the tracks he'd just made were also missing he gasped in surprise and fear How can that even happen? It isn't snowing and it isn't windy. How can tracks just disappear? In a panic he sped off, forgetting the missing car and the tracks.

He soon gained control of himself enough to stop driving fast. The roads were in poor condition and were unfamiliar to him, so driving fast was asking for trouble. He slowed down and gradually talked himself into laughing at the recent situation. my eyes must have been tired tracks don't just disappear i'm just stressed and tired and i panicked when i thought i saw something that didn't make sense successfully calming down his racing mind he began to once again enjoy the scenery The area he was now in was particularly lovely. The road ahead went up a mountain in a very distinct S-shaped, while a frozen pond was to his left,

and lovely snow-covered pine trees were to his right. Ah, now this would make a good post-card, he thought. The sky was overcast, but no snow was falling at the moment. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, he was enjoying himself. The GPS finally turned, turned on after the car had been warm for a while, but he could not get a signal. He assumed this was due to the clouds, and just awaited for the beep that indicated a satellite link. He knew he just had to stay on this main road for a great distance, so he wasn't worried about missing a turn.

In fact, there hadn't been another road to even turn onto in a very long time. As his car hit the S-turn that he'd seen from below, he began to pretend he was in a race car. like he did when he was a boy, and riding in the car with his father. This fantasy warmed him, and drove him through the escrow and up to the peak of the mountain. After topping the crest, he noted how flat it appeared. From below it looked as though it would be a very sharp, steep drop down, but after getting there, it was actually quite broad and flat. Astonished at how amazing and surprising this landscape continued to be,

he drove on toward his destination it finally submitted to keeping the radio on and tuned to that one a.m. station Even a little noise was better than silence. He made it a game to see if he could decipher any of the single sounds that broke through the static. It was a game he was losing. Mountains.

This was nearly impossible. The first word was probably mountains, but beside that, he couldn't decipher any of the other words. The radio droned on as he drove, the light outside dimming. It felt to him like it was a bit too early to be getting dark. But with the high horizon of the mountains and the thick overcast in the sky, he thought nothing of it and drove on until he felt tired. He once again pulled over to sleep,

wondering how much longer this trip was going to take. He knew that he knew that he was. been a bit sidetrack last night and today, so he was able to justify the apparent loss of time. He sorted his gas gauge, read about a quarter of a tank. So he hopped out of the car, grabbed one of the several full gas cans that he brought with him, and emptied it into the tank. That filled it up to over half a tank. So he sat in the car with a heat on, while he rested in the reclined seat, relaxing his eyes. When he opened them again, his immediate, observation was that he was chilled to the boat. Once again he'd slept through the entire night

and his car was colder than he thought it should be. He tried starting up his car, but it appeared to be out of gas. He stepped out of the car to pour another gas can into the tank as he approached the trunk. He noticed an eerie stillness in the air. The mountains were usually much windier than this. He also perceived an almost unnatural darkness in the air. The sky was once again overcast, leaving no hint as to where the sun's position may be in the sky, but also even the air itself this time seemed to carry with it a dusky gloom. It was like a thick fog, but instead of the white to light grey he was used to, this was charcoal black. He shuddered, half from cold and half from fear.

poured the gas into his tank and walked back into the driver's seat the GPS said there was still no signal and every once in a while the screen would blink off and then back on this concerned him because he didn't want to finally die just when he'd need to start making turns but there wasn't much he could do about it so he decided to continue off once on the road he began to take note of strange things. Nothing he saw was very major, but little things that seemed to be slightly unnerving. This, he thought, was most likely brought on by the ominous atmosphere of the morning, and not anything that was actually real. Mostly, what unnerved him was the familiarity of where he was driving, but, because of everything having been snow-covered, the sky being only as bright as late

twilight. He was able to pacify his anxiety by convincing himself that he wasn't seeing anything familiar, only that the entirety of the landscape itself was nearly identical. The AM station was still speaking its gibberish, but some words were becoming clearer. He must have been driving closer to the broadcast tower. Way, oh! He still couldn't understand a single word of it, but there was a little. higher signal to noise ratio now. He scanned for other stations, but they were still all silent or static. He continued to drive and hoped he would soon be able to alleviate more of the silence.

The area he was in now was particularly lovely. The road ahead went up a mountain in a very distinct air shape, while a frozen pond was to his left, and lovely snow-covered pine trees were to his right. Now this would make a good post-count. He thought. He shook his head and gasped. He was overwhelmed by a feeling of deja vu. He had passed this area before. Did I get turned around?

He wondered. He retraced his steps in his mind, but could not think of any moment in which he turned his car around. He also did not remember turning off the main road at any point, so hitting a road that looped back would have been impossible. He began to feel his clothing become wet with sweat. He topped the crest and, at once, saw how flat the road appeared. He really was back to where he'd been yesterday.

He pulled over to catch his breath and calm his nerves. He did not understand how this could be possible. He decided then that he would not stop driving except to fill his gas tank so that whatever just happened could not possibly happen again. He pulled back out onto the road with a newly found determination, peppered with fear and worry. He drove like this for hours, to the point of being in a constant state of highway hypnosis, knowing only what was directly in front of him and paying attention to little else. His attention was finally distracted by a road going up a mountain in a very distinct air shape, while a frozen pond passed him on the left, and a group of snow-covered pine trees sat to his round.

His eyes widened. This could not be. He wiped the tears from his eyes and the sweat from his brow, as he was still bound by his vow to not stop for anything. He once again climbed his car over the peak, and reaching the unlikely flat area that was over the crest. This time he only drove for a few minutes before his already terrified gaze was met with that familiar S-curve, the frozen pond and most

somber pine trees. Each time he saw them, they became less beautiful and more horrific. He topped the S-curve mountain. There it was again, in his sight, accompanied by its pond and tree friends. He approached it and climbed it again, and this time when he made it over that peak, he couldn't see the S-curve in the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief. But this sigh was truncated by a gasp, as he immediately saw once again the pond and the pine trees. He couldn't explain it, but the road was now completely straight, with the pond and trees on his sides. Anything beyond them was obscured by this anomalous haze. He drove past the pond and the pine trees, only to immediately see them again.

As soon as he passed one set of these landmarks, and they were around. out of his sight, another would appear. It was nothing he'd ever experienced, nothing he could ever have imagined. The amount of pure fear coursing through his veins was completely overpowering. He could hardly hold on to a thought because he was so stricken with panic. He forced himself to drive on while also trying to think very hard about what was happening. It was impossible. This could not happen. This is not reality. I must be dreaming. Having come to that conclusion, he let out a hellacious scream and closed his eyes. He heard his own scream for only a moment before everything went silent. He awoke to find himself again surrounded by darkness,

but the cold was tolerable this time. He took a quick look around, realized that his car was completely covered in snow. Had I just been dreaming? He was elated at the thought. He tried to start the car, but it wouldn't even turn over. He tried opening the door, which turned quickly into a wrestling match before he finally conceded defeat. For the time being, he was stuck in his car, still unsure if what he'd just experienced was a dream or not. It certainly felt real to him.

and he was much more comfortable with the thought that it was a mere figment of a tired and anxious mind. He heard a sound from outside. He couldn't make it out, so he pressed his ear and cheek against his icy cold window to listen. It must be the wind, he thought. He comforted himself with this notion, and tried once more to start his car. It still would not start. However, this time his radio turned on, and he could finally hear. a clear voice. The victim of these winter mountains was found in the valley, near scenic

pond, named such for his beauty and position near a small pine forest. He was certain that the voice on the radio was describing the pond and trees he'd passed so many times yesterday, or earlier today, or a week ago. Time didn't mean much anymore. The vehicle, which was found under an oddly deep pile of snow was described as a blue 2008 Chevron. Her voice trailed off in his ears as she was describing his last assumed position as well as his own car. He could only think of how impossible this all sounded. He attended again to the broadcast as she continued. Appeared to be a bit of a gruesome scene inside the car. The very very very victim was found dead inside the vehicle. His fingernails had been pulled from their roots, while

his knuckles, left elbow and forehead was severely bruised and bloodied. Investigators believe he was stuck for several days, eventually suffocating as the oxygen supply could not be refreshed quickly enough through the snow. It's always sad to see her. He slowly turned the radio off. He sat motionless, in complete disbelief of what he had just heard. They couldn't have been talking about him. He was still alive. It was still very disconcerting to hear them. The silence suddenly became deafening. There was no more wind, no more voice on the radio. Just silence. He nervously scratched his arm, then looked at his fingernails, perfectly intact. They couldn't have been talking

about me. He convinced himself. The silence grew louder and louder. He tried punching the window. He wondered at how anyone could do that until they were bloodied. The pain was intense and throbbing. The sound broke the silence, though, and that was welcome. The radio turned back on, seemingly by itself. He attributed this to some ice somewhere shorting out a connection. Another The victim of these winter mountains was found in the valley, near scenic pond, named such for its beauty and position near a small pine forest. Hmm. Strange.

