Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep237: Episode 237: Mountain Monster Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 22, 2025

Tonight’s fabulous opening story is ‘Blaire's Last Letter’, a wonderful story cleanyourbedroomboy, kindly shared with me via Dr. Crepen’s Vault and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/cleanyourbedroomboy/ Today’s second terrifying tale of terror is ‘The Jolly Dead’, an original work by the wonderfully talented Sebastian Lopez, kindly shared with me directly via email so that I could narrate it here for you all, with the author’s express permission. Today’s third phenomenal offering is ‘The Knocker’, an original work by Ryan Deitrick, co-written by cesly1987; a story shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me read it here for you all: https://www.reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/hnm2xd/knock_knock_knock_original_story_by_ryandeitrick/ Today’s fourth phenomenal story is ‘Tenebrous’, an original work by Travis Kuhlman, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:EmpyrealInvective https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Tenebrous Tonight’s penultimate tale of terror is ‘The Girl on the Security Camera’, a wonderful story by Tazirai, kindly shared with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/Tazirai/ Today’s closing tale of the macabre is ‘There's a monster in the mountains of Afghanistan’, a wonderful original story by Sire Boone, kindly shared with me via Mr. Creeps’ Sub-Reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/SireBoone/

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. The setting of a horror story is crucial because it shapes the atmosphere and amplifies fear. A well-chosen setting, whether it's a fog-shrouted forest and abandoned hospital or a crumbling mansion, can hide in tension, evoke isolation, and create a sense of dread before anything even happens. It acts almost like a silent character, influencing the mood and making the unnatural feel more believable. The right setting doesn't just host the horror. It feeds it, as we shall see in tonight's delightful collection of stories.

Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales will contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. Hey, how have you been? It's been a long time, hasn't it? I miss you so much, and honestly, you're the only of you, the only thing. only thing on my mind these days. I hope you're doing well over there. I used to be really mad that I

never got a response from you. Writing these letters is what keeps me saying after you left. Devastated. Well, still am. I can't stop thinking about you and when I'd see you again. Well, here's another letter from me, and I know it's a bit late this time round, but the last couple of days have been strange. Oh, how I wish you'd been here. here to comfort me, to tell me that I'm okay, but, well, you aren't. A little self-pity and a bottle of whatever I can afford to buy with the money I save is the only kind of consolation I get now. Whatever happened last week, I don't think I really understand, but maybe I don't want to. I'm in great pain, physically as well as mentally. I'm in anguish. I don't know why

what happened did happen but it did there's no denying it there are monsters in this world true and real monsters scarier than those things that come at us in our nightmares maybe this world is a waking nightmare if you think about it it is every waking second do you remember all those deep half-a-sleep conversations we had now you told me i was going to drive myself crazy with all that overthinking. I'll miss that now. I'm sorry, I'm a little drunk right now, just a little,

shouldn't matter much. Anyway, that last letter I wrote you. Did you get a chance to read it yet? I'm not really sure if you did, but then again I don't know if you read anything I send you. The mailbox must be full of letters. Poor little Blair's tiny, plain, white letter

must get lost in there somewhere. Sorry, going off again. It's just, um, I've been a mess lately. Big mess. Life has been bland and in the last letter I sent you, I told you how I was going to do it, didn't I? How I was going to end it all. The pain of existence I carry with me everywhere. I know, I know. I said it a million times already, but yes, it did have to do with you. And no, I don't blame you for my pain. That's just me. guess i'm more fragile than i think i am getting that confession off my chest isn't even embarrassing now like i said i feel nothing these days everything is bland i was up really early that day i remember it being four a m because i couldn't believe it myself it was too perfect i hadn't set an alarm but i did check my phone the first thing in the morning night before i didn't really care when i woke up just went to sleep and decided to go on with it whenever i was

I was up. That 4 a.m. was so perfect. It was like a sign. Perfect day to do it. The time on my phone wanted to do it. The bed wanted me to do it. If there's a God, I'm sure he wanted me to do it as well. Even I wanted it. There was nothing that stopped me now. It was a strange feeling. Yes, it was. the universe agreeing with you when you wanted to kill yourself what exactly something to be excited about this is a very hateful world

everything in this world wants you gone nothing loves you nothing cares about you nothing truly feels that I know was sure because I sure didn't feel as much as a little speck of anything this is how I plan to do it

I didn't tell it to you in the last letter but here it is my master it planned. I was going to walk for a while. A long walk to the park. You know which one. There on that special bench where I sat alone for hours on the day you left. I'd sit and let myself bleed to death. It's called exanguination. I looked it up. There's a new word for you. I plan to slit my wrist at first, but that'd be really slow and I couldn't risk anyone finding it. Couldn't stand life anymore.

have to understand. Wasn't that there was something really wrong with me, it was just, well, everyone else in the world had something wrong with them, and as it turned out later that day, it was true. Well, I put on a scarf and a coat.

I know what I was going to do, but I wanted to at least die comfortably. I just carry out a blanket with me for extra comfort, but that would just look silly. So, I'd lock the door, behind me, touching it one last time. Trying to feel that feeling of touching that damn door.

One last time. I didn't know what I would miss once I died. Didn't feel the same this time. In fact, it felt war. Strangely war. I don't know why, but I wanted to pull the door out and give it an embrace. Oh, I would miss you, Dor. All down the steps and out onto the streets.

Glorious. it took a while to reach the park but i did and took my queen's chair to rule over the world of park benches with my initials carved on them sitting down i've got the tiny box cutter i've got for myself the day before raise it up to my neck ready to bleed to death sweet relief for me if life hadn't been kind to me why should i in that moment everything about you flashed in my eyes everything you did no matter how much we'd thought over it, no matter how much I hated you for it. I know you have me somewhere in your heart while you did, and maybe all these letters I have been writing to you all this while, well, I'm asking you for your forgiveness. I know it's too late to apologize to you, but please, I never had it in me to ask for it before. I did hate you, yes, and I did wish you dead, but all that didn't last, as you can tell. People may call you a terrible,

human being, people may hate you for what you did, but I don't. In that instance of realization for a stranger's in the air. I knew this instant that I wasn't alone. Maybe it's just near certain death that we begin to really notice things, but in that moment I could see with my eyes closed. He came out of nowhere, rushing to me and asking if I was okay. For some reason, I can't remember his face. I do remember his clean, shaven face, green eyes and slightly large build, but he was tall and a little overweight, and there was something about it. In that instant, everything froze for a moment. I heard him speak, but I didn't listen. I saw his lips move as he tried desperately to get me to drop the blades. He then said something and looked at me. I raised my head silently,

answering yes to whatever he'd asked, but in the response put a thin smile on his face. He awkwardly put his hand on my shoulder and escorted me back to his car. Now, maybe it was just my state of mind at the time, but I really don't know why I went along with him. I actually didn't want to, but I didn't refuse either. I just blankly accepted whatever he said with either a yes or a thank you, and he seemed to be satisfied with that. I don't remember much about him, like I said, but I do remember that satisfied grin he had every time he heard me speak. Well, the house was a mess, and from the moment I entered it, I smelled it, that sweet, familiar smell, that smell I loved as much as I hated. Alcohol.

Then I knew from the instant I was there, there was lots of it. He sat me down on a plane chair and offered me a cup of stupe. coffee and that same grin to go with it. For some reason didn't mind. I took it. Don't remember much after that, except crying. Lots and lots of crying. And there were those sounds of singing. Singing in the rain. I remember it so vividly. I can't write this. I just can't. Those are the things I do not want in my mind and it feels like, well, it feels so strange. Like to they're there and aren't there at the same time. I don't remember most of it because, well, my mind hides it from me, but I'm not an idiot.

The great overthinker I am, I know exactly what happened. And even though, you know it hurts writing this, you need to know. You must know everything. I don't think I was there in the dark basement for too long. My mind was blank most of the time. I do remember being given injections from time to time, too weak to fight back, and then being left alone again. I wished truly at that moment to go away.

I should have gone on with it faster. Whatever these people were going to do to me, or perhaps had already done, death would definitely be kinder to me. Then there was that night. That night I remember. everything. I remember seeing the man come into the basement and take his belt off. All sense of time has gone around this time, but I could tell that this was late night, judging by the man's look. He'd been out drinking, definitely had friends over. He did call out to them from time to

time, and they called out to him too. I do remember what was said, but I don't want to go over them. My skin becomes a tight prison once I think about it. My only urge is to cut free. Yes, I did cut myself. Several times, in fact. It's the only way I can breathe. At least now that is. I don't know, but this body is a strange design. We're all like tiny vessels of red ink. The way this ink paws can tell so many different stories. So much about it. So much about it. the person. I'm going off again. I think maybe my drunk mind is trying to avoid remembering the incident as much as me, but if I want you to know the truth, I need to endure it, maybe a little longer. I'll try my best. I wasn't crying that night. There was something off about tonight.

I felt nothing. I could feel, but I couldn't. I don't know if that makes sense, does it? Well, the man was done and proceeded to put on his belt again when he smiled at me and then froze. He saw something. I didn't know what it was at the time, but he looked behind me, terrified. I didn't care what he saw, but that look gave me more satisfaction than anything in a long time. See him, a man whom at that moment I saw as the most evil thing this universe had produced. apparently seeing something far worse than him. Should I have been afraid?

Probably, but not at this time. What could something that evil do to me that wasn't done already? I was just preparing for death anyway, wasn't I? And then it revealed itself. And the last thing I remember before passing out was the look of complete and utter fear in the man's face as a thing walked closer to me. Eight feet tall, brown and mutilated flesh.

I think hell opened its gates and let something else. Something that genuinely cares. Something that wanted me safe. Maybe some of the things we fear are actually there to protect us, to keep us safe, to put itself in harm's way, just so we can be safe. Whatever this thing was, it did something bad to the man, and I wasn't given the details.

The psychiatrist had considered me too vulnerable to know at that point. I'm sure she'd be proud once she knows how much I'm drinking right now. Obviously she wouldn't care. I'm just another job. Nothing more. Oh, well, I found your ring. It's funny how at the police station I finally found the thing. I know it might sound strange, but it's on my finger all along.

I'm not sure about that anymore. I'm not sure about anything. The world we live in is strange, and we make it stranger. That sweet surprise I got when I felt my face scratch while rubbing my palm against my tearing face. I don't know why he didn't take it, or maybe it was given to me. Like I said, I just don't know.

Whatever that thing was, I've been feeling safe ever since, especially after hearing about the gruesome details. I know how to that. much you hate violence so I won't say much but it was very very bad there were organs and blood everywhere like a blender had gone off there and sorry I don't know why I wanted you to know this but I feel like you needed to know made me feel satisfied maybe waiting for God's miracle all along something else

finally took sympathy on me and gave me what I needed whoever it is out there be sure to thank them for me. I'll be leaving this ring with a letter. It belongs to me much more than you. I know how strange this all seems. I can't accept it either. But then, I guess that's how it is. And as long as I live and, yes, I did choose life,

I'll have to learn to accept it. Goodbye. I'll not be writing to you again, I guess. Maybe it is time to move on. I'll give it a try. maybe i will last longer this time good-bye and with much love rest in peace ma'am blare the jolly dead by sebastian lopez sebastian wolf came home to the familiar wine of his dogs after another long day at work they always acted like they hadn't seen him in ages he held his hands out to them which they showered in kisses easy easy he told them as they tried to push past his hands and get into its face.

