Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep223: Episode 223: Horror Stories in the Pouring Rain

Episode Date: March 4, 2025

Today’s first fantastic offering is ‘The Black Cloud’ by Nick Moore, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and read here with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/nmwrites/ https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ccorqq/the_black_cloud/ Today’s second fantastic offering is ‘The Voice in the Night’, a classic work by William Hope Hodgson, a story in the public domain, but recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Voice_in_the_Night  Today’s third tale of terror is ‘The Devil and Tom Walker’, a classic work by Washington Irving, another story in the public domain, also recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Devil_and_Tom_Walker We round off proceedings with the old school classic ‘The Isle of the Torturers’, a work by Clark Ashton Smith; again a story in the public domain, once more recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Hunters_from_Beyond

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Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. A steady gentle patter of rain creates a soothing blanket of white noise that effortlessly drowns out the harsh clamor of everyday life. This constant murmur envelopes you in a cocoon of calm, easing stress and fostering deep relaxation. Beyond its coming effect, the sound of rain connects us to nature, evoking the serene beauty of the outdoors even when we're indoors, reminding us of nature's timeless alone.

Join me tonight as I lead you on a journey through an evening of eerie and enchanting stories or set against the mesmerizing soundtrack of rain pouring down. Now as ever before we begin a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. There's something far worse than vampires. By Ringo Croix.

Now this right here. this is one of our more pricier selections, Mr. Gibson, but I think it's perfect for the occasion. The waiter said before pouring him a glass of blended red wine. And for the lady, Mrs. Gibson, here you are. The waiter smiled at me before pouring wine into my glass as well. Thank you, my husband said, before waving the waiter off, so we could get back to enjoying our evening.

Oh, my Walter, I giggled. I was so rude, I told my husband with a hint of sarcasm. What do you mean? You didn't even give me a chance to thank the man. It's been really nice to us so far. I don't think I've ever had a more plight waiter. My husband raised his glass to say a toast. Couldn't help but notice the warmth that radiated from his eye.

He was a vampire that rarely exhibited emotions. For him, any display of affection was as rare as the wine swirling in our glasses. Cheers Cheers to our one-year anniversary, my dear I know I don't tell you enough But I do adore you I love you with all of my heart, my dear Walter

That's so sweet Thank you He said smiling at me Cheers I said before toasting After taking a sip from his glass He asked me So how's everything going

I found it difficult to hide my smile As I told him that Things couldn't have been going any better But that's excellent I know, I'm surprised myself Surprised me every day, my dear Maya It's been about a year and a half ago since my life It completely changed

That was around the time I met the man Vampire, I should say, of my dreams We first met during a charity event at the Detroit Symphony Hall. We actually met after the concert in the Donor Lounge. A good friend of mine introduced us, and, well, as they say, the rest is history. The funny thing about it was that at first,

well, I wasn't even planning on going. I was busy with work stuff, and yeah, I'd been to like a million charity events, given my station in the company. Please don't get me started on how any of this charity madness got started. It's a really long and really long, and really irritating story. Let's just say it was me

who schemed up what I thought was this innocent little initiative. You know, it was a way to give back and say, thank you to the local community for doing business with our company.

I figured I could earn another easy raise. The program would end in a year or so and then we'd move on to the next great big idea, like always.

Well, unfortunately for me, the whole thing turned out to be a raging success. The program had kind of taken on a life of its own, so, yeah, like I said, I'd been to quite a few of those things by this point. Turns out I couldn't escape those damn charitable events to save my life. Looking back on it, I came up with every justification you could think of to justify scrapping the program, but of course, it used to no avail. I know, it sounds terrible, but I don't care.

These exhausting events have taken a chunk out of my already non-existent social life, which irked me to no end. The night I met Walter, almost never happened. I came that close to calling my secretary and having him attend on my behalf. Thank God I didn't. I don't know if it was fate or dumb luck.

But whichever it was, that's how I met my future hobby, Walter. And I have to say, I'm glad things shook out the way they did. Is everything okay, my dear? He asked. Yeah, I'm sorry, dear, I smirked. What were you thinking about?

Before I could answer, the chef and one of his assistants returned without entrees on a food cart. As they placed our items on the table, I found myself staggered by another round of unsolicited thought. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't stop myself from reliving that fateful moment in which my life had forever changed. Oh my God, I'm doing it again. I taught myself I'd stop thinking about this. It'd have been like a year since my transplanted. transformation into a vampire, but the memory still haunted me. The process from human to vampire was wrought with so much difficulty and uncertainty. To be honest, it's probably a miracle I even

made it through the first night. Walter had stayed by my side through the whole ordeal. He did his best to make sure I didn't succumb to my fever. But the pain was intolerable. Now the whole experience was pretty intolerable, come to think of it. I totally regretted my decision at first. I'll give Walter credit, I mean, he did ask if I wanted to go through with it before we actually went through with it, so to speak. I did kind of tell him I wanted this, about really giving it too much thought. Whatever, I'm just happy it all worked out in the end. I waited patiently, smiling the whole time as the chef and his assistant finished up.

My husband thanked them before again, hastily dismissing them. The chef and his assistant obeyed. I could tell they knew who my husband was. Probably the reason we were even able to secure reservations at this fancy little restaurant to begin with. And my husband, Walter, who wasn't exactly a high-ranking vampire or anything like that. I think it was his boss's boss who was the all-important one. I mean, I never actually met the lady.

Come to think of it, I think Waters only ever seen her a few times. Well, apparently this girl is a super big deal. I don't know, the whole vampire thing can get hilariously convoluted and all their weird ranks and sub-ranks and crazy birthrights, twisted bloodlines, and the strange ritual. I forget his boss's boss, the official title, but I think the place my husband worked at, I think they're in charge of record-keeping for the local vampire lords or something like that.

That's a long story, let's just say that around town, especially at hotspots like this restaurant, my husband was well-respected. The only thing about it was that when we met, I was the well-respected one. I used to be one of the top execs for one of the top lending agencies in the world. I won't state the name for obvious reasons, but it wouldn't be too hard to figure out. In the region we live in, really only has one major mortgage plan. You seem a bit preoccupied.

You sure everything's okay, my dear? He asked, after noticing that I'd drivet. shifted off again into my own head. Oh, gosh, I said, before laughing under my breath. Definitely feeling a little embarrassed. He caught me red-handed. With a weighty sigh, I told my husband, everything's fine, sweetie.

How are you adjusting to your new life? Wonderfully, I told him with a smile. Great. What about your new job? So far, I'm absolutely loving it. Really, even though it's a notch or two down from the career you had in your prior life. Paywise, I say it's further down the totem pole than a notch or two, but yeah, as crazy as it sounds, this is probably the happiest I've ever been. That's both surprising and pleasing to hear.

I'm glad you're happy, my dear. To be frank, I was afraid you'd come to miss your old life. You kidding me? Working as a travel agent for these crowsy. crazy elite vampires, it's been the most amazing experience. With so many different people, and I've learned so many different things about our world. It's not even funny. I couldn't have asked for a better life.

That's good to hear, my dear. Are you adjusting to the transformation? I'll be honest, it was hard at first. I mean, when you changed me, I almost died. Is that common? I'm starting to get the feeling it is. I'm afraid so. That sucks.

No wonder vampires are so reluctant to turn others. Why is that? Why is what? Why is the process so taxing? Apparently it has something to do without saliva. The toxins carried in it can be deadly, if not administered, with supreme caution. I never asked you this, but do you regret your decision to change me? But I'm...

Afraid I do. It was irresponsible. No matter the amount I care for you. I knew you'd say that. I gave it away. Nothing. It's just who you are. Is that a bad thing?

It can be, I chuckled. Most of the time it's a good thing. I mean, a really good thing. That's good to hear. He said, blushing ever so slightly. It's so wild, you know. What's wild, my dear? None of the things I thought would be true about us actually are.

Well, not us, but our kind. You know what I mean, told him in a huff. What do you mean? he asked. You know, it's totally opposite of all the vampire movies. We're not allergic to sunlight, garlic, crosses, or bibles, and we don't have to feed on human blood very often. We even have regular 9-5s. Yeah, I don't know why I thought it would be any difference.

I suppose it could be overwhelming at first, especially for those not born a vampire. Yeah, speaking of that, I mean, what am I called again? I keep forgetting. What do you mean? You know, people like me who were turned into a vampire by another vampire. A brood. it's a very derogative term.

I wish our kind would find another name. I don't mind it so much. You were a proud woman. Thank you, I said while blushing. That was the first thing I noticed about you, and the first thing I fell in love. I'm sure he noticed my surprised expression. Walter hardly ever told me how he felt.

He was always dodgy and cagey when it came to the subject. The man, the night couldn't. have been going any better. I was so looking forward to celebrating a countless number of anniversaries with this vampire, especially if this was how it was going to be. Just then, Walter's phone began to ring. I looked at the number blinking across the screen in disbelief. Strange. He answered the call with this look in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. He had his phone on the table, looked over at me, and tapped the speaker option. Greetings, this is Mr. Gibson.

What can I do for you? Introduce myself. I'm sure you already know who I am, Mr. Gibson. I do. It's a privilege to speak to you. I wish I could say the same. What do you mean? I'm calling you out of courtesy.

I, uh, I don't understand. Given you are a loyal subject of ours with you. a sterling reputation. I thought I should be the one who relayed the unfortunate news. You have been... Selected. It's... Selected?

He asked. What does that mean? Did we win a prize or something? I asked with a slight chuckle. Is that your wife? Yes, he uttered. Water looked over in my direction, with this look of despair. I could see the pain in his eyes.

He took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to ask. And my wife, has she been selected? I am afraid, so. I thought only one person. Marry couples are an exception to the one-person rule. I'm sorry, Mr. Gibson. I would advise you and your wife to spend the time you have wisely. Well, there has to be...

Has to be something that can be done. I know the decision can be appealed. Look, please, I beg you, I've served them faithfully my whole life. That's not how this works. Look, I am sorry. Farewell, Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. Walter stared at his phone. It was like he didn't want to believe the call was over.

I've ever seen my husband look so upset. I was confused and a little afraid to ask him what the hell was going on. I took a deep breath and worked up the nerve to ask him. Is everything okay, sweetheart? He placed his hand atop mine and tried his best to smile. We should enjoy our meal. Walter? It's nothing, my dear.

You should eat your food before it gets cold. I heard what he said. Walter took a bite into a slice of filet mignon with a shake he fought. He peeked over at me while wiping his mouth with a napkin and asked, How's your steak? Walter, who was he? Why are you so worried by what he said? You're starting to freak me out.

He's a vampire way up on the food chain. Really? How long have you known him? What? I mean, I've always known off him, but no, heaven's no. I do not know him personally. Wow. Why'd you say it like that? He's a vampire you never want to know. Unless he's making any sense.

You're being extremely vague, Walter. My dear you, well, perhaps you should... I stood from my seat and shouted, I don't want any of this fucking steak. What I want is for you to stop lying. What the hell's going on, Walter? I could feel the piercing stares of the other patrons without even having to look.

When I realized I was brandishing my steak knife at my husband, I dropped it onto the table. Freaked out by my own behavior, I sat down and put my hands to my face. I thought like mad to gather myself, but before I could calmly, tell my husband to spill the beans. The waiter came over and asked if everything was okay.

Our husband had been quick to dismiss the wait staff earlier. This time, he didn't even so much as look up. He just sat there in his own little world, struggling to cut his stupid steak with a steady hand. We're... Fine, thank you, I snapped. He could sense the uneasiness and said, but if you need anything,

I'll be happy to help. everything's fine i reiterated very well he said before leaving our table my god i was just going on about how rude you were to our waiter and here i am being rude to the waiter i'm such a butthole i placed my hand atop my husband's and in as calm a tone as i could muster i told him walter look i'm sorry for yelling at you it was wrong it's just that Eh, you know what? Never mind. You wouldn't understand. It's okay. You have nothing to apologize for. What's going on, dear? I'll tell you everything I know. Wait, my phone's ringing. I looked at the unknown number blinking across the screen. Something told me not to answer.

Glanced over at Walter and then back at my phone. And against my better judgment, I accepted. accepted the call. Hello? Hello? I can hear you breathing into the phone. I wish I could see the fear in your eyes. Just a glimpse is all I require. What? They're color. What do you mean? Their eyes, of course, they're color. Who are you? You don't sound like the guy who called my husband. What do you want? Ah, so he did calm. I'll have to have a talk with his superiors for breaking protocol. The figure on the other end then cackled.

I've never had my victims told before. This might prove entertaining. Who are you? How is your husband? Is he worried? What do you want from us? I asked. This time with tears.

forming in my eyes. I looked over and saw my husband staring at me with a look of trepidation. I don't know how, but just like this person on the other end could sense how anxious he was making. Oh, I can't wait. I wonder if the light in your eyes will flicker before it fades. Is that why you want to know the color of my eyes? Yes. It's the subtleties before death that make all the difference. We have money. I still have contacts at my old job. They can help me get you whatever amount you're looking for. Please, we're good people. We don't deserve this. Oh, I can feel the strain in your voice.

Please, look, just tell me what you want. Don't worry. I'll see you very soon. Hello, what's your name? How did you get my number? I glanced at my phone in disbelief. This asshole is the nerve to end the call. Like what I had to say was worthless. I was furious. I turned to my husband and asked,

What kind of madness did you drag me into? My dear, I should have told you everything I knew a lot sooner. It was foolish of me to withhold secrets. Well, I did it to protect you. It's just, well, Our world is complicated, and I didn't think telling you would make your transition any better. Let's just go. I plop down whatever amount of cash I had in my purse, grab my belongings, and headed straight for the door.

I was hoping all of this nonsense was nothing more than some vampire being an asshole. Because, I mean, well, let's face it, no matter if you're a human or a vampire, there's always some asshole out to ruin your day. I made sure my husband saw me glaring at him through the glass door. as I waited outside. I watched him patiently as he finished doing whatever it was he was doing. To be honest,

I couldn't care less what he was doing. I was just so peeved off by the situation he dragged me into I didn't really focus on anything else. When he did finally decide to leave, he had the nerve to offer me his hand. As much as I hated him right now, I accepted his offer.

Together we made our merry way across the street, in the direction of the parking garage so we could get our car, go home, and pretend like this night had never happened. We were in downtown Royal Oak, which was apparently a hot spot for vampires. It's funny because when I was much younger, I'm talking late teens' early 20s, I'd been on several dates in or around this area. That realization blew my mind. I never would have guessed that this was prime hunting grounds for my kind. I see the car part from where we were.

All we had to do is get there and everything would be okay. I never wanted anything so bad before. I stole a deep breath and told myself, Okay, girl, just hold it together a little longer. All you've got to do is just make it to the car and we'll be fine. So all you've got to do, just get there, stop the thing up and drive off. After that, we can pretend like this night had never happened. I quicken the pace when the crosswalk gave us the signal to proceed.

It was around 9 o'clock at night now, in a busy downtown district, so of course I tried my best not to draw attention. It was difficult, though. The whole time we were crossing the street, I had this sick feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach. I just knew this sicker was watching us right now. He was probably waiting for us to make a mistake so we could pounce on a slight prank.

We passed a cluster of restaurants. One of them had a balcony. I don't know why, but the carefree laughter of the huge, humans dialing outside and the cool night air really got under my skin. It was stupid, I know, but suppose the saying was true. Misery loves company. We crossed another street. This one led past a dark winding road.

Walter stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his foot hit the other side of the curve. I let go of his hand and huffed in frustration. Walter, why did he... Before I could even finish I caught a glimpse of what he was staring at And that same winding road that we'd just crossed Was a municipal building with a slated route Well atop the gable

On the side closest to us I saw him The shadowy figure was standing near the edge Watching our every move Couldn't make out any of his features Because of the distance in the darkness the only thing I was able to see were his eye on that piercing stare

his eyes cut into me like a pair of daggers Walter turned to me and said We should keep moving Is that the guy who's after us Yes My husband's stomach Put his arm around me without saying another word And together we continued making our way towards the car park

well we made it there without incident several minutes later they sighed in relief when we reached the elevator after pressing the button for the top floor I went back to the wall and took in a deep breath I then turned and looked at Walter he was just staring at me he tried to speak but kept choking on his words what's wrong I asked him

so sorry he muttered when he raised his head I could see the infinite sadness in his eyes. My love, my dear Maya, no, no this makes sense, but I promise you'll understand once we reach the after one. Walter,

you're scaring me. He kissed me upon the forehead before telling me, whatever you do, don't run. Don't run, why not? I watch with bated breath as the elevator doors crept apart.

As soon as we exited, he turned my head in the direction of our vehicle. My heart nearly fell from my chest. Oh my God. The person who'd been hunting us. There he was, in the flesh, leaning up against the side of our car, smoking a cigarette. Why in the hell did he even beat us through our car? How in the hell did he even know which car was out? It was just on that rooftop.

He staring at us like... Oh, no. to be another explanation. Otherwise, this was truly a nightmare. Maybe this was a different person, I thought. No, it had to be him. I'd never forget those eyes, and all that sense of dread his presence filled me with. I grabbed water by the arm. What should we do? I don't know. Maybe we can talk to him. No. We're good people. I'm sure if we just... No. The figure turned his head in our direction when he heard the commotion. He flicked his cigarette butt into the shadows before calmly stepping into the driving eye. Quiet enough to hear a pin drop. But when I heard his footsteps

as he approached, I nearly lost it. Maybe 15 feet away. Just. Just a little. Just. I heard his footsteps as he approached. I nearly lost it. Maybe 15 feet away, just standing there watching. A voice inside my head told me to turn and run and to never look back. My husband was mesmerized by this being. He knew who this person was. I could tell by the fear of forming in his eye. I could tell by the harsh breaths he stole. Tension was suffocating.

The nightmare was real. This monster had come to claim our dream. Every step stolen brought him closer. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped again. That's when I finally was able to catch a glimpse of his face. It shocked me to my call. He was... He was...

Normal. Nothing about his appearance screamed out Soul Steeler at all. He was dressed in all black. An overcoat of some sort, boots and jeans. His long dark hair was slipped back and tied into a ponytail. He was well-groomed and clean-shaven. It was nothing like what I'd expected to see. His features were flawless.

He could even go so far as to say he was beautiful, like some kind of dark angel. The only thing airy about him were his eyes. I could see the hatred behind their brownish tins. Those two swirling masses were a glimpse into, madden. Usually I prefer a good hunt. But I suppose having to always chase after your prey gets home. It's also a tad cliche. Like some second-rate horror show. Who are you? I asked. He smirked. Did you enjoy your meal? Probably crude of me to ruin it with a call.

Why do you want to kill us? He came over and stood directly in front of me. He placed his gloved hand to the side of my face and stated, Ah, exquisite. I can't wait to extinguish a soul filled with so much life and so much curiosity. Are you one of us? I'm afraid not. Then what are you? I think I'll save you for last.

It'll be a waste not to save every drop of your passing. The soul as rare as yours is like an amaran. He then turned instead at Walter for a mother. With a monstrous grin, he told him, as for you, I think you know how this is. Walter, I scream. The being lunged himself upon my husband and drove his fangs deep into the side of his neck.

He drained his blood with a veracity I had never seen before. I fumble through my purse and pulled out my pocket pistol. I cocked the hammer back and aimed for his head. My trigger finger felt like a layered weight. I tried and tried to pull the trigger, screaming out my husband's name the whole time, telling him I was sorry. It was killing Walter right in front of me. But no matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn't do it.

I couldn't pull the trigger. This sole steeler gazed into my eyes as he drained the, life out of my husband. I backed away until my back hit the wall, next to the elevator, and I couldn't go any further. I wanted to run so bad, I wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. But somehow, I knew I could feel it. No matter where I ran, he would find me. He tore his fangs from my husband's neck without much compassion. Gritting wildly, he turned Walter around so I could see as the life slipped from his arm. Tears slipped from my eye. It was so painful to have to stand there and be forced to witness my husband's final moments like that.

There was nothing graceful about death. His lips quivered as he struggled to say the words, I love you, one last time. Walter, no. He let go of my husband's body and it turned to ashes before I could even hit the ground. My hands were shaking uncontrollably by this point. I couldn't take it anymore. I closed my eyes and lowered my weapon. Pride and cried for what seemed like an eternity. I asked God to save me.