It was the same broadcast he'd just heard verbatim. His mind began to fade in and out, mostly ignoring the broadcast, but toward the end he listened again. Believe he was stuck for several days, eventually suffocating as the oxy-examined. oxygen supply could not be refreshed quickly enough through the snow. It's always sad to see a traveler overtaken by the harsh weather here in these mountains. That was the end of the broadcast. He didn't turn the radio off this time.

Instead, he just sat, staring at absolutely nothing. He was soon startled, however, by another broadcast from the radio. Another victim of these winter mountains was found in the valley. near scenic. Oh, this couldn't be. It was the same broadcast again. The victim was found dead inside the vehicle. He noticed that some of the words were skipped over.

The newscaster didn't mention the car this time. It was always sad to see a traveller overtaken by the harsh weather here in these mountains. Here in these mountains. Here in these mountains. The audio seemed to be skipping. His entire body chilled of a bowing with fear, and then felt like it was boiling as adrenaline and anxiety filled his being. Another victim found dead inside the vehicle,

overtaken by the harsh weather here in these mountains. He could not wrap his brain around what was happening, but he felt himself beginning to panic. He could feel his pulse over the air. every inch of his body. Another victim found dead inside the vehicle, dead inside the vehicle, dead inside the vehicle, dead inside, dead inside, dead, dead. He screamed out, turning the knob for the radio but nothing changed. The broadcast just kept going. repeating the word dead over and over again he could no longer handle it he had to get out of this

car he again punched the window this time feeling almost no pain he attempted punching with both hands clawing at the top of the window elbowing the window and even headbutting it in attempts to break it but it didn't seem to budge this went on for some time but with the radio unendingly droning on he could not stop his rampage against the driver's side window he had to escape and quickly however even adrenaline can only carry a human sofa still able to feel his pulse and his respiration almost matching it he had no energy left he slumped in his seat chest healing tired defeated His breath became more and more shallow. His eyes closed, and just before his mind drifted off to sleep beyond, the radio ran through the full broadcast one more time,

as if reminding his dying body of its defeat, and then turned off. Scopusthesia, the man awoke from a deep sleep, one of the deepest he can remember. As the fog cleared from his mind and eyes, he scanned the room for even a glimmer of familiarity. Nothing. The bed wasn't his. The nightstand wasn't his. The dresser wasn't his. The room wasn't his.

He got up from the bed and was overwhelmed by how forced and awkward moving his body was. He wasn't even sure if his skin was his own. His hands looked like his hands, but they certainly didn't feel like his hands. As he stood, the weight of the atmosphere seemed almost too much for his legs, the thickness of the air too much for his lungs. He stepped, feeling the cold, hard wood beneath his feet. His legs felt like they'd never been used before. Walking was such a difficult effort that, after only a few steps, he stumbled back to the bed to rest. As his body hit the mattress, dust flew everywhere, an unbelievable amount of dust. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

No matter how deeply he breathed, his lungs felt as though they could hold more, but were refusing out of spite, or perhaps fear. He attempted to stand again, this time not taking any steps, just standing in one place with his arms out, like he was walking along some sort of tightrope, but his feet were planted firmly on solid ground. He took a deep breath and took a step. Success. One foot in front of the other. He slowly, shakily, made his way to the doorway. Once there, he looked out to see what else awaited him in this strange place. The first thing he noticed was how he could see everything in the room, yet there was no source of light that he could see. It had been the same in the bedroom,

but he hadn't realised it. Everything, a dim, washed out, bluish grey, though no lights were on, and no light seeped in through the windows. Beyond the windows, it was as black as pitch. The room looked oddly lifted, that is to say, it was barren, with only a few scant pieces of furniture here and there. Yet it seemed to him like someone lived there, or rather it felt like someone lived there. All of his reason said that nobody should be living in this place. The atmosphere was strange. There was hardly any furniture, and the only two rooms were the bedroom and this other larger empty room. He saw no kitchen or bathroom anywhere. He saw no other door anywhere, except the large one straight ahead, which he assumed was the door to the outside. He shuffled around this room

for a little while, allowing strength to re-enter his limbs. His body was actually beginning to feel like it belonged to him again. He walked around the edge of the room, investigating what he could. He didn't have much energy to process things he saw, but while nothing seemed out of the ordinary, absolutely everything felt wrong. As he walked, his gaze kept shifting to the door. He knew he had to open it eventually. He stepped toward it and his heart began to race. It was almost too much for his weakened state, but he reached out, grabbed the door knob and pulled the door open. He looked outside, not quite sure what he was expecting to see. But first, all he saw was the poor. in the strange, lightless manner that he saw the inside of the house.

As he stepped out onto it, he could see that he was surrounded by trees. The trees were of gigantic height, but had the width of one only a few decades old. He couldn't even see the tops of them. They simply stretched too high into the darkness to be made out. Their branches, as well, did not start until several stories above the ground, creating an eerie sense of infinity in the dense array of trees that stood before him the air seemed all at once ominous and inviting he felt as though walking out into it would most certainly lead to destruction and yet he also felt an unrelenting sense that this was his only way out and that he needed to press on he stepped off of the porch

and out toward the forest, which completely surrounded the cabin he'd just been in. And as he did so, he saw that there was a small opening and a path directly in front of him. The very air here was oppressive. He had no idea where he was. So, following a path seemed like the best option. He set out toward it, though it took much longer to get there than he thought it should have, as if each time he took a step, the trees took away. The trees took away. one as well in the same direction, mocking his lack of progress. He finally stepped into the forest and was met with an immediate sense of urgency. He felt a presence that was all around him. He did not know what it was, but he knew it was there, and he knew that it knew that he was there.

He quickened his pace as much as he could. He realized quickly that he need not scan the ground for roots or stones as it was unnaturally flat and smooth for an outdoor footpath. This allowed him to walk much faster, yet the sensation of that omnipresent being became stronger and stronger with each step. At times he could feel the presence of the cabin behind him. He did not know how or why, or how he even knew it was the cabin, but he did. If he turned to look back, however, the strange light that seemed to light everything else was gone. In front of him was a dim, but visible bluish-gray forest with a path. Behind him was a sheet of darkness so thick that he thought he might be able to touch it. He took a step toward it and did not retreat.

He did not dare to get too close to it for fear that he really would be able to fear it. So he turned back around and made his way further through the forest. His heart became elated as he caught a glimpse of a house off to the side of the path. His happiness was quickly dashed as he noticed that the house was in terrible disrepair. A more accurate description would be a foundation with a pile of lumber, bricks and shingles. It had clearly mean a house at some time, but its inhabitants have long since abandoned it. they had gone, he could not even begin to imagine, when he preferred to think that they'd left, rather than some other possibility. As he soldiered on through the seemingly endless forest,

trying his best to keep the sighting of the house out of his mind, he noticed a darkness ahead. He hoped it was not the same as the darkness behind him, but still he walked toward it, unable to turn back and unwilling to stop going forward. He got closer to the darkness and realised that it was an object. More than a mere object, it was a cave. It did not appear to be an outgrowth with some cliff face, but the darkness was so thick behind the cave that it was impossible to actually see what it was coming from, where it led into.

As he approached it, he realized something frightening and bizarre. the opposite of the edge of the forest earlier. The cave seemed to welcome him. As he took a step toward the cave, the entrance seemed to grow, to loom out before him, growing closer, growing taller, fluting out more as if it were going to swallow him whole. Disturbed and afraid, but ultimately undeterred, he continued on, following the ever-present motivation to move forward. He entered the cave and was comforted when he saw that the mysterious light was here as well. He wouldn't have to navigate through this cave without his sense of sight. This comfort was short-lived, however, as the presence that he felt before was tenfold stronger now that he was inside the cave.

He turned to look back, seeing the wall of blackness just beyond the opening of the cave. He could still make out a few trees. could still turn back, maybe. Risking running into the darkness was still too much for him. He faced the opening of the cave and took a step backwards, watching as the darkness followed him just inside the cave, completely shutting out the outside world and any chance of going back. He took a look around the cave, trying to get a sense of it.