Sebastian was debating if it was drinking night or not. He had to work the next day and it was only Tuesday but some days the bottle called louder than others and wouldn't be ignored. A jogger and grey trainers came down the sidewalk. Once upon a time Sebastian would try waving and bidding the stranger a good evening

and it barely occurred to him anymore. Living among the English had proven to be like living in a desert compared to where he come from. His heritage was rooted in two cultures that were very social by tradition, Argentinian and Chilean. A few career decisions and unforeseen

life events later, he'd ended up in Sussex, England, where faces didn't smile, eyes didn't meet, laughter was dry and sarcastic, and the obituaries may as well have been the funnies. This hadn't been easy for Sebastian. Back where he was from, no matter how the day went, you at least had the warmth of

family and good neighbours. "'Sepastien was perpetually alone in Sussex. "'He was an army of one in the workplace, "'and he had no one to knock back a drink with at the end of the day. "'He could tell his dogs anything he wanted to, but, well, you know. "'At least he didn't have to be lonely in squalor. "'The flat he rented was rather posh, as his neighbours would say, "'if they'd say anything to him at all.

"'He studied himself in an ivory-rimmed bathroom mirror. "'His five o'clock shadow wasn't. as dark as it used to be in certain places. Gray was peppered abundantly along his chin, and he almost thought that some of the colour in his eyes had faded, if brown could fade. Forty-one, he muttered to himself. He could remember looking in the mirror and saying things like,

25 and 30. Those moments felt like forever ago. The bottle won. He poured an expensive whiskey into a tumbler that looked like it had been cut like a gem, He sat out on his rooftop deck and would watch to see if the dying daylight would make a sunset worth seeing. He was rewarded. The sky was painted fiery colours and seagulls piped and drifted among the houses looking for handouts.

Sebastian eyed the old ladies and others that came onto their rooftops to feed the scavenging gulls. They could socialise with the birds but not with each other, he noted. Had Sussex been any of the number of places he'd lived with his parents, The rooftops would have been crowded with smiling, jovial people draining the whiskey bottle dry and laughing so loudly that the seagulls would be frightened away. But not here. People occupied their own personal spaces that nobody left and nobody visited. Before long, Sebastian began to notice that someone was observing him,

not just once, but several times spanning several evenings. He was sharp of eye, unlike most people he ran into, and partially questioned why this turn of neighbourly behaviour bothered him. He'd been distantly hoping for some level of interaction with others, but perhaps this was too forward without a proper introduction. Still the man with a small moustache and the sloppy comb-over stood in front of Sebastian's yard, just beyond his turf, and stared. The days that this occurred became weeks.

One evening, Sebastian had had enough. his observer hadn't missed a day for two weeks straight and it was time for an introduction before he decided to either ask the man out for a drink or striking him across the jaw and stomp his head into the pavement his visitor seemed wary and perhaps even a bit surprised to see sebastian approach him can i help you sebastian said cloud in a burgundy bathrobe and slippers to match ah you acknowledge my presence the man stated a thick german accent can carrying the words. This prompted Sebastian to smile and nod. No wonder you're not like everyone else. You're not a tea-sucking, crumpid, shitting local. Sebastian remarked, a bit under the influence. This made the stranger smirk. No wonder you are always alone. You're not tainted, he said. The words didn't even register in Sebastian's senses. His brain felt like it was getting a breath of fresh

with someone to actually talk to. Hey, care for a drink. Gladly, the stranger replied. And just like that, in a dry desert of fellowship and social fulfilment, the two men found an oasis in the other's company. They knew nothing about each other, but they sat back on Sebastian's patio furniture on his rooftop and talked and laughed as the clouds turned pink and the horizon turned gold.

As the amber whiskey flowed, both men volunteered more information about themselves. Sebastian spoke of the way he'd meandered from his homeland to Sussex, where he hated to be but never quite got up the gumption to make concrete plans to leave, and he wasn't sure why. Anton told a very outlandish tale of growing up in an orphanage in Austria, where his classmates exiled him for being the hidden son of Adolf Hitler. He didn't really know who he was, if that was who he was. when it was just the license that other kids used to either alienate him or brutalize him amid so many beatings he protest with you are not respecting my rights to which his assailants would respond well we're not adolf hitler's son he thus found himself where he was forty-six years old and perfectly isolated from society as he knew it until that very moment where he was having a blast with his fellow alcoholic

The morning found both men sleeping in late and hung over. Sebastian can now look at his visitor's face for the first time with focused eyes. It wasn't a far-fetched notion that he was the progeny of the late furor. If the moustache had been cropped an inch on either side, he would look just like his supposed father. But what were the odds, really? Sebastian made a mediocre breakfast of scrawled eggs and toast and coffee and extended the absurd social engagement with the stranger claiming to be a war criminal son.

So, what brings the son of Hitler to a gaping vat of anus like Sussex? Sebastian asked while shoveling eggs into his mouth. Well, hiding mostly. My father was not a likable man, so I do not wish to merely walt back into my homeland announcing who he was. But if I go home as a stranger, life would be a challenge. So I remain where I am. where my roots run deep enough to keep me alive.

Sebastian poured some whiskey into his coffee. He held it up and shook the bottle, raising his eyebrows. Ah, of course, Anton said with a flourish. The truth potion filled both men again until Anton got up and stumbled over to his leather bag. He drew out a stethoscope, an exceptionally well-made one. He pressed the end of it to Sebastian's chest and smiled as he heard a healthy, steady tick.

Mr. Wolf, I will show you something that will blow up your understanding of the world. Before I do that, I need you to listen to my heart. Sebastian was just a few sips away from cross-eyed status again when he agreed. The world went quiet as the stethoscope plugged his ears. The business end rested against Anton's chest, and his heart announced its presence loud and clear. Anton took the device back and beckoned. Follow me.

The two men bumbled their way onto the sidewalk, where the occasional pedestrian wandered by. Anton fearlessly seized the first when he saw a man of about sixty years of age, out for a jog. My friend, would you be a peach and let me listen to your heartbeat? Anton said rather mushyly. The frowning Englishman looked at Anton up and down, but didn't see any reason to object.

Anton put the diaphragm of the stethoscope against the stranger's chest and smiled. He leered at Sebastian. Have a listen, no, he said, holding out the headset. Sebastian fumbled the ear tips until he had them in, and he waited, and waited, and waited. Anton, I don't hear anything, he said. Anton just smiled The stranger's eyes rapidly ticked back and forth

Between the two drunks Thank you for your time sir Anton said to the jogger dismissing him Sebastian was sobering up just enough to think critically What the hell was that I didn't hear anything at all That's the point Anton replied rather smuggly

Your neighbours behave heartlessly for that is exactly what they are. Sebastian and Anton slept most of the afternoon and the evening. Sebastian was played by strange dreams of being in public, the grocery store, the gas station, the park. All places populated by people that had gaping black voids in their chests, black holes that were perfect pits of silence and absence. Heartless, soulless.

They drank tea through their mouths only for the hot liquid to spill out of, their chests and eat holes in the floor or dissolve the flowers and grass on the ground Sebastian was the first to wake up. It was almost dark outside. He felt like he could sleep another 12 hours. He felt like he could sleep another 12 hours. First he made sure his guest was all right. The spitting image of Hitler was snuggling up to a long pillow on the couch and snoring. So he was all right. Sebastian looked at him for a long moment. The two men had exchanged many secrets and much personal information, but had been too soggy to absorb all of it.

They might as well have been alone and talking to themselves. That be that as it may. Sebastian was happy to have Anton's company. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of struggling coming from the front hall. Sebastian came outside in time to see his dogs gang up on a stranger holding a crowbar. The dogs had been faster than the stranger. and the blunt weapon fell to the grass harmlessly. The dogs made quick work of the stranger,

who bled out onto the turf when his throat was ripped out. Sebastian speechlessly approached the slain body with a steaming hole in its throat. He about wed himself when something the size of a cat warmed its way up from inside the body's chest and emerged through the wound. A squealing, squirming, clawing, mockery of life. Something like an overgrown bat crossed with an inbred monkey.

One of the dogs seized it and shook it until his neck snapped. The whole pack set to devouring the small monster while Sebastian fainted. I suppose it's my turn to make breakfast. Anton said with a smile. Sebastian was lying on the floor as his senses spoke to him one by one. He clutched his pounding head and able to be. to tell if his plight was due to alcohol or psychological trauma my dogs my dogs they made doggy kibble out of a foolish trespasser yes sebastian needed another drink but didn't have the heart to pour one jesus anton something crawled out of the body and it wasn't natural we need to call the police we need to notify someone

they won't come for the dog food they will come for you Yes, I know their true nature, so they follow me around. I got tipsy and I showed you their true nature, so now they follow you around just as they follow me. Sebastian stared at him for a long moment. Who are you, and what have you just gotten me into? I am the truth, and you're not ready for me yet, Anton said with a chuckle.

But no matter, the truth came for your head, and it will do it again now that you have a soul. with me. Sebastian held up his hands as if that would clear his head up faster. Oh, give it to me straight and clear. Why am I suddenly a wanted man by people with no heartbeat and little demons living in their bodies? You notice how English are cold and distant right. They have no humour, no sympathy.

They have no heartbeat. They have no individual mind. I have been studying why for many years and a right. at many dead ends. When I'm nearing a breakthrough, they find me and drive me away. He then gestured to Sebastian. They must think you my partner in perceived crime,

for they attack you in the same way they attack me or my years trying to help. This is crazy, Sebastian yelled. This is reality, Anton countered. Perhaps you help me find a cure. find a release for the English men so they do not give birth to little demon babies yeah um

sure Sebastian said still not sure what he was agreeing to now you are hunted you must not be out after dark if you can help it Anton warned now I will need to get back to work I must return to my home and get my computer and notes we work quickly together please stay here while I get tools

or Sebastian had forgotten about his agreement just as soon as he'd made it. His mind and his body were begging for some kind of release, some kind of escape and suspension of the stress and the tension. He stretched in front of his home and took off a little faster than he should have for not stopping to warm up. The stress was at critical mass and threatened to explode out of him in some shape or fashion. Premature exertion was the healthiest outlet he had at the time. He felt better much sooner than he thought he would. The birdsonged his ears, along with the murmur of the wind in the trees.