I prayed and hoped an angel would notice my tear. He leaned into my ear and whispered, maybe if you click your heels, you can go home. God, please stop. I love the way you say his name. Why are you doing this? Ah, so much hope, so much light, so much fear. I can only imagine how potent it is.

He drew his lips so close to mine we could have kissed. I'd feel the heat that radiated from his skin. His breaths were hot and heavy. Instinctively, I turned away when his nose brushed up against my name. Blood in my veins made him moan in desire. You're a thief. It's funny you say that. Isn't that the same thing a human would say to you?

I looked up at him with teary eyes. My whole body was trembling. I asked him, hoping against hope that he would finally reveal his identity. When he rang his fingers through my hair, a cold shiver ran down my spine. he scraped at the brick wall until my fingers bled. This sole steel had touched my right earlobe while examining the diamond earrings Walter had surprised me with earlier today as an anniversary gift.

He traced down my neck with the back of his finger. I shuddered, wanting nothing more than to let myself slip out of the body where I could be free. While staring deeply into my eyes, he finally revealed his true mind. motives. My name is Jereo. I want of five fallen generals who fought for his dream.

My job is to make sure the new faith continues to prosper. Vampire like you who are non-believers, have no use to me or the anti-church that serves under me. That's not why I'm here. That's not the reason I'm going to slay you. I was sobbing like mad. This wasn't happening. None of this was happening.

This had to be a bad dream. I shook my head over and over. Try my damnedest to stop my life from flashing before my eyes. I didn't want to die. Not like this. Couldn't believe it. Life could be so fucking unfair. I looked up at this thief and asked him,

Why do you have to kill me? That's the reason we created your life. kind. We need your blood to sustain ourselves while here. As you can imagine, hell isn't the most comfortable place in the world. You'll find out what I mean soon enough. I don't want to die. Begging is so undignified, especially for a woman as dignified as you. His words stab through me like a sword, killing my heart before I'd even die. Plunged his fangs deep into my neck when he saw my sadness. The pain was infinite and intense.

By I jotted down my neck, my shoulders, my arms, before settling in my chest. He drained every ounce of my being. Who I was, who I wanted to be. It was all taken from me. There were so many things I would never know and so many things I would never see. Thought about my ailing mother,

my hard-working younger brother, A little niece who was a darling. But most of all, Walter. But about the love of my life and how I love and life together had been taken away from us so cruelly. I could barely even keep my eyes open. My head fell back against the wall. My body slowly slipped to the floor, tearing the back of my dress in the process. This monster crouched down in front of me and washed in fascination as I choked on my own blood.

He gazed into my eyes with this look. It was as if my death was his possession, and he was admiring his handiwick. He kissed me upon the forehead before grabbing my gun and slipping it back into my purse. His lips ever so close as he whispered, The departure such as yours deserves reverence. I'm going to dine on your suffering. Please fight its embrace.

Walder Walter Yes With the last of my strength I reached out and touched the face of my slayer I could feel myself turning into ashes The spark inside me flickered

Before going cold I watched as the hand touching his face turned to ashes right in front of me I feel my body slowly slipping Slowly becoming no more My thoughts are my own No one can take them away from them, not even this wretched demon. Sadly, I thought the same to be true for my hopes and my dream.

Had I known in life or I know to be true in death. I would never have taken water up on his offer. A cave explorer, find something terrible in a system he's trying to map. The sinking rivers terminus by reflection. The sinking river occurs when a flow of water loses volume downstream, replenishing the groundwater, which in turn restores that water later on. This is also the case for cave rivers in certain geologies, limestone most common. In any case, the water eventually returns from the depths,

bringing with it dissolved elements to sustain the world above. This is but a fraction of this miraculous cycle, revitalizing the surface from underground, nurturing all life as we know it. My vocation is speleology, the scientific study or recreational activity regarding caves in the life. For me this manifests as a fervour in exploring them.

And there are, of course, obvious dangers associated with these activities and I'm not one to push them out of mind. This all applies to my experience a year ago when a cave I stumbled upon during my travels through Western Asia. The focus of my travels was to find a cave which had not yet been explored. I took this journey alone. Even now, I've yet to meet an individual able to match my odd passion for traversing, where an area peep of light enters, snuffed out by the damp, old darkness below.

At the time, I was trekking the Konya plain in central Turkey. The area is known for various sinkholes and caves, a little contradictory when it's thought it to be one of the driest areas in modern Anatolia. God, I wish I'd just walked right by that place. But I can't justify regret when foreseeing the consequences was impossible. Many will likely see me as an arrogant fool reading it. Maybe, but I ask you to at least hear all that I have to say. I set up camp near the entrance shaft around midday after doing a little online research.

I'm fairly well versed in the Anatolian regions, but I'd never seen a cave listed anywhere close to my location. Well, that settled it. I was certain that this cave was wholly unmatched. I feel my excitement boiling over as I unpacked my surveying and caving equipment, as well as supplies to bring with me. I had made sure to dawn some light water-proofs, as a small stream led down into the cave's entrance.

Caves are practically refrigerators as it is, regardless of climate, no need to worsen this by being splashed by equally frigid water. Well, suffice to say, I didn't hesitate to get started. It's important during a time like this to rain in one's excitement, which can swiftly give way to panic if you get lost. In fact, I almost forgot to bring spare batteries from my headland, a blunder that could very well have ended in disaster. I took care to detail each tunnel upon reaching a branch or terrain change,

using my hand compass and inclinometer to measure the angles in the passage ahead, then record the distance of the current passage with a tape measure before proceeding deeper into the hidden world beneath and noted a particular feature of the cave's entrance show an abundance of what seemed to be moss colors ranging from rusty orange to a striking crimson at first this led me to believe it was a colony of sphagnum moss several species of which can be varying degrees of red in colour however said genus of moss has never been reported to exist in this region. Sure it exists in some areas of the country, albeit rarely, that this moss is most commonly found in humid climates, especially those which allow bogs to develop. Now, the Conya Plain, as I've said, is the driest area in the country. The annual rainfall just isn't

enough to provide the conditions to support moss. I didn't dwell much on the matter, as I forged deeper into the tunnel. I've been travelling around three hours down, what I assumed was once the path of the ancient river, when the ground in front of me abruptly disappeared. The zap of adrenaline pierced my chest as I steadied my footing, knocking a few pieces of gravel into the gaping pit, seeming to repel the light from my headlands. Crouching load of the ground appeared over into the round a bit, revealing near vertical walls extending down well past my reach of vision. Honestly, that was something that even now I can't figure out. Of all my knowledge of caves, I was aware of nothing that could detail how this shaft

had formed. It was too angular, too straight, too sudden. Of course, I'm not an idiot. I didn't have the equipment to explore it at hand, and really the whole experience had put me off any desire to know where it led. I decided to retreat to the last branch with the use of my hand-written map, continuing down the sprawling passages ahead with the utmost caution. The moment of the most caution. To my relief, I found nothing which compared to that pit of light-eating dark. After another couple of hours, I decided to call it a day. I was satisfied with my progress, and, to be frank, I already missed the sun on my skin, whatever sweltering it might be.

Something about that sharp had rattled me, but the fact I'd almost been too late to see it was a good justification. After a smooth journey back, it was momentarily blinded by the sun. now close to the horizon. I poured over my map, which I had not yet added any verticality. I'll try drawing a reliable map in two dimensions surrounded by cold darkness,

let alone in three. I let out a deep sigh as I gazed upon the landscape around. The beauty of our planet has rarely ceased to instill a deep sense of peace in my heart, no matter where I am. The golden tall grass flitted gently in the late afternoon breathed as I finished a bottle of water. A part of me is grateful I've been able to experience these moments.

Another part endlessly yearns for more. And I'm glad that this is what makes me, well, me. Following the short-lived serenity, I packed a small bag and ventured back to a village I'd passed on the way here, to stock up on food and water. It was far removed in contrast to those I'd grown up around. Children played and ran free in the dusty streets, passing cars being a rarity.

Farm projects, vibrant in their colours, sat nestled in wooden stores attended by wind-beaten men and women. This time of the day, the people sat and drank tea together. None of that milky nonsense, only a warm and sweet brew into which time was sometimes added. Despite the nation being such tea lovers, they were a great factor in the introduction of coffee to the Western world. It's the Ethiopia, though, for its discovery. I was drawn to a small, open front store, seeing the cool, bottles of water and the packaged food that was practical for travel. The residents here knew fragments of English, but I'm fluent enough in Turkish to translate our conversations for the

most part. Good evening, sir. My name's Quinn. Nice to meet you. I greeted the shopkeeper. Ah, you're not from around here. What brings you to this area? He replied with a hearty, yet tired voice. He bore a wide, salt and pepper moustache and a pair of rectangular glasses. Well, my friend, I'm a traveler. I travel across the world. It's my passion, I said, gesturing toward the street outside. You come with friends? He asked with kind curiosity.

No, just me here. My head works better alone. I look for unknown caves so I can explore them and map. His smile wavered then. A faint change, but a change nonetheless. The old man asked, this time in a quieter and lower tone. You have, um, you found any you like? He laughed a little, but his voice was not so full of life this time.

He exuded a worry as he awaited my response. I, uh, yeah, I have. Just down the road, actually. Hey, is it okay if I camp nearby? I've already explored. Lord of Lodden, I need to rest so I can go back in tomorrow. At this, the storeowner's voice dropped much more obviously this time, lip trembling slightly and brow wrinkled in a mixture of fear and pity.

That, you should not go to that place. It's an evil place since long ago. It should be forgotten. Blood was spilled by our ancestors for a reason. Don't undo their work, I ask you. A resonating shiver ran down my spine. my thoughts jumped back to that deep hole I'd discovered. It was as if the memory was forcefully pushed to the front of my conscious mind.

I stood for a moment, contemplating what possible response such a proclamation could warrant. Your ancestors, I asked. I'm sure if this was the right question. Not mine, but of the land, he muttered. He taped. Well, I'm not much. much of a history officionado, but I recognised the word to refer to the Hittite Empire around 3,000 or so years ago. That's probably inaccurate, but that's of little importance now.

Well, I nodded slowly, feigning contemplation, then resolved that the beliefs of the man in front of me were just that. Beliefs. I had my own as well, of which one was that I would not be dissuaded from returning, however oppressive and suffocating the cave might feel. Though I'd be lying if I said his words didn't rouse a faint sinking feeling in my gut. Okay, my friend, I'll pack up and leave tomorrow. But I must rest for now and get supplied. I lied. I turned and perused the wards.

After a moment, I returned to the counter with water bottles and various packets of cereal bars and powdered soup. Then, with a quick, thank you, my friend. I left the store and made my way back to Kemp. The sky had darkened and the streets were stifled. Not quite silent, but like a blanket had been laid over the whole place. I doubt it was anything more than mild paranoia given the events of the past day. Arriving back at my tent, creeping anxiety overcame my body upon seeing the gaping hole in the rock face ahead.

A little fear is not uncommon in such environments, but this felt different. People had, supposedly, stood on the very ground I found myself standing on at this moment, and during all the time between, so had the cave. Patient and steadfast, outlasting whole generations and many more to come. I briskly entered my tent and zipped it up, feeling a little ease wash over. No scorpions or camel spiders came for a sleep-hover. this time, so I couldn't complain. After all, this is what I wanted to do, wasn't it?

My calling, or something like that, you know. I was thankful at least for the temperate climate, though. Still, that cave, it felt alive in a way. Not in the sense that it housed a variety of life, which was already evidenced to some degree by that moss coating parts of the entry shafts. No, More like the cave opening itself had a tangible presence that could be felt through the thin fabric covering me. The great black eye observing my every move, watching for the moment I bored the zipper down to go outside and heed nature's call. After some tossing and turning, I managed to doze off and claim my well-deserved reach-up. Part two. I work around 7.30.

The night had been merciful and nightmare free. I put on some cargo shorts on a tank top and then left my tent, which was almost an oven at this point due to the morning sun. I brewed a pot of coffee using a gas stove and tore open a fru'd nut bar, musing over my plan for the deck. I'd marked any branching tunnels I'd seen along my previous path with red dots, and I took some time to marvel at the fruits of my last trip. It felt as if I were holding the cave itself in my hand. This time I made sure to bring some rope, as well as a few carabin eclipse and several self-driving bolts for use with a bolt driver. As well as spare batteries, I realised with a small shock that previously I had not brought a backup lamp with me.

After packing one, I set off once again into the water-hewn passage. The moss felt noticeably spongier than it had the day before. It also seemed as if the hue had shifted, but I couldn't be certain. Certainly less dry than before, though the stream's flow was no different than I remembered. Intrigued, I tore off a sample to attempt identifying when I returned, since the moss's strange behavior was sparked my interest. Stashing it in my bag, I pressed onward in search of the first run. To avoid overestimating myself, I settled on a rule where I'd map a tunnel to a certain distance,

then return and do the same for the next. I had to stoop a little upon entering the first. smart passage, which descended gently, then angled back up and to the left. After rounding this bend, the passage straightened, and I saw a distant flicker of green or yellow light which disappeared somewhere ahead. I paused and tilted my head in confusion. What did I just seem? My mind scanned for a possible answer, but returned empty-handed. Well, I opted to brush it off as my imagination, and I kept it in my recent memory so I could think on it later.

I'd barely reached the end of the passageway when a reverberating snap hears the darkness, making me jump. It was very loud, yet I could not discern from which direction it had come. Dave acoustics mess with the senses,

the walls warping and reflecting the original sound like a game of telephone. Widely I scanned the solid rock walls around me to look for any signs of a fissure or cave in. I saw nothing, but I didn't want to take the risk of being crushed by a falling slayer. I turned on my heels and my pace quickened. A moment's later I was back at the sloping bend. Taking care of my footing, I started to descend, only to hear the thunderous echo once more. Abandoning any patience in regard to safety, I broke into a sprint to reach the bottom of the slope.

while I was slowed as I stumber my way up the last incline of the branch, finally bursting into the parent tunnel. And again, it sounded it. The rumble almost made me lose my footing as I wheeled to the right and sprinted toward the entrance. This time I was able to distinguish several quieter sounds following the first, like dry crumbling and cracking of some brittle material. Still, nothing around me explicitly confirmed that a structural brake was underway.

As the light from outside came into view, I skidded to a stop. The moss. It had grown. That wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Moss are slow growers. What had before been a thin padding of the stuff was now closer to huge red pillows. The stream that emerged from the swollen masses was tinted red as it extracted pigments on its way through. Without further hesitation, began to build up spruce.

feet, kicking up dust and stones. I did literally see the soft mounds expanding by the second, like one of those time-lapse video. Ritting my teeth, repelved myself forward, just as the fourth and loudest cracks so far resounded, my ears ringing from its intensity. Jumped onto the pulpy scarlet beds, now only 20 or so metres from someone.

As soon as my foot made contact with the moss, it was as if I'd stepped in, superglop. I kicked my free leg in front of me, bracing myself to prevent my knee breaking from my momentum. Dazed, looked down in terror to see that my feet were barely visible. It was pulling me in. Morrified, I reached forward, grasping aimlessly at slick tufts of moths. This was it. This is how my story ended. I didn't even know what the fuck was happening. I had so much left to fill the pages of my life. No, this couldn't be it.

And then, it was black. Part three. I came to in an aching haze of confused fear. I thought I was still in the tunnel, until my brain fully rebooted and I realized my eyes were clenched shut. So tight, I could see purple noise for me. Slowly, my eyelids relaxed and flickered open. I was lying sprawled on my back, looking up towards the start.

No, there were too many, and the colours were all wrong. Glittering spots of blue, green and yellow danced across my retina as I laid there. With the groan I raised my left hand above my face to see my cracked and chipped, yet still functional wristwatch. 3.41 p.m. My eyes darted between the twinkling expanse above and the time shone. lying in complete disbelief. I wasn't outside.

I grunted, pushing myself up into a sitting position. The sight presented to me was staggering. I'd been unconscious on the floor of an unfathomably large chamber. For how long I didn't know. The ceiling looked to be hundreds of feet above. The boreal spectrum cast a grim illumination over the scenery, but I couldn't determine how expansive if this place was.

Where in the name of all that is rational was I? I vividly remember sinking into that damn moths, moments from climbing out from the cave's gullies. But where had I wound up? I lowered my gaze from the glow overhead to get an idea of the structures around me. Immense crimson stalagmites towered over the chamber,

as well as equally massive hanging stalactites, which seemed to look down upon me in dismissal. Some had met and formed great pillars, looking as if they were all that was holding this place up. I would have attributed all that to the phrase morbidly beautiful, but my mind was racing too fast to consider anything unrelated to finding a way out of this hellish landscape. I stood up with some effort. Muscles still saw from my previous action. Looking to my right, I found more of the ominous formation.

To my left, the mum. of all monolith stood before me. It's difficult to convey its size, tenfold thicker than any of the others, and stretching toward the stone route. Red rubble littered the area around it, a result of some unknown assault on the object, squinting at the lower reaches of the spire.

Something smaller caught my attention, what appeared to be a raised stone platform surrounded by carved steps on all sides. Being to get some form of answer, I walked over to the structure, making out a single object on top. I was looking upon a sort of podium, atop of which with stone slab stacked neatly. Many of those entrancing dots of light spotted the ancient altar, which I came to realize were some kind of fireflies as they fled on my arrival. That was what I'd seen in the tunnels before. I figured there must have been millions, hundreds of millions of them.

resting on the cavern's route. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I considered the possibility I'd knocked my head and this was a dream conjured as a result, but it felt real. The pressure on my feet, the rays of emerald light in my eyes, these things could not be attributed to a dream.

If it was, then my awareness would allow me to lucid dream and fly my way out of this chamber, climbing the worn stairs, the contents of the stone plates came into view. They had something carved into them, a myriad of pigments colouring images akin to hieroglyphic. I remembered my backup lamp and removed it from my bag, which had stayed with me through this ordeal. I turned it on and illuminated the tablets before me. They depicted a story, which began with a gathering of people, lying prostrate before. a huge, divine being.

On its back with majestic butterfly wings, and great oak trees sprouted from its head. Its arms resembled the iridescent tail of a dragonfly, ending with human hand. Standing on many graceful insectoid legs, showered the worshippers with a blessing. The next image showed a green landscape, with crops drawing twice the height of men.

infants played and froliced in the fields some under sunrays others basking in rain for a brief moment i thought back to that shop owner and what he'd said about the land's ancient denizens if this was in fact of hittite origin was remarkably well preserved I flipped, continued reading to see an unsettling portrayal. The entity, who I assumed to be some patron of farming, maybe fertility, stood over the settlements, this time wearing a bitter sneer. Another frame depicted it then abandoning its people. They looked to be crying out, pleading in despair, their hands reaching out toward this titanic being. But the people done something to upset it? The next image was in stark contrast to the rest. The same landscape as before, but this time the sky was blazing, the ground dry and crack.

The once lush fields were withered, and the folk who'd been dancing in ecstasy were now sullen and bowing. Underneath this was... I'll just describe it. Men stood, naked, revealing what I can only describe as widespread castration. Ease, I was nauseous even looking at it. It was like all their parts had become gangrenous in various states of progression. Some were fully castrated, others only half. Among them were an equal number of mothers who wailed over still-born children.

All shared the same gaunt, malnourished stature. I stepped back for a moment, catching my breath. They were generally squeamish, but this was something else entirely. How could a deity ever be? allow any of this to happen. I returned to the pedestal and quickly overturned the tablet in morbid apprehension. The next illustration showed earthquakes ravaging the towns and villages, and rivers which had been impossibly bent askew from their beds and diverted elsewhere.

Through Armageddon I'd ever seen it told. It was about halfway through when a splintering crack tore through the ambience. They immediately correlated that noise to what. I'd heard in my flee from the tunnels. A deep sense of dread grew, winding its way up and throughout my skeleton. I couldn't at first identify the source, but the answer presented itself before I had the chance to try. Sank in awe as a great chunk of the scarlet mountain before me had broken off.

The scale of the landscape made the boulder seem to fall in slow motion. Finally, the hunk of maroon rock drove into the ground with some. such force that I could feel the earth tremble beneath me. I leant on the pillar, paralyzed for a moment, a cloud of brown dust plume from the sight of impact, which I hoped I was upwind on. I had enough problems at the moment. I didn't need particulate lung disease as another.

Allowing my heart rate to subside, I look back down at the tablet. Following the doomsday imagery, there was some kind of official gathering. Many of the attendants wore robes and were discussing something in a heated debate. To the right, a recipe for something was inscribed. The characters of the long-dead language meant nothing to me. All I could do was attempt to follow the accompanying illustration.