As he looked around, he realized. that it was difficult to make out any texture inside the cave the rocky sides of the cave may as well have been dry wall for all the contour he could make out of them in this dull light he squinted to try to make it out better and a glimmer of red called his eye but then disappeared he stood still watching but it did not reappear had his guard been lowered at all this is when he would have raised raised it, but he had been on high alert since he awoke. After only a few steps, he was disappointed to realize that this cave was not kind enough to have the smooth path prepared for him as the forest had done. This was just what one would expect a cave floor to be like,

with jutting edges and loose rocks. He stumbled it and accidentally kicked a rock, hearing it roll down a small hill in front of him. This brought back the red dot that he'd seen. It was too far away to see its source, but as he looked at it, he noticed another, and another, and another. And then, dozens more, a multitude of small red beads scattered about on the ceiling of the cave. He took a few steps so that some of them were within range of the. the dim light which had been surrounding him all along this strange adventure. It was a bat. At first he was relieved to see another living thing.

This meant that wherever he found himself was not completely devoid of life. He watched it more and realised, however, that something was not right about this creature. It did not have natural contours like a bat should. It did not start and fly out of the cave. cave when the rock moved, it simply looked. And once it, and its friend spotted him, they did not look away. They did not flee, they did not advance. They only stare. He had a sense that, given their strange behavior and ominous look, that these creatures were somehow connected to the presence that he'd been feeling all this time. Perhaps that's why the forest felt so much

more peaceful than the cave. The bats couldn't see him. Unable to make any other choice, he continued walking forward, being sure to watch his steps as he went, and being acutely aware of the many eyes that now had a look on him. The cave seemed to go on forever, much longer than the forest had. He found out that if he stood still long enough, some of the bats would lose interest. He found a small outcrop in the cave and stood behind it for a long time. When he looked up, he did not see a single eye peering at him. His body was awash with relief. If he could escape the bats, maybe he could escape the cave. The drive to continue forward had never waned, but now his internal resolve, his hope had strengthened.

He set onward, feeling a new strength in his muscles. This new feeling must have emitted something, though, as every eye was on him once again, and he felt a surge of the presence so powerful that he had to willfully concentrate against it just to keep it from entering his own mind and sap his strength. So, with his newly weakened resolve and hope, he set off deeper into the abyss ahead. The path ahead of him seemed to begin to widen just slightly. He came into a small room like area. He could see that, directly ahead of him,

appeared to be much like the section he'd just come from, a straight path through the cave. To his left, though, was a small hole, and it was just big enough to squeeze through. However, he could not see inside of it at all. It was as black as the darkness that saw. still followed shortly behind it he walked toward it reached out to touch it watched his hand sink into it and pulled it back out unscathed he was relieved to see that this blackness was at least not harmful could not bring himself to go through with it so so he headed straight onward

ignoring the would-be entryway he headed off into the unknown depths of the cave though Those red eyes always flicking on and off as he flitted in and out of their attention. He looked out ahead and saw a wall of darkness, much like he'd seen a bit earlier. He walked towards it, reticently. He finally reached it and, for a moment, simply stared at it. He knew he had to keep pressing onward, so he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and stepped forward. He felt nothing. He opened his eyes and it was just like it was before. No blackness except for that which

was always shortly behind him. He had survived walking through the wall of solid darkness and beyond it was just more cave. Frustrated, he continued on through the cave. His feet saw and his body trembling. He was becoming desperate. As he walked on, doubting. that he would ever get out of this cave. He saw up ahead a small widening of the path. Strengthened by this change in the cave, he quickened his pace. When he got there, he fell to his knees, crying. He knew every eye on the ceiling was now on him, but he couldn't help it. He had made a circle. The wall of darkness must have been the end of the cave,

but instead of ending it, it just looped back around to the beginning. He had not recognized anything until this point. The strange light was dim, and everything was just rock. Nothing really stood out from anything else. He looked around to confirm this, and there, again on his left, was the small opening. He had survived walking through the wall. big wall of darkness, so perhaps he would survive walking through this one. He gathered himself,

wiped his eyes, and walked over to the small hole. He would not need to duck to walk through, but he would need to turn himself sideways, and even then the walls would be pressing firmly against his back and chest. He slipped an arm and shoulder in through the black sheet and pressed himself into this narrow hole. Immediately, he felt that he would not be able to take in full breaths because of how tightly the walls held him in. He began to panic, but he knew this was his only choice. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind. After finally getting control of his breathing, he began to sidle inward through the orifice. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes as he walked through the darkness. He did not want to see what that process looked like. He took a few

steps, his ankles and knees in pain due to the manner in which he had to twist them just to walk through, and he felt a change. The walls began to widen. That is, the walls were not gradually widening, but rather the walls themselves were moving away from one another. He opened his eyes, but was in an area completely devoid of light. He couldn't see anything, no matter how close or far it was from his face. He reached for anything to grab onto, but there was nothing. His heart began to pound, and his arms floured out to the side as he felt the ground dropping from below his feet. He was falling. He was overwhelmed by confusion. He could no longer tell if he was falling or not. He could not feel air rushing by, and could not see anything to see if it was moving, but he was not

standing on any sort of solid ground. He thought he could begin to hear something off in a distance. A whisper, a laugh. Whatever it was, it did not have good intentions. Terror filled his body as he felt this horrible presence approach him. The presence that had been here since the start of all this. His mind could not take this magnitude of pure evil that he felt surrounding his body, and as he led out one uncontrollable, desperate scream, he blacked out. The man awoke from a deep sleep, one of the deepest he can remember. As the fog cleared from his mind and eyes, he scanned the room for even a glimmer of familiarity. Nothing. Return to sender.

I just moved into a new apartment. It was a little house divided into two areas, an upstairs and a downstairs. I got the upstairs. It was very nice, my first bachelor pad. I had plans for parties with friends and family, ideas for what each room was going to be, a place for my knick-knacks.

All of that, I just got a new place, nonsense. I was loving it. A lot of people crumble when the real world knocks on their door, but I was basking in it. All of the stuff that drives people mad, bills, finding problems with the apartment, calling cable companies, change of address forms, all of it. I couldn't get enough. This was because it meant I was on my own, in my own space, my own man. Nobody to watch over me or tell me what to do. A few weeks in, all my mailing had been sorted out. I'd changed my address with everyone who might want to send me.

something. I was excited to get the mail, my mail. Every so often some junk mail would filter into my box. Didn't even have my name on it. It was for the people who lived here before me. Some of it didn't have anyone's name on it. To the current resident. Yeah. If you don't care enough to put a name on it, I don't care enough to open it. One day, though, one of these junk letters caught my attention. It had the finger on it. You know, the red stamp of the hand. You know, the red stamp of the with the finger pointing back to the return address with return to sender written on it in big letters Normally when you see that stamp it means the sender got the address wrong the recipient rejected the letter or the recipient moved or died Basically it's never good news to see it

The strange part about it though was that the return address wasn't mine I wasn't even familiar with the town name I love letters they're fascinating to me personal thoughts from one person to another i've spent many hours online reading old letters that have been made available it's so intrusively intimate to read the words created by one person meant to be read by only one other as if eavesdropping on someone's soul so this return letter was very intriguing however the person it was meant for or the person who wrote it could still be around the return addressed though didn't have a name. It was just the address. I didn't think anything of it. I do the same thing

sometimes. What was weird was that the two address also had no name on it. That's not normal. I wanted to open it so badly, but I just couldn't. So I brought it inside with me and set it on the table, which came with the apartment. My willpower didn't hold out long. The next day I ripped into the letter. It ended up being a bit more exciting than I thought it would be. It said, Dear F, it's been a while since we've seen each other, but I cannot remove you from my thoughts. You have been with me for all my days these months past.

Those nights when you taught me what it was to live, to love and to feel just seemed too impossible to have been real. You taught me what it was to touch and be touched in ways and places I have been led to believe to be obscene and even blasphemous. There is no way such a wonderful, pure feeling could be sinful. There is also, however, no way such a euphoric, sensual feeling could not be sinful. I wait and waste here, longing for your return. I know that won't happen until my husband once again leaves on whatever business trips he goes on. I'd feel ashamed if I wasn't so sure that he was doing the very same thing you and I did. Like he told me,

He deserves this for neglecting me as often as he does. I oft stare at the table on which we shared such pure joy. Henry will ask what I'm doing, and I only say, It's just a lovely piece of furniture, which he laughs at and dismisses. I've kept your attention long enough. I'll let you know when you may visit me again. Longingly, lovingly, S. It seemed I had stumbled upon a love affair.

I wasn't expecting anything so steamy. and it was signed S. I felt like I was living through a John Updike novel. Something about the letter was strange, though. It reminded me of many letters I read before from previous centuries. The language seemed anachronistic. Nothing was wrong with it, per se, but that's part of what was wrong with it. It was nearly perfect.

People just don't really talk like that anymore. How frequently does one hear the word oft? The letter was off. The address was off. Nothing felt quite right about this. I checked for a date on the envelope, but there was none. Perhaps it was an old letter someone found, and they just shoved it into a random mailbox.