There were still flowers in people's yards, and there were still lovely girls out for walks with their dogs, however much they may or may not have lacked a pulse. Between the change of scenery and the endorphins that were starting to flow steadily into his veins, he almost convinced himself that Anton, the English, and the silence through the stethoscope were all just a bad, street. The sun began to set and the richness of the colours flowed through his eyes and cleansed the plaque of darkness from his soul. He had to keep running. He had to keep putting distance

between himself and Anton and the reality he was trying to show him. A horrible, impossible reality that raises questions that would bring madness with the answers. He had to keep plunging into this reality of sunsets and cool, fragrant breezes. He was a very good, fragrant breezes. He was was schooled in reality once more when a great flapping noise blew the air around him and washed into his ears something sharp ripped a huge gash into his sweatshirt his first thought was that a crazed hawk or something had attacked him perhaps he was in the vicinity of a nest he got a view of the back of the thing as it flew up and away to circle back and make another dive wasn't a bird far from it birds didn't have a wingspan that ridiculous

nor did birds have arms with claws as wicked as the ones on their toes birds also didn't have small round and bald heads with glowing yellow eyes and pointed demonic ears birds didn't have long tails that ended in points as sharp as arrows the creature circled back around and dove straight for sebastian's face if sebastian wasn't questioning his sanity early he did definitely was in this moment. The creature opened its feet like a raptor and also swiped with its hands. It raked him across his temple with three crimson lines that began bleeding ribbons of red.

And it stung something fierce. The pain was cold. He opened his eyes just in time to see three more creatures of similar appearance coming out of the sky to pay him a visit. He became fearful. One of those little guys might just be a nuisance, but four of them could pull him. possibly tear him apart, like an attack by feral dogs with wings. He protected his face by ducking his head down between his elbows and wrapping his hands

behind his head, at the price of offering his back to the monsters. Well, it offered little to no protection against every pair of serrated talons that swooped down at him. The claws were cold, and his blood flowed warm. Then a horn honked nearby, and someone yelled at him in German. It was Anton. He had driven out to find Sebastian when he didn't come home before darkness fell. Sebastian feebly held out his hands against the claws and the beating wings and sprang into the open door of Sebastian's truck.

You don't listen too well, Anton chided. Sebastian didn't say another thing, other than quietly grunting. Thanks. So you've gotten us into a lot of trouble and revealed an important clue at the same time. time Anton said. Very good work, Mr. English hater. Sebastian was too shaken up to say anything good or bad. His world was falling apart. What was he thinking this wasn't his world? This world where he was a prisoner held against his will. This was someone else's world and he felt like an unwanted dog that had been staked to the back of the yard and forgotten about.

and now the family owned the yard was in a rainbow of disarray it was disconcerting no matter how you sliced it then his heart seized up when he saw two gargoyles just like the ones that had attacked him sitting on stone pedestals guarding the gate to a cemetery they didn't stir then they drove by a church and he saw more there they kind of stuck out since they weren't quite like anything he could remember seeing in any other archivetka action the site gave him palpitations but they just remained where they were the two men made it back to sebastian's place Sebastian was hitting the bottle Anton was hitting the books Sebastian was doing his best to come to terms with what he's seen and experienced and the implications of them so he was moored by creatures that were in the background of his everyday life for years. And how long have they been watching him? Put all gargoles like this? Were they somehow parasitizing the populace like large stone botflies using living human bodies as incubators? The silence was punctuated by Anton turning pages in his books and keying things into his laptop.

He didn't know he'd fallen asleep until Anton shook him awake. Mr. English, Hater, Anton said, looking at him from over his glasses like an man. I have something I think you will find interesting. Sebastian sat up reluctantly, not wanting to look at anything. Ah, the internet is God's gift to man these days. Minus sold the bondage and torture porn, yes. Sebastian didn't so much as flinch in response. I found here a website run by a man who is obsessed with gargoyle sculptures and memorial carvings around the world. Here are complete catalogs and photographs of all sorts of stone beasts. Now, I would like you to tell me if anything you see looks familiar, even remotely similar to the beasties that decided to interrupt your evening jog that I'd advised against.

Sebastian eyed his companion with a burning look as he took the laptop. I should have known that he wasn't going to get back to his booze-induced nap any time soon. It was, after all, an entire world's worth of centuries of sculpture. photographs of pieces still standing in existence illustrations from crumbling books of monuments that were ground to sand by the passage of time centuries ago Sebastian was losing his patience after about an hour and a half

we'd figured out the keyboard shortcuts on Anton's laptop and was cycling through photos as fast as the machine would load them onto Internet Explorer running on in Windows XP Anton knew the answer before Sebastian finally set the laptop down and threw his hands up in frustration. No such thing, eh? He smiled.

Nothing. Not one of those pitches came close. Ah, makes you think there is a possibility they could be something other than gargolos. The cuckoo bird in humanity's nest, sneakily hiding in plain sight, eh? Sebastian could feel everything he'd just been trying to drink away, coming back in a hurry like a surging wave of nausea. This is too crazy. Way, way, way, way too crazy.

He threw one hand across his scalp before standing up, shaking his head and pacing in a circle. So, unless we're sharing the same hallucination, you're selling me on the idea that there are creatures that are just posing as gargos by hiding next to real gargos? That's close enough for where we're at now, I suppose.

So, are you planning on seeing if these things can be killed? The way things have been going so far, you're probably going to propose that we liberate all of England and hunt down every pseudo-gargo we can find. I wasn't actually thinking quite along those lines, but you propose an interesting idea,

Anton said. No, no, I didn't actually mean... You make a good case. We will need to defend ourselves from fully grown stone demons, if not the people around us, so it would be wise to make sure that these creatures can even be brought down. For all we know, they don't bleed like us.

They look like stone, perhaps their entire biology is stone-based, whereas we are flesh-based. I have a good hunting rifle that I think we can use to snipe at some of our rock will face little munchkins, eh? And so the two men sat in Anton's truck outside the gates to a cemetery they'd passed earlier. The gate was black and imposing. The gargoles that were perched atop the two stone pillars were probably black at one point in time,

but the elements had flecked them with grey and green. The thing was, these were gargoles similar to the ones that ambush Sebastian, so their disguise was nearly perfect. Sebastian doubted his own senses in the matter. These creatures looked every bit like they should have been the original sculptures, not creatures who were part of some strange conspiracy cooked up by the lost son of Hitler. Anton drummed his palms on the steering wheel. So we've been here a long time and no motion from our little friends.

Sebastian nodded. Shoot one. What? Shoot one of them. See what happens. Sebastian shrugged. What did he have to lose? He made sure that a cartridge was changed.

but before taking aim at one of the two gargals he felt a twang of conscience like he was 16 and holding a spray can to a brick wall of a public building for the first time defacing other people's property wasn't his thing he pulled the trigger and he expected a spray of concrete or stone or whatever that isn't what happened there was blood a cloud of it The gargoy whimpered as it fell over with a shattered egg-shell of a cranium and face-planted in the turf just in front of its pillar. Sebastian delayed for half a second before he chambered another round and fired at the other gargo that was just beginning to react to the reality of its fallen comrade. The cartridge punctured its chest and exploded out of his back. It fell backwards into the cemetery, where it floundered for a few moments before going still.

Anton leaped out of the truck and raced over to pick up the body of the first gargoy, and his movements indicated that it was every bit as heavy as it would have been if it were a stone sculpture. Englishmen started appearing over the hillside. For science, Anton said as he hauled the bulk of the dead thing into the back of the truck. Sebastian felt the back of the truck sink low, and by the time they got moving, the roadside was starting to team with people. Oh, we might not get to take the next semester of Mad Siders 101, Sebastian said, as every vehicle in a hundred-mile radius began to stop and turn towards them.

A small sports car sped towards the truck as if it were a kamikaze fighter plane. It wiped out against a tree at a skewered ankle to where Anton was. We might just have to skip town entirely, Mr. Wolf. Not without my dogs. You have got to be shitting me, and dog shitting me. My dogs are my family. I can't just leave my family behind, Sebastian wailed. Anton rolled his eyes and dodged three oncoming cars as he tried to pick a route to Sebastian's apartment.

It wasn't going to be easy. As if it hadn't been clear before that the English were under the control of a single hive mind, it was morbidly evident that the entire whole of the city was now converging on them. Sebastian wasn't sure if it was his imagination or what he swore he heard distinct sounds coming from all around him the first was a throbbing that filled the air and even rattled the windows of the vehicle they were in it couldn't have been and yet the signature rhythm was there

a heartbeat the more the streets filled with pedestrians that gave chase on foot the more the second sound became clear the whole lot of them every man woman and child that appeared were chanting in unison jolly good Charlie good jolly good the voices were layered made up a thousand's but they spoke in perfect unison Sebastian craned his neck to look skyward and they were up there circling like large stone vultures the overlords the parasites the gargoles if that's what they were even

called. Sebastian had never been more grateful that he lived at the edge of town. Well, that meant that the whole of the masses would have to come from one general direction, and Anton had gotten ahead of them by some bizarre twist of luck. Sebastian cursed as they pulled into the driveway of his flats. His dogs had fought bravely, bringing down four or five of the possessed Englishmen, each of them with mutilated throats, but only two of his dog still stood, trembling. while the others were as still as their enemies on the lawn. You fuckers killed my dogs, Sebastian roared.

If you don't think proactively, the surviving pups will die as well, and us with them, said Anton. Sebastian fired off a few cartridges at gargos in anger, and this had an unexpected effect on the swarms of people. When a gargoy died, the people were seized with spasms. the patrolling bodies that blocked any approach to the surviving dogs were without direction for a few seconds with each successful shot. So Sebastian wasted no time and exploiting the temporary blind spot and getting his dogs into the bed of the truck. His anger sharpened his accuracy and each swooping gargle got around to the head, which made bodies dance for blocks. It allowed Anton enough time to get beyond the reach of the mob and out to another. open highway. Sebastian got out his phone and took some recordings of the furious gargles

that dotted the sky and the chanting crowds that shrank away in the distance, ceaselessly repeating their nefarious mantra, Charlie good, Charlie good, Charlie good. He used the last few minutes of signal reception to post on Reddit and other social media. Pay attention to the gargles you pass every day, on your churches, on your gravestones, wherever they may be. Make sure you can identify them, place them in some span of architectural history. Otherwise, you may be under their control. There may be even one growing inside of you. Hi guys. My name's James and I have a hobby of interviewing people to get their scary story. It's crazy how many everyday people have experienced something paranormal in their lives, yet most people are still sceptics.

It's like hundreds of people being a witness to a crime, and the cops say it's still not good enough. Well, maybe that's why I got into this hobby. I wanted to know if I was going crazy. I wanted to know if others had experienced the things I have. So, here's the story that set me on the path of researching the paranormal. Part of me hopes I am just crazy. I hope the things that I saw that night were because of chemical imbalance in my youth.

young mind because the alternative is just too terrible to consider if I'm not crazy then the knocker is real it was back when I was around 15 years old I lived deep in the woods with my parents in Freedom PA freedom was a small town northeast of Pittsburgh not a lot of people and not a lot to do just a lot of forest if you wanted to do anything you had to drive to a neighboring town to find it and that's what my parents were doing on this night. They both worked hard and rarely had time for themselves, so when a close friend was having his birthday party in a bar out of town,

my parents decided to have a little hour and hour of time. Well, they trusted me, and knew I was responsible. They were going to be responsible too, and stayed at a motel if they drunk too much, so I knew I had the house to myself for the night. Besides, I told my best friend, John, to come over for a night of wrecking noobs on the COD, Even though I'd talked to him at school, I decided to call him to remind him.