The first displayed five men, bleeding into a pop. Their robes featured colourful artwork depicting gods, men, and various symbols. Made me think these were holy men, priests, or shamans, maybe. The pot was full to the brim, and the next image showed the people preparing a fire and placing the pot on a hanging cradle above it. Next, an arrow was set ablaze with flammable liquid, then dunked into the boiling blood. The final step revealed the arrow, removed from the blood, burning with a crimson flame, its shade heavily emphasized. Another air-ending clap demanded my attention, this time closer and much higher up. As the crumption, it was a crimson flame. As the

Trumbled mass fell away. Something became visible underneath, with a contrasting dark green texture. The fragment shattered against the ground, an even larger cloud of orange dust billowing out into the air. Drumming in my ears, I looked back down to the tale of biblical carnage. On the next tablet, a priest stood at the mouth of a cave, facing outwards. It couldn't be. It was. The shape had already been ingrained.

into the folds of my brain. It was identical. Close to full-on panic at this point. My eyes drifted to the lower portrayal. The creature from the beginning stood leagues above the congregation, bathing them in its shadow. Pure malice and rage were its expression. I felt it was addressing me directly, splintering rumbles now rising in a terrible crescendo. I flipped the slab to reveal the final The burning arrow was shot by a bowman into the deity's left shoulder. I could almost hear its howls as its very being was separated into two, one bursting with the same glorious light seen at the start, and the other a putrid, twisted mockery of divine power.

The abomination was poured into the cave along with the arrow, swallowed whole by the earth itself, never be able to rid my memory of the final scene. cattle, goats and even people were being sacrificed en masse, their blood forming a gushing torrent which drove its way into the cave. The river was shown seeping through the rock into an immense chamber where it showered down onto the vile, writhing beings. It encircled the creature in a sanguine whirlpool,

constructing around it as its appendages flailed around. Blood. out of these enormous towers were made of blood now there was way too much of it many were drained to leave such an unimaginable amount of blood and for that matter why blood it hit me then that moss I'd seen of course it wasn't some offshoot of sphagnomers

it was another unremarkable species that had been tainted by the blood of the man massive, hard fall. I was emptied of thought when a sudden, deep, menacing rumble vibrated through the entire cavern. This was different, pounded its way through into the core of my being. Impending doom manifested and I rose my head meekly above the altar. That dark patch I'd seen before it, it was moving, oscillating back and forth. All of a sudden the roaring tremor ceased, and I saw an eye. At least I assumed that's what it was, but it bore little resemblance.

The deep depression in the mottled surface, shaped like a diamond with concave edges, contained a small point of light that was emerging from the darkness, intensifying until a blinding marble gazed down at my puny form. The crackling voice erupted from within. sounding like the splintering bark of a thousand trees being felled all at once, booming to address me. You have changed your minds, I take it. The force of its words made me stagger backwards, and any response I may have had was throttled as I stared up at the glare of some colossal being. Why do you cower in silence, human?

Speak, hit bellow. I What are you talking about? I stammered My breathing shallow Hmm I see that some time has passed Since your people and their self-proclaimed

Holy Man entombed this form Using the very symbol Of my gift Does one not perceive blasphemy in this Ah it seems not I'll allow you a gentle reminder return me to my body and I shall consider sparing life. Mine.

I don't know anything, please. I don't even know where I am, I cried, instinctually sensing the waves of anger emanating from the presence, having the strength in my muscles as I held on to the podium for support. At that moment, I heard something else. Yet again its source was unknown to me, but I recognized the groaning of something I. under immense pressure. Your understanding is not a requirement, human. But know that on the near morrow,

the offspring of this world shall be torn from the future's woe. The voice blared, cold, yet frothing, did I. All you need do is share the whereabouts of my body, and be darned with it. The deep creaking suddenly exploded into a deafening cacophony, a jet of broken rock. blood, shot out into the air

from the rear, the force sending shards fire into the distant blackness in an instant. What I saw next, I wish, could be white from my memory, but I don't think

anyone could forget what then emerged. A vast appendage extended from behind unfurling in all its awful might. The only way I can describe it was primordial.

It looked something akin to one of the raptor-like peripalps of a whip spider, rough and covered in bumps, and terminated in a collection of extremely long, sharp barbs. He swung around to the front, with a speed that wasn't physically possible for something it signs. The nauseating stench of a Charnel house then permeated my nostrils, as I watched in disbelief as the demonic appendage began scraping away at his prison. Waiter, please stop, I sputtered. words cascading from my lips before I even had time to think of them.

I don't know where your body is. The grotesque appendage continued tearing away at its cage. Shattered slabs fell by the dozens, further revealing the form beneath, for my terrible dismay. So be it, the voice thundered. I shall take the task upon myself. Do not worry your frail mind. I will see it through.

that this realm is returned from whence it came. And words had a disturbing sense of finality to them. Had earth just received a sentencing, myself being the sole member of the jury? I continue to hope with all my heart that that question is never answered. The imprisoned being then seemed to set its sole focus on escaping. The second of the bristled limbs began forcing itself

out of the side closest to me, Fissures spreading through the dry blood-like tree roots, grasping and reaching toward this plane of existence. Both limbs free, they drummed and slashed away, until at last the structure failed, collapsing in a deafening whirlwind. The being's true form was beyond words that I'm comfortable writing. Must have stood at least 150 feet tall,

180 with the dead rotten trees which sprouted as horns from its heads. Most of it was covered by a sickly black-green carapace, stood upon vast, triple-jointed legs, constantly shifting for balance, shaking the underlying bedrock and stirring the luminous insects from rest. The torso was vaguely humanoid, but was littered with bulbs that rhythmically spewed puffs of vapor. Countless writhing tendrils came off its back, snaking about the chamber, itching for something alive to grab a hold of. It moved at such a speed that my eyes barely perceived. Its face haunted me the most, almost humanoid, but lacking a jaw. In its place was a cavernous pit filled with fleshy spikes, freely dribbling a rancid, viscous fluid.

I saw no nostrils or ears, but its eyes were those diamond-shaped pits I'd seen prior, holding orbs of pale light. With a great effort, I tore my eyes. from the Beermont, thought frantically, searching for anything that could possibly aid my situation. I was close to just giving up, and I caught a glimpse of something from beneath the remaining tablet. Swiping it off with little regard for their historical value, a deep groove betrayed a square hat. Opening it, I appeared inside to see a bronze arrow flickering with a meagre lilac flame. A terrified confusion

I picked it up to find that instead of being hot it was strangely cold between my fingers For a moment I stared puzzled Until I made the link To what I just read Regardless of the validity

The carved illustrations It was now my only chance To avoid befalling with terrible faith With all the determination In my bruised and battered body I rose my head and began descending the steps What was I doing? Surely this would mean the end of me. I was but an ant for one of the being's thundering legs to soundly crush.

Despite my mind screaming in objection, I whirled my legs onwards, all the while trying to formulate certain plan of action. Flying insects have become frenzied swathes of light, swarming away from the thing in mass exodus, pelting me like hailstones in the process. Seeing my trembling march, the being led out a deep, reverberating laugh. His face remained unmoving. It seemed to speak from somewhere else entirely, vibrating from every direction. Suddenly, without warning, I felt an excruciating pain in my crop. It doubled over, eyes watering, groaning from the searing pain. But I had to push through it.

Once again, my march continued, now slowly. and limping, wading through the swirling, buzzing clouds. You think to do what exactly, child? Tie me down as a hunted bull. The creature spat, venom quickly returning throughout its chuckles. You are alone. I didn't answer, for I had none. I was asking myself the same question.

My dragging feet came to a stop, causing the entity to tilt its head in bemusement. I admire your resolve. pathetic as it may be, though I grow tired of this futility. It hissed, shifting its pounding legs to face me. In an instant, it raised an arm and swung it toward me. I did all I could think to, and held up my hands defensively. It raised an arm and swung it toward me. I squeezed my eyelids tight and mentally recited a prayer to an unspecified gulp.

The flies have become like. rubber bullets at this point, stinging my skin with each impact. An air-shattering boom rang out as the attack broke the sound barrier. I was blasted back a few feet as a result of this, whereupon I opened my eyes to see a bleeding stump in place of where my left pinky finger had been. Otherwise, I was somehow unscathed for the most part. Balls of the attack had cleared the area of the insects, leaving nothing but a graveyard of twitching length.

Looking up, it became apparent that the arm had swiped to the arrow I'd held, now embedded into the sharp extremity. Sizzling cracks spread from the location, and the creature howled, backed by a choir of screeching metal. Its arm spasm violently, forcing me to retreat in fear of being rendered a pile of diced flesh and bone. After a time of stumbling, I tripped and fell onto the cold floor. Turning around, I could see the beast struggling with its wound, scraping away at it, roaring in pained fury. Managed to dislodge the arrow and fling it far into the darkness, before turning its head to look directly into my eyes. Took a step forwards, or dropping to a few of its knees, but lack of a better term, and then strained, weakened chuckle. I am patient.

Run, little one, and spread word of my coming. Instill fear into your tribes, your settlement. It'll be far more exhilarating upon my arrival. Go to hell, you depraved piece of shit, I yelled, coming out more as a fleeting wish than the powerful taunt I'd hopeful. Good. Very good. There is little fun to be held. had in hasty submission.

And with that, the Colossus dropped to its remaining knees and clapped. I don't know how long I sat there, panting and healing. I observed the creature for a while, but it seemed to be in some kind of coma. I wasn't going to check for a bulse, but the mounds on its torso continued to expel gas which dissipated into the cool subterranean air. After I was certain that it wouldn't be moving any time soon. I shakily stood up, then retrieved my gear from the altar.

It seemed that the only way out of this place was up, squinting I could just make out a tunnel, a dark blemish on the ceiling, close to the top of one of the columns. I'd need to recycle some of my bolts during the ascent, but regardless I clipped myself in and tightened the harness. Began to climb, one repulsive handhold at a time. Lakes of blood showered me like confetti,

celebrating my empty victory. I developed an efficient routine for bolt recycling, descending from a higher rung and unplugging the previous ones. I often had to hang from the rope in near exhaustion to prevent my body from giving out entirely. Thirty feet left. Multiple bolts had already slipped my grasp and tumbled back into the hellscape below. I tried to avoid this, though my recently severed finger didn't help.

Might have been my tired mind. but I could swear I heard distant rumbles coming from all around. I've locked out any implications regarding the dozens of other scarlet obelists, nearing the final stretch before reaching the open. Finally, to more than 200 feet, I clambered into the tunnel I hoped would lead to salvation. It extended upward another 50 or so feet before my fingers grasped the rim of the shaft's opening.

It took a moment to be a moment. to reorient myself to my surroundings, after which I realized where I was. The dark pit, whose discovery had shaken me up the day prior. My walks, no, crawled my way in the direction out of this nightmare. My knees were cut and scraped on the sharp gravel that scattered across the floor, but I persisted nonetheless. While more bearable now, the pain still lingered in my groin. I refrained from examining the damage as I scrapped.

I scrambled my way out. Near the cave's entrance, I was worried initially, seeing no daylight, and I checked my watch to see it was almost 8pm. I could taste fresh air, feel the cool stream running past my knees and ankles, washing away the blood can grind. Like drinking a glass of ice water on a hot day. After moving closer, within range of my almost dead lamp, the moss was mostly gone,

A few dry scraps left clinging to the wall, a relief to be sure. On the verge of passing out, I hauled myself past the entrance with a grunt and flopped onto my back, gopping long, deep breaths from the night air. It was nice to see the stars again, instead of a colony of cave-dwelling firefly. My senses have now calmed enough to again be accepting of smells, and the distant scent of iron and smoke became apparent. I'd had my fill of curiosity, and I pulled myself inside my tent, allowing myself to wane into a deep slumber. Part five, packed up my belongings the next day, and cut my trip short.

I should not have the strength and all the will to pursue any further ventures. After some disinfectants and bandages, I returned my rental car and bought a ticket home for the same day. It was surreal, to say the least, sitting in a moment. amongst fellow plane passengers in their blissful naivety, knowing what I'd seen yet surely couldn't speak upon, lest I'd be shot down with pitied looks and quiet dismissal. The journey home was inconsequential, the usual work or life-warrays I may have otherwise had, clipped by my experience. I immediately visited my doctor, who inquired on my missing finger. I had come, however, in regard to the frequent pains in my lower back and genital region, which hadn't ceased since the day I left.

Of course, no diagnosis was made. All the doctor could say is that the blood flow in those areas had drastically decreased, and then necrosis was a possibility. I mean, I wasn't planning on kids, but it might have been nice to preserve the option. I was prescribed some pain meds and sent on my way, for the moment. months later I still haven't reached any substantial conclusion there's no closure to be had I did some research on the ancient Hittites mythologies

and I have in fact found something that seems similar to what I'd held witness to the tale follows a deity by the name of Telepin whose desertion led to a similar sequence of events it ends with a priest banishing the god's anger to the grass container in the underworld, in which not return.

That's where the similarities end, love. It didn't seem like a demon, nor angel or God, but something else entirely. The impurities and flaws of a deity given form. For one reason or another, I feel that the other bloody monuments in that place may not have been empty. Maybe this process had repeated many more times

than I could comprehend. So, What of these divine beings who were purified? Where have they gone? Ascended to someplace else? I don't see them anywhere on earth. So if anyone believes this, stock up on canned goods and other non-perishables.

As time passes, it grows harder and harder to quarrel my hunger and thirst, though I don't starve. Procrate, while you can, or not. There is a school of thought which says that it would be a mercy to spare our children the terrors which will inevitably break their shackles and curse those children and their children's children forevermore. The earth has been nothing more than a cleansing site for those above us, allowing them to reach greater heights, nor the filth and depravity that remains has been left for us to inherit the door at the end of the hallway by Hayesinger Cartwright.

Jeremy Bowens was curious to see what his new tenement would look like. Yet, it being a tenement, his curiosity was not born of high expectations. His knowledge of the world outside that of his hometown, high school, parents' home, and regular hangout spots with friends was limited at best. Yet it wasn't completely non-existent. He knew what a tenement was, and he knew he'd be staying there due to his ineptitude of choosing an appropriate career to follow. I was expecting to get that big break right out of his time.

of college whilst relying heavily on his writing skills to pull him through, he majored in literature, all the while answering the unending program of questioning friends about what he'd do with his life. The answer was usually the same. I'll figure it out. Or, that's fine, I'll get a job easy. Or, what do you mean wasting my life? Yet despite the great amount of support he was not receiving from his friends, he continued down the path of several page long essays, late nights reading up on long-dead poets and authors,

and an overall sense of dread that his friends were right. Yet that last obstacle was not fully known to Jeremy, as he kept it locked away into the farthest corners of his mind, refusing to acknowledge it. So here he was, looking up with the large, dark and overall, decadent building with a growing sense of, what the hell have I gotten myself into. He wrapped his coat more tightly around his person as to protect himself from the midwinter chill that came with living in New York. Having moved to here from his hometown a few hours away, he was anxious to finally get a taste of big city life. Unfortunately, this is not what he had in mind. Glancing up and down the street as if to find some sort of escape from his troubles. He stared

long and hard at what was to be his new home. It was an old building, that much was obvious, with a sort of dirty and grimy feel to the entire expanse of the building's façade. Almost as if touching it would leave you wondering what alien life-form was clinging to your hand. Almost all the windows were boarded, which would have led most to believe it was abandoned. Some were free of such barring, letting light spout of the occupied rooms, revealing that this place was in fact habitable. All of the windows, none excluded, had an even darker shade of a large, the filth or scorch marks around the edges, leading one to wonder if said building had endured

a fire many years before. Jerry made a mental note, asked the landlady. All in all, it was an almost magnificent sight, in the sense of foreboding macabre that washes over us all from time to time. So, with one last sigh of defeat, the young man whisked up his bags and entered through the unlit entrance, letting the darkness envelop him fully. Once inside, he wastes, he looked around grudgingly, trying to make out what dark shapes he saw in the grim hallway. And then, almost immediately, he decided he didn't want to know, as he passed why what he was sure was an unconscious homeless person. He had informed that his room was on the fourth floor, very far end of the hallway. And so, as he was instructed, he trudged up the seemingly ancient

and untrustworthy stairs to what he affectionately referred to as his doom. Of course, this may have been heard incorrectly, as he was in fact heading to his room. But one can never tell in these cases. Once he traversed the stairs, navigated the dimly lit hallway, and finally found his door. He was ready to turn and run out of the front, back to the safety of his parents and friends. Just as he began to seriously contemplate this, he was ambushed by a woman who seemed to be as ancient as the building he was standing in. Well, hello, young man. You must be Jerry. Jeremy, the one I spoke to on the phone.

It's so nice to finally meet you. She greeted him, and the most precious old woman voice Jeremy had ever heard. Oh, yes, a hell on this week's. It's great to meet you, too. He said, with a little less sincerity than he intended. Even though she was a harmless old woman, he was still unsure about her. She was odd, as if, well, too happy. At least that's what she sounded like.

on the phone and just now Jeremy mentally kicked himself for jumping to conclusions after only having a conversed with her twice. It's great to finally get some people in here, apart from the usual tenants. We've had so little business the past few years. Not sure what's wrong. He frowned at him as if expecting him to corroborate her statement. Yet Jeremy was sure she had at least an inkling of what was wrong with her building. All Jeremy could do was smile and nod, hoping to get this awkward exchange of dialogue over with as quickly as possible. On his weak side, produced a ring of keys from somewhere on a small frame, and plucked one off. Now listen, Jeremy, this key goes to your apartment, and it's very expensive to make extra,

but don't lose it, he said, her eyes boring into his, as if beeping into his very soul was the answer she was looking for. Yeah, of course, I'll definitely be keeping an eye on it. Jeremy is her, trying to get away from the woman as soon as possible. She smiled at him sweetly and focused her attention on the door. Well, then, were that out of the way? Let's get you into your new hole. And with an expectant look on her face, it took the small silver key she gave me,

and it slid into the lock. The key had caught my attention from the second she drew it from the keychain. The length of it was a cylindrical shaft of metal, with a few smaller pieces branching off at the end to 90-degree angle. It was an old-fashioned key, that much was for sure, which meant this building was indeed very old. After a few seconds of forcing the key in, it finally slid all the way in,

and with a bit of force I turned it in the lock with an audible click. I grasped the rusty iron doorknob and turned it, letting the door open with a long, ominous creaking sound pervading the horn. The room beyond was bathed in, thick darkness, as if entering it would send me swirling into the unknown. Oddly enough, that's exactly what this entire endeavor was, the unknown. When I was a college kid, fresh out of school, barely past the age of 20, I'm not entirely sure I was ready to take on the world, as my parents put it.

But I was here, so I decided to try and make the best of it. Those weeks hurried past me, disappearing into the dark void for a few seconds, her shoes clicking softly on the wood floor. I merely stayed at the doorway, wondering if I should follow her. After several seconds, the lights within the apartment blared to life, revealing a beaming Mizzweeks by a light switch on the wall.

Stepped into the threshold, taking in the surprisingly modern suite I was to be living in. Mind you, it wasn't a penthouse or anything, much better than I'd expected. The walls were a strong, yet not distasteful, light, brown with red trim upon the bottom of the wall. The floors, as I said, were hardwood, treated and shining as if new. By the looks of the place, though, wouldn't surprise me. I walked cautiously down the entrance hall into the living room, taking in the pleasant sight. As weeks had informed me

that furniture would be provided, and that was what I dreaded most. Someone else's used furniture left to collect dust and parasites. The furniture before me now was beautifully rendered in modern taste. A large three-cushion couch lay in the centre of the living area, with a similar yet not exact light coffee colour to it. A recliner was in the corner,

facing what was to be the entertainment centre. The only thing missing was a television, but I wasn't really into TV, so I didn't mind. I dropped my bags near the door and moved to the recliner. just as its dark, clean, caramel colour suggested, it was extremely comfortable. I could definitely get used to this. Glanced to the other end of the living area, noticed at the kitchen, while small, was in the same fashion as the rest of the apartment. Well, it all seemed too good to be true.