But if the contents outlined an affair, that would explain why there were no names on it. I put the letter back on the table and went about my day. The next day, there was another letter with Return to Sender stamped on it. It was the same situation, no postmark date and no names. I didn't open this one. I'd already pride enough, and if this was meant for someone, it could really exasibate things if they didn't get it.

I understood that what they were doing was wrong, but that's none of my business. I put both letters in a drawer, but had no clue as to what to do. The phrase, out of sight, out of mind, is really true. I'd forgotten about the letter by the next day and went days without even thinking about it Eventually I needed something out of my desk I don't even remember what now And I found the letters

Because some time had gone by My moral dilemma regarding what to do about the letter disappeared I tore it open and read it immediately F It has been weak since my last letter Why are you not writing back Maybe you do not feel the same as I did.

Those days were magical, though. I'm not sure how one could experience such bliss as did we and feel nothing afterwards. The only other thing I can think of is that something horrid has happened. Either disaster has befallen you, or my husband is intercepting your replies. Either one could result in terrible consequences for you, for both of us. Please be careful. S. Yikes.

This was already interesting, and it just got a whole lot more so. I put the letter away and went to bed. I woke up at around nine the next morning. I wouldn't bother mentioning the time, but it's important in this instance. The mail doesn't usually come through until almost twelve, but I saw that the hatch was open on the mailbox from the window, so I checked, and there was another letter. Return to sender stamped on it, just like the other two.

Why was this sense so immediately after I'd read the last one? The second one came the day after I read the first one as well. Being as paranoid as I am, I looked around like an idiot to see if anyone was around. Of course they weren't. This could have been dropped off hours ago. This, however, made me think that maybe it was just a prank. someone got a hold of one of those stamps and just wanted to have some fun with a local new guy still a bit creeped out though because they seemed to know when i'd read the letters this would require

nearly 24 hour surveillance i took the letter inside covered every window in my home and every crack in my walls to make sure nobody had a chance of seeing me and put the letter away i would test this i'll wait a random number of days before opening it and see when the next one came. I waited for over a week. In that time I received no new letters. I finally opened the letter at 2am. I fear for my safety now. I believe my husband has found out about us. I believe him to be holding your letters, keeping them from me, keeping you from me. Even now I write this in the only room of the house he will let me in. I have left me in. I have left. letters to you that I can't even get to you because of this. Twice weekly he comes in and does

things to me. Nothing I would not love it if you were doing it to me, but with him it is so business-like, just like him, worrying only about the facts. There are no facts in love, and he cannot handle this. I should not have done this to him, but that gives him no right to do this to me. I would ask for your help if I was not certain it would end in your death. This was by far the most unsettling of the letters. This guy was raping his own wife and holding her captive in her own house. I know women used to essentially be property, but that was still very alarming to read. I realized then that I'd finished reading the letter. My paranoia once again got the better of me, so I went outside with a flashlight. The mailbox hatch was open.

again. No, that's impossible. I walked over to it and checked, shining the flashlight into it reluctantly, afraid of what I might see. Nothing. The wind probably blew it open, or perhaps I forgot to close it, I don't know. I felt incredibly foolish for even considering that the letter would be there. I laughed at myself and went back into the house. I wasn't even halfway up the stairs when there came a faint knock at the door. I turned quickly and shone my flashlight out the window of the door, only to see nobody there. I opened the door, something fell from the jam. A letter. This was even more impossible than the mailbox being opened. This was a letter, left at my door by whom? What mailman goes around at 2.30 in the morning? What mailman leaves letters in the

door jam when the mailbox is right there. It couldn't be the mailman. It had to be someone else. I ran outside and screamed. I don't know who you are or while you're doing this, but the joke is over. It isn't funny. It isn't clever, and you're wasting your time. A few lights went on in some of the neighboring houses in response to the screaming. I didn't mean what I said. It was clever, and I'd find it funny if I were the one doing it. The truth is, I was scared. Someone was watching me. This wasn't a postal service error. This was a deliberate attempt to give me those letters. To what end? I couldn't know. I didn't know what to do. I also didn't want to open this letter. All it would mean is that I'd get another one. Shaking, I went to bed. I didn't sleep, but I wasn't awake.

I just laid there in some sort of limbo between consciousness and dreaming. passing the time unable to think clearly about anything and unable to think about anything other than these letters Finally somehow I was able to drift off into some semblance of sleep I woke up and called in sick to work I had enough to deal with right now I grabbed one of the envelopes and went to Google Maps I typed in the intended address we could not find the address I'm leaving out both addresses so nobody ever reads this and tries to find them. That made sense, though. They were a return to send it. The address not to existing is logical. This poor woman is getting herself into so much

trouble over an incorrect address. I sat, disappointed, wondering why the address didn't exist anymore. It must have been destroyed before our current address systems were put into place. I saw the unopened envelope sitting on my table, staring at me, inviting. me. I opened the letter, but I saw no writing. Instead, it was a map. Something about the ink was amiss. It didn't look like normal ink, and the paper was tattered far beyond what the other letters were. This page appeared far older than any of the other letters. I had no idea what the map was showing me. There were a few little landmarks, like trees and houses, amateurishly doodled onto this paper. Dash lines seemed to outline.

a path. There was also a solid line on the map, which looked to be another path, or maybe a road. The solid line went from one edge of the paper to the other, curving just slightly at the end. Just before the curve was a box. I thought maybe it represented a house. There were several small trees drawn between this box and another box. This box was marked with a circle. I had no idea what that meant. The dotted lines connected both of the boxes, and there was also another object. It looked like a poorly drawn circle, but because the other circle on the page was drawn well, I guess it was drawn that way on purpose. Maybe it was supposed to be a rock or something. The dotted line, at one point, branched in three directions, one branch going to each of the larger

objects on the map. Where the dotted lines met was drawn a single tree. I provide a picture of it, but I don't have it anymore. There were a few other things drawn on the map, but nothing I can make enough sense of to write down now. I put this back in the envelope and went back to trying to figure out where these letters were coming from. I typed in the return address. It was an empty field, full of grass and a line of trees.

There was an odd formation on the ground, though. It looked like the foundation of a house to me, maybe even the remnants of a wall or a something around the property, I couldn't tell. However, it was not far from me at all. I immediately jumped in my car with the letters and headed to this plot of land. I drove just long enough to where I didn't have time to top myself out of going through with it when I got to the road. I was driving around, looking for this area, but I couldn't see anything resembling the empty lot. I then found myself at the end of the road. I was obviously very confused. I turned around to try looking again and after about a minute of driving, I realized why I'd missed it. It wasn't empty. There was a house

there. Right where that empty field was on the satellite image, there was a house. It even had the little room off to the side, stopping it from being just a big square. I had no idea how this was all possible. I felt myself go pale as the blood rushed from my face. My entire body turned cold. I sat in my car staring, having no idea what exactly I was experiencing. When I finally regained control of myself, I got out of my car and headed toward the house. I had come this far after all. I half laughed myself when I saw that there was still a mailbox in front of the house. out of morbid curiosity, I checked it. Nothing was there.

I walked up onto the porch. This place had obviously seen better days. Almost every window was broken, and those that weren't were covered in such a thick layer of dust that they were no longer transparent. The door seemed to be hanging off of one hinge. There were holes in the floorboards and various animal droppings all along the porch. There was an old swing hanging from. from only one chain and a mostly decomposed cushion sagging off of it. The musty smell was awful.

I've been in damp basements before and old buildings, but nothing compared to this. It was almost oppressive. I took a step inside. My assumptions about the door being proven correct and, like every horror movie I've ever seen, I said hello. I always yell at those people to shut up. If someone's in there, you probably don't. want to find them, but here I was in the same position, doing the same thing. There was no answer, no clunky in the background or anything, so I felt relatively safe. I picked up the nearest thing I could

find that I could potentially use as a weapon just to be safe. It was half of an old coat rack. Why a coat rack was laying broken in half on the floor, I don't know, but I was thankful to have some security. I continued walking through the house. It looked like the house made a big circle, so I decided to go right and work my way around. I saw several pieces of overturned furniture. Kids probably found this place and destroyed it. It was a very fancy-looking table torn into pieces in the next room. One of the legs was just missing entirely. I wondered if that was the table S, wrote about in the first letter. It was bizarre to see an item which was spoken of with such cherished remembrance, now forsaken in complete disrepair.

As I wrapped around, I found myself in the kitchen. A wood stove was in the corner, along with cabinets of pots and pans. There were several jars of things which had long since turned black. No cans, though, just glass jars. No refrigerator either. The age of the house was becoming more apparent with each room. I walked past a back door that led to a very small porch and some broken steps leading down. I kept walking till I got to the last room in the back left corner of the house.

A large bookshelf loomed ominously against the wall. I got a feeling of dread just looking at it. I kept moving. I just saw more tattered furniture. Then that was it. I was back to the door. It wasn't a huge house, but I thought there'd be more to it. I was about to walk out when I remembered the image.