Well, I'd just gone off the phone with him. He said he was 30 minutes out. When I heard three heavy knocks at the door, they sounded heavy and ominous. Well, I figured it was John pulling a prank on me. He must have been out front when I called him. He was pretending to be a killer in one of those crazy movies. So I opened the door with a smile on my face, expecting to see John's goofy ass jump out at me.

But nobody was there. It was already getting dark, but I tried to look out into the woods. I couldn't see his bike or anything. I'm going to luck you out here, idiot. I yelled out into the darkness. I waited a minute for him to come around the corner, or out of the woods, but nothing.

I pulled out my phone and activated one of those tracking apps you and your friends can download. I saw my icon at the house, my parents all the way in another town, and John, just leaving his home, at least twenty minutes out. I quickly groped out and walked back inside and shut and locked the door. I tried to imagine what could have made such a loud knocking sound. My mind went to killers as chainsaws and butcher knives, but I tried to say to myself, it was an animal or a bird. None of it made sense, though. I had the thought to lock the back door and just like something had read my mind, three heavy knocks came from the

back door further behind me. I spun around to listen. I listened for the sound of the door opening. I figured I might have to run out the front door depending on whatever was coming into my house. After an agonizing minute of silence, I worked up the courage to walk into the kitchen where the back door was located. I peaked around the corner to look out of the glass window over the door. I couldn't see anything, I mean, it was pitch black outside my house, but I knew night hadn't fallen yet, and I should be able to make out the trees. But it was like a black curtain was draped over the outside of the windows. I looked around for an explanation of what I was seeing. I liked to keep the lights on, and they were on in the kitchen. Maybe the inside lights were

putting a blinding glare on the window, so I couldn't see outside. So I reached over and shut off the kitchen lights. The whole room went dark and my eyes adjusted to see dark blue skies above the trees outside. But for just an instant, my eyes made out a dark figure standing by the back door. I blinked and jumped back in surprise and flicked back on the lights, and it was gone. At this point I still thought my mind was playing tricks on me. There was an uneasy feeling in my house now. I felt like something could jump out of at me at any moment. I didn't know what to do. I sat there and considered calling my parents. What would I tell them? A soft knock came from the front door again, snapping me out of my

contemplation. I turned to stare wide-eyed at it. This knock was different. Maybe it was John. All I know was I wasn't going to answer that door until I knew who was outlet. I flipped out my phone and opened the tracking app. John's icon was gone. What had happened to him? The knock came louder. Boom, boom, boom. And I felt my blood rung cold.

Had something happened to my friend? James, bro, what's up? Open the door. I heard the familiar voice of my friend say, it was him or it was something that sounded like him why didn't you just call my phone when I didn't open the door I yelled back

there was a pause because the battery's dead let me in so I can charge it or my mum will freak out John said I figured this made sense and went to open the door I was relieved when John pushed in and gave me a crazy look I told him about the knocks

and how scary it was was and he acted like I was trying to set up a prank to scare him and didn't trust me. You know I can't deal with that ghost stuff, he said. You better not have Brian hiding somewhere around here ready to jump out and scare me. I'll punch me in the face, I swear. I told John our mutual friend Brian was grounded for the next two weeks, or I would have invited him, so it was just the two of us tonight. I quickly forgot about the creepy knocking as me and John set my bedroom TV and Xbox up

next to the big screen in the living room. We found our usual group of friends already online and started playing. We were having a great time. Me and John were wrecking shop and doubles. There was the unavoidable exchange of trash-tort between friends and frenemies through our headsets. This fun went on for a good hour and a half. But things changed once John came back from the kitchen with two coax for me and him. He looked pale.

Haunted, scared even. He kept throwing looks back into the kitchen. What's up? I asked. You see my ghost? I joked. I was already over the scariness from before. Shut up, dude, he whispered harshly at me, his eyes still on the kitchen. Let's just play. Turn up the volume. And we did continue playing, but John was playing like crap now.

Something had thrown his mojo off. When he accidentally, Team killed me, I threw off my headset dramatically to turn and look at him. He wasn't even looking at the game, or me. He was looking at the kitchen. Okay, I'd had enough. John, what happened in there? I asked with all seriousness. He just stared into the kitchen a moment longer before turning to me. I heard someone calling me.

It was quiet. kept telling me to let him in. I was coming from outside. I saw him blink and there was moisture in his eyes. It sounded like my dad, James. It sounded like my dad's voice. I couldn't breathe for a moment. Now I realized why John was so upset. His father had been dead for three years. I even went to the funeral. There had to be some sort of explanation. I wrecked my brain. finally I came up with something that would hopefully turn our fear into anger. It's got to be someone messing with us. Some homeless guy or a friend from school.

Next time we hear something will go and kick their ass. I said, trying to gather up mock anger. John smiled at this. Yeah, but I called dibs on your sword, though, he answered. He was referring to my cheaply made samurai sword that he'd bought from the mall for me two birthdays ago. And so we went back to play. We were in a four-man squad on battlefield now.

It was me, John, a friend from Australia, and one from Canada. And we'd all been a top-notch team since the early 360 days. We'd been playing a while when the Aussie started cursing under his breath about something. This wasn't something new for him, but he sounded a little scared. What's going on, Hawkeye? He asked the Aussie on the mic. as the tell-tale shuffling of a mike being moved before his voice came in clear. Someone's playing games outside.

Somebody keeps knocking on my apartment door, he answered in anger. I'm not getting up any more for it. I'm not playing stupid games with whoever it is. Me and James looked at each other. It had to be a coincidence, right? Hawkeye was on the other side of the world. Mom, what? hearing the voice of our Canadian friend.

The door is open, come in. There was a ruffle of the mic as it was being taken off. There was a long pause before he came back to the mic. What the fuck, guys? I'm alone in my house and someone's been knocking on my door, but I've got to get off. I might have to call the cops. Hey, stay on so we know if you're okay.

John interjected, but the screen told us he'd signed off. That's weird, mate, said Hawkeye over the mic as James and I sat frozen in fear. And that was the last of Hawkeye, because the TVs, Xboxes, and the power shut off simultaneously. Me and James sat in the dark, the TV's still letting off sounds of static from being shut off so quickly. James looked around frantically as I pulled my phone out to activate the flashlight app, came three bangs from the front door. The hits were so heavy in the quiet house,

I could hear it shaking the picture frames on the walls. We spun to stare wide-eyed at the door. I could feel my pulse pounding almost as hard as the knocks themselves. We need to get your room and get the weapons, John said breathlessly to me. I looked at him like he was crazy. No, I said. We need to call the cops. I was interrupted by a tremendous bang from the wall right behind us. It rattled the flat-screen TV with its force.

Me and John took off like lightning out of the living room and down the hallway to my room. Once we slammed the door in my pitch-black room, I heard John scrambling to get the sword off of my wall. I heard the tell-tale, shh, of him pulling the blade free. I turned on the light on my phone, only to jump back from John brandishing the sword, fear in his eyes. Call the cops, John whispered.

I turned my phone around and dialed 911. I tried to steady my breath as the phone rang. When the dispatcher answered, I tried to keep calm and told her somebody was outside knocking at my door.

She asked all the follow-up questions like my address, my name, was I home alone, and so on. She said a cop was about ten minutes out. The power in the house turned back on and eventually the cops did show up. The dispatcher called back to tell us to open the door for them.

One of them snickered at the side of John with the samurai sword. They said they checked around the house and found nothing. I knew they thought we were just dumb kids getting scared when the power had gone out. They offered to call my parents and I told them, No. I didn't want the cops telling them we were too young to be left alone. So they left with a veil of threat that if we caught 911 again, they'd have to call my parents to come back home.

And so they left. Me and John felt embarrassed and a little mad. We had heard something, and we had good reason to be scared. We both tried to settle back into a normal night. I put on an action movie from Netflix, and we tried to forget about it all. Hours later, I'd say around 2 a.m., we were finishing up an episode of a terrible Netflix original. Both John and I were getting tired. It was about to ask him if you wanted to go to bed when I heard three rapid knocks at the back door.

Well, it took us a while, but we scooted over to the living room door. We both poked our heads into the kitchen to look to see the window above the back door. At first, we saw nothing, which was weird. My house had a guest room separated from the main house. My parents had made it a comfortable living space with an AC shower and bed for when family visited during the holidays. And the guest house

should be visible through the window of the back door. The guest house had a motion-activated light sensor mounted to the outside wall. Every night around 10pm it activates with a low glow in the backyard and if something steps in front of the motion sensor the main light turns on with a blinding floodlamp completely illuminating the backyard.

But right now, Now, we could see nothing. It seemed like the area outside of my house had dropped off into an endless void. We both heard a peculiar shuffling sound by the door. We watched in horror as a small piece of paper was being pushed under the crack of the door, its edges scrunching up and collecting dirt off the floor. Once the paper was fully inside my house, the shuffling noise stopped. We were still leaning around the corner of the living room, off way into the kitchen, our

bodies close together, too afraid to move. It seemed like this could go on forever, both of us leaning forward, peeking, waiting for something awful to happen. And then something happened, but made both of us scream. It still sticks with me vividly to this day. The motion sensor light sprang to life, flooding the backyard with white light. As the blinding light hit our eyes, we both caught the motion of a dark shadow darting away from close up against the window.

The motion light was at least nine feet above the ground, hanging on the building. But whatever was retreating from the light was big enough to fill up the entire window and block out its light. All we knew is something gigantic had been blocking the window the whole time we were trying to see outside. The motion sensor only activated when the thing decided to move away from the door. It took us another thirty minutes to gather up the nerve to see what the paper said. Well, we debated calling the cops again, but neither of us wanted our parents contacted,

and only to be teased about it by the cops. Finally, with John close behind me, with the sword, I darted over and snatched up the paper by the door. We retreated back into the living room before I turned it over to read it. It was only three words, written in curvy, blotted ink. No. No. No. John wanted me to call the cops back immediately.

He said this was evidence, but I figured the cops would think we'd made the whole thing up. What was out there? Why did it want in? All these questions terrified us as we went to my room to barricade ourselves in for the night. Neither of us thought we'd get a single wink of sleep. They were both too terrified to even close our eyes. And that's where I get even stupe. even stranger. John and I retreated into my room, lights on. We moved my dresser in front of the

door. I had a basal bat. John had his trusty sword. We agreed to stay up all night until my parents came back in the morning. And that's the last thing I remember. I was on my bed talking to John, who was sitting at the rolling chair at my desk. I remember that look of terror in his eyes. suddenly I was waking up in my bed it was morning the lights were off and daylight was leaking in through my windows I had a massive migraine as my head slashed upright my eyes burning my temples pounding

I saw John curled up on the floor in fetal position I tried to stand up and almost fell over my balance was off and the room was spinning I crawled over to John and shook him awake and he started screaming and flipped around to grab me his fingers digging into my shoulders I had to call out to him repeatedly to get him to calm down

when he finally completely woke up he started scratching at his chest and quickly pulled off his shirt he had three red cuts running down his chest dried blood smeared around them or you could tell he'd been bleeding and they'd only recently clotted up to our horror we were

I realised the dresser had been moved and the door to my room was open. Neither of us remembered even opening it or falling asleep. My parents didn't come home until later that evening and John refused to stay at my house. He left back for his house while it was still nice and bright outside. I just huddled in my room until my parents finally came home. All this happened on a Friday night. So the weekend went by with no word from John. I figured he was still freaked out.