Ah, Miss Weeks, I... Just have a slight little question, I said to the still beaming Miss Weeks, who I had apparently noticed how impressed I was with the status of my... new home. Yes, dear. There's something wrong, she replied. A smile slowly ebbing, why that something wasn't to my liking. Um, what's with this place? Seriously, the outside looks like it can barely stand. There are vagabonds in the entrance way, and lighting is reminiscent of a Dracula movie, I proclaimed, not entirely thinking of how she might take that negatively. and of course I'm sure she did

to my immense surprise she merely donned the smile once more and uttered a short little laugh all that I was afraid you were displeased with the residence well it's a bit of a long story she conceded

as if I wasn't at all intrigued and I was of course Miss Weeks I have the time as long as you do I said hoping that was enough Miss Weeks sigh and said, well, if you must not. Then walked over to the couch, diagonal from where I was sitting in the recliner, and settled in, as if the story was going to take a while.

I started fearing that it would, remembering just minutes ago when I wanted to be out of her company. Too late now, I realize. It was weeks cleared her throat and began in a low, slightly melodramatic void several years ago, and my husband was still with me. and we were running this building together. We were the talk of the town. Well, not really the talk of the town, but we were popular nonetheless.

People who moved in stayed, and people who left usually didn't want to. Business was at its best, and we had been partners in crime for the better half of 50 years. As weeks, his eyes had drifted beyond me, to memories drifting past, and better times with a man she'd known most of her life.

It really was sad to see the old, albeit lively woman, act in such a way. I almost missed her regular self. A more than 20 years, we lived the good life. Plenty of friends, plenty of money, financially sound in every way, and we were happy with our business and each other. So naturally, because we had so much good in our life, we were destined to have something back. I sat up straight now.

There's a warning from my brain telling me I might not want to hear. hear the rest, sending an ominous chill up my spine. One day in the middle of winter, it was a fire, as simple as that. Yeah, what wasn't so simple was that he took my husband from me. He didn't die a noble death, though, asphyxiating on smoke, dying in his sleep, something like that. Now, he was burned alive right in front of me. I was utterly shocked. This was not what I'd been expecting at all. Well, um, that explains the scotch marks around the window. I said softly, hoping she wouldn't take offence at the fact that I'd notice.

That's right. Very observant of you. She said quietly, a bit of her old self returning to her. Now, where was I? She asked no one in particular. Ah, yes. Husband burning alive right in front of me. Anyways, that's what happened.

We were living here at the time in the best suite that we had, feeling we deserved some luxury. Still not sure what caused it. A socket shot surginging. Someone left the stove on. No idea. But we noticed the smoke and jumped out of bed. I ran to the door to get it open, but it had problems sometimes.

Now, George, that was my husband's name. It said a hundred times he was going to find. fix it. So, before I knew it, the fire was all around us. There was nothing we could do. Then suddenly he grabs me and lifts me up towards the vent on the ceiling. I hadn't even noticed it in the panic. I barely managed to open it and crawl into the ventilation before George fell. I also hadn't noticed that while he helped me up, the fire had tasted him, and he wanted more. I sat in the ventilation as my husband rived on the ground, aflame. There was nothing I could could do. Well, after the fire, everyone moved out. They knew what had happened to George,

and they were all close to him, as they were close to me. We tried to be as friendly as we could, but they knew what happened to George and none wished to remain. I knew this place would never be as popular as it once was, so I never bothered to fix the exterior. Yet, I fixed up some of the rooms inside, in the event anyone would want to live here, so they'd have a very much. They'd have at least a nice place to stay. I sat in the chair, incomplete, and utter horror. The fact that such a gruesome event had happened to this sweet, creepy old woman gave me cold chills. I never taught with someone who'd witnessed the death of their spouse. Sure, I knew people who'd lost a brother or dad, and that was usually due to car accidents or disease. This woman had witnessed her

on husband's demise. Such a grisly death at that. After a few moments of silence, and of Ms. Weeks, staring forlornly down the hall that led to the rest of the sweets, I finally broke the silence. I'm so sorry, Musweeks. I had no idea. Really, it was foolish of me to bring up such a topic. Mous Weeks finally snapped herself out of her melancholy trance, and looked to me as if nothing had happened. Don't be silly. I'm just an old, croon with no one to talk to. You know, forgive me if a few dusty memories come tumbling out from time to time. She then flashed another trademark smile, showing off all her teeth, all gleaming white, despite her, eh? With that, she stood and stretched, starting off towards

the rest of the suite. Now, on with the tour, she proclaimed in an overly optimistic voice. I suspected there was more to the story, yet I didn't push it, not wanting to be. a fan. I stood too, already missing the comfort of the recliner, and followed her back there. Once I reached the hallway, I stopped in my tracks. It was an ordinary hallway, as ordinary as they come, with a door leading to the left and a door leading to the right, presumably to a bedroom or perhaps a closet. Yet at the very end was a door unlike any I'd seen so far in the suite. they stepped towards it i noted all the odd markings around the edge the blackened appearance and jagged cracks that ran throughout the frame and then the door-knocked as well and just as rusty as the one outside and on the other door i assumed the blackened appearance was from the fire yet i had no idea why in such a pristine living space where everything was as modern as possible this one door would resemble

all the other, with Muzweig's chattering in one of the bedrooms about the history of the neighbourhood and all that. I extended my hand to the handle, feeling the suspense in the air. My heart was beating in my chest, for I knew something I most likely didn't want to see was behind this door. I grasped the handle, which was oddly warm, and began to turn the knob. It was locked when I looked at it in confusion, rattling the doorknob in frustration. All that build-up and nothing to show for it. I sighed, hoping Muzweeks would tell me. As I turned to ask her, I found a very happy-looking Miss Weeks standing right behind me. I hadn't even noticed the chatter stop.

Oh, is there something you're looking for, dear? He said sweetly. Yet at this point, I was more than a little bit freaked out. Um, yeah, actually, the key to this door, I said. trying to look as innocent as possible. She glanced past me at the door, shrugged and said, "'It doesn't have a key.' I stared at her for a few seconds, wondering if she was pulling my leg or not. "'What?' I asked incredulously.

"'All doors have keys, or at least I would imagine they do, if they're locked. "'That one doesn't,' she remarked, nodding to the door. "'I didn't know what to say, "'you stood there, letting the awkwardness. a seep into my very clothes, hoping she would just leave. So then, what exactly happened to the door? I mean, look at it.

It looks like it's been through a war, let alone a fire, I said, motioning to the jagged cracks that ran throughout the door. I'm afraid the last tenant was living here went a little stir-crazy. He ended up tearing the door down, she replied. This was a very hot building indeed. So what happened to him then? I asked, eager to find out. As Weeks, just smiled and simply said,

he was evicted. I looked at her for several moments, wondering what to make of her strange ways of describing past events. After several more awkward moments, she finally burst into a wide grin, unable to control her laughing. Oh, my, you must lighten up, Jeremy.

Really, kids these days, no sense of humor. The door has a key. just don't know where it is, I'm afraid. I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment I was worried that I'd be living in an apartment building with a surprisingly threatening old woman. So, um, what's through the door, then? I asked, anxious to hear. He glanced at it once more,

taking in the question before finally answering. Memories, I spoke. I stood there, taking in her oddly philosophical answer and wondering exactly what? it meant. She smiled again as I thought, and patted me on the cheek, as all old people do. Well, that's the tour. Don't fret about this door. It's nothing. Like I said, only memories in there. Belonged to a couple before the fire, she said to me, turning to walk back to the living area. I followed her, strangely comforted by those words. So, where do you live now? Still staying in one of the

sweets? I asked. Oh, no, I've long since moved out. Couldn't face this place every morning. But that was close to ten years ago. I don't know why I don't move back in. Good, do me some good facing my past. I smiled, secretly hoping she would. It was indeed a very sweet old lady, even if our first encounter proved to be somewhat odd, or creepy. Either one. one more thing before you go miss weeks i said just as she was about to get up and leave off to do what never she needed to be doing she looked at me expectantly making it clear i could go on why though um keep the place so modern so nice looking i said expecting an answer as odd as she was and what i got

surprised me a bit she smiled as she stood and began walking to the door stopping just in the hall and turning to face me. Because, my dear, miss having this place so full of people. If someone moves in, I want to make sure they'll never leave. She flashed another brief smile, gave me a small wave,

and continued down the hall, the door sliding shut behind. I had to think about her last comment for a few moments. It was so odd and so out of place, but while I pushed the thought aside, writing off as something odd hold people's saying. With her arrival and departure being in the height of my day, I settled into a general laziness that enveloped my life over the next week.

I managed to get a job at a small-time newspaper, writing an article here and there, nothing too big. The money was okay too, paid the bills, and even left me with enough to get the occasional book I'd been yearning for. Overall, my life was finally starting out. People at the newspaper were starting to notice my above-average writing skill. I was being offered more and more chances to write articles The money was increasingly better Yet as all this was going on

Something was still off with my new sweep When I say something I mean The door Every day I'd approach it And inspect the intricate harvings along the edge I'm not even sure how to classify them besides odd We'll try the handle every day to no avail Then I'd turn away defeated

yet every time I did, just as I was to the living room, I swore I could hear something. Nothing specific, just something. A change in atmosphere, a click or tap. Maybe quite scratching. But just barely enough to penetrate my ears with the strange sound. And it was growing to worry me. I kept my out from Ms. Weeks, yet she seldom appeared at the building. You obviously didn't need to be here often, as there were a few tenants to look at.

after. But even that worried me, I never saw them either. Sure, I heard the more, rather, the sound of them living. A television as I walked past their door and footsteps, her muffled voice. Yet that was it. I wasn't too eager to try and meet them either.

I just filed all this off as nerves. The pressure at work to complete increasingly more difficult jobs was mounting. I slept badly at night, with nightmares of people in the walls. and those weren't even the bad one. Ah, the worst involved the door. I'd approach it in complete darkness.

The thing I dreaded most was the open, the opening of the door because, well, it opened in my dream. If I'd say, I didn't enjoy what was beyond. The door would creak open, penetrating the silence of night. I'd step through to the pitch black room. Once my eyes adjusted, all I could see would be a single figure crouched on the floor. He'd look up at me with glassy eyes and outstretched his burnt and blackened arm. He couldn't stand for his legs were fused with the wood, and his face was a twisted contortion of pain and delirium.

In the dream I scream, I'm back away, yet as I do, I bump into a side figure. I turn to see him as weeks, standing, unmoving, and smiling broadly, sickly, The pale looked to her, staring straight into my eye. Problem, she would say, yet not in her own voice. It was deep and cracking and far too slow. Her rampassed her to the front door, and all the while her screaming is drowning out my thought. Open the door. You know what this means, don't you? I turned to look at her, fearing the worst.

her face is shrouded in shadows yet not for long she steps forward as she says the next words revealing a face that can only be described as not her means i get to feed you to george and she cackled with glee gripping her hands together in delight i hear an equally maddening laugh from behind her jaw before i know what's happening she's in front of me with my arm and a death grip, she's pulling me towards George. He's still cackling and yelling, and she drags me to him. He's laughing and cackling and gurgling, and laughing some more. My vision blurs as Ms. Weeks forces me to my knees in front of George. The last thing I'd see before waking is the mangled face of George, as he opens his mouth wide, revealing blackened teeth filed to points. And that's all I'd remember.

Yet I didn't have this dream every night. Like I said, sometimes it was of the people in the walls, whispering to me as I tried to sleep, peering out at me from people. Sometimes I find Miss Week standing over me, staring at me. And I jolt out of bed, realizing that I was just dreaming. It had always remembered her face, just as it was in the dream.

Her face would be different. A very sick, clammy look, with her veins showing through, where her lips never completely closed. She's always whispering. Behind her lips, her teeth are yellow, and like George's, filed to points. But it's the eyes that always get. Wide and angry, almost furious. The pupils resemble that of a dog's enlarged, so there's very little white to show.

Yet they aren't black like a dog's. They're yellow. Full of madness. I was hoping that these nightmares would end after the first month or so, but to no avail. They kept haunting me at night And in the waking light of day Work was the only place where I found Solly

Didn't stay in that apartment for too long Sure I'd seem as weeks occasionally But only ever long enough to say hello She always had to be somewhere So one can imagine I was having misgivings about living here At first it was great But after a while I feared that I was starting to lose my mind But naturally I spent more time at work

much more, and because of that I was earning more and more money, and people were beginning to notice. Pretty soon a good portion of New York was reading my articles, and I was finally able to afford an apartment that wasn't possibly haunted. Of course, for that moment I had no real reason to suspect it was haunted, only that I was having a nightmare. You know, shrugged that off, telling myself, I was just being a baby. Day after day, I was racked with these nightmares, and was ultimately relieved when I received word that I'd be getting a rate, which meant a lot more money, which meant I could now afford a different department. And as much as I hated to have to break the news to lonely Miss Weeks, I knew I had to. Just like her habit of not appearing for days to weeks

on end, I had to stale until I finally managed to get a hold of her and break the news to her. Gently, I might add, as I wasn't sure whether or not she was in fact some sort of demon, or if living in such a strange place with such a strange relic was finally getting to me. And one day. I realised it was. After a long day of work, I came home to find the usual. Furniture where it's supposed to be lights off. As per how I left them for work.

And the door securely locked and not budging. I wasn't surprised, has it been like this for the past few months. I approached it as I usually did, and my fingers lightly over the marking around the edge, put some weight on it to see if it would budge. He never did. And finally tried the door-knull. And, just as every day, it was locked. I know that anyone hearing such a strange ritual that I honour every day

couldn't help but wonder why. For me, it made perfect sense. This door that stares at me, unmoving every single day since I moved in, it's mocking me. It does it every day, because every day I try to open it. to learn what memories or secrets are behind it, and every day it denies my entry. It jeers at me with his jagged scars, and cruel as smiles, its markings dancing around the edge with snickering laughter.

I turned my back on it in defeat, and it has the gall to laugh at me. Me, what did I do to deserve this? Nothing, and that's what I did. I did what I was supposed to do. I was born, I went to school, discovered my talent, I chased my dreams to the point in which I question my own actions. I did everything lie fast at me, and yet now all it does is repay me by throwing a door in my face, figuratively.

As we all know, it's not opening any time soon. This monstrosity, sitting in my home, taking up room and board here, where I live, owes me everything. I don't even ask for my. I ask that it opens up, that's all. Just a tiny crack so I may see what. secrets are beyond it. I find myself standing in front of the door, eyes fixed on the dead centre of its frame. Think upon all the disgust and disease it's brought to my mind.

It's revolting this door, and there's nothing I can do about it. I want to tear it off its hinges, and yes, I can't. All I can do is think about the door and how much I hate it with every fibre of my being. Think back to the long hours I spent sitting in front of the door, staring. How many times I've yelled myself hoarse it, trying to coerce it to appease me. And then, a thought, altogether new, hits me. The other tenant. All they've done is sit in their apartments and listen to my shouting and crying and begging and pleading.

And all the bosses did was sit in their rooms and laugh. Laugh at young Jeremy, the kid who just wanted a quiet life, to settle down and write. Not anymore. Since this thing has entered my life, all I can do is think about how powerless I am to do anything about it. While all the others laughed, I spiraled into blackened hatred for something so simple. The door. I spin on my heels towards the door, feeling the need to finally have a word with the neighbours. I step into the grim hallway, walking towards the room just on my left, towards the stairs. I grab a fire axe off the wall as I pass.

I was certain some negotiation was in order. what would I negotiate? I wasn't so sure, possibly nothing, possibly just some friendly chit-chat about sports, or the weather. First door breaks before me with the utmost ease. The axe slices through it as if he hungered to taste the pine for too long. Don't worry, my friend, I whisper in its ear to comfort it.

You all have a gracious meal before you yet. I knew that there were people in there, for I always saw love. lights on and muffled talking. I kick through the splintered door and step into the suite. It was the same design, yet not nearly as modern. It looked exactly as a tenement sweet shoe, like a complete hole. Yet none of that mattered. I had to cleanse this place.

It had to be done. Hello? Anybody home? Neighbor. I called out. No answer. yet the muffled talking was clearer now. Just thought I'd bring over a little present, tuna fish casserole, made it myself.

With that I drove the axe deep into the wall, giving my friend a quick meal before the real work begin. I know you'll just love it. I passed through the living room, spotting several signs of someone living here. Pizza on the coffee table, a television, drinks. Yet something wasn't right. at all the pizza had deteriorated to a black sludge as if no one had been around in years

the television had long since burnt out with a scorch mark along the wall behind it yet due to the previous fire there was little damage it could do the kitchen was also a very curious sight the refrigerator had long since stopped working and the food inside resembled the pizza and the sink only spat out brown liquid in spurts

yet most curious of all was on the table. A tape recorder. It was playing on a loop, with nothing but muffled voices blaring through. Surprisingly knew, as if it had only been here a short while. Barely more than a few months. And then it hit me like a ton of brick. Brantically, I searched the entire place for life,

yet it was deserted. The first place I went was the door at the end of the hallway, as it was identical to my suite. As much as I wanted to tear the door to pieces, I simply opened, relishing the feeling of having control over something again. My eyes swept over the room, analysing all I could, and realizing that this is what the room looks like. Here's well up in my eyes at the intimacy of the moment. Yet it was short-lived, for this was not the room, merely a copy. Now only tears of rage greeted my aunt. I left the room and this time my axe tasted the building's flesh.

The door lay in heaps of splintered wood, as did the last of my innocence. Destroyed the other two doors, giving my friend a feast, it would not soon forget. Then I moved on to the next suite. I wasn't surprised to find that empty as well, and the next one, and the next one. A few had tape recorders, playing the same. same recording, it at different speeds and tones. After I was done with all the sweets, I believed, were inhabited. All that was left was my own. I walked slowly through the doorway, and from the entrance I glared at the door at the end, as it was clearly visible from where I was

standing. I let the door see me and realize what I was about to do. And then I started forward, slowly at first simply walking towards it as i called out don't try to apologize it's useless at this point it would be a nice gesture my voice was rising to a yell as i went from a walk to a jog to a sprint at the door the last word emphasized as my axe bit into it with all the ferocity i could muster months of ineptitude leading up to this my anger and hatred and fear and happiness all flowing from me, through my arm into the axe, and finally through the door. It was difficult at first, for the door had been reinforced with a sheet of metal, so that no one could get any ideas like the one I had now.

It didn't matter. I was almost free, and such a feeling I'd never experienced before. Tears of joy flowed freely, as I felt the axe begin to bite through the metal. We danced my dance of rage and emotion, the door and our eyes. until I bathed in sweat and the axe tasted the blood of my hands. It had deserved something more substantial than mere wood, so I gave it blood, and it feasted like a king. We both did in that moment. I never tired for a second, and such a tiresome action would have worn most out,

but not me. I needed to end this door's life. I needed to kill it to send it from this world. It represented what I, a writer, feared most it was a door that couldn't be opened at least not within the safe waters of sanity yet i knew what separated me from the rest of my kind i wasn't afraid to cast aside such restraining shackles and dove head first into enlightenment finally the door gave way i sobbed a sob of relief of hope of happiness of freedom my vision blurred as i stepped through the door and breathed in the smell of musty

old curtains, mothballs, and something else. This room smelled different than what I'd imagined it would smell like. Among all these things, I caught the scent of death, not death as in a coffin that lingers for years. It was almost fresh. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I squinted through the heavy curtains of black until finally I found what I was looking for, and I felt my core physically shape, for in the middle of the floor, hunched on its knees was a single figure. Legs fused to the equally burnt hardwood floor. Arms curled inward with the flesh that still clung to the burnt bones, yearning for freedom against its bones. What clothes that were left were in tatters and were forever melded with the withered figure's pitiful scraps of fleck.

Turned its head to look at me, and I saw her in the glassy eyes. My, reflection. reflection. If for some odd reason I wasn't afraid of this thing, for I'd finally broken down the last barrier between me and it, and I felt we were connected. I wasn't afraid of this being, for I pitied it. No longer could it enjoy the streaming light of day, or the sweeping fields of green upon which to rest and watch the sun set. The tears were back, yet only in sadness. I wept silently for the creature, vision blurring before me. I watched as my tears fell upon the floor

glistening for a moment before fading away It was then I noticed the peculiar shape In short, upon the floor about the creature As I stepped back I noticed the creature was directly in the centre

With a criss-crossing pattern throughout It took me a moment Before I realised what it was Pentagram I looked around the room noticing for the first time the blackened shapes that used to be furniture sporting a large amount of candles or having been used before.