There was that little room off to the side on the foundation. That wasn't there. What was there, however, was that bookshelf. I peered at it as if we were staring each other down. Finally, I gathered enough courage to walk over to it. I tried pushing it off to the side, but it wouldn't slide. I stuck the piece of coat wreck I had in between the shelf and the wall and pulled. The whole shelf came crashing down.

Rotted and torn books scattered as filth filled the air. I didn't want to think about what I was breathing in. The dust settled and I could see the wall. It was just a wall though. No door or anything. Just a wall with a couple of holes in it. Holes I could barely see through. There has to be something on the other side, or else it would be lit up from the sunlight outside.

At that point I kicked myself for not remembering to bring a flashlights. This section of the wall was also a different colour than the rest. Why would they wall over a room? I poked one of the holes with the coat rack, and the wall began to crumble away. I started hitting the wall with a coat rack, breaking it apart with each blow. Whatever this wall was made out of, probably very old drywall, it was incredibly easy to break. Finally, I stopped when I'd made a hole that I could walk through. I could see light floating into the room there.

For obvious reasons, I was quite reticent to enter. At last, I took a step through the hole, but still couldn't see anything. I stepped to the side so I wouldn't block the lights and then close my eyes. I told myself it was to let them adjust to the darkness, but in truth I was terrified of what I might see when I opened them. I opened them when the anticipation had ultimately become too much to bear. The wall was covered in scratches in the distinctive pattern of a desperate person trying to deny their current fate. The scratches were accompanied with various writings. Nothing that I can really make out.

Perhaps it was nonsense. The amount of hate that this room housed or elicited was overwhelming. Someone must have been locked in this room. Suddenly, lines from the letter appeared in my mind. This must have been the room that S talked about in her letter. I began scanning the floor when I saw, over in the far corner, the dusty, ironic grin of a skull staring at me. I immediately ran out of the room.

but I couldn't tear my gaze away from the skull. It was attached to a dress, a beautiful, stained, old-fashioned dress. A dress with what appeared to be the missing table-legs sticking out of it. I understood then why that room was walled over. I ran out of the house, into my car and began driving. As I caught my breath and drove off, I looked over at the line of trees.

I could see in the spaces between the trunks and branches a large field. In the field I saw a deer walking around and eating some grass. Seeing this life lifted my spirits. Everything was okay out here. What happened in that house was horrible, but it was only in that house. Out here was free. Out here was safe. I continued driving past the trees and got to where the road began.

to curve slightly the line of trees broke into an open lot right by the curve i instantly thought of that map that was in the envelope i pulled over to the side of the road and got out felt possessed i was normally far too reserved to do something like this especially after the discovery i'd just made but i couldn't control myself walking around that plot of land i saw a few things that may have hinted to a house having been there. Nothing necessarily indicative, but a few big rocks and a couple of bricks. This, in concert with the sudden stop in the tree line, the curve in the road and that lone tree in the field, convinced me that this is where the other square was on the map. The boxes were the houses. The circle was her house. It began walking to the tree. The deer ran as soon as it could see me. The tree. The tree. The tree.

was deceptively far away. Once I got there I stopped and looked around, partly to see what was near me, partly so I could rest. I could see the house from here. For a split second, I could have sworn I saw someone in the back door window, but it had to be my imagination. I was too far away to make out a detail like that anyway. I walked around to the other side of the tree and scanned the other side of the field. I immediately saw the the rock that was drawn on the map. It was a bit larger than a rock. It was a huge boulder sticking up from the ground. A forest seemed to begin at the other end of the field, and this rock was just inside the tree line. I felt rested enough to begin my walk to the forest. Upon reaching the boulder,

I immediately noticed a small pile of stones at the bottom where the boulder met the earth. I picked all of these rocks away and placed them to the side. There, I found a small tin with a lock. The latch, however, had long ago rusted away, so it was free to open. As soon as I opened it up, I let out an audible gas. There were several letters in the box. I poured one out, and it had the same addresses on it as the ones I had been receiving, except that they exchanged places.

The return address was now the main address. using the mail must have become too risky. Perhaps the mailman was friends with the husband. Cleverly adapting. The covert couple devised this system, but eventually the husband must have become wise and she wasn't even able to get to this. So these letters just sat here.

Her lover would have become more and more heartbroken every time he dropped off a new letter, seeing the previous ones had not been received, and he had no word from her to hear how she was doing. Just then. I heard something. It sounded like a door closing. I looked all around, but I saw nothing.

I looked back at the house, and everything looked the same. The noise was enough, however, to scare me into action. I grabbed the letters out of the box and ran back to my car. Panting, my chest on fire. I jumped into my car, turned it around, and drove to the house's mailbox. I grabbed all of the letters, the ones I had received, as well as the ones from the box and placed them in the mailbox. I then sped toward my home.

As I approached my home, elated to be so close to safety, and barely tapped the brakes when turning into the driveway. Once there, I sat and breathed. I was unable to consider what had just happened, yet unable to think of anything else. I regained my composure, exited the car, and walked toward my house. My heart sank as I got closer to the welcome mat to see a single, unopened envelope sitting

on it, waiting for me. Whatever had been possessing me to so brazenly read the letters and search of the home had apparently lifted its hold on me within the last few moments. I bent down and picked up the letter. Less than a glance at the front of it told me it had the same source as the others. didn't open the letter I didn't drive back to the house to place it with the others I took the letter inside my house and without malice without joy I simply held the letter and set fire to it in this moment I didn't care what had happened nor what

would happen in the future I stared at the flame and watched the last letter 1219. I often like to view creepy things on the internet. I don't totally know why. I've just always been intrigued by things that are just off. Any media is fine to take in the content. Stories, movies, videos, audio clips, video games, whatever. I just want to be unnerved. I work third shift, so my sleep schedule is all messed up. A sleep. A sleep. during the day and work at night. I get two days off a week though, and always in a row. I could use this time to have some semblance of a normal life,

but I'd rather not have to readjust my sleep schedule once work starts again. And so I stay up all night and sleep during the day. So, browsing the internet on one of these days off, I came to a thread which had a bunch of links on it. Each comment was just a link. Some of them led to the websites about unexplained mysteries. Some were streams of horror movies, and others were of counts of, well, paranormal events,

which were supposedly true. Then I saw one that was none of the above. I don't remember where the link was. It was just random letters and numbers. It was nonsense. I clicked on it, and it took me to a single page with a single picture and nothing to click on. It auto full-screened and refreshed at random intervals,

anywhere between roughly two and ten seconds. There was text on the top of the picture which read, Zan L'Owalt to die. Can you wait to die? Oh, weird. Like a little try-hardish, but creepy. I like this site. already. The picture showed a painting on the wall of a nondescript forest scene.

There was a small TV screen centered at the bottom of the picture, an old CRT. On top of the TV was an older-looking analog clock with a wood frame and fancy hands. The site continued to refresh, but the picture never changed. Out of sheer curiosity, I didn't leave the page. I kept the tab open and check back every minute or two. Still no change. After about ten minutes, I got tired of missing the refreshes. Maybe it was changing drastically, but only once every minute or something, and I was completely missing it. So, I closed all other tabs to make sure I wouldn't be tempted to leave. I was staring at that picture for what seemed to be an hour. I checked my phone. It had been 26 minutes.

I guess time goes slowly when you're just staring at a still image online. I can't say what it was, or when it was. But at some point I noticed that it wasn't just a still image. Well, it was, but the image was changing. The clock. When I first pull up the page, read something close to 4.15. Now it was showing 4.56. The clock had been changing the entire time.

I watched it for a full minute and somewhere among the refreshes I saw the minute hand changed to 57. The time on the clock didn't reflect the real time. Still though, this was dedication. Someone had to take a picture once per minute for an hour or at least 45 minutes and then have it change every minute.

I kept watching until it showed five o'clock. I expected it to shift back to four. but it just went to 501 that's even more impressive maybe it went for a full 12 hours someone needs a job anyway now I was hooked I had to see if it had the full range of times now that I knew I didn't have to intently stare at the picture anymore I was able to shift my focus to the text it definitely seemed strange I quickly realized that it was a code of sorts and it said x i i x i x i x i i thought about it for a while but then realized the colon in the phrase x i i colon x i x i twelve nineteen i guessed i'd had to wait until twelve nineteen to see what was going to happen what

was so worth all this work the next few hours were boring i'd check it every so often and see no change once i thought i saw something in the painting but i'm pretty sure it was just my imagination and my mind wanting to see something i said all of my clocks in my house to the time on the site, so I'd know where it was, even when I wasn't at the computer. Twelve o'clock came, and I was glued to my computer. No getting up, no other tabs. I was just staring intently, watching the hands on the clock refresh, minute after minute. 12-A-T.

Refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh. I was certain that this minute had actually taken four or five minutes to transpire. Finally, 12.19. Nothing. No change in the image. No change to the site. Oh, that was disappointing. I figured I'd at least get a message on the site, or a different picture or something.

Maybe that was the prank. Nothing. The guy who made this would just lure people in, give them a simple puzzle to. solve just to pique their intrigue and then disappoint them greatly bravo i thought to myself i left the website and went back to my day i couldn't get the sight out of my head though not even an hour after i'd left i tried to convince myself that i should go back to the the site. Control, shift, T. After all, there are two 1219s in the day, aren't there? Well, the clock now said 1248. I looked over at the clock on my desk, and it also said 1248. The creator must have synced it up with their local time or something. I had a nearly 12-hour wait ahead of me now.

I could have stayed up all night night for me day for most normal people but I didn't want to drive myself crazy so I went to sleep I didn't sleep well or for very long but then again I rarely do I checked the clock on the desk which was still set to the website time

and it said 852 only a little over three hours of wait from here I checked the site still no change in the end image. I did things around the house and online to kill the next few hours. As soon as the clock was near 12 though, I was once again seated firmly in front of my computer screen. The next 18 minutes were agonizing. The last minute was even worse. The hands of the clock once again struck 1219 and once again nothing happened. I was distraught.

I'd invested a lot of time into this. The minute wasn't over, though, so I continued to watch. I then heard a click, quiet, but still older. After that, I noticed that the webpage wasn't constantly refreshing anymore. The screen on the TV began to brighten. Finally, what I had waited for was happening. As the screen on the TV brightened, I began to be able to make out an image.

It was small, because the TV screen on my monitor was only about two inches wide, and I could still clearly see that they were showing woods. Maybe it was the forest in the picture. The camera was bobbing up and down as grass and leaves passed by. It must have been someone filming themselves walking. The camera was kept pointed at the ground for the first minute or so, But then slowly started to point more horizontally. I could see that they were coming up on a yard.

Some houses flashed quickly on the edges of the screen. There was some talking in another language. Couldn't say what the language was, and then clicks and clunks like they were dealing with equipment. The camera made larger movements than before. I realized, as the sounds went away, and the image stabilized dramatically, that they had been setting up on a tripod.

Once they got it set up, I heard a little more talking, and then the camera made one final turn. During the turn, I could see that it was set up just along the woods. The camera finally stopped shaking, and there was a house centered within the frame. As small as it was,

I could tell. It was my. house i jumped up from my desk chair but kept my eyes fixed on the screen the men abandoned their camera and walked up to the house walked up to my house they stood at the door for what was probably 20 seconds when it seemed like five minutes i didn't know what to do i didn't know if there was anything to do they knocked on the door I heard it faintly through my speakers, but it wasn't at the door. Not hearing it within my house calm me down enough to check the door. Nobody was there.

Nobody was in the yard. But I couldn't make out anything past a couple of hundred feet. It was dark out, and the moon wasn't very bright. I closed and locked the door and ran back up to the computer. the screen was still displaying these two men standing at the door they knocked again but this time harder i watch as the door opens a man answered it i couldn't make him out i was half expecting it to be me i was relieved though to see that it wasn't i have brown hair the man on the screen had red hair one of the men gestures something to him and the red-haired man gestures something to him and the red-haired man begins to close the door. At this point the other man shoves the door open again, pulls a gun from his belt and shoots the man in the head. I felt my face go pale and my jaw open. My vision started to go black, but I forced myself to keep my composure. The two

men ran from the door toward the camera. In the small TV screen on my monitor and in the blur of motion, I could see that both men were smiling widely. They grabbed the camera, not bothering to take it off the tripod and ran into the woods again. The camera swiveled on the tripod and showed one of the men's faces, but quite blurrally. He looked at the camera, reached over toward it with his other hand, and the screen of the TV went blank. The page refreshed again, but only once, and the clock still read 12-19. I exited out of my browser and even shut down my computer. I ran to the door one last time to see if I could see anything, but once again there was nobody there. To this day, I have no clue what actually took place. I haven't had the

nerve to revisit that website, or ask anybody what happened to the people who leave. before I did. And I'm not sure I ever will. Snake oil. She was sitting on the sofa sipping tea and about to make some dinner when she heard a knock at the door. This was very unusual for her. She never really got any visitors, but she went to the door just the same. She looked out of the peephole and saw a tall, skinny man standing there, so tall that she could only just barely see his chin in the small scope provided by the people. His large black bowtie was enlarged by the fish-eye effect of the lens. But even taking that into consideration, it seemed too large. His suit jacket also seemed too large for him, but given his size, she imagined it was hard

for him to find clothes the proper size. She caught sight of his bottom row of teeth, which were quite crooked and a bit yellowed as he spoke, calling to her. Hello, is someone there? There was something strange in his voice. It seemed too young for his frame, yet too old for his posture. The wrinkles on his chin said that he was quite elderly, but how tall and confidently he stood, and how quickly he moved his limbs around, was more akin to a much younger man. The woman realized she'd been staring at this man for quite a while now, so she took a few silent steps away from the door and tried to make her voice sound like she was calling from far away.

Yes, who's there? Oh, just a travelling salesman coming to impart on you some wares. He spoke oddly, like a southern gentleman, a somewhat thick draw, but enunciating everything to sound proper. Oh, well, I'm sure I'm not interested in what you're selling, she returned. That may be so, but I do believe that not many are selling what I am offering. All I ask for is a conversation, and if I have not whipped up any of your interest, I will be on my way.

What a silver tongue, she thought. This guy knew what he was doing. All right, I'll hear your pitch, but you should know that I don't consider myself very vulnerable to peer pressure, she growed. I am sure you are not, but peer pressure will not be necessary. The popularity of my product is based entirely on reason and logic. It does not make sense for anyone to go without it. And what exactly is it that you're selling? She said, her doubt almost audible.

Why? peace of mind of course she gave out a laugh at that classic line and let the man into her home you can have a seat if you'd like can i get you a drink she asked welcoming him in with a gesture the man stepped inside taking off his tattered derby and looking around admiringly no i have no need for that your home is lovely mrs He trailed off, expecting her to interject her last name, but she only stared at him disapprovingly. Uh, Miss? Her expression did not change. All right, Ms. then. Ms. Smith, let us say. She smirked at that.

So, Mr. Salesman, she said, trying to imitate his drawl. What is it that you have in your back? He smiled. My, you are just a regular Georgia peach. Pretty and witty. She've heard her face flushed slightly. As I said, I am selling peace of mind. With what I am offering you, you will never have a singular worry in this world again.

That sounds too good to be true. Now, doesn't it? She volleied. Why? Yes. normally it would but this product comes with my own personal guarantee

he accentuated the worst to get a laugh out of the woman and it worked but first you must promise me that he trailed off and looked around him knowing full well that nobody was near but he very clearly had a knack for theatrics that you

won't tell a soul what I am about to show you do not tell your neighbors do not tell your family do not tell your children he paused awaiting her reply she took her turn as she knew he expected oh i don't have many kids to tell so sorry of course in that case do not tell your husband either she shook her head quickly at him uh boyfriend she didn't specifically respond to this one. Don't tell anyone. Yeah, I got it. While that's pretty interesting, it doesn't exactly seem like a good business strategy. She laughed, assuming he was trying to build a perception of exclusivity around whatever it was selling. He smiled at her. A bright one, you are. I do not make my business like these large companies do. I care about my customers. In fact,

take on a new customer after an existing customer passes on. So, you can see, my being here is somewhat of a bittersweet occasion. I am very glad to have met you, but it is a terrible sadness that has brought me here. You look quite solemn, as though he may even shed a tear. I'm very sorry to hear that, she offered. If I may. She found herself adopted. in his pattern of speech. Can we move back along to the where's you're here to sell? Yes, certainly. There's no need to dwell on the past.

He smiled at her, those crooked yellow teeth showing again. It was sort of odd how quickly he went from the brink of tears to an ear-to-ear grin. Then again, he is a salesman. It's all about appearance. So, as I was saying, This will take away all of your worry.

You may never have so much as a thought about what even to make for dinner. It is that good of what it does. Hmm, she hummed skeptically. No offense, but nothing is that good. No insurance? No pill? So, what is it? In due time, Miss...

He quickly corrected. I have not yet finished my... explanation. What it does is lift your spirits. What it does is ease your burdens. What it does is like a day at the spa for your soul. The day in, day out rigmarole of this world is just too stressful on the human spirits. What I am offering you is a chance to alleviate all of this hustle and bustle-induced anxiety that weighs on the heart of a lovely young woman like yourself. She flushed again. That sounds quite amazing.