The height was still freaked out. I was having nightmares every night. In my dreams, I'd be standing at the back door, staring at a twisted smile on the other side of the window. The smile was wide with too many teeth. The teeth were crooked and yellow. I could hear it on the other side knocking at the door. Then boom, then boom!

Every time I woke up in a cold sweat in my room, I swear I could hear actual knocking coming from somewhere in my dark house. When Monday came around, John wasn't at school. It wasn't until Tuesday that I was called into the principal's office. My parents and John's mother were all waiting in the office with a local cop. John's mother had been crying and was distraught. She asked me if I knew where John was. He'd been missing since school Monday.

Once the cop grilled me for a while, they finally believed me when I told them I had no idea where he was. The cop pulled up a picture on his phone and flipped it around for me to see. This is the only note John left. Do you know what it means? He asked. My face filled with horror as I looked down at the picture.

It was an image of a piece of notebook paper. Written on it in curvy, bloodied ink with the words. The worst thing was, it wasn't John's handwriting. It was the same writing as the note left at my house. They've been looking for John for weeks now. Authorities are treating it like a potential kidnapping case. The FBI has even got. involved. I tried to find the note that said knock, knock, knock, but it's missing. I still haven't

told the cops about that night. Some of the cops and volunteers are being instructed to look for a dead body now, not my missing friend. It tears me up inside. But I think he is still out there. I still have hope I can find him. I'm just afraid that if I find him, and I'll find the thing that took him. The knocker. To Nebrus, Lionel Upton Zion grew up like most children. As a child, he had a healthy fear of the dark. The peculiar thing about Lionel was that his fear of the dark didn't evaporate,

or at least didn't get relegated to the dark corners of his mind as he aged. Instead, it intensified. His neurosis multiplied and insidiously entered itself into his life. He wasn't able to sleep with the lights off, and whenever he found himself in darkness, he was reduced to a shrieking, sobbing mess. His parents hoped that this irrational fear would pass with time, but it only seemed to dig in deeper and grow roots in the young boy's mind.

His parents became increasingly distraught over their son's plight. They tried to cure him of his fears, but their attempts were met with resistance. They brought the boy to doctors, who referred them to psychiatrists, and psychiatrists diagnosed the now teen. age Lionel with nictophobia. Pills were prescribed liberally to no effect, and talk therapy uncovered no secret traumas. One therapist was insistent that Lionel had been raped, but social services

managed to dispel that theory. After that incident and subsequent interview with child protective services, Lionel's parents decided against pursuing the issue any further. Thus, Lionel's fear of dark was left alone by his parents. He did his best to avoid making his fears known, and his parents did their best not to force situations. With time this problem became something that was in the background and easily overlooked. It was a closely guarded family secret. All time passed and Lionel led a reasonably fulfilling life. He completed college when he was 22 years old and landed a well-paying job that he neither enjoyed nor hated. He found his mental state smothered in Ennui, which he combated with new things and new experiences.

He blamed it on his growing up and becoming an adult, but he could never puzzle out the nervousness he felt. When he was 25, his grandfather died, and, being an only child of an only child, he inherited his house. It was in that house, living by himself, but he started to lose his mind. Lionel's madness started small, like all psychosis. He had the feeling that someone was watching him whenever he was in his house. He chalked it up to living in a small house in a relatively elderly neighbourhood.

His octogenarian neighbours treated him as if he'd suddenly start throwing raves and doing that drug that killed a lot of revelers. They'd watched a lot of news programmes dealing with this most non-existent issue. Lionel did not make a lot of friends among his neighbours and instead chose solitude. When he wasn't working, he was alone. He ate by himself, slept by himself, and even when people tried to intrude on this solitude, Lionel felt like he was alone. A few weeks into living in his new residence, Lionel started to notice that he could never find anything in his house. He would buy and leave light bulbs on the counter after coming home, and he'd find them on top of the television.

He brought home a pack of steaks to cook, only to find one rotting in a closet a week later. He began to research his family lineage for Alzheimer's, but found no real influence of it in his immediate family. Lionel eventually decided the stress of his job was toying with his mind, and he continued on with his life. When the lights were next to become mischievous, Lionel began to feel tinges of panic rising up from the pit of his stomach. And he brushed away his childish fancies that he hadn't been able to bury, but had been able to ignore. He'd go to sleep in his bedroom with the lights on and would wake up in the morning with them turned off. He figured that there was some sort of timer function used as an energy saver, but found nothing in his investigations. As a part of Lionel's ritual, he'd turn on every light in his house as soon as he got home.

We'd start in the kitchen, moving on to the bedroom and then the bathroom. Every room he was going to use was lit up. Upon returning to the kitchen, the lights would be out. This didn't happen every day, but occurred with enough frequency to be noted by him. He explained it away as a slipping mind, but knew that something had begun to gnaw away inside him. Lionel's anxiousness finally reached a pinnacle when he was reading a magazine in his kitchen, when the room was bathed in a fast flash of light, and then darkness swallowed him whole. He went to the switch, thinking it needed to be flipped, but found that it could not be resuscitated.

The longer he spent in that darkened room, the greater his unease grew. His hairs stood on the back of his neck, his bowels tightened, and he felt his testicles retract. He threw himself into the light of the living room and took fifteen minutes to slow his breathing. Upon examination the next day, Lion would find the wires severed to the switch. Lionel's anxiousness turned to panic. He had the wires repaired, but a week later they'd be split again. Well, electricians were dumbfounded as to the course.

They thought rats were chewing up the wires. Well, the house did have its fair share of rats, but the pattern was more similar to a cut and not gnawing. Then the lights in the living room would go out of operation. He had been able to deal with small moments in the darkness, but something about this darkness in particular was extremely upsetting. It was suffocating. He felt eyes on him when he was in the darkness, and he imagined breath on the back of

neck. I didn't take long for Lionel's panic to turn into pant-shitting terror. That terror fulminated while he was taking a day off work. He'd noticed that he'd been doing that more and more, but couldn't help it with everything that had been happening. He watched a rat scurrying across the floor. He was not good at cleaning house and wasn't phased by creatures crawling around. It passed under the shadow of his chair. A large squeak drew his attention to it. A large squeak drew his attention to it. Now the rat had made it five bounds beyond the shadow when it reached the limit of his body. Lionel stared at the corpse in horror. Two of its legs had been torn off and it was missing half an ear in one of his eyes. Lionel spent the rest of the day avoiding shadows. Whatever was

in there was the cause of Lionel's terror and it was the presence in the darkness. It had been watching him for a long time. He knew that it had started by two. toying with him. It moved his things around to play with his mind, and its pranks on the lights was its escalating the situation. Lionel dry heaved when he realized that it had probably cut the lights while he was sleeping. It was alone with him while he slept. What did this thing want? He shuddered because a part of him knew exactly what it wanted. Whatever creature had done that to the rats had a new target. It wanted Lionel.

He sought to escape the house, but knew before he'd even reached the door that it would be a fruitless struggle. The door was bathed in shadows, and Lionel could feel it there. It was waiting for him, waiting for him to stick out his hand and grope for the knob of the door so he could pull back a ragged and bloody stump. He knew that it wouldn't kill him. It would maim him, whatever was in the shadows wanted to take its time with him. him. It had been playing with him for weeks and now the game had reached its crescendo.

Well, he wouldn't be taken so easily. Something told him that if he could make it to sunrise, that he'd be able to escape. The creature hid in the shadows, and if Lionel was right, when the sun rose, it would be left with nowhere to hide except where it hid during the day. He prayed to God he couldn't walk in the light. He just had to make it to 5 a.m. he had to avoid the dark for just a few hours. The sun was beginning to set, and before that could happen,

he'd have to make sure he'd be ready to deal with this threat. Lionel ran all over the house, trying to collect everything he could to use to make it through the night. He knew the lights would not hold out for long. They would eventually be cut. He grabbed a lighter, matchboxes, candles and batteries. He looked out the window as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. He had just one last thing he needed before he was ready to confront the darkness.

The only problem was that it was in the closet in his bedroom. The door swung open and the light that streamed into the closet was almost instantly consumed by the hungry darkness. There was no light bulb in this place. He'd wanted to install a switch in every single room of this house when he moved in, but then the trouble had all started and he was sidetracked. The closet was about six feet long and the coincidence of that did not escape Lionel. The item we wanted sat on the shelf in the back corner.

In the murky darkness he could just make out the flashlight. Lionel knew he would have to enter the darkness if he wanted to retrieve the flashlight. He stepped forward and felt the oppressive darkness begin to circle around him. He poured out his lighter and struck it. The flame illuminated a radius of a round of foot. He walked slowly into that space, afraid that whatever was in the shadows would lunge out at him at any second. His eyes wandered all around him as he edged closer to the flashlight. He grabbed it off the shelf, and when he turned around, he saw the thing in the darkness.

It was on the border between the darkness and light. But Lionel saw it clearly enough. His entire body was jet black like it had been made of obsidian ink. His eyes were a dark red that resembled a blood-red ruby, dropped into clouded water, and its body was emaciated. Now the sight was quick, but burned itself onto his mind. His sudden appearance caused his finger to slip off the button

that was depressing the lighter, and the closet was quickly swallowed in darkness as the flame died. Lionel quickly moved his thumb to the striated wheel and spun it while depressing the button that ever. The light of fluid. The spark caught and sent out a flame. He expected the closet to be empty when the light returned, but he was horribly mistaken.

The light brought the image of the monster's visage just inches away from his own. The monster skittered back into the shadows with a noise that sounded in between the cry of a child and the shriek of rusty hinges. His mouth was horrifying in itself. It looked like it had been fused shut, but it had chewed through its own sealed lips to form a new mouth. It was a ragged, wet hole that exposed two rows of horrendously sharp teeth.

His breath reeked of the sickly sweet smell of decay. He silently prayed to a God he never truly believed in, but would start if he made it through the night alive, that the light would ward off the monster. Lionel threw himself out of the closet into the light, and threw up by his bed. That thing had been by his bedside while he slept. Lina wiped his mouth and became aware of the sound of wood being sought. He realized what was happening a second too late, as the wires that were supplying light to his room were severed by that thing's serrated claws.

The room sank into darkness, and the creature slid out into the blackness to join him in the room. He struck the lighter and made his way towards the door with her. everything he could think of to create light. He opened the door to the hallway and looked back into the darkness one last time just as the pitch black hand lunged out of the darkness and batted at his hand. Lionel shrieked as the lighter flew out of his hands

and into a corner of his bedroom. The door slammed shut and left him in the hallway and sealed the light in the bedroom with the creature. Lionel heard a noisy crunching that he recognized as the monster's teeth chewing into the plastic and spraying the bitter lighter fluid into its mouth. The lighter was gone, but he still had matches to light up the night.

The lighter was destroyed, and he now realized that the sun had completely sunk beneath the horizon. He would soon be completely surrounded in the darkness that the creature made its home. The kitchen was his best bet for surviving the night. The light bulb in the living room had been flickering, and Lionel needed that light for just a few minutes while he set up his defences. Without it, he imagined himself being rent apart by obsidian-esque claws. He threw himself into the corner by the refrigerator. He swung open the door and pressed his back against it.