It was then that I realized what, or rather who, this creature was, and what I was looking at. And then the rest dawned on them. All I could think about was what Miss Weeks had said the day I moved in. We'll live in here at the time in the best suite that we had, feeling we deserved some luxury. I realize now that she meant my suite. Not back to the nightmare, but the people in the walls, there weren't any people watching me.

Just one person. There's weak. I then noticed what else was horribly wrong with what I was looking at. All around the room were figures, each more or less along the line of decomposition. All were hung on the wall by hooks. That was a scent I'd first noticed. Suddenly a light fell on both me and jaw. "'Problem, dearie,'

"'did the sweet voice of Miss Week, "'that my entire body grow cold. "'Slowly turned to face the sweet old lady in the doorway. "'It wasn't like in my dreams, evil and demonic-looking. "'She was the same old Miss Weeks that I'd grown to know. "'Yet her eyes were definitely different, "'not yellow or dilated, just cold and angry, "'and more than slightly amused.

yet again I realized I was not afraid oh I was angry what have you done to him I asked the blood pounding in my ear whatever do you mean dear she asked twying with me no damn well what I mean what I mean what do you do to George I said motioning to the figure on the floor yet now I noticed it wasn't like in my dream it wasn't the large monstrous cackling figure as I'd imagine He wasn't even trying to get to me or harm me. He just sat there, forlorn at his predicament. He was barely capable of moving. All he could do was tap the floor with a long, blackened nail,

or drag a withered hand across the floor. Oh, God, whispered to myself, realizing now that every time I tried to open the door, he was trying to signal me. Look in his eyes told me everything I need to know. He wasn't some malicious creature out of a young man's nightmare. He was in pain. That was all.

As Weeks noticed that my attention had been drawn from her and quickly amended that, All I've done here, though it was none of your business. To help my poor husband through his struggle. Stared at her blankly, not fully understanding. She sighed, frustrated. All sweetness was out of her voice now. I was so distraught with losing my husband and my business. I decided to get them back,

though getting my husband back was ultimately the easier of the two. Go figure. So I simply turned to some necromancy, a bit of devil worship, a few sacrifices, and voila. The voice rose an extra octet and lathered on the sweetness with that last word. Unfortunately, the sacrifices, former tenants, only good enough to keep him, well, sort of. of a lie. I haven't been able to find a pure enough soul to fully pull him out of this dilapidated

state. I had my eyes at her with every other word. After all, even though I'd momentarily lapsed into insanity, I still found even this hard to believe. Before I could voice my incredulity, she continued. Luckily though, found a good enough sacrifice. You? The last word sent me staggering. What? I blurted out, unable to believe. Yes, you. You're young, handsome, not a very pure grasp on both life and emotion. Simply perfect. Do excuse me if I gush someone. I'm just so excited. She was grinning again, all happiness having returned. Yet it was such happiness that left me uneasy. It was this frail old woman, barely five, six, yet she was so confident about sacrificing me. I was easily six-three and a better half of 170 pounds and a good

portion of his muscle. What makes you so sure of yourself? After all, look at the two of us. Also, I have an act, I said, holding up the axe, as if that would be sufficient proof that whatever she was planning was falling. Well, whatever wasn't enough my husband to regenerate, I sort of, well, absorbed myself. As she said this, she stepped forward, wrast the hand that held the axe, and with strength that should not belong to a woman of her age, ripped it from my hand and sent it into the wall.

I staggered backwards, hands in front of me, trying desperately to find an escape as she continued advancing. She was surprisingly quick as well. For I knew what was happening, I was on the floor next to George with a knife at my throat, looked frantically into Miss Week's side, eyes, hoping to find some sort of resolve there, maybe she could change her mind. I realized she wasn't going to the second I felt the steel of the knife entering my neck.

The eyes began bulging and the pain seared through my entire body, and blood flowed freely from the wound, both onto the knife and into my throat. I began choking almost immediately. After a few moments of struggling against her eye and grip, I felt my body start to go limp. my head lulled to one side and the last thing I saw was George the look of utter defeat in his blackened, burned face. Just before I slept, I swore I could see his face growing less blackened, his eyes returning to normal. Maybe that was just the bloodlop.

I was happy, though, with what I got to spend my dreams with. He had green eyes, and they were pleasant. The man that Kirk stepped out of the tackler. and eyed the building before with a mix of curiosity and confusion. It was an old building, how much was for sure, yet all along the front were workers, suddenly eradicating the grime that dominated the building's fate. She was a writer, and young for one to be on her own.

She'd moved here from her hometown, a few hours away, hoping to find work at a newspaper, or perhaps a magazine. Just as she'd arrived in town, she was delighted to find an opening at a local newspaper. Apparently one of the younger writers had never returned for work, so the job went to her. Most believed it was a stress that had gotten to him from so much

work. After all, work as much as someone like him did, they're running from something, oh, crazy. Or both. Samantha stepped towards the entrance, bags in hand, and was ambushed by a very sweet, elderly-looking couple. Well, hello, dear, you must be Samantha, said the old woman sweetly, a broad smile on her faith. Samantha studied her for a moment

and decided that she liked this woman. Yes, I am. Very pleased to meet you, replied the young woman, holding out to her hand. The landlady, whose name she revealed to be Miss Weeks, was a surprisingly firm grip for one so old. Her husband, George, however, seemed as if a gust of wind would blow him away. Oh, I'm so worried for my dear George. He's just gotten over being ill for some time.

I'm so glad he's gotten better, proclaim Ms. Weeks, motioning to her husband, and he was startlingly pale and not partaking in his wife's happy demeanour. Samantha just smiled and followed them to her room inside. What's this? asked the young woman as she inspected the large and foreboding door in her hallway. She had been given a most surprising suite,

despite the building undergoing severe cosmetic reconstruction. It was very modern. The walls are strong yet light coffee brown colour, with red trim along the bottom, along with a furniture set resembling the wallpaper. Ms. Weeks approached her, studying the door herself. Oh, my dear, that is a door, he answers. No, I mean, why is it so old?

And in my apartment? replied Samantha, frustrated. It's just an old relic we kept around from the previous building. Lots of memories. It won't open, Samantha said, trying the door-knull. Yes, I'm sorry. Unfortunately, it doesn't open at all, the landlady said solemnly. With all these cracks and scratches, the young woman asked as she inspected the markings along the edges

and the scars upon the hinges. Oh, also unfortunate. You see, the previous tenant, well, went a bit crazy and broke the door down, was weak said, never letting up on her smile. Quite unnerving. Oh, my. Well, what happened to him then? asked the young woman, very curious to hear the story.

Oh, he was evicted, replied Muzwe. The Man in Black, by Taxi Dancer. Part 1. The contract. They look just like us. They walk among us unnoticed, blending in so perfectly that no one will recognize them for who and what they actually are. But at night, when the sun goes down and the dark shadows hide every corner of the city, They reveal their true forms as they emerge into the black of night out of their secret layers and bat-infested caves to hunt people like me. With claw or with wing, with cunning or with heightened senses, with mystical powers, with simple brute strength, they hunt us down when the night of the sun fades behind the horizon, as if we were animal.

Almost every week, we wake in the morning to see the horrific news that they got one of the best of us. our numbers grow thin or they grow stronger in secret indeed it was relatively safe to go out during the day it was extremely risky to be out on the streets at night from the darkest corners of the city that's where they found us and took us we didn't know where they came from or how many of them there were but we did know that where we were once at home in the night

we now had to hide from the dark Somehow the law firm of Jay White and Fisk managed to find me and sent me one of their firm's new interns to meet and discuss a somewhat risky proposal. I had briefly worked for the firm over a year prior when they hired me to deal with a problematic aquatic entity. It was causing disruptions for the firm at the port transit terminal. The aftermath of that encounter caused quite a bit of consternation among the public and law enforcement. I was consequently forced to leave the country and lay low for a few months. living quite comfortably in a secluded chalet in Sicily, overlooking the Mediterranean. However, I'd recently felt that it was safe for me to return to New York, where I lived a rather

reclusive lifestyle for the past year. The intern introduced herself to me simply as Petrova, and granted, while her stunning beauty did gain her access into my penthouse, a proposal left me with some very deep reservations. Something lurks to city streets at night, she began. something that snatches up victims in the darkness and leaves them hanging on streetlights for the police to find it in the morning. She made herself comfortable on one of my couches as I passed her a cup of Earl Grey tea and poured one for myself. Banking me, pulled out a small tablet and leaned over to show me the screen. We captured this on CCTV the other night just outside of a warehouse complex owned by the phone.

I tried to focus on the video she was showing me, but her voice was so seductive and her white blouse was on her white blouse was on. button so low that I admit that I was somewhat distracted. Still, I remained expressionless as I watched a grainy video of four men in a darkened parking lot near the dock sides. The only illumination seemed to come from two streetlights and the lights from the warehouses. All of a sudden, something inhumanly quick and humanoid-shaped emerged from the shadows and snatched up one of the men, carrying him out of frame. The other three startled men, which I now noticed were wearing black tactical fatigues, brought out small automatic handguns and frantically began shooting at something just off frame of the cameras. Apparently missing their target, the thing then leapt in and out

of the picture like a praying mantis seizing a fly, each time snatching up and taking away one of the men, so there were nowhere to be seen. The entire event took place in less than 20 seconds and as the CCTV camera panned around the lot, there was nothing left to be seen save the empty parking lock, the warehouses, and the empty bank truck which the men had been driving. The video ended, and I leaned back, perplexed. So, uh, do you know what that thing is? No, Petrova admitted. The thing has been disrupting operations for a year, and the firm would like it taken

care of, if possible. Hmm, I see. A year? Do the firm try any means of dealing with the thing during that time? I mean, do you have any other intel on that creature? Well, Petrova said, reluctantly, we did send three separate operatives to take care of it before we contacted you, but unfortunately all three have disappeared, presumably taken by that thing.

Petrova then presented a black leather pouch and passed it across my coffee table. You were the firm's first choice to send on this mission, seeing as you've had some experience in dealing with these creatures. But you've been very difficult to find after your last mission against that aquatic entity. I sipped a bit of my tea and replies, Yes, well, after that affair, I thought it wise to lay low for a while. In fact, I'm not sure if it's safe yet to take on another mission. The drover, I sipped her tea and nodded.

That was a wise decision. Similar creatures of its ilk would surely have come hunting for you. The young woman leaned her head forwards, gesturing to her. towards the pouch, the lock of her wavy strawberry blonde hair falling lazily in front of her fate. However, the firm was hoping that this might persuade you to come out of hiding for one more assignment. I unzipped the pouch to find a keycard and a half million in cash. The keycard is to a safe deposit box with an additional two million in cash. The Trova smiled, finishing her tea. With the completion of your assignment, I'll deliver to you another keycard to

safe deposit box containing an additional two and a half million. I stared at her for a second. Petrov were looking at me with an alluring expression as if daring me to say no to her. Five million. That's over twice the amount they paid me for the last assignment, I said. This creature seems to be a lot cleverer than the one you last encountered, though perhaps not quite as strong, answered Petraub. We just don't know you. Anyway, would you be interested in taking the contract? I'll need as much data as you can give me, I replied, deciding that I'd take the assignment, though I wasn't quite sure if it was because of the money, or because of her seductively innocent green eyes. Intel, videos, witness statements, everything that can help me track down

this creature. New York is a huge city. Tracking down something like this is going to be difficult. The Trova smiled, as if knowing that I wouldn't be able to turn her down. Most of its attacks have been in low-rent, high-crime districts. You may want to start your investigation around Hell's Kitchen, where its last two attacks took place. And the rest of the data? Petrova pulled out a silver thumb-dryer from her pocket. Everything that we have on the creature is on this.

Pictures, videos. It's all right here. As I took it from her, Petrova added, also you might want to peruse the local paper. newspaper editor also seems to have it out for that thing. After Petrova left, I spent over a week studying everything that I could on the creature. There wasn't much on the thumb drive to go on, which could help me in my search. Frustratingly, all of the pictures and video images were grainy. The video which Petrova showed me being the best images of the creature I could find.

The problem was that all of the images of it were captured at night or in very low light. All the thing did look humanoid in shape, though somewhat short and slender. Like others of its kind, it probably walked around the population during the day, but at night, and in its true form it slinked around in the dark spaces of the crime-ridden part of New York City, stalking its unsuspecting prey before jumping down upon them and dragging them into the night. Well, the thing was inhumanly fast, and, by my estimation, based on the few video captures of the entity, could jump to a height and length of between 20 to 25 metres. In addition, according to the witness statements of the very few victims that managed to escape from it,

the creature had an unusual ability to generate some type of substance with which to entrap its prey. In the week that I was researching the creature, the newspaper article appeared which showed the police recovering the four men that were in the video that Petrova showed me. After another week of studying the creature's habits, it was time for me to begin the actual store. It was undoubtedly intelligent, having been able to elude the police and actually defeating the three operatives which were sent before me to bring it down. During the day, I set up small spy cameras on buildings and structures in areas of the

city where the creature supposedly stalked at night. Using city maintenance and construction uniforms, I was able to set up cameras on the tops of street lights and stoplights of busy traffic intersections. It's amazing the things someone wearing a service uniform and confidently behaving as if they know what they're doing and can get away with. As such, in a crowded city well used to constant construction and maintenance, I was able to cover nearly a six-block area of the city with spy cameras in full view of thousands of people who never saw me.

At the same time, I was choosing my equipment for the eventual time that I would complete the stalk and initiate the hunt. For the hunt, I decided that automatic weapons would not be the best tool to complete the job, not in the middle of the city, and not after I'd seen footage of the creature avoiding being being hit by operatives armed with pistol-caliber automatic weapons. I'd need a more precise weapon, so I chose the compact M40A6 sniper rifle, the same type that I used as a PMC sniper in Iraq. This wouldn't be the weapon which I expected to use to kill the creature, as I doubted

that I'd be able to hit him. I noticed that the creature used hidden run tactics against operators armed with guns, either biding its time to swiftly come in close to strike, or disengaging when it failed to close. the distance. To defeat this thing, I had to bring it in close to me. To complete my load out, I carry a pair of heckler and cock, HK-45 pistols and my trusty bayonet. For three nights I remotely viewed the video feed and the 12 small CCTV cameras which I'd previously set up. Six cameras were located atop street lights and stop signals inside Hell's Kitchen, while the remaining six were implaced on buildings and rooftops surrounding the air.

the air. It was three nights of wasted effort, as my cameras caught nothing of interest, and the news was devoid of stories about victims of the creature being discovered. However, on the fourth night, near the docks on 12th Avenue, one of my cameras mounted near one of the firm's warehouses captured the fleeting image of a ghostly image flying past and going in a southerly direction. The next morning, Petrovac called me, stating that one of the firm's deliveries have been intercepted and two more employees have been taken. Then, on the 7th night, shortly before midnight, the camera that I'd been placed on top of a streetlight on the corner of West 47th Street and 10th Avenue in the heart of Hell's Kitchen

started picking up something. Or rather, something picked it up. A small spy camera was suddenly lifted off of its mounting and a humanoid head reft of any facial features, say to two giant white eyes, stared down into the camera. Then the feed abruptly turned to static as if the camera had been crushed. I had another camera mounted atop the 42nd Street Port Authority bus terminal, which I quickly switched to and was able to get a good look at the slender creature perched precariously atop the streetlight, seemingly looking around for other cameras before swiftly jumping away and disappearing into the night. Gay in its speed was incredible, and my camera only detected a blurry image disappearing into the sky towards the southwest.

I was perplexed. Did this creature fly? Was this the legendary mothman? Didn't see any external wings. Perhaps this was the so-called rake, or what people described as the slender man. If so, why is it stalking around Hell's Kitchen? Why would it have such an interest in the business dealings of the law firm of Jay Wyden Fiss?

The next day, I discovered that six of my spy cameras had been disabled, including the one atop the 42nd Street bus terminal, but that the remaining ones which bordered Hell's Kitchen still remained active. That evening, three more of my cameras went offline, one at 2150 hours, the next one at 220-5 hours, and the last one at 22-17 hours. This left me deeply perplexed. The distance between all three cameras was about two and a half miles, and they were all mounted and hidden in elevated spot. That meant that in a little over 30 minutes, the thing was able to track down and destroy all three of those cameras. How? Did it see me emplacing them during the day?

Did it have some type of natural jamming methods? There were literally millions of CCTV cameras in the city. How did it know to locate only the ones I emplaced? Perhaps it had some kind of heightened sensory powers such as ESP. None of my other remaining working cameras, which were located a mile north of the ones which had been recently destroyed, picked up anything. but I did notice that the three cameras which went offline were in line which pointed south. Two things became obvious to me. One, the thing now knew that it was being hunted would doubtless be more cautious.

And two, the thing's lair was somewhere south of Hell's Kitchen, perhaps even south of the city proper. In any event, it was time for me to initiate the stalk, as I didn't want the thing to go into hiding. It had demonstrated much more intelligence and intuition than I'd expect. But that was to be expected from these kind of cryptic. But where to look? South of Hell's Kitchen narrowed my search parameters.

But that was still a gigantic search parameter. I contacted a picture over once again, this time asking her when and where the creature first came onto the firm's radar. She put my on hold for a few minutes before coming back and saying that the suspected creature was also active around the Staten Island area about 20 miles south of Hell's Kitchen. In fact, she added, one of the creature's first sightings occurred a few miles from the campus of Empire State University. The lawyers Jay White and Fisk, along with several of their associates, were meeting at a restaurant near the college to discuss combining their firms into one law firm. Apparently, that's when the creature first struck.

Hmm, I see. What happened during the attack? I'm not sure, answered Petrovac. That's a closely guarded secret. of the firm, but I would assume that event was the underlying reason why Jay Wydenfiske decided to form one company, why they're so adamant to stop these creatures. When did that first attack occur? I asked. Hang on a second, separate drover. I could hear her typing something on a keypad.

Here it is. Yes, our office records show that the first appearance of the creature occurred a little over a year and a half ago. In fact, it first appeared a month before you. you took care of the water entity that was disrupting the firm's operations at the pool. Now, perhaps, I should have asked why the activities of a distinguished law firm would be targeted by such creatures, but I really wasn't concerned about it. My job was to hunt the entities down and collect a paycheck, as is not to reason why in all that shit. Okay, thanks, I said. I'm going to begin the stog down in Staten Island tonight.

Can you reserve me, a room near the University of the United? A cheap one, nondescript. Sure, I'll text you the address in a few minutes. Then, Petrovna added, how long do you think it will take? Depends, I answered. I don't think I'll need any special weapons to take this creature down, but I have a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I'm missing something. Really? Like what?

I don't know. Almost as soon as I took care of the water entity, another creature appeared to attack the firm's assets. You suppose that the two creatures were working together? The Trove had chuckled slightly. I very seriously doubt that. These two entities or creatures or whatever you want to call them are completely different and worlds apart,

maybe even universes apart. Yeah, I conceded. You're right. Maybe just overthinking things. I'll call you as soon as I get some result. Okay, said Petrovna. Be safe out there. I hung up the phone and began preparation for the night's storm. It was a few hours before sunset, and I needed to get down to Staten Island and the Ricon area.

Part 2. The Stork A hungry bear will usually conduct its initial hunt relatively close to the location of where it first awakens from Highly Nation. Since the creature's first recorded sighting was a few miles from Empire State University, and was an attack against the founders of the law firm. I figured that would be the best place to start. My gut feelings told me that the creature's lair was somewhere near the university. Petrova had reserved a corner room for me on the top floor of the courtyard hotel, about a mile from the college.

To be safe, Petrova also reserved the two rooms next to mine to ensure my privacy. Initially, I drove down in a rented, non-discreet minivan where I brought the things that I needed to begin the stalk up to my room. Just after sunset I returned to my residence and retrieved my motorcycle, the Jeb Black Indian Challenger Elite. I didn't intend to set up any more cameras in the area, as the creature could somehow sense that they were a threat. I didn't want to tip it off that I was here. By now it was well after nightfall, and time to begin the storm. I had earlier removed the bowls from the outside lights in front of the three rooms which Petrova had reserved for me,

leaving a near black corner of the top floor. Additionally, right before sunset, I'd found a way to the rooftop where I'd hidden a duffel bag in a black, hard plastic case. Under cover of the dark corner of the building, I made my way to the roof of the hotel unnoticed by anybody. Once on the rooftop, I recovered my duffel bag, pulling out a set of black uniform fatigues,

black climbing boots, black modular tactical vest, and black face masks. I rested a set of AGM, NVG-40 Night Vision goggles on my forehead and poured out an additional set of thermal binoculars. From the case, I assemble my M40 A6 sniper rifle. In a holster on my left hip, I had one of the HK-45 pistols, or the second pistol I placed in a holster connected across my modular vest. In pouches attached to my vest, I also had two additional magazines for each of the pistols, and four additional magazines for my sniper rifle.