She wasn't sold, but the man was putting on such a good show. She couldn't just interrupt him. Oh, it is. If anything, I am underselling it. All of this piece can be yours. Are you interested? Well, to be honest, I'm not sure. It sounds great.

If it's even half as good as you say, I think it would be worth it. She glanced up at the jar on the cabinet. Her rainy day fund had a couple hundred dollars in it. That rainy day never seemed to come. She took a breath, gave a smile and finally said, You know what? Yes, I'm interested. I want to get rid of all of this anxiety.

The stress of my boring, a thankless job, the anxiety of coming home to an empty house, the burden of waking up to the exact same deal day after day. Her voice was cracking and her eyes watering.

Sorry, she cleared her throat. I didn't mean to... It's quite all right. He offered his slender hand to her shoulder for comfort. So then, I suppose it's settled. Congratulations.

She smiled. Thank you, but I'm afraid I still don't know what it is that I've agreed to. Is it a product? A service? Is it here now? Yes, it is absolutely here. It is right in here. He said, breaking between each word to build the tension.

He picked up his kit back, that he carried in with him. and set it before her. Young did the snap. Go ahead. Open it up and see what you have. But I haven't paid yet. I can just... Oh, we can discuss a price later.

For now, just open the bag. Excitedly, she reached for the bag. She wasn't sure when his charm had actually sold this load of hogwash to her. She was now, internally kicking herself, wondering when he would offer her the bridge or the ocean front property. Still though, she was excited. She hadn't bought anything for herself in quite some time, and her lonely, boring life had been weighing on her lately. Even if it's something silly,

she will at least have a funny story to tell at work. Then maybe someone will speak to her for more than a few minutes. Slowly, she pulled the sides of the opening of the band. apart and peered down in she looked and looked but she only saw the bottom of the bag so it was too good to be true now is this the part where you hand me the religious tract and explain that oh only he can do those things for me she looked up at him oh no no no he chuckled quite the contrary keep looking As she was looking into the back, she saw a small light appear. It began to swirl. Oh, a hologram.

That's interesting. It swirled and grew inside the bag. Finally, it flattened out and turned into a bright white, so bright that she was unable to look at it. As she turned to look away, she saw a sudden flash, and she looked back into the back. there was a reflective disc of some smoky material she looked into it and saw her face and this is incredible she exclaimed she was so excited that she stood up holding the bag keeping her eyes locked inside the face in the disc began to change

it was still her face but its expression became contorted into an expression of anguish she was startled by this but could not pull her eyes away then she realized she truly could not pull her eyes away nor her face nor her arms something was pulling her into the back she began to struggle and scream the man next to her only watched not attempting to help appearing almost bored at the whole situation Suddenly her body was surrounded by a bright light. It was all she could see. And then she was gone. The bag fell down to the floor with a light thud and clasped itself shut.

The salesman picked up the back, straightened his bowtie and walked out the door, closing it behind him. As he was walking off the porch, they looked across the road to see an older woman tending to her garden outside. He gave his best, charming shout. Excuse me, ma'am. Do you have a moment? She cocked her head at him. That depends.

What you're selling? He smiled at her and said, Why? Peace of mind, of course. Breakfast. I did what anyone would do. I ran. The car was behind me.

It was nearly midnight in late autumn, and there was no moon in the sky. I could see, though. The flames coming off my now destroyed car made sure of that. I really can't remember what happened. I was driving. I saw something. Maybe a deer. I can't remember.

I just know I saw a form run out in front of me, so I swerved. The tire left the asphalt, hit the gravel, and leaves on the side, and it pulled me right off the road. Then everything was just a blur until I hit something. I'm not sure how long I was out, but when I woke up, I could see as clear as day, and I knew I needed to get out. So, I ran. It was a sort of foggy night, not anything extraordinary, just a little misty. Fog is strange in that it lowers visibility, but makes lights glow much brighter or rather larger than they normally would. I could still seem the glow from my car, having reached a safe distance. I figured, well, I could look back at it, and I could also see another glow,

though I couldn't see its source. As I got closer to it, I saw that it was a farmhouse. Country people are famously friendly, so I thought that I could knock on the door, use their phone, and get out of here, even this hour of the night. I got to the door and knocked, but not too loudly. I wouldn't want to frighten whoever lived there. No response. I knocked a little louder.

No response. So I knocked loudly. This time a light came from a window, but slowly. Not like they'd just turned on a lamp, but like they'd lit a candle. Finally I heard someone turn the knob and the door was opened. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he asked who I was. I explained my situation, trying to keep my voice, from raising into an excited tone.

The man made a sort of noise halfway between a sigh and chuckle and welcome me in. I was right. It was a candle. I saw it setting on the stand next to the door as I entered. You have a lovely home,

I said, trying to ease the tension and compliment my potential saviour. He bowed his head in thanks, a motion for me to sit down. He walked into the kitchen, and as he did, he flipped a switch. The room I was in, which I asserted was some sort of living room or den, flooded with lights. It looked like you might think any farmhouse would look, wooden, possibly handmade furniture

all around. Furniture upholstered in fabric of earth tones, making designs that look vaguely like a camo pattern, a few taxidermid animals sitting around, including an eight-point deer head on the wall, a beaver, and what looked to me like some sort of big, angry weasel. While I was looking around and taking in the cozy atmosphere, the man brought me a cup of coffee. Oh, thank you, I said to him, trying to sound as grateful as I could. Again, he bowed his head in acknowledgement. Would you mind if I used your phone? I blurted out. I know country people are often more slower pace than we city people are, but I had a burning car to take care.

No, he finally spoke. Oh, thank you. Where is it? No. I mean, I ain't got a phone. Does me no good. Oh, I said, audibly disappointed. But my car is on fire.

It could burn down the trees near it. I said, pleadingly, as though this urgency would magically give him a telephone. I won't heard nothing. He drawled. Just rain. Besides, them trees are all alone. If they catch, nothing else will. He seemed sure.

This calmed me down. Okay, thank you. After a long silence, I said, Oh, but then how will I call a tow truck or a ride out of him? Without looking at me, only drinking his coffee, he said, I'll be driving you into town tomorrow morning. Drop you off at a mechanic.

You can take care of it from there. He already had a plan. This gave me a huge, huge feeling of comfort. Seeing him drink his coffee reminded me to have some of my own, so I didn't appear ungrateful. I was about to open my mouth to speak when he said, you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight, blankets on the bank, armrest for a pill. He motioned toward the couch I was sitting on, answering the question I was about to ask. Thank you, sir. Again with the bow. He got up, finishing his coffee, putting a handout.

to take my cup if I was done. Still working on it, I said it and smiled. He continued taking his own cup to the kitchen and placing it in the sink. I heard the sound of a door creaking open, and then he mumbled something, but I couldn't tell what. He mumbled again with a tone like he was answering someone, defending himself. I thought maybe his wife wasn't happy with him letting a stranger in here and was too afraid to come out herself. His voice hit a tone of the quick anger and he stopped talking he returned to the room i won't be any trouble you can tell her that i said letting him know i'd heard but smiling so he knew i wasn't offended he gave a quick nod he placed the candle that you'd use to answer the door on the stand next to the couch turn out this light before

you sleep he pointed directly to the switch yes sir i found myself bowing my head like he'd be He walked across the room and sat down again. We sat in silence for some time. I didn't know what to talk about, and he seemed to be just fine with not talking. I didn't see a TV anywhere, so this must be what he does. I saw a few books, but their covers look dusty. Turn out this light for you sleep, he said again. I wasn't sure if he forgot he already said it, or if he was just emphasizing the point.

I nodded. "'You don't have to stay up on my account,' I said, offering him the chance to excuse himself to beg. He grunted, ambiguously. Not that I'm not enjoying your company, I just don't want to put you out. Your wife would probably feel better if you were in the other room with her anyway. He looked at me as guts. I mean, I'm not going to steal anything. I felt sweat forming on my brow, wishing I could just shut up.

"'Not that you think I'm going to.' I trailed off. I hung my head, embarrassed. I saw a half-smile appear on his face. I smiled then, too, abashedly. I just want you and your wife to know that I'm not dangerous. That's what I'm trying to say. He bowed his head again, knowingly.

He'd already assessed me. If he thought I was threatening, he wouldn't have let me in. He rose from his seat as he walked past the doorway, He stopped and turned his head, but not enough for me to see his features. Turn out this light for he asleep. I nodded again, then remembering he couldn't see me, said, Yes, sir. Must be his memory, I thought. I picked up one of the dusty books.