The light bathed him while he set down candles and began to light them. He heard the door upstairs swing open and knew that the shadow was coming for him. Lionel heard the sound of something coming down the stairs. It paused in the living room and heard the living room and heard the shadow. the sound of plaster being torn and a furious scratching in the wall. It was attacking the wires. It had been in the walls, severing the wires, but now it was able to forego subtlety. The light shorted out in the living room. The creature was one room away, and he hadn't even lit any of the candles. He'd have to hurry or he would meet a horrible feint. The man shakily

struck a match and lit two of the three candles with the single. stick of phosphorus. The match burned down and a brief flash of pain licked through his fingers before lighting the third and final candle using another candle. The room was bathed in darkness with only four sources of light to protect Lionel from an extremely gruesome end. The three candles on the light of the fridge kept the monster at bay. He looked up and could see the creature watching him from the shadows. He almost wasn't able to make it out were it not for the eyes. Those dark red rubies poked out from the shadows. The eyes were so intently watching him,

and a shiver shook through his body when he realized that those were the very eyes he'd felt on him when he was in the shadows. They'd been on him ever since he came to this house, and he was only just now becoming acquainted with their owner. The longer those eyes watched him, the more unhinged he became. His fear quickly turned into anger.

Fear is a paralytic, and anger is immotivated. later. Lionel decided to needle the beast the way it had been taunting him. He set the head of the phosphorus tip on the strike band of the match, and with his free hand, he flicked the match. The match spun through the air and landed lit at the feet of the shadow creature. The creature skittered away with a surprising speed that he wished he hadn't seen. Lionel growled. How does it feel, asshole? Who's spooking who now? The creature had scurried behind the dividing wall between the living room and kitchen. Not seeing the creature's self-made bloody moor was worse than seeing it.

Images of what it could be doing in the darkness out of his sight were terrified. It was probably behind the adjoining wall to the fridge, and deeply unsettled Lionel to think that it was only a few feet away from him. What flustered him more was the sound emanating through the wall. A low scratching sound could be heard. like iron nails scratching into plaster. It was very slow and deliberate. The sound continued for a few minutes before Lionel was able to realise what was happening.

It was tunneling through the wall. Lionel almost threw himself into the darkness to escape being near the fridge, but managed to control himself. It was certain death to go into the oppressive darkness that now consumed his house. It was trying to surprise him. Well, two could play at that game. He stuffed the matches and flashlight into his pocket. He gathered the three candles in his hand,

and winced as the hot wax dripping down them went onto his knuckles. He peaked in between the crevice just in time to see a blackened hand reached through the newly made hole in the wall and unplug the fridge. Lionel's hiding place vanished into the darkness. The thing then lopped around the corner, intending to catch its prey unexpected. but instead moved right into the light radius of Lionel's candles. It shrieked inhumanly and skittered off into the darkness by the stairs near the front door.

It enveloped himself in the shadows and looked out at him from its safety. He felt an insane drive within himself to push for the door and tried to escape while the creature was in retreat by the stairs. He started forward, but something caught his eye in the alcove by the dividing wall between the kitchen and the living room. A set of blood, red, ruby eyes. The creature was lying in wait just feet away, hidden by the dividing wall, looking to slip in behind him and catch him unaware. He whirled on it and shoved the candle in its face.

The monster shielded its eyes from the light and sank against the wall, and Lionel triumphantly pushed forward and was horrified at the response. The creature pushed itself back into the shadows and faded into them. He was able to become one with the darkness. There was no way he'd be able to escape that. Lionel retreated into the kitchen and found the thing waiting for him. It was perched on the counter. He had travelled behind him with such speed that Lionel almost completely lost hope in that instant.

He watched him from the counter, perched like a gargoyle on top of an ancient cathedral. He drove the monster off the counter only to watch it meld back into the shadows one. once again. He sunk against the cooking unit, which was an oven and a stove top combined. He set the counters around him and took a second to calm himself. His heart was jack hammering in his chest, and he knew that if he survived this night, he'd shaved a few years off of it with the trauma of what he'd undergone. Lionel rested his head against the oven door and tried to calm himself. He repeated the mantra to himself over and over. He would either have a complete mental breakdown or a heart attack if he didn't do something.

He smiled sardonically when he realized that maybe a relatively quick heart attack would spare him the horrors he'd endure if the thing got to him. Oh, I'm going to survive. I'm going to survive. I am going to survive. He looped the words and repeated them ad-nauseum, like they'd ward off the evil. The mantra helped in slowing his heart down, which had threatened to burst in his chest. His breathing slowed down and resumed to its normal rate. He hadn't realized how much sound he was making with his panic breaths and repeated mantra until they stopped. As soon as the cacophony of his body had ceased was when he became aware of something that spiked his heart rate back up, a faint tapping.

Coming from inside the oven he was resting his head again. Lionel turned his head and looked into the eyes of the creature. He was inside the goddamn oven. It had crammed its body inside it like a fucking jack in the box. It looked out at him with its hungry, always exposed mouth that looked either like it was smiling or screaming. Well, his bladder released itself, and he wet himself. And a small part of him recalled that he hadn't pissed himself since he was five years old.

He slapped at the oven nod. and turned it on while hysterically shrieking the creature faded away from inside the oven and materialized off in the shadows away from lionel's eyes it was then that lionel knew the full extent of its powers and despair beset him it could become one with the shadows and it could teleport wherever there was darkness it was the shadows and he was surrounded by them well if he'd had a gun he would put it in his mouth then. He didn't even cross his mind to attempt to shoot at the creature. He was that forlorn.

He could run anywhere he liked, but the creature would be waiting for him at the end of his journey with its torn open jaws. And Lionel wept then, and knew that the tears would be spilling out onto his pants that were already urine-stained. Lionel didn't know how long he'd wept, or when he started to drift off. The last thing he could recall before drifting off to sleep was, looking up at the clock, seeing that it was one o'clock. He dreamt of darkness and the sound of an old man endlessly muttering prayers that would do him no good. What woke him up was something he'd never experienced before.

He felt something slowly moving through his head. He started at the forehead and moved to the back of his head. Took him a second to place the sensation. The creature was stroking his head like a parent soothing a sleeve, sleeping child. Lionel looked up into the creature's darkened eyes and snarling more hanging from the ceiling and he screamed. He lowered himself to the kitchen floor just as its hand tightened around a lock of hair and tried to pull him up into the darkness. He drove his feet into the drawers and locked his hands on the oven handle. The monster jerked hard upward and he

screamed in sharp pain as the creature parted a hank of hair away from his head. The creature poured the hair into its mouth and faded away into the darkness of the ceiling. Lionel's eye shot around the room, frantically scanning for the fiend. It was now four o'clock. The sun was only a few hours away, but he knew that he would never make it. He wasn't sure if he'd even last another minute. The candles had almost completely melted away, which allowed the shadow to descend upon him. He clicked on the flashlight.

and waved it around the room. He continued scanning until he got the creature in his sight. He kept the monster in the focus of the flashlight. He gave a shriek and tried to flee the light, but Lionel tracked it. Its cries doubled as it fled the room. The thought dawned on him as he watched it take flight with a perverse glee. Was it as scared of the light as he was of the darkness? Was this its attempt to eliminate a monster that sought to bathe its world in

light? Oh, fuck it. Either way, he thought. Lionel shot across the room, praying he wouldn't be dragged into the darkness and that it hadn't got to it already. His hand reached the kitchen light switch and he flicked it on. A bright flash encompassed the room and Lionel whirled around just in time to see the monsters pained and shocked expression. And quickly faded away into darkness, a move to sever the wires for the room. He had only a few seconds and he had to enact his plan before the dark swallowed him. Wynald stuck his head in the oven and blew out the pilot light and turned the gas up to full. He lit the fire on the stove eye, just as the room sank into blackness.

Wynar swung his flashlight wildly around the kitchen as he sprinted for safety. He could hear the guttural growl of the fiend as it made its way towards him. He came to the fridge and tore the shells out, and he threw himself inside just as a hand raked across his back and tore four rivulets into him. He screamed out as pain blossomed in his back. He spun the flashlight one last time and drove the emaciated creature back. He slammed the fridge door shut and waited for the wrath of the gods to descend upon them in a fiery explosion. He sat huddled and cramped in that refrigerator for what felt like a century

while the thing scratched and bored at the door that he desperately tried to keep shut. Finally, a deafening explosion rogged the fridge and almost tipped it over. An unearthly shriek pierced the aftershock. Lina waited half an hour before mustering up the courage to step outside into the wreckage that was once his kitchen, goaded by the increasing heat inside the cramp box. The kitchen looked exactly like a bomb had gone off in it. The wall joining with the oven was still burning, and the curtains were smouldering. The room had transformed into a furnace.

but he didn't see any signs that the creature had survived the blast. The kitchen was so ravished that he could barely tell what anything was. It was all charred black and smoking. The fire alarm was going off when he could hear the sound of sirens off in the distance. Well, he'd have a lot of explaining to do to the fire department. Lerner looked out of the window. His clock was currently melting on the wall like a Salvador Dali painting. He knew that it was much more.

morning he could see the outlines of the sun rising from behind the mountains he'd survive lionel felt his body racked as laughter rolled through him like a wave tears whirled up in his eyes as he battled the giddiness that swallowed him whole he stopped laughing when he realized he wasn't the only one who was laughing lionel felt something completely alien drag itself across the back of his teeth. He knew it was a tongue and he knew in that moment that this is what it wanted. It wanted all its options limited so it could take its only refuge that was left. Small part of Lino knew that there had always been a darkness inside himself. He didn't have time to reflect on that as a popping sound filled the entirety of his body. That popping sound was his lungs,

tearing apart and his head splitting open as the darkness that was inside Lionel consumed him from the inside out Lindsay Adams murdered her husband she stabbed him to death while he was trying to leave the house with their son in his arms if Lindsay could do it all over again she'd still kill her husband sadly Lindsay's husband Dennis wasn't her only victim Lindsay also murdered her five-year-old son Amari. Little boy didn't suffer as badly as his father, but still he died. His father's shielding arm took most of the stabbing blows. Amari died instantly when his mother stabbed him in the neck by accident. She was aiming for his father's face, but she severed her child's jugular vein. Lindsay murdered people before, but she promised herself to never kill a child. She loved

her son more than anything and she attacked her husband when he told her that she'd never see her son again lindsay went berserk on her husband after he caused her to stab her little boy by accident the mind of a serial killer can be irrational Lindsay blamed her child's death on her husband he shouldn't have been holding her child while she was stabbing him it all started when dennis found out that his wife was a serial killer he tried to grab his son and make his escape from the house else but he was too late oh he called the police but his wife arrived at their home before the cops did she come home from work early and Dennis didn't expect his wife to be home so soon he'd heard the news reports about the killer but he didn't know that the killer would be his

wife Lindsay became enraged after she found out her husband had removed her SD card from her phone while she was sleeping he saw all her picture files and documents he saw the photos of her victims on the SD card. Lindsay hated her husband for hacking into her phone's external hard drive and filing out her dark secrets. How could he be so suspicious? She couldn't believe that he played detective after he found a smidgen of blood in her red floral dress.