Finally, I slid my bayonet into the sheath on my right hip. This courtyard hotel was six stories tall and built atop a small hill just outside of an upper-middle-class suburb and provided a reasonably good view of the surrounding area. It was a slightly overcast night, with the moon drifting in and out behind the black rolling clouds. I didn't expect to spot the creature tonight, so I was going to use this time to scan my surroundings, plot locations of possible future observation points, as well as scout probable routes that the creature might take to move unobserved from here north to its hunting grounds in Hell's Kitchen.

I also had an area map that I took from the front desk which I used to calculate firing ranges and engagement angles for my rifle from this vantage point. I was able to conclude there were locations within a mile radius of the hotel which offered better observation points to track the creature if, indeed, the creature's hiding place was near the collie. It was after midnight, there was marking off alternate observation points which I could investigate in the morning. When the door to the roof opened, I slowly ducked down behind an air conditioning element,

silently peered around the corner to see two hotel employees standing in the dim light cast by the stairwell leading to the roof. As a young black man and a young Latino woman were in the hotel's custodian uniforms, they were apparently taking a smoke break, and soon the heavy scent of marijuana and conspiratorial laughter drifted to all. It was then. Out of a corner of my eye I perceived a faint shadow flickering from the building across the parking lot. The parking lot was fairly well lit, a good number of streetlights, and the reflection cast upon the surrounding buildings, but any sort of movement, however slight, noticeable to anyone who was actively observing for something unusual. Without moving, I shifted my gaze to my right, to the next building about a hundred metres of it. I was a bank building five stories high and I was able to look down on it in my vantage point.

There was something crouching on the corner of the rooftop like a gargoyle, facing away from me and towards the colony. It was skinny with absolutely no facial features except for two large, bulbous white eyes. Slowly and silently, I shrank back into the shadows. It made my way the few feet back to my rifle. I stealthily lifted the butt of the rifle to my shoulder and centered the IR sight on the creature It was an eerie looking thing Human in shape but extremely exaggerated in its crouching parts

As if its joints were inhumanly flexible It did look like what some described as a rape Or even the slender man It centered the sight on the creature's head And silently flipped the selector switch on my rifle to fire when all of a sudden it hopped around and faced my building. Bulging white eyes directed up at me, from behind me gave a muffled squeam. Silently turning my head, I could see from the corner of my eyes

to the young female hotel worker pulling down her pants and bending over against the wall, smiling in anticipation while her male companion unzipped his back. Persing to myself, I quickly turn my head to reacquire the target, only to see it jump off the building into the darkness, disappearing in the direction of the collie. Oh, fuck, I thought. Minutes later, I was back in my hotel room, on the phone to Petrov. To my surprise, the phone rang only once before she picked up.

Petrov was sounding as if she'd expected my call. What's the situation? We able to engage the target? Um, no, I answered, somewhat caught off guard. I got a good look at it. I'm sure that its lair isn't near the college, but somehow in the college. Really? she answered. Once again, I could hear frantic typing into a keyboard in the background.

That's odd. Our records don't indicate any attacks or disappearances at the college relating to the creature. Are you sure that's where it lives? No, I admit it. I intend to check the place out. Does the college have any internal security force? Hang on a second. Petrova replied, her typing on the keyboard quickening.

No, the school contracts out its security to a private company, Piedmont's security services. You get me one of their uniforms. There was a brief pause as I heard Petrova tapping away on a computer. Yeah, I'll have a set delivered to the front desk for you in the morning. For a second, I wanted to ask her how much influence the law firm had that they could have a security uniform for a prestigious New York College delivered to me within the special. of a few hours, but I decided against it. I remembered a time about ten years ago when, during the hide of the battle for the city of Fallujah,

my PMC organization was able to deliver New York-style pizzas with extra trees and pepperoni and ice-cold coats from U.S. Army, CH-47 Chinook helicopters to the front lines of the battlefield. If you had the money and the influence, it wasn't much that you couldn't accomplish. My stroll around the campus of Empire State University revealed that the security on site was adequate at best. The Piedmont security staff was impressively large, but also so impersonal that none of them even thought to ask me who I was, not even the old sleepy-eyed shift leader than they called Bloody Nets. I was just a nameless, faceless, person in a security uniform and badge, tasked with walking around the campus, checking doors and windows and accompanying students.

to and from classes. As long as I confidently and professionally displayed that I belonged there doing security stuff, no one, including old bloody nerd, cared who I want. I spent the next couple of days doing reconnaissance around the sprawling campus grounds, taking mental notes and calculating where the best places will be to set up observation points. In the crowded campus hallways, I remained mostly unnoticed by the students and staff, except for a very brief moment on the second day when some nerdy kid with short wavy brown hair stopped to stare at me for a second in the hallway leading to the science lands. At the end of the third day, I decided that my next observation stand would be atop one of the central dormitory buildings as they were the tallest buildings on site,

which offered the best view of the campus. There were no sightings of the creature, and Petrova confirmed that it hadn't been spotted up in Hell's kitchen either, but I felt certain that it was around here somewhere. And it was here. I could somehow feel, feel that it was here. Over the course of the next few days I had acquired the keys to the door which accessed the roof of one of the central dormitories, and I was able to sash away my equipment and weapons on that rooftop. Each dormitory on campus was four stories tall, and the one which I'd chosen gave me an almost limitless vantage point over the entire campus. From here I should have been able to observe the creature's movement. In the ensuing two days, I worked as a security

guard until the sunset, at which time I pretended to do a security patrol to the dormitory where my gear was located on the roof. I was seen by many, but remembered by not. This time there was little activity on the campus, as it was the beginning of spring break. Many of the students and staff were busy preparing to leave for a week. Those few students who remained on campus continued living their lives, listfully unaware of the horrendous monster that lurked in their midst. The first night on the roof was completely uneventful. The students came and went, cars came in and out, but absolutely nothing else of significance happened. On the second night, however, Petroa called me on my cell phone, saying that the creature had just appeared at around 2300 hours at the 12th Street docks of Hell's

Kitchen and had just attacked a group of associates working for the firm who were unloading goods from a small merchant vessel. I was again perched on my hidden observation site atop the dormitory at the college, and I responded by saying that if the creature was returned to this location, judging by the speed and distance the creature could travel, it had to make the journey from hell's kitchen to the college in roughly one hour. The trover again cautioned me to be careful, as the rake or the slander man or whatever this creature was, they proved them to be just as physically powerful as the aquatic entity that I'd defeated over a year ago. Ending the call, I hunkered down and waited for it to return, all the while wondering how I had to

had missed it. If the creature emerged from its layers somewhere here in the campus, I should have spotted it. There were tunnels and passageways which criss-crossed under the campus, and I explored them all. All of them led to known entrances and exits. There were no secret passageways which led out with the campus grounds. So, how did I miss it? Unless the entity could appear human and simply travel directly to the place that it intended to attack before transforming into its true form. Was this some sort of shape-shifting? A teleport?

Maybe my target wasn't the rake or the slender man. Maybe some sort of skin walker. Or maybe they were all one in the same. Still, those entities were assumed to be reclusive creatures. Why would it have a lair right in the middle of a college campus? Perhaps this thing was a vampire. Maybe. In the creature's method of attack was similar to vampires,

but also vastly different. It didn't make sense. I settled down deeper into the shadows, senses alert, an eye resting on the scope of my rifle. And I waited. At around oh three hundred hours, I was suffering eye-strain from hours of looking through my night-vision devices. It was giving me a headache. The creature was late, or perhaps I'd miss seeing it. There was absolutely nothing happening.

I began to doubt if my gut feelings were right. instincts aren't often wrong but sometimes there three hundred and fifty meters to my left front slender entity suddenly appeared atop the science in astronomy building not sure if it flew down and landed or simply appeared out of thin air but the thing was suddenly there illuminated in the moonlight I put down my thermal binoculars and took up my sniper rifle

tracking the thing with my IR scope. The creature crouched down low, turning its head this way and that as if sniffing the air for bright. Magnified in my night vision scope, the creature appeared as a bright yellow-green figure illuminated in fine detail, silhouetted against the moon. Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I could get this thing with my sniper rifle. At this moment, nothing existed out of what was at the end of my rifle scope. I centered its head in my sight reticle and slowly increased the pressure on the trigger. All of a sudden, the creature jumped and hopped around in a half circle until it was facing one. Took the shot and mothled, boom, echoed across the campus. And possibly, the thing jumped aside and either leapt or fell off the edge of the three-story building it had been crouching on. Did I get it?

Did it dodge the shop? How did it know I was here? If I did kill it, I'd find out about it in the morning. But if it survived then... Shit. If it survived and it knew where I was, then it'd be trying to flank me, slung my weapon around my back and turned,

running across the dark rooftop to the repelling line that I'd placed on the opposite side of the building. I'm grateful that the moon's illumination was hidden behind the cloud. I took a half second to peer over the side to ensure that the coast was clear before grabbing up the line, stepping over the edge of the roof, and fast roping down the side of the building. As I hit the ground, they had a faint thump coming from above me, alerted me that the creature was on the roof of the building I'd just been on.

Instinctively, I somersaulted into the shadows provided by a line of decorative shrubbery lining the sidewalk. Snatching my two pistols from their holsters, I spun around, still in the kneeling position and looked up on the dubious cover of the bush. A second later, the thing's head peered over the ledge of the roof, bulging white eyes frantically scanning the ground. The repelling line that I just used was tied off,

just a few feet to its left. The rooftop wasn't illuminated, apparently the creature didn't see the rope and, more importantly, didn't see me. Perhaps realizing that it was making itself a target, the creature slowly ducked its head under the ledge, and a second later, saw its ghostly form leap into the night, disappearing behind yet another building in campus. Interesting. Despite having such huge eyes, the thing apparently couldn't see in the dark.

That bit of knowledge was a tool that I kept in my toolbox to use later. Staying in the shadows, I crept into one of the nearby maintenance buildings that had a passage which led into the labyrinth of tunnels underneath. the campus. I slumped down on a broken office chair in the pitch black darkness and access tunnel. My mind frantically going over everything I'd learned about the creature. I hadn't had a wink of sleep in the last two days, but even without the cocaine, I was still way too wired up to even consider resting. There were three things which I had to consider before I could engage with this creature again. First, the thing could apparently sense when it had been spotted, or perhaps it could sense when it was in danger.

That's why neither I nor any of the other operatives could hit it. Shot fired at a range of 350 metres was plenty of time and distance for the creature to avoid the bullet. In fact, I'd say that at ranges of at least 50 meters the thing had proven to have the ability to avoid being shot. If I was to have any chance of hitting it, I'd have to bring it near point-blank ring. Second, I had to get it at least 50 meters away from any.

buildings or structures. I needed to get it far from streetlights, trees, holes, anything which gave it elevation or cover to hide behind. That's how it was able to just swoop in and snatch up its victims. My estimation of how high and how far the thing could leap was fairly accurate. I'd have to lure it into a fairly flat and wide open air. And third, the thing couldn't see in the dark. I could use that to my advantage somehow. One thing was for certain. My trying to go after it hadn't been successful, especially now that it knew I was stalking it.

I had to turn the tables on the thing. I had to make it come after me. Part 3. The Hunt. Okay, Petrovah, level with me. What does the creature have on the law from? I mean, what kind of people do your buses represent? Was the creature ever gone after any of the law firm's clients?

I stuck around in the catacombs under the college for about an hour before leaving the campus just prior to sunup, and as soon as I got back to the hotel, I had Petrova on the line. Once again, even though it was barely past 0500 in the morning, Petrova had picked up the phone after the first ring, as if she'd been waiting for my call. No, she answered. There are absolutely no instances of the creature going after any of the firm's clients. The thing only attacks the firm's associates. The Trova, I said, probably sounding exhausted and punched drunk.

What exactly are your boss is into? I mean, why does the law firm of Jay Wyden Fiske need to hire an army of tactical security? Why were those men attacked on the docks? I really don't know, the Trover admitted. The firm didn't need to hire protection until they started being attacked by those monsters or cryptids. And to be honest, if I did know, I probably couldn't tell you. I do know that the firm is into a lot of things,

a lot of philanthropic activities, investments in foreign markets to aid third world economies, cancer research for children, that sort of thing. But, like the Hunter Biden laptop and how the Clintons managed to off Jeffrey Epstein, we aren't allowed to talk about it. I don't know what front when I see one, like Operation Fast and Furious,

when Mexican drug cartels used of 50-Cal machine guns that Obama sent them against our DEA, Border Patrol, and Army National Guard. But that's echelons above my pay grade. The thing that I'm hunting is frighteningly intelligence. I'm just looking for a motivation for its action. I yawned as the first rays of the sun peaked through my curtains. By the way, you know if your buses have any other philanthropic activity scheduled soon? No, she answered.

The firm curtailed all of his extracurricular. activities pending the outcome of your current mission. Why do you ask? Because I'm developing the next battlefield. You'll leave the word out on the street that the firm is planning the same type of activity that usually attracts the creature to attack. Whatever it is that your boss is doing that seems to be pissing off Slander Man, and you start a rumor that it's going down soon.

I'll have to run it through Mr. White and Mr. Fisk, but I'm sure they'll give me the go-ahead if that means safeguarding their associates. Where do you want this event to occur? Both street docks? No, I answered. When I told Protova where I wanted the location of the next engagement to take place, she chuckled, unbelievably. Really?

said Petrova in a tone that said she thought I was pulling her leg. You want me to get you that? You want select seats or maybe an entire section? I want the whole thing, Petrova, all of it. I wanted for an entire night. Are you kidding me? The Trova was beside herself. Do you know how much that'll cost the firm?

I mean, the scheduling and the logistics. Not to mention that you'll severely piss off every hardcore Yankees fan in the universe. I mean, they're in the World Series. I was never much into baseball, much less a Yankees fan. In fact, during my self-imposed exile in Europe, I become somewhat of a soccer fanat. So, can widen fist do it or not? I said.

They called me crazy, but you know what? You're crazy. I couldn't tell if Petrova was annoyed at me or excited at the audacity of my plan. Yes, we can get it for you, but it will take time not to mention that we have to get that rumor out on the streets. Good, I replied. Why are you doing that? I'm going to take a nap.

Oh, and one more thing, I said as an afterthought. You're pushing. it said Petrova. I need to be able to control the lights remotely. I continued, pretending that I didn't hear her last coming. Yeah, I figured you'd asked for that, she said. In the background, I could hear her literally banging on her keyboard. You'd better be worth all this.

I'm putting my ass on the line recommending that this be approved. I wouldn't even dream of doing this for any of the other operatives. I love you too, I said. The words completely left my mouth before my sleep-deprived brain could stop me, and I instantly regretted it. Well, mere? Prove it. Get that creature, the Trova said, without hesitation, and without missing a beat.

The last clown that I dated was all promises and no delivery. I hate clowns, even one that I work for. She suddenly hung up, abruptly leaving me too confounded to be sleepy anymore. What did she mean by that? Was she leaving the door open for me? Did she just say she'd date me if I took care of that creature? I chastised myself for allowing such thoughts to enter my mind. Just as in combat in Iraq,

when dealing with the supernatural creatures that I've been contracted to hunt, distractions like that is what got you kill. What are you things? Where did you come from? You cryptids, ancient legends, elder gods. lying in my bed my mind swam with these questions and hundreds more if you are gods why do you die images flashed in my head from over a year ago the aquatic beast had risen from the polluted waters of the hudson river near the dots nothing that i did could stop it as the monster proved to be fast powerful and near bulletproof he couldn't fly but the thing could jump a great distance and as the monster stalked after me i turned and ran for from it. I had an M4 carbine with an M203 grenade launcher mounted under the barrel. I was out of rifle ammunition, but I still had two grenades left, one 40mm high explosive grenade loaded in the

launcher. My lungs were bursting for air as I ran past a three-story cylindrical oil storage tanks. The thing had chased me for nearly a mile across the pier. Docs at the pier next to me, the tanker ship was pumping crude oil into the storage tanks, his terrifying dog workers were scramble to get out of the way of the waterborne nightmare. Unfortunately, the creature ignored the fleeing workers and focused its attention on me. It seemed to laugh arrogantly as it closed the distance, and with good reason. It knew it had me. I twisted suddenly as I ran and fired my last high-explosive grenade into the pipe pumping

oil from the tanker ship to the oil storage units. The blast ripped the pipe in half. The pressure of the pumps violently drowning, the aquatic abomination with black crude oil. Slipped and fell on the docks as I continued running, trying to put as much distance between me and the humanoid fiend as possible. I pulled the last grenade from my pouch, a 40mm and century round,

and at a distance of less than 50 metres, fired it directly at the humanoid creature. Howed out its arms, eyes which once regarded me with contempt, now wide with terror. I dove into the water, as the docks erupted in a fireball of destruction. The agonized screams of the aquatic entity echoing in my ear.

Dolphins surrounded me as I swam deeper into the murky grey waters, my arms and legs pumping as I tried to escape the blazing inferno, which was now engulfing the entire pier behind me. The dolphins, once hostile to me, were now ignoring them. They were whistling and clicking in frantic sorrow as they swam up towards the surface, towards the flaming waters, to suffer the same burning, agonizing death as their master.

With the visions of the thing burning and screaming in unimaginable pain as it violently died, finally, lifted off to sleep. It was game seven at the World Series. The New York Yankees and the Philadelphia Phillies were tied at three games apiece, and tonight's game at Yankee Stadium were determined the world champions. Except that tonight the game was called off for rain, even though it was a clear and somewhat humid night at Yankee Stadium. a perfect night for a game of baseball.

The joy of Phillies fans and the consternation of the Yankees, the venue was moved to Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, leaving me with the Yankee Stadium all to myself and my date, a certain slender, humanoid cryptic. I had all of the lights turned off in the stadium, including all of the auxiliary lights, the lights in the parking lot, even the lights on the exit sign,

had them all turned off. Looking down from space, the entire darkened area must have appeared like a one-square-mile hole of complete blackness in a bright sea of city twinkling lights. In the middle of the parking lot was a stationary bank truck, the same one in which the creature had attacked a few weeks early. As a side note, I'd found out that the truck had been stolen the night that the creature struck near the warehouses. But Trover left that little detail out, but the firm's operatives definitely weren't the bank truck's original driving. Oh well, maybe she didn't know. In any case, that was water under the bridge. I wasn't going to question the motivations of the folks who were paying me $5 million to hunt a dangerous cryptic. In the clear dark night, the only illumination on my artificial black hole was provided by

the pale light of the half moon. I did some calculations based off of the creature's abilities in the location of the Park Bank truck in relation to the main entrance to Yankee Stadium. If I was wrong, the thing would certainly take me like to all the others. I set up at the edge of the parking lot, crouching underneath the bushes lining the lots. My motorcycle next to me and pointed in the direction I'd need it to go once the time came. The bank trunk was about 200 metres to my left front. The main entrance to the stadium about 150 metres to my right. This would be close.

The two hours I waited, hunched down in the darkness, cheek going numb as I pressed it against the buttstock of my rifle. Again, I was dressed in completely black tactical gear, though I only had one magazine for my rifle and one magazine for the one pistol I brought. Except for my night vision goggles, I'd left everything else behind. The thermal sights, the extra pistol, extra magazines, repelling lines, even the modular vest. I doffed that stuff to stay as light as possible. Once again, a feeling of doubt began to creep over. A million things had to go right for this to work, and one miscalculation could ruin the entire hunt.

It was really beginning to get nervous. When? At around midnight, a skinny, humanoid form suddenly appeared a few meters from the truck, slinking cautiously and stealthily forwards on hands and feet, near the ground like a lizard as it approached the vehicle. Shit, it appeared in completely the opposite direction, I'd hoped for. Instead of coming in from the wide open street side, which would give me a few seconds to track it,

the thing came in from the direction of the stadium. Was it inside the stadium the whole time? If it was, did it jump the 300-meter distance from the stadium to the truck, or did it somehow fly? This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. In a few seconds, the thing was going to see that the truck was completely empty and realized this was a track.