After dusting it off, I could see that it was a lovely book, bound in dyed leather with a gold design dancing around the edge of it. No title was imprinted on it. The pages also had gold. gold leaf. I opened to a page that was doggies. The book turned out to be a Bible. It opened to Corinthians chapter 15. A few of the verses were underlined. So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable. It is raised imperishable. It is sown in dishonor. It is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness. It is raised in power. It is

Sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. These verses must have helped them through a death, I thought. Perhaps if a child. They were all alone, he said they had no use for a telephone. I thought my eyes begin to water, as I imagined the sad, lonely life they must live out here. I closed the book and placed it next to the candle. There was a single strike anywhere match lying on the holder beneath the stick. I hoped I didn't have to get up my door.

more than once in the dark. I had no idea what time it was, but it was late, so I pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, laid down, and closed my eyes. I shut up from the couch immediately, remembering the words of the old man. I turned out the light before I slept. I returned to my position on the couch and was asleep in no time. I don't know how long I was asleep before a sound woke me up. I opened my eyes and peered through the doorway that led into the kitchen. silhouetted by the dim light coming through the window I could see two forms the man and the woman

standing by the sink I heard him fill a cup with water and saw the shadow hand it towards his wife the cup shattered as it hit the tile floor of the kitchen I saw his head begin to turn so I closed my eyes not wanting him to think I'm spying on them I opened them a few seconds later

to see his arm around her as if reassuring her that he wasn't mad about the cup. He bent over to pick up the pieces of the cup. The form of the woman swayed slightly, as if standing was an effort. He seemed to remember this as he suddenly shot his body up and steadied her with his arms, pulling her closer to him. It was sweet to see such a pure love at such an old age. He filled another cup, and this time he held it for her. He walked out her view tugging on her arm. Her body turned as if it was willing, but she only shook, refusing to take any steps. I hope my presence hadn't scared her that much. She couldn't

hold a cup or stand well, though, so I just attributed it to her old age and failing body. I saw his arms reach around her and pick her up, as though she were a little girl. These steps faded as they went into the other room. Then he returned for her cup of water, having delivered her to the bed. His steps once again faded, but when they returned, I saw his form start to appear in the window, and then I closed my eyes,

again not wanting him to think I was watching, though I was. I had no motion for several seconds. I opened my eyes just slightly, so that someone far away in the dark wouldn't be able to tell the difference. And there stood his shadow, in the doorway, facing me.

I shut my eyes quickly, hoping he wasn't angry. An intimidatingly long amount of time went by before I heard him saunter off, back into the bedroom. I breathed a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from my forehead and palms. I felt my heart racing. I couldn't figure out why he'd stared at me for so long. While recovering from the fear, I drifted off again to sleep. I awoke once more, this time not due to take. any sounds but because I had to go to the bathroom. I sat up, realizing he'd never told me where it was,

but as there were no doors in here, I at least knew where I had to start looking. I tried lighting the match a few times on different surfaces before I was able to find one that would light it. I lit the candle, blow out the match and set it on the stack. I walked out into the kitchen, using the dim but warm candlelight to navigate the way. The kitchen looked just as rustic as the living room did. I was paying too much attention to the decor, and not enough to where I was stepping, and felt a sudden stab of pain in my foot. I held in a gasp and looked down. Red soaked through the bottom of my sock. The man had stood up so suddenly to steady his wife that he'd abandoned his efforts to clean the rest of the shards of the teacup. I bent over, picking up what pieces I could

see and placed them on the countertop. The candlelight danced around the room, as I had to do. As I I looked for a door to the bathroom. I saw two doors at the end of the room. One went straight while the other was off to the side. The one off to the side was open a crack. What little light peeked through it illuminated a bed with two forms. One was large, laying on its side, with an arm around the smaller form of the other. On its back, her arms over his.

Thought about how most people would be lucky to find a love like this. when people are stuck all alone in a house together for years, they have no choice but to stay so close. As I smiled, I walked toward the other door and opened it. It was the bathroom. After finishing, I returned to my spot on the couch, blew out the candle and fell asleep, warmed by the vision of the bodies cuddling on the bed.

The next time I was woken up, it was by a pleasant smell of eggs and bacon cooking. I rose from the couch, the house filled with the sunlight from outside. The view outside the window was pleasant, and the pink in the sky told me it was still quite early. I felt rested, though. I wasn't about to sleep through a real country home-cooked breakfast. I stumbled into the kitchen.

Good morning. I got another bow in reply. Sorry about that, he said as he motioned to the shards of teacup on the counter and the trail of blood left by my son. Oh, that's all right. I'm sorry about not cleaning it up. but it would have been too hard by a candlelight I hope to wake up before you and clean it's all right he said emotion to the small kitchen table I sat down at one of the places he shoveled out bright yellow scrambled eggs the most delicious I'd ever smelled and forked four pieces of bacon onto my plate

it's more if you want it I nodded I waited for him to sit before eating They had a Bible in the living room. They might also say grace, I reasoned. He motioned eagerly to the plate, smirking, as if he knew why I wasn't eating it. I dug into the delicious food. It was the best breakfast I'd ever had. As I was shoveling more egg into my mouth, he handed me a piece of toasted homemade bread with what I assumed to be homemade butter on it as well.

As I ate, he dished out two more plates of food, putting one at it. each end of the table. He sat down to the one furthest from the bedroom door, which was shut entirely, probably to keep the noise of cooking breakfast out of the room. He bowed his head to give a quick, silent grace. Out of respect, I stopped chewing and also bowed my head, though keeping my eyes on him so I knew when I could return to the greatness that sat before me. I was savoring the last few bites of my meal when I realized the woman had never come out to breakfast. "'Or will your wife be joining us?' I asked, hoping he didn't take it as rudeness. He shook his head.

He must have noticed the puzzled look on my face as I wondered why he bothered to set out a place for her, if he knew the answer. It never comes out of breakfast. Has problems walking. Said it just in case. His eyes became glossy. That's very sweet of you, I said, and smiled. He cleared his throat and stood from me. the table, disregarding the rest of his food. I imagine it was so he could cover whatever

tears may have come to his face as he remembered a time when they weren't so controlled by their aging bodies. We'll leave in a while, he grunted, gaining composure but moving past the subject. Thank you. Don't rush. I'm in no hurry. I lied. I appreciated the hospitality and the food, but I wanted to get home. I saw him not. "'Got to do some chores, and we can go,' he said as he walked out the door, not even grabbing a jacket. I nodded my ascent to his back. He'd sit on the couch and wait. I'll be a while.

I walked into the living room, preparing for more boredom, but reliving the meal I'd just eaten in my memory. As soon as I sat down, I remembered the meal the man left on the table. I got into the kitchen, ready to clean the dish. When I got an idea, I could reheat this and give it to his wife. She would maybe feel better about having me in the house, and I'd get to thank her for not convincing her husband to kick me out in my time of need. I turned on the oven low and placed the plate inside for just a few minutes, enough to warm the food, but not enough to make it so hot that I couldn't carry it.

I also decided that I'd get her a teacup of water to go with it. Then I saw the bread. That was some of the best toast I'd ever had, so I toasted her a slice and buttered it up for her. The man came inside, saw me with a plate of food, buttering toast, and smiled at me. Didn't have to wait till I was gone. I simply smiled back, not wanting to embarrass him by correcting his assumption. He grabbed something from the wall. I couldn't tell what, and walked back outside.

Finally finished, I placed the toast on the plate and walked over to the table. door. I knocked slightly. No response. I knocked again, slightly harder. Still no response. But the door, having not been latched all the way, slid open slightly, not past the door jam. I thought maybe she was still sleeping, or perhaps too nervous to speak to me, knowing her husband were outside. I figured I could just leave the plate on a night standing. She could eat it when she was ready. I slowly pushed the door open and began tiptoeing. I saw the nightstand through the opening door and began walking toward it. Through the corner of my eye, I saw that her eyes were open.

Oh, excuse me, I began as I turned my eyes toward her. I gasped and dropped the plate to the floor, ceramic and food flying everywhere at my feet. The woman was very clearly dead. dead and had been so for quite some time. Her lips was slightly open, tightly spanned around yellow teeth. Her skin was dark brown, like leather, but less expertly made, wrinkled in some areas, drawn too tightly around others. Her body was placed on a pillow, mostly prone, elevated slightly. Her arms folded on her lap in front of her, hands brown and fingernails yellow. Her hair was matted in some places, but a braid looked fresh and clean, laying across her shoulder.

Her lifeless eyes, probably glass, stared out directly in front of her. The eyelids wrapped too tightly around them, as I took this in, unable to move or completely process anything. I heard the door slammed behind me. The man must have heard the plate shatter and returned to see what had happened. I turned around, stunned, mouth agate as he looked at me, eyebrows furrowed, but his face blushing with tears streaming down his face. I couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed, but I knew that I was terrified.

So, I did what anyone would do. I ran. And so once again, we reached 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.