Lindsay despised her husband's attention to detail and she tried so hard to be a good wife and this is Harry repaid her. This is what Lindsay's. Lindsay was thinking as she was stabbing her husband to death. She didn't want her husband to see the pictures on her phone. She didn't want him to see the mutilated naked bodies in the blood. Lindsay wanted to maintain her image of the perfect, blonde and beautiful trophy wife of a star

NFL player and corporate businessman. Her husband's bloodhound actions had ruined everything for her. She wouldn't be the co-owner of her husband's company. she couldn't launch her new perfume called glamour no more expensive jewelry in designer dresses no more living in a luxurious twenty-bedroom home she always knew that her husband suspected her of being a killer but it didn't stop him from having sex with her every other night Lindsay loved her husband sort of she loved his celebrity which is the only reason she married him and had a baby with him having a baby with him would ensure he her financial security if she divorced him. But after stabbing her husband with a kitchen knife, all of Lindsay's financial security had gone up in flames. She turned in her glamorous Versace dress for an orange prison jumpsuit. Handcuffs replaced her Gucci handbags. The life of a female

prison inmate was not the life that Lindsay had dreamed of. She didn't want to leave her Mediterranean-style beach house to become a resident at the Miami-Dade County Women's Detention center. Dreams fall apart like a slice of ice cream cake sitting in the scorching summer sun, and this is how Lindsay saw her dreams melting away. The only thing Lindsay felt bad about was stabbing her son by mistake. She kept seeing her son's bright, unadulterated smile and the tiny star-shaped birthmark on his chin. After she stabbed her child in the neck, she saw the light dying in his little eyes. Lindsay snatched her dead son out of her husband's arms before running out of the house.

She carried a child's body to her car. Tears burned her eyes and she hovered over her little boy after laying his dead body across the back seat of a silver BMW. His body barely covered half of the back seat. Blood stained his miniature shorts and his green power ranges tanked off. Lindsay had her child's blood all over her hands and dress. she kissed her child's stubby fingers while lingering over his face with a shoulder-length hair touching his little forehead lindsay wanted to bring her child back to life she kept touching the bloody wound on her child's pint-sized neck every time she caress her baby's face she'd accidentally

smear blood across his nose and lips and his trimmed curly afro lindsay crawled into her car's back seat and she held her son's body against her chest for a few minutes Since her home was near the beach, she could smell the seawater in the ocean breeze. Her car's rear door was still open, and the breeze washed over Lindsay's face and her little boy's face which she held against her chin. Lindsay could hear the police sirens in the distance. She'd forgotten that her husband had called the police before she killed him. Lindsay's husband thought his towering, muscular, 250-pound frame would save him from being killed

by his wife. Unfortunately, his little fashion model wife proved that size was no match against the serrated steel blade of a kitchen knife. Did Lindsay feel guilty for murdering her husband? Not really. His pretty boy looks and his perfect white smile would annoy her. She knew her husband was a playboy. That's why she killed the three women her husband was having sex with. She tracked down all of his mistresses. She'd on her with one woman was bad enough, but when she found out he was seeing two other women she made him pay for his infidelity she left blood on her dress so her husband could find it she left her second phone at home knowing that her husband would hack into her phone and see the pictures of the three dead women she wanted him to know

then she enjoyed finding out where each woman lived she enjoyed pretending to be a delivery woman and surprising the women at their doorstep at night it helped that all three of the women were single One was a lawyer and Lindsay hated lawyers. She killed each of the women the same way. They'd see her FedEx uniform and assume that she was a delivery woman who needed directions. Their helpfulness got them killed. Lindsay knew she'd have them in her trap when they'd open the front door. First she stabbed them in the throat so they wouldn't scream, and she stabbed their eyes out.

Lindsay slaughtered two of the women in their living rooms. she had to chase a third woman around her house which irritated her because she'd expected the woman to drop to her knees after stabbering her throat. Oh, killing her child was the only regret Lindsay had. The young woman never budged when she heard squad cars surrounding her BMW. She attacked one policeman when he reached into the backseat of her car, attempting to remove her dead child from her arms. Lindsay bit the officer's hand. She cussed at the officer after biting him and said, slapping him across the face.

The policeman had his hands full and he had to use his taser gun on Lindsay. Two police officers had to drag her out of the car. They ripped her son out of her arms before throwing her on the hood of the car and slapping handcuffs on her wrists. Ironically, the hip-hop classic fuck the police and softly booming out of Lindsay's BMW. When she heard Ice Cube's iconic voice exiting out of her car, it made her more aggressive and ready to fight.

the policeman who was working his ass off trying to subdue her. Lindsay laid one last punch on the policeman. She nailed him in the stomach with her elbow. After she did that, she blacked out from a hard blow to the back of her head. The last thing she saw was a policeman carrying her little boy's body to an ambulance. Worst situations confronted Lindsay once she was in prison. She got into a fight in the prison cafeteria. Ain't you the bitch who killed her husband and her baby?

A fellow inmate's spatter words in Lindsay's face. The inmate knocked Lindsay's lunch tray out of her hand before shoving the woman to the floor, which was a huge mistake. Lindsay jumped up from the floor, tackling the woman. She drove her fist into the inmate's throat, crushing her larynx. After she crushed the woman's throat, she hurled her to the floor. Another female inmate attacked Lindsay from behind, grabbing her hair and throwing her into a wall.

Lindsay shook off the blow and she punched that inmate in the face fracturing her nose More women then tried to gang up on Lindsay But a prison guard broke up the brawl The other women prisoners told the guards That Lindsay had started the fight She badly injured two inmates

One of them needed immediate surgery on her throat The prison guards threw Lindsay into solitary confinement Based on the false accusations Lindsay found herself in a dark isolation chamber which was far worse than her prison cell. The young woman only had her thoughts to keep her company, and now and then she'd break down in tears while sinking to the floor. The chamber had no window, it had no bed or a toilet. It was just a small, dark chamber with soundproof walls and a vault-like door made out thick, reinforced steel.

Being alone in the darkness drove Lindsay into a panic. She curled up on the floor, hugging her knees while sobbing. Lindsay kept thinking about her little boy. Mental images of his small dead body would flash in her mind. Tortuous desire to hold her son her arms would assault Lindsay, and she was alone with her past since, or so she thought. Her gasping and sobbing became interrupted suddenly by a disembodied voice that echoed from across the room. It was a man's voice, and it had a familiar, sultry baritone pitch. When Lindsay was a man's voice, and it had a familiar, sultry baritone pitch. When Lindsay heard this whispering voice, she knew it was her husband. Lindsay jumped up with her back against the wall.

Her eyes struggled to find the source of her husband's voice. The panic set in when Lindsay thought about how she'd stabbed her husband to death. She couldn't believe that she was hearing his voice. Dennis? Lindsay spoke out to her husband cautiously, with her eyes searching through the darkness. her mind told her that what spoke to her was not Dennis there were two possibilities Lindsay considered losing her mind as the first possibility the second possibility alerted Lindsay

telling her that the voice she heard could be the voice of a ghost now Lindsay didn't believe in ghosts in the paranormal she preferred to believe in the possibility that she may have lost her sanity the disembodied voice said something else that uplifted every hair on the back of Lindsay's neck. Why did you stab me?

The disembodied voice sounded warm at first, but then it became cold and aloof. There was no love in the voice anymore. The inflections in the voice gave it an inhuman intonation. What scared Lindsay was how robotic the voice had become within a matter of seconds. She could detect an underlying hostility in this voice. Why?

Did you stab me? The disembodied voice became gravely and dark after it repeated the question. I'm sorry. Lindsay almost lost her voice. She noticed something tall standing in the room's corner. The darkness seemed to outlying the apparition. It looked like a man, but Lindsay wasn't short. There was a sharp object in the apparition's hand,

and Lindsay knew it was a knife from the shape of the object. She recognized the distinct muster. definition of the figure she watched as the apparition lurched forward while dragging his left foot why did you stab me the apparition's voice sounded distorted and then she finally got a good look at the monster that was dragging its feet to water in the darkness it was the ghost of her husband even though the apparition looked like a husband something was disturbing about his facial features blood ooze from his eyes his wife had stabbed him.

Lindsay had stabbed her husband multiple times in his neck, almost decapitating him. And this meant that the apparition had a contorted head that hung halfway off his neck. And he had one ear missing. This ghost displayed all the stab wounds that his wife had afflicted on him. Wrath resurrected Lindsay's husband

and he wanted revenge. I didn't mean to kill you. I'm so sorry, baby. Lindsay screamed at the apparition. She led out a frantic cry while turning around and banging her fists on the isolation chamber's door. Lindsay knew that no one was going to save her. No one could hear her screams through the thick steel door. Still, she kept banging her fists on the door while listening as the apparition's sliding footsteps grew closer.

Why did you stab me? The ghost kept repeating himself, and each time he'd ask, his voice would sound more demonic. Lindsay whirled around, throwing her back against the door. You cheated on me. That's why I stabbed you. I found out you were seeing three different women, so I killed you. Lindsay then lashed out at the ghost, that she swallowed hard while looking up at her dead husband who was towering over you.

I killed you in those three stupid bitches you were having sex with. All of you deserve to die. Lindsay's defiant shadowed her fear for a moment. and her fear quickly returned when she saw three other figures emerge from the darkness behind her dead husband Didn't take Lindsay long to see that the three ghostly figures were women holding knives What sent Lindsay over the edge was when she saw a little ghostly figure emerge from behind the three female apparitions Lindsay saw her son's blood-stained power-rangers tanked off She saw his small feet dragging toward her

why did you stab us? All the apparitions shouted at Lindsay in unison. She clasped to the floor, sobbing like a mad woman. The apparitions kept shouting at Lindsay through their lifeless, demonic voices, and she covered her face when her husband, the three women, and her little boy stood over her with sharp instruments in their hands. This is how Lindsay met her end. She braced herself for impact.

but something happened. All right, cut. A movie director shouted. The room's lights came on to reveal a film crew and a movie set. Thank you, Lindsay giggled when the camera crew applauded her performance. The apparitions who were actors helped Lindsay to her feet. Two of the actors were Lindsay's husband and her son. You did good, Mommy.

Lindsay's son Amari hopped into his mother's arms, receiving a kiss from her. Do I look scary? Amari whispered to his mother, causing her to giggle. No, you don't look scary. You'll never look scary to me, Lindsay told her son before kissing the tip of his nose. Lindsay put her arm around her husband, and she laughed at his look of agony, which showed behind the movie makeup and prosthetics on his face.