Worse, the thing was effectively between me and the entrance to the stadium, and far closer to me than I would have liked. I needed to change my plan, and I needed to do it quickly. Oh, it was a couple of hundred meters from me. It was still too close. With its speed and reaction time, it would be on me in seconds. I had to force the thing back and give myself some space to move. With the grunt, I jumped up and gunned the engine of my Indian motorcycle. It's loud roar tearing through the night air like an angry dragon in the china shop.

Sudden noise apparently startled the creature, and it leapt backwards in what I could only take as a reaction of surprise. I took one unarmed shot from atop my bike, and the creature jumped backwards again. I unloaded two more rapid shots in Censation. before quickly dropping my rifle. Once again, the thing jumped away from the stadium, giving me just enough room to gun the engine of my bike and screech towards the entrance.

Yet the headlight of my bike turned off, relying on my NVGs to guide me through the dark. The problem with night vision goggles is that they severely limit your depth perception, screws with your peripheral vision. Not the greatest of scenarios when your plan was to ride your bike up the entrance ramp through to the stadium tunnel

and rock it out the other side onto the playing field. I figured that the combination of speed and surprise would give me a few seconds to get a head start on the monster, but I was wrong. No sooner had I gunned the engine towards the main entrance and I heard something splat on the ground next to my bike. Not stopping to investigate what it was, I knew instinctively that it was the substance

which the thing used to ensnare its prey. I gunned the engines as my bike entered the near black entrance. the deafening sound echoing like a tornado through the tunnel. In the grey-green light of my NVGs, I could only make out vague shapes of concrete walls, corridors and stairs as I rocketed ever upwards into the stadium. I took a half second to glance backwards, and my heart caught in my throat.

The thing's glowing green form was less than 30 metres from me, bounding after me on all fours like a cheetah. Worse, it was actually running on the corridor wall to my left. In the split second that I caught a glimpse of it, the thing seemed to be magically disappearing only to reappear on the wall to my right, and much closer this time. The big white bulbous eyes were pointed straight ahead, and in an instant I realized that it couldn't see me, but was instead following the sound of my motorcycle. I gunned the engine as hard as it could go, and moments later I shot out of the claustrophobic

tunnel at the cannon shot, and out over the stadium, rocketing over several rows of seats, and the players dug out before my bike finally slammed down hard over 50 meters away onto the Yankees playing field. By this time, my ears were ringing, my heart was threatening to beat out of my chest. Didn't know exactly where the creature was, but I could imagine it breathing down my neck. It was far, far faster and more agile than I'd imagined, and its ability to cling to the sides of wars came as a complete surprise. Still, I hope that by finally getting it out into the open, I'd eliminated one of the monster's advantages.

I landed my bike relatively close to where I wanted to be. I was in left center field about 100 meters from the pictures map. Reaching up, I told my NVGs from my face and quickly tossed them aside so I pointed my bike directly at the pictures mound, the engine screaming like a banshee in the nun. As my bike rocketed towards the pitchers mound, pulled a device out of my pocket the size of a key fob, and pressed the button on the rim.

but instantly every freaking light in the stadium flashed on at their most powerful setting, causing a blinding flash of light as if a hundred lightning bolts hit the same spot at the same time. However, as my bike hit the pitchers mound and went airborne once again, a sticky substance with the consistency of thick black tar slammed into my rear wheel and sent me flying off of my bike. It was one of those moments when times seemed to slow to a crawl. when you remember every little detail of every moment of that split second in time. Eyes squeezed shut, the sound of rushing wind replacing the roar of a motorcycle engine.

A sense of vertigo as you spin in mid-air, the feel of a pistol in your hand as you point it blindly behind you and fire off six shots in rapid succession. A sudden battering that you'd feel when your upper back, neck and shoulders slam into home plate. The gasping of agony and surprise. eyes. The realization that it's not you making that noise. Quicker than I really wanted to, I stood up, instantly realized my left ankle was twisted, perhaps even broken. My left shoulder was also dislocated. Somehow I still had the presence of mind to hold my pistol in my right hand when my body slammed into the ground. I was stooped over, resting all of my weights on my right leg. I slowly opened my eyes and instantly became blinded by the

thousands of lights focused down on the baseball diamond-like lasers. At that moment, I was as vulnerable as an unborn baby. The thing had me. I pointed my pistol around blindly and impotently, trying to hear for the sound of an approaching attack while blinking my eyes furiously to get them to focus. My head was killing me, and for several seconds I was seeing double. But to my surprise, in the time that it would have taken for the creature to ensnare me and dragged me away. My eyes slowly focused and adjusted to the lights, which made the field seem brighter than day. A few paces ahead of me, know the thing. It was on its stomach, facing away from me and trying to crawl away. It was wheezing and coughing as if it had difficulty breathing.

I took a few tentative steps towards it, ignoring the jolting pain in my left ankle as I kept my pissed or trained on its head. What the hell are you? My voice was dry and rough. The thing turned around and clasped painfully on its back. It was then that I noticed I'd hit it three times. Once on its left thigh, once on its right hip, and once through the gut. It had left a trail eight feet long of blood and gore behind it.

His breathing was becoming shallow as it weakly raised its thin arms up and said. Please help me. I think I'm hurt. Who are you? I said again. Why were you attacking the law firm of Jay Wyden Fis? They were running fentanyl from the docks through Hell's Kitchen and into the city. The creature said, his voice faded. Please, the thing pleaded.

Please don't do this, mister. I'm a hero. I'm your friendly neighborhood. The thing's head exploded as its brain splattered. on the ground behind it. I don't care who you are, I grunted. Nothing personal. And all you are is a paycheck to me.

I waited until the body stopped jerking and shuddering, finally became still. Killing next to it, I lifted off the mask which covered the ruined hair. It was the kid. A nerd with the wavy brown hair that stared at me in the hallway at the collie. The one eye inside the eye socket of what was left of his ruined head stared up at me. A shocked expression still on his face as if this kind of thing should never have happened to someone like him. I kicked the body just to make sure he was dead.

You never know with people like this. Then reached up under the gaudy looking red and blue spandex costume he was wearing and found his cell phone. The kid's name was Parker, and the only relative in his contacts list was an aunt. I took a picture of the kid's body, then sent it to her, and dropped the phone on top of the black, stylized image of a spider on the front of his costume, now stained in his blood and gore. That should bring the rest of them running.

Now this scrawny little run could have been so successful in bringing so many of us down, I'll never know. But he was out of the way now. I decided against burying the body and instead left it out for the folks, just like him to find. Folks who hunted people like me with claws and wings

and fancy science fiction type gadgets, running around at night with their stupid costumes and silly capes and hunting for us in the dark places. I knew that they'd be coming to find me. That's what I wanted. Made the hunt even easier when your prey comes looking for you.

Epilogue. He strode slowly behind me, licking her lips and running a finger across my back and shoulders. The bartender was standing at the far end of the bar, nervously watching the beautiful wavy-haired strawberry blonde out of the corner of his eye, while furiously wiping down

drinking glasses and pretending not to notice her. I'm glad you decided to come, Mr. Poole. The woman said seductively, sidling up next to me at the bar. She nonchalantly pushed a brown manila envelope in front of me, while surreptitiously sliding a black leather-bound briefcase at my feet.

I wouldn't be here for anything less than 20 million, I answered. What do you have for me? Take a look, she said, pointing at the envelope. I unclassed the envelope and studied the 8 by 10 picture of my next target. He was a man in his late 30s, athletic build, aviator glasses and 5 o'clock shadow, wearing a tailor-made $25,000 black briani vanquished suit on the red carpet of some Ritzigala. I ignored pretty boy, instead focusing my attention on the gorgeous Amazon beauty with wavy dark brunette hair, wearing golden gauntlets hanging on his arm. Hmm, why does this guy look familiar? I grunted.

He's a billionaire playboy, heard Petrova. Sounding regretful, this guy was my next kill. I sighed. Thoroughly unimpressed by the guy, but admittedly a little jealous of Petrova's fondness of him. And the woman with him? The Trova shrug. I don't know. I think her name is Diana or Diana.

They may have been seen together, but I don't think they're together. She's an archaeologist and historian, supposedly from Greece. Really? I said. She looks Israeli to me. Prover took my chin and turned my face to make me look at her. Well, yes, Mr. Pooh. She isn't your target. Capit.

I smiled inwardly. Petrova was jealous. I played it off as I put the picture back in the envelope and stuffed it inside my jacket. I expect the rest of my payment will be deposited in my account once this job is done. I said staring at my own tired expression in the mirror behind the bar.

I don't look pretty. I don't look Hollywood. Sad, really. Careful, whispered Petrova seductively in my ear. your next target thinks he's some kind of bat man yeah i grunted as i got up to leave the bar with no name the last fool that i took care of thought he was some kind of spider man just like the last idiot fishman that i'd barbecued who thought he could communicate with whales and the one before him who kept throwing a hammered i picked up the briefcase containing half my payment stuffed the envelope with my tickets

to Gotham City into my jacket pocket. See you in a few weeks, Petrova. Quinn, Petrova replied. Huh? I said, turning back to her. The film doesn't like me giving out my real name to any of those other operators who just turn out to be cannon fodder for these creeps with superpower. He said, especially Mr. Jay. But with you, I figure why not?

Seems like we'll be working together a lot in the future. So what's the hard? My real last name is Quinn. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Poole. Well, if we're using our real name, I smiled as I took her hands. My last name isn't Poole. It's Wilson.

Wendigo's a mythical creatures from Native American folklore, often associated with cannibalism and the cold, harsh winter months. However, since Wendigo's are not real. There are no concrete statistics about them. They are often described as tall, thin and skeletal, with a glowing eyes and a fierce hunger for human flesh. In some legends, Wendigolds are said to possess supernatural strength and speed, making them difficult to escape from. Despite being mythical, the legend of the Wendigo has had a significant impact on popular culture,

and many books, movies and video games featuring these terrifying creatures as antagonists. But what if there's something worse than the Wendigo? That's the question poised in tonight's story. We found a dead Wendigo on my grandpa's property by A.K. Colerden. Those involved in dealing with cryptids, if any of you are reading this, why do you do it? Other than the money, of course, I feel a lot of you do it for the rush. The adrenaline.

Where's the line drawn? Where does exhilaration evolve into panic? Don't get me wrong, a little risk taking his food for the soul. So many factors can go wrong in any situation. In particular, what do you do when you find the corpse of a cryptic you were hunting, eviscerated and dismembered? And the abrupt realization hits you that there's a bigger fish. My grandpa wasn't quite on the level of monster hunting.

But boy, he was one crazy mother fun. Once he hunted a grizzly using nothing but a crossbow, wet mud and leaves, and his wits. He's had its head mounted above his head. his forest house fireplace ever since. I can't say how far back his love for the wilderness is rooted. I knew he grew tired of the city long before retiring from his job as a metropolitan engineer. Since then he's lived out in an old house, in the northwestern reaches of the Olympic

National Forest, about 40 miles from the park itself in Washington State. I can only imagine how lonely it must have been, living out there by himself, but he never seemed many the worse for it. In recent years, I've been good friends with the guy I met in college, Martin. You'd see the same fire in his eyes as my grandpa's when it came to the outdoors, always pestering me to come along with him on a camping trip, going fishing, hunting, you name it. It was a no-brainer bringing him along for a visit to my grandpa's. Honestly, I feared they might get along too well. Martin would never return with me. In the end, it didn't matter because both of us been ingrained with a morbid aversion to the woods since that day.

Martin was particularly eager this time, practically vibrating in the passenger side of my Jeep. Last trip, Grandpa promised he to show him the ropes of skinning and pelts. Martin often went on about how he'd feel sitting in front of a roaring fireplace with a great deerskin rug laid out beneath him. My motivation was simply to check up on my grandpa. He hadn't been responding to my attempts at contacted him for the last week. So naturally I was a bit worried.

We ran into a problem early, driving up the long dirt road to my grandparents. Rounding a corner, I slammed on the brakes, seeing a slew of fallen trees lying across the road. Damn, what happened here? Martin exclaimed. There haven't been any storms recently, right? I sat with my hands ten and two on the steering wheel, whilst for words. Oh, no, it's pretty clear weather around these parts since March. Weird.

Shutting the engine off, I hopped out of the jeep. The only sounds were the leaves flittering in the mid-spring breeze. Nature's white noise. We're a little over two miles away from the house, an easily walkable distance. A grandpa had enough equipment that we didn't need to bring much of our own, so our bags were light. I had my phone, a flashlight, water, spare clothes, and my utility watch strapped around my wrist. My plan was to get up to Grandpa's and comfort. back down in his truck to chop up the fallen logs of the chainsaw.

We thought it would be more fun to go through the woods alongside the trap. A long dirt road means only boredom after all. We scrambled down the left side slope and began our trek, keeping an eye on the road to follow its route. Only a few minutes later, the smell hit us. Putrid Carrier. It was nothing unexpected. Animals in the forest die all the time. Even so, that hardwired pot of them.

my brain was repulsed at the smell. Shit, something's festering out here, I said. I didn't imagine how it'd smell in the sun. Martin let out a small wretch, but agreed. The trench only grew stronger as we went on. It was at its peak when I almost tripped over a sharp object on the ground. Thought it would be a cluster of branches at first, but the notion quickly dissolved upon seeing their pale, ceramic reflection.

The decapitated Stagg's head lay right in front of her. It was wrong, though, when the teeth were too long, and the bone of its face was exposed. Even with the odor, I could tell it was fresh from the viscous black blood that seeped from its neck and mouth. Martin spoke up. Oh, damn, that's freaky. You think a bear did this? It's only black bears, you're right. I doubt they could pull off something like this.

Cougar, maybe, I don't know, never seen one straight-up decapitator, Staglop. like this, though. My eyes were drawn to a trail of blood, forming a jagged streak ahead of us on the ground. My gaze followed it, until it terminated at the stag's grisly mess of a body. Well, it looked quadrupedal from a distance, but to we move closer,

I found myself sorely incorrect. The body was that of a monster, large in stature, but bony and gorn. Long razor-sharp claws lying spayed across the ground, like kitchen nights, all covered in patches of dark, wizened fur. Is it bad? Martin called out, approaching from behind, you get a good look. When he saw it, he went still and quiet, as I had. There was no statement that could do the sight justice.

I'd heard the old tales of the horrors lurking deep inside the forest, but never experienced them face to face. It was still, laying dead as the fallen leaves beneath it. It looked crushed and broken, littered with what seemed to be wide and deep puncture wounds. Martin managed to speak up. Is... Is that... But before he could say any more, a sudden snap broke the tension.

The snap of a twig, no, a branch. My spine shot straight upright. Against my better judgment, I found my head gradually swiveling in the direction the noise had come from. When I caught a vast, hulking shape in my peripheral, I whipped around to face whatever was there. I saw something just for a moment. Enormous, long limbs draped and shaggy hair, the colour of pine bar. But as quickly as I turned, the image vanished. Eyesing dread threatened to pry my lips apart into a scream.

It looked far and wide, but nothing was there. "'Gell, what is it? "'Wait, the cougar isn't still here, is it?' Martin whispered. "'No, it's nothing. "'Let's keep going. "'You can talk about it later with my grandpa, "'but the cab could still be loitering about somewhere.

"'It's best we don't stay in the same place for too long. "'Before of departing, I snapped a few pictures of the mangled corpse on my phone, "'zuming in on the head without backtracking to get a better angle. something told me that turning back however briefly would make a terrible mistake we went on with urgent pace pretending to ignore the heavy movements between the trees nearby large animals will inevitably give away their movements they snap twigs but not entire branches even so the movements sounded anything but clumsy no they sounded calculated those of a stalking predator as hard as i tried to filter them out I caught myself glancing to the sides and behind very often. I don't know whether I was hoping to see something or nothing. Still, the woods around us were empty, other than ourselves. Hey, Kel, if there's a mountain lion around here, we should go up onto the road for a bit.

It'll be easier to bolt if we need to. I agreed, we veered off to the right, climbing up the roadside slope. Deep down, I knew that whatever was out there, it wasn't, big cats. We only told ourselves that, escaping the subject of monsters now made very real to us. The forest fell silent as we walked along the road. That was far from being comforting, though. The woods are quiet, predators are about. It's a well-known idea in the community of wilderness enthusiasts. What did ease my mind to a degree was the sight of a herd of deer standing in the track. They caught their heads to look at us, but didn't seem all too disturbed by our

presence. At the same time, feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, grew as hard as a lump in my gut. They started to move on as we got closer, wandering off the road and into the woods. One of the deer stayed in place, though. It wasn't frozen, no, but, and restricted, twitched and whimpered as it started to rise off of the ground, as if weightless. So quickly, his screams were cut off. as its limbs were snapped and crushed and deep wounds erupted over its body, and then, like it had been there the whole time. It stood. It was a nightmare. Huge, unimaginably so, rivaling two elements stacked up. It was hunched over, resting on impossibly long and thick forelimbs, ending in spindly, sloth-like claws. Body was long, too, ending in a pair of shorter

or legs, knees inverted with feet supported by spur-like appendages. The lulling head that sat atop and arched neck looked like some bizarre cross between a horse and a crocodile. Hollow pits in place of eyes, the torn skin around its mouth revealing horribly uneven and misshapen teeth that jutted out at irregular angles. Fading sunlight glinted off of the long gashes covering its sides and head. The dead creature from earlier had definitely put up a fight. It could never have been enough. As we stood, stunned, it reciprocated our stare,

the only real movements being the sets of rib-like appendages undulating on its underside, rendering the deer into a torn sack of flesh and bone fragment. Poor animals seemed to wither before our eyes as the sharp ribs falls deeper into its body, like a juice box having the last drops sucked out of it. In that moment, we were looking at a little bit. part of the herds, paralys. Some had already run off, but others were as statues in the presence of this beast. Another smell hit us there, different from the stretch of decay like earlier, but equally as sickening, like moist earth, sulphur, methane, and dead fit. Its source was

clear as wisps of gas from the beast's mouth became thick, billowing fumes, rising into the evening scar. The tension was broken with the deer's mutilated husk thudding to the ground. The remaining deer took flight, scampering off into the trees, and in response the beast snapped its head in their direction. Something was wrong with its head, flopping around clumsily as it turned, and took a step back as it led out a deep guttural rattle, before bounding off after the herd, its matted hair swinging violent. It splintered a tree as it went, but was totally unfazed by the impact. We waited until its thundering gallops faded into the quickly darkening nights before saying anything. What the fuck? What the fuck? What was that thing? Martin sputtered,

tears welling up in his eye. I don't know, man, but we have to get to the house before Sunday. I have a feeling our chances at escaping it are little to none in the dark. Are you crazy? We have to go back. I want to get as far away from this place as but What about my grandpa? We can't just leave him here with that thing. Martin didn't look over to me, but wasted no time disagreeing, starting his jog up the road. We were already over halfway to my grandpa's house, and even if we wanted to escape, it would be a menial task for the creatures to smash the jeep off road.

The solitary light in the distance looked like the gates of heaven. It radiated safety. But I knew we couldn't continue out in the open, completely exposed. I looked down to my utility watch, making a mental note of the direction of the house, north-northeast, before grabbing Martin by the arm and leading him off the left side of the road. Part two, nature's cruel irony manifested in the steepening terrain and a thickening brush. The house's light quickly faded, leaving us with only our bearings to navigate. I thought we might have gone off track for a terrifying moment,

but I saw the column of smoke above the distant tree canny that could only be there. from my grandpa's chimney. Come on, this way. As we neared, no light became apparent. Maybe you'd already gone to bed. I could only guess with his lack of communication. We came up onto the lip of a hill, sloping down towards a flat clearing.

But there was no house. There, the pillar of smoke, there was no salt. It began in mid-air from nothing. As we stopped to look, point where the smoke came from jerked around in the air. When I picked up on the organic stench, it clicked in my mind. Just like before, there it was, looking directly at the thick fumes spewing from its mouth.

But I noticed something else this time. Now that the moon hung in the sky, its light glinted off of something beneath the creature's head. Six black orbs, shiny like obsidian, threw on either side of its net. They darted about, independent of each other, and I knew immediately what they were. I, what kind of abomination was this? Those were its eyes, and it ate the deer with that structure resembling a ribcage, and that must mean it had a false head. A distraction, defense mechanism may be.

It made sense now his head flopped around limply with the beast's unnatural moving. I blinked in quick succession, and then looked down at my watch. Due east. Ah, we'd been misled. Circled around us to lie in wait. One motion I grabbed onto Martin's shoulder and pulled him in the direction we were meant to be heading in a wild sprint for survival. The beast erupted into movement, ribs ripplings, it led out another rumbling trail. Martin looked over to me, confused.

Hey dude, what are you doing? There's nothing that... Shut up. Just run as fast as freaking possible. Now, don't stop for anything. Our pounding feet were matched by heavy thumps and loud cracks of trees being smashed. I dared not steal a glance behind,

fearing that even the slightest break in pace would mean death. There! I struggled to see what Martin was talking about until the yellow light became visible between the tree trunks. We were only a few hundred yards away, but I was surprised the creature hadn't. already caught up to him. Even the trees in its waist

had no chance at impeding it. And it had almost caught up. I could feel the air pressure from its massive body charging through the trees behind. Close enough that at any moment I might feel its claws cleave my body into pieces.

Saving grace. Coming up from our left was a dense patch of old oak trees. I swerved towards them, leaping through the spaces between trunks, just large enough for us to get through. I hit the ground, rolling sideways.

It wasn't even time to be dazed, as an immense slam sounded from where we'd just been. Scramble backwards, looking to see a great arm slinking through the gap. It was thick, but not as thick as the oak. The claws tapped about, searching blindly for our frail body. Oh, I shouted, and the both of us got to our feet and bolted towards the line. As we ran, the sounds grew distant. Was it stunned, or did it still think we were behind those trees?

I didn't care. All that mattered was being inside and nod out. Gravel clattered against the front of the house as we skid it to have stopped. I rapped on the door, devolving into pounding when they went unheard. On what was probably the twentieth knot, my fist met only air, and I stumbled in through the now open door. I looked up to meet my grandpa's gaze. his eyes were wild he didn't look like himself he lanced behind me at martin and then behind him whatever he saw out there his pupils contracted in response

hurry boys get inside he whispered shouting he filed in and he went to bolt the door but hesitated his hand fell limply No use. It was right. The beast wanted to pay a visit that would do so regardless of our home security. We followed him quietly to an uncovered floor hatch. What's this, Mr. Barnett? Martin asked, regarding the hatch.

Ah, this here is my old wine cell. Mountain went to us further before being interrupted. Get down the ladder first, Simon. You can shoot your questions once we're safe. He pulled on a handle, opening the hatch to reveal a sturdy wooden ladder that led into a dim space beneath. On by one, we clambered down its dusty rungs, meeting the coal, concrete floor at the bottom. Grandpa was last, tugging a heavy rug over the open hatch, before closing and securing it. Take it, you've seen the thing right.

Jesus, Grandad, we barely got away, I gasped, still out of breath from my escape. unscathed? Yeah, mostly, other than some scratches. Good. He walked over to an upturned crate and plopped down onto it. Martin and I looked between each other, then back at him. Uh, well, Martin said, you seem to know what we're dealing with, so what the hell is it? Grandpa gave Martin a scowl of disapproval, quickly relenting into understanding.

I'd scrutinize you on your manners, boy, but now we ain't the time. He released a tired gasp, letting his head drop down before inhaling sharply and looking back up at us. I've seen it only once before, and my varsity use. I had some Danish friends on my course who said I should come visit them over there, go and do some backpacking in their home country. Beautiful landscapes over in Denmark, really. Peaks rising out the trees, you know. Or he could lose himself in a daydream.

I cleared my throat to bring him back to reality. Oh, yeah, right. So we were pretty deep in the woods when it happened. We'd all gotten paranoid because we thought something was fun. Something big, elk maybe. We never saw nothing. Only heard it. Man, God.

One of the girls in front of me started to levitate. I don't know. He was just rising up off the ground. Gripped by something. Whatever it was, made a mess of her. Crushed her up like a meatball being squeezed. I saw it then. Her bones wrapped around her, stabbing in deep.

Never gonna forget the sight of that. It's like a stain on my mind. We saw the same thing, Martin piped up. Only it was a deer. It looked like it sucked everything out of it when it was done. Yeah, I can't say I know how it works. You can only see. see it if you know something's there. If it's there. Anyway, we ran as fast as we could back down

the trail. We seemed to lose it. The whole time there was this rancid stink, though. Eggy, earthy. We wound up back in the time we started from, went straight to the police station and reported it. Apparently all they found was a little chunk of meat, piece of thigh, or something like that. One of the other guys told me about the tale later on. Brought up the smoke. We brought up the smoke, we saw rising out of the forests when we were back in the town. Old Danish legend went the people through history seeing smoke columns in the woods. Most went to check it out never returned. They said it would move around like how a fire would spread,

like we was wandering to and from. Damn, it's a horrible story, Grandpa, I said. It doesn't help us figure out what it is, though. We already know the stuff you just told it. Well, he replied. I'm sure it's got many names See now it can just pop up where it likes But I only heard it called the Scorston Doe

Means chimney beast if I'm remembering right Well, um Makes sense I thought we were seeing the smoke from your chimney But it led us right to you Well Grandpa sighed This house ain't even got a chimney

Martin looked over to me scoffing then back over to Grandpa. So, lures people in like that? Sure, but I don't think it means to. I'm gonna take a gander and say it started up with the fumes after it ate that deer. Yeah, I replied. Whatever that thing is, it ain't from here.

Ain't from anywhere on this planet, I think. Eat something and starts giving off smoke. Waste product from digestion, I guess. So, shit gas? Martin chuckled. It was able to find a way to lighten the mood in dire situations, even if just a little. I looked up with the monochrome ceiling above us,

mulling over what Grandpa had just said. I remember how this whole thing had started, pulled out my phone to bring up my photo. Maybe we found this after starting our way up to yours on foot. I have an inkling, but do you know what this is? Grandpa squinted at the screen, then took it from my hand. He scrolled to the right.

That's only the head, I said. The silent focus was only punctured by the dull taps of his finger on the screen. And recognition lit up in his eyes, his head bobbing up and down. Well, I'll be damned. When to go, right, I asked. Oh yeah, I gotta say,

I never seen one around these parts before. Then again, I was never looking for one. I doubt you need it, but that is a reminder for what this beast is capable of. I put my phone back in my pocket, sighing and letting my chin drop into my hands. In any other situation, I'd be shocked to find out such a creature as real, but not now. This is all great, Mr. Barnet, Martin said with quivering uncertainty. But it doesn't help us. What are we going to do? I mean, what can we do?

I don't know. Well, I have a stupid idea, but it's just grasping at strong. Anything over sitting here and waiting to die. Martin breathed, staring off into space. Anything. Grandpa looked up toward the basement window. The only source of natural light in the room. What little of it remained.

Well, I was checking my traps out east from here, about six, 700 yards into the woods. Only when I got there, there was this smudge. I don't know what to call it. That's the best I can describe what it looked like. It was like, looking into it, I couldn't register what I was looking at. But my eyes after a while. I never seen nothing like it.

It was after that I started seeing the Scorston, dear. So, uh... He trailed off, like he was struggling to find the words to say. So what? I pressed, leaning forward in anticipation. Again, this is guesswork. But I think that's where it came. from. I threw a rock into it when I was there, but I ain't here it hit the ground. Like it went someplace else. I think you just lead it back there. Just get it to go back in.

Wait, hold on, I interrupted. Shouldn't we call someone? Police. The damn army. What do you think will happen to the cops when they come out here, huh? What's the chief and a rookie and one police car going to be able to put up against it? Good luck convincing. the US military to send out Marines. You'd be lucky if they thought it was a joke. I shut my mouth, swallowing my next words, allowing Grandpa to continue with his proposition. Either the beast leaves or we die.

I'm not even going to talk about trying to drive away. You've seen what it does to the tree. Our stealth might work, but it's better than that than we are, big as it is. And I don't want to risk either you is losing your life. his last remarks sent a chill down my spine. He said nothing explicitly, but I'd already begun to understand what he meant. Randat, you... Don't worry about me, Chammer.

I got something, but you got to listen closely. Both of you. Part three. Martin and I set out full attention on him. I wanted to hear his plan, but I really hoped he was going to go a different way from what I was thinking. How I want to make this clear. before anything else. I'm going alone and you boys need to sit tight and do as I say. My heart dropped, plunging into the stone cold sea of despair.

You crazy. No, I have to go with you. I... Grandpa cut me off, shushing them. As I say, he commanded. I knew he was right. In the face of loss, my thoughts wrestled against the idea. Okay, now I'm going to call you when I'm away. It's off, alright. You have to pick up, stay on the call with me. It's vital you keep your attention to my voice. I need a both of you to be brave for the next part. I need you to make as much noise as you can. Martin's eyes bulged in fear. Won't that just get us killed? I haven't finished. It's only up until I call you. When I do, you shut up and you hide in the darkest corner of this cellar, okay?

heaving for breath now, cold beads of sweat budding on my forehead, but I close my eyes and steeled myself. Yeah, okay. Good. Once we're connected, I'll start. You were silenced by a single muffled thump from overhead, so forceful that the ceiling spewed cement dust down on us. And another thump, and another, and another. I fell off my perch in shock when a booming crash shounded from above, chased by the clattering of rubble. Steady thuds grew nearer, louder, so the only sound was that of the floorboards, groaning under immense weight. I looked over to Grandpa, who looked over to me, whipped a finger to his lips.

I nodded, then slowly turned toward the basement hatch. The beast was trying its best to move silent. A stifled whimper escaped my lungs, so they saw the hatch buckle. A loud bang shook the house's foundations then. Then, nothing. In the silence, I could make out the beast's ticking ground. It was toying with us, trying to catch us out, make us think we'd been foiled,

so we'd burst out in a panic and tried to flee. Its intelligence terrified me so much more than its grotesque appearance. Tried this bait a few more times before huffing angriam. The heavy creeks grew distant until we could no longer hear it, aside from the single crash of a fallen tree somewhere outside. I stood up, eager to set this plan into motion, only to be dragged back down by a firm grip on my arm. My eyes fell to meet my grandpa's, looking at me with a wide-eyed scalp. Sit down, he hissed. Not yet. Ah, the bastard's clever, probably waiting at the tree-line,

watching for us to come out. Three ever sat in silence. He was a chew. for even the slightest noise to indicate its present. After an excruciating weight, Grandpa rose to his feet and crept over to the ladder. He scaled it, wincing at the creek of a rug, then pushed over on the hatch ever so slowly. The rug that had been above was tattered, torn fragments slipping down into the now open space.

He peered out from side to side, checking rigorously that we were safe. As he pressed his hand upward, What sounded like a broken tile was disturbed, clattering to the floor above us. Papa froze in place, visibly tensing. Heavy step, followed by the gutter or rattle, I prayed to God I wouldn't hear, forced Grandpa into action. He pushed himself off of the ladder, tucking and roll into the floor,

right before the hatch was slammed by immense force, cracking it and warping the hinges. Grandpa shot to his feet, adrenaline far outpacing his old age. He glanced around wildly at the floor, before looking up at us with newfound determination. Ah, shit, damn it. Change your plans. Martin, distracted. Make some noise. Gal, give me a leg up to the window.

Martin's jaw fell open, and his breathing quicken. Fuck, he yelled, pressing his fingers into his temples. But to his credit, he turned toward the hatch and started up a racket straight after. Come and get it, you fucker. You ugly sackers. shit. While Martin was busy cussing out the chimney beast, Grandpa and I hurried over to the window. I braced myself in a kneel, fingers locked together forming a foothole where he planted a foot. One, two, three. I heaved him up, holding my posture while he unlatched and swung the window

open. My body was already tired from running away. Grandpa was heavier than he looked. Still I hauled him up further until he was out past the waist. He pulled himself out into the hazy night. I kept my focus on him as he turned around, refusing the urge to look as I heard claws cleaving away ravenously. All right, I'll be calling in a minute, he panted. When I do, tell Martin to zip. I love you, bud. You too, granddad. My words latched onto him, fueling a forgotten instinct that slammed his heels into the forest floor and sent him to him. sprinting into the trees, fading until he was merged with the dark itself.

I was grounded again when Martin let out a shriek. I turned to see him backpedaling from those spindly claws extending through the jagged hole that was once the lad. A thick trail of blood smeared from him as he shuffled back, the same crimson that slicked one of the titanic claws. It got me. Oh, God, it hurts, cried, flipping over and resorting to a belly crawl towards me. I rushed over and dragged him as far away as I could,

but he flopped to the floor in shock when I released my grip. His calf was a mess of exposed, glistening flesh and bone, sliced through like warm butter. The mouth hung half open, without a sound, so I rushed to build a cacophony in his place. As booming as I tried to make myself sound, I devolved into whimpering shouts. The beast's arm had reached almost halfway across the room,

yet still it slivered further and further through the broken hatch, claws ticking around in search of our flesh. Backed up into the furthest corner alongside Martin, monstrous hand grew closer. Slowly, agonizingly so. I only became aware of the incoming call from the vibration in my jacket pocket. It felt as if,

somehow, safety lay in the act of answering my grandpa's call. My hand shot into my pocket and yanked the phone out, fumbling with the touch screen and picking up. Randad, it's so close. It's about to get us. Do something, please. I wailed into my phone. Instead of a reply, allow crack rang out through the night, and then the phone. The beast's arm lurched backwards, freezing for a moment, before it tore out of the basement, peppering the floor with wood fracking. The simpler sound as it was, I recognized it. He's black hole. He'd taken it with him. I don't know when he'd picked it up.

I may have had it on him the entire time. Out of the window I saw the hulking silhouette barrel into the trees at speeds rivaling my jeep in fit. I jumped when her grandpa abruptly began shouting over the court. The words were indiscernible, blending in with the scuffled sounds of movement. took the moment to take off my jackets. Then my t-shirt, which I pulled tightly around Martin's upper calf, as a tourniquet. Hey, gal, grandpa said over the phone, sounding hollow and tinny. Make sure you keep up your aerobics.

Yeah, sure shit don't get easier with the ears. I let out a half-hearted chuckle. Yeah, I will. I want to go hiking through these woods with you, camping. It's fiving off of their hands. I know you do. Oh, God, I do too. He said stifling a song.

You're going to have to stay strong for your mar, okay? Ain't no chance I'm getting out this time. But you, yeah, you two are. I broke down then, thick, watery streams lining my cheeks. I'm going to miss you. So, so much, Granddad. Ah, but we had some good times. Amazing times, no.

I sure as hell did. Well, this is a pretty badass way to go out, right. An unfamiliar comfort swelled up inside me, almost breaking through the tears. Yeah, I'm here, as much. No idea what I'll find through there. I could hear the thundering beast across the call as it gained on him. It clicks and rattles, too. I'm going in.

promise me one thing though anything grandad you'd be a good kid make my daughter proud that's all a bizarre noise came from the phone speaker then something akin to the sound of a stone sliding across a frozen light

followed by a splash that seemed to kill all noise that dead silence was broken when a shuddering voice spoke again through the phone what the where are you I yelled pleading for any small mortal of information he could provide.

I don't know, it's... I'm in a pipe, I think. Some kind of glass tube. I can see everything outside. It's all there, all at once. There's more of these tubes. So many more. They're branching and splitting, but...

The connection got progressively weaker as he talked, jittering and buzzing in my ears. I'm heading down this tube now and there. Oh, the central one, but it's huge. Enormous. "'Holy shit, no, I don't think it's the central. "'But in the distance, so many, what the hell is this place?' "'My exhausted brain couldn't fathom a single thing to say.

"'I just listened, almost as confused as he was. "'Streaming himself, threw some of them in the earth.' "'He was cut off by a tremendous splash. "'The sound quality at this point made it sound more like a roar. "'You could only hear his whimpers, "'until that hissing trill crows. all its way under my skin once more. Melded with the audio glitches.

Then I heard something never could have expected, even after seeing what I'd seen. Sounded as if the creature was stuttering, clearing its throat before Exalted be the rowdy, its flow shows the path.

It spoke. The unearthly nightmare beast had spoken. words were jarring like it was repeating after someone teaching it how to talk broken by animalistic clicks and hissing grandpa screamed but the call lost connection completely and it drew out as a high sign wave tone my hand acted of its own accord and loosened its grip sending the phone clattering to the floor at the time i'd crouched down to grab it only my home screen greeted me as i pressed the home button ball fail i looked down to martin he was out cold by breathing the bleeding had died down but he needed urgent treatment even so i fell to the floor back slouched up against the cold concrete wall decided to wait it out until sunrise sir and grandpa's plan had worked but just the slightest uncertainty helped me in place the adrenaline was beginning to wear off my limbs

ached, my head-thumb. I fought against my eyelids, but they fell as if dragged down by anchors. All light vanished, and I faded into sleep. Part four, I woke to heat on my face in a red, orange blur. I opened my eyes grimacing at the rays of sunlight that poured through the destroyed basement hatch directly onto my face. Any notions of a simple nightmare were shattered. Martin I rolled over on my side Seeing him laying a few feet Of God he was still breathing

The blood coating the skin of his left leg Was dry and crusted But a small amount of it still seeped from his mangled limb I chose to let him rest While I turned to the broken ladder Pulling myself up what remained of its rungs And out into the house Or what remained of it at least

But a devastation I do not exaggerate when I say almost the entire front portion of the house was gone wooden beams jutted out from piles of rubble and dust but all was still unlike the day prior bird song weaved throughout the woods and into the ruins I recall learning about how forest animals would go quiet when a predator is nearby but I've been too on edge to notice until their sounds had returned still subtle chills wormed their way up my spine

I felt safe, but I had also felt safe with Grandpa in the basement until the attack. No smoke plume from anywhere across the tree line, and no stench defiled my nose, but I couldn't shake it. I spent some time scrabbling around in the back half of the house that still stood. Wicker than expected, I found the keys to Grandpa's truck, in the corner of the kitchen counter. I practically leapt down into the old wine cell. then slowed my pace, gently shaking Martin until he stirred. He was groggy and confused.

Don't worry, man. I'm going to get you home. I wrapped his left arm over my shoulder, supporting him to the ladder. It was tough getting him out, but we did, and we hobbled through the ruins to the truck. Driving faster than truly necessary,

I swerved, slamming on the brakes when the fallen tree trunks came into view almost out of nowhere. The jolt shook Martin, and he came to attention from the pain in his leg. I apologise for it, but wasted no more time in getting out and helping Martin down from his seat. The stench of death was stronger in the air, the Wendigo corpse festering nearby. Brought me back to the night before, the raw terror, spawning paranoia within me that grew intense over the short walk between the truck and my jeep. I held exposed now, naked.

We made it across the trees and into my Jeep quickly, even with Martin's injury. Still without any warning signs of the beast, my heart was drumming so hard I could see my chest pulse. After a messy three-point turn, the wheels slipped, kicking up dust before we shot away down the track. We drove until reaching the small police station, where I flew out of the Jeep and burst through its double doors. perhaps a rash action in retrospect, but my mind was elsewhere. Before anything else, I had them call an ambulance for my friend, followed by reporting a severe animal attack. When I was asked what had attacked us, I spat out Cougar.

The officer grunted, and I laid out the facts. Grandpa was gone, dragged away by our assailant. An ambulance arrived soon thereafter to pick up Martin. EMTs were visibly surprised by the laceration, but attended to him nonetheless. He'd lost a fair bit of blood, but they quickly got him in stable condition at the nearest hospital, where he stayed for the next week. The search party banded together to look for Grandpa, but they found nothing, of course. I was questioned about the state of his house, but I think the trauma welling up in my eyes was the best defence I could have had. No scorch marks on the rubble to indicate explosives, nothing.

It's been a few years since all this happened. I've made it through the stages of grief in one piece. I'd like to say Grandpa lives on in my memory, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate to say. I can still remember him, our conversations days out, the smell of his fireplace and all that, but, well, no matter how hard I try, I can't remember what he looked like.

That's to say there's only an imperceptible smudge where he once was in any piece. I still have. I don't know where he ended up. Some massive network of tubes. They get the distinct impression that his grave lies elsewhere. In another place separate from this world, I'm eternally grateful for his sacrifice. Yeah, but I can't help but think that it was only our lives that were saved from the Scorsten Durer. Are there more of them? Or is it somehow able to relocate itself? Only my Grandpa would have answers, but, well, yeah. Just in case. You find yourself out in the wilderness, you see a steady plume of smoke rising from the trees, perhaps even smell the organic stench of digestion.

It'd be best to call off the occasion entirely. Once it's on to you, well, I only hope you're as lucky as we were the day my grandpa died. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.