Oh, I can't get this crap off my face, Dennis told his wife after kissing her on the lips. after he kissed his son on the forehead he looked around at the film director and crew who was still applauding and praising him and his wife's performance Dennis wanted to enjoy this moment but something wouldn't let him at unexpected times Dennis would see a ghost his eyes locked onto a mysterious figure that was standing amongst the camera crew the figure was a young woman and she was clapping along with the crew members Dennis's heart rate increased when he saw the bloody dent in the woman's head and her mangled up. The woman had an exotic beauty, but her black eyes and grotesque injuries contaminated her beautiful features. Dennis knew he was looking at the ghost of a pedestrian who he'd accidentally

killed a few months ago. She would always haunt him no matter where he went. She'd haunt his dreams and his reality. The apparition refused to let Dennis forget what he'd. what he'd done. Dennis knew that his drunk driving would punish him. He got out of his car to help the one, but he panicked after he'd seen what his car had done to her body. And Dennis left the woman on the road to die. Babe, are you all right?

Lindsay asked when she saw her husband staring intensely at something she couldn't see. She saw a look of horror on her husband's face. Dennis, what's the matter? Lindsay gently tugged on her husband's arm She gave him a confused smile When he broke out of his trance Turning to look at her

Oh, I'm okay I just got lost in thoughts Dennis tried to explain his odd behaviour Baby, I'm fine A nervous laugh Then escaped Dennis when his wife gave him a concerned look With a hint of suspicion in her eyes Dennis looked away from his wife for a second

He turned his eyes back on where the deformed woman stood but she had vanished Lindsay put her arm back around her husband's waist she giggled before whispering in his ear you had me nervous for a minute there was a look of terror on that handsome face of yours it was like you were seeing an actual ghost there's a monster in the mountains of Afghanistan

you can call me Jack what I'm about to disclose happened back in the summer of 2014 We were embedded in the northern mountains of Afghanistan. Our mission was simple. Help rebuild a village and train the locals to defend themselves against the Taliban. The smell of human feces and body odour assaulted my nostrils as the newly trained fighting men of the small Afghan village began to rise in the early morning light. We're in the country close to six months now and the locals began to slowly accept us in this village

after the harsh training we put the volunteers through and a fearsome fighting against Taliban. Our hair was long and shaggy and our beards were unkempt. It was completely out of regulations for normal forces, but for my fellow Green Berets and myself, being embedded with local nationals is more than just training and hunting down bad guys. You also have to look the part and nothing screams, hey, we're foreigners, like clean, cotton, shaven men. We were not the only team in the area, of course, but our team at the time was given the task to reach out and help in this particular area. Our 12-man ODA team was split into two groups,

Alfred and Bravo. I was with Bravo on this particular mission. This place gives me the freaking creeps. Matt, our J-TAC and communications specialist, mumbled as I walked past him towards our observation post and sniper hides. He was messing with our long-range radios in an attempt to contact one of the FOBs we were operating out of back to the south. We were all situated on a small observation post. on a mountainside to the east of the village, giving us perfect visibility of the surrounding area

and the main paths of travel leading in and out of the village. Lucky for us, emplacements were already set and built. Observation posts and trench lines were left over from the Soviet invasion back in the 80s, giving us a very bloody reminder of what happened to those before us. Our newly trained soldiers told ghost stories of the Afghan warriors before them, sneaking up on unsuspecting Soviet troops in the middle of the night and slitting their throat.

It had us all on edge, but those were just ghost stories, after all. We're green berets, mad. We embrace this suck and thrive, only brother. And besides, after this, we're supposed to link up with the rest of the guys, and we can be on our way out of this shit hole. Charles, our weapon sergeant, stated, as he spat a stream of tobacco juice out onto the dusty mountainside, as he scanned the area with his barrett,

50-cal sniper rifle from his hides. Jack, what's the situation on our guys? Gabe, our ADC, asked me, as he shifted his weight, trying to get the blood flowing in his legs again. He'd been sitting beside Charles, acting as his spotter almost all night before switching out with me in intervals before the sunrise.

About to start morning prayer. He spun any movements? I blew air into my hands, trying to warm them up as I kneel by him at the observation post. Ah, nothing but a few goats, some musk deer. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms out wise. We need to talk to the village elder today and find out where else these Taliban assholes are hiding. As soon as we deal with them, the faster we can get this village fixed up and be on our way. Make sure you all stay hydrated.

We're going to need a resupply soon, running low on fluids. Chris our combat medic poked his head out of his sleeping bag and smarted all of us with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. I have some demo on other toys if we need to be. to blow shit up. Tanner, our engineer, came walking down the small trail to the northern side of the OP, with one of the newly trained fighters at his side. You two already moved that far in the relationship? Chris joked before narrowly dodging an incoming rock thrown by Tanner. After the rest the locals on our team finished with their morning prayers and got ready, we started walking down towards the village, leaving Charles and Matt along with Tanner at the OP to provide

overwatch. Matt, Charles, Tanner, keep us posted. Gabe spoke into his mic piece as we descended down towards the village. The village, in and of itself, was small compared to some of the others we'd worked around in the past.

Each village has its own customers and traditions and is usually headed by an elder. The elder has the utmost respect in the village, and has the final say in the day-to-day actions and dealings. What he says goes. Gabe, along with Doc and myself, planned on speaking with the elder to try and found out where this Taliban encampment that had been talked about by the locals for the past few months

was located so we could eliminate it, putting the bad guys out of business. It would be a win for both sides and potentially create an ally in the long run. The military-aged male spotted us approaching from the east and ran back into the village to alert the others of our arrival. One of the village elders, tending to one of the poppy fields, regarded us with a hateful stare as we walked past him towards the village elder's house. We'd already recruited four of the man from the village to fight for us, and we were moving into part two of our plan, finding the bad guys.

Peace be with you, Gabe spoke in Dari, as he removed his helmet, clipping it to his plate carrier and let his rifle fall in its sling as we approach the house. Two military-age males were standing outside on the flanks of the entrance. The one on the left, a tall and lengthy male, held an SKS, and the one on the right, more lean and well-built, was holding an ancient-looking most-in-bolt-action rifle low and at the ready. I looked behind us, scanned the rest of the village, as Gabe introduced us and our cigars if we can meet with the elder.

To our south I spotted a black dog running across the dirt street before ducking into a compound and nothing else in particular. Afghanistan was a quiet place, no lawnmowers or cars. it felt like another world entirely. When things got loud, you knew it was going to be bad. Inside the elder's house were blankets and pillows that lined the walls, illuminated by an oil lamp. Two figures emerged from the back room and moved into the dim light, revealing a younger-looking Afghani with a mop of black hair on his head

and an elderly man with a walking-cane. The ancient-looking elder had a large scar running down the right side of his face that scrawled over his right eye, leaving it. cloudy. His reddish-dyed beard was bushy and he is big as mine leaving me with a small feeling of jealousy as he took a seat across from us at a hookah, looking at each of us slowly as if sizing us up for a fight before finally speaking. You wish to kill the Taliban, yes. His voice was strong for such an old-looking man. Well, Gabe asked if we could be seated before giving an answer. The elder simply nodded in return as we took a seat to cross from him.

Thank you for your hospitality. We're very grateful. Gabe sat down cross-legged and adjusted his gear so he could sit more comfortably. We wished to kill the Taliban, but we need help. He gestured to the dock and me before continuing. Your sons and brothers are willing to fight with us. We just need to know where the Taliban are. When they're taken care of, we can help you rebuild faster. As they talked, our radio began to come to life with all kinds of traffic.

Some were from Alpha Team and some were from others I didn't recognize. Outlaw, this is Viper 2-6. We're on standby if you need us. Over. Viper was the call sign for one of the Apache helicopter gunships that were going to support us on this mission. Luckily for us, we were able to have air support on this arm. Viper 26, this is Outlaw 3. We read your 5'5-bye, and we appreciate the help. We'll keep you posted. Out. responded before the chatter died down. My sons and brothers will die for your cause, not our own.

The elder responded stoically, making Gabe shift a little bit. The tension was like a live wire in the room as Doc looked over at me and then at the elder. It is our cause. My men and I will do the fighting, but your sons and brothers need to learn how to fight with us. We have the help that can wipe out the enemy. Just show us where they are. Gabe produced a map from the front of his plate carrier and opened it up, pointing to our location. All you have to do is point where they are on the map, and they'll be gone. He looked the elder in the eyes and held his gaze. I could tell that the old Afghan warrior was holding back for a reason, and we were about to find out why.

They are here, but be warned. It is cursed land. Don't stay there long, or you will die. They had appointed to a valley a few clicks to the west. Gabe put his finger on the spot and circled it. I promise you we will make them go away. He reassured the elder once more before a young boy brought in some tea on a silver train. The boy wore a typical Afghan dress and makeup. His eyes were deep brown and reminded me of my son back home.

I quickly pushed that thought to the back of my mind and accepted the tea. Thoughts like those could get people getting. killed out here. Then my mind turned to how this kid could grow up to fight us one day, and that made me feel sick to my stomach. Gabe talked to the elder some more, sipping on some of the tea, before the tall guard from outside stepped inside, speaking quickly. I caught the words, Taliban and attack, before shots rang out, causing all of us to take up a defensive posture inside the clay house. Taliban had trying to show some skin in this game. Doc perked up, as the gunfire increased.

Gabe put his helmet back on and began speaking over the cons. Gents, watch your status. He spoke quickly as another shot rang out from the south side of the village. Strator 1, this is 3. I have PID on the combatant on the southern end of the village. Charles spoke with a calm and collected voice as the shooting became more frequent and sporadic. Are you people shooting?

Gabe asked the elder before activating his PTT button. No, it is the Taliban. They are trying to run. His cryptic response made me uneasy, as Gabe responded to Charles. You're clear to engage the enemy combat in the strike of three. A short moment later, a low base and thunderous boomed in the distance, and then the shooting stopped. Two Ikeye, they're at the south corner by the water well. The older forest where the dead man was slain. One of them was missing his head, and the other had a hole the size of a brick in his gaping chest cavity.

The one that took the round of the head had an AK and some Russian grenade strapped to his belt. The other was an older-looking fighter with greying hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Even in their mangled state, I could tell that they'd been on the run from something. Their clothing was caked in dry blood and mud, along with burns. Quickly pulling out my digital camera, I started taking photos for forensics, along with their prints. The rest of the forensic kit was backed up at the O.P, so command would have to wait for me to upload the data. I told you they are running. Do not go there. The village elder picked up the dead men's rifles and looked at us one more time.

You all will die there. He was escorted back to his house by our newly trained men who was left alone. It took us a couple of minutes to return to the O.P. Gabe had to explain to our DC what exactly had happened step by step as we worked our way back up the mountain. I entered my little tent and began uploading the pictures and the copies of the prints onto our database. To check if the guys we'd whacked were on our shit list, and sure enough they were. The older one was a bomb maker from Jalalabad. The younger one was from Pakistan.

It wasn't uncommon to see foreign fighters joining from the surrounding cities. as the saying goes where they're shit there are flies a loud commotion outside my tent caught my attention after finishing

with the upload wondering what the hell was going on I piqued my head out to see all of the men we'd trained walking back to their village God

this is great where the hell are they going I asked aloud to anyone who'd answer before one of them began to argue with Gabe the Afghani was pissed and speaking too fast

for me to pick anything up while shaking a bald fist in the air. Gabe shouted something back in Dari and waved the man off before shaking his head and kicking over one of our MRE boxes. Bastards are afraid to go to the encampment. That old man has been feeding them fucking ghost stories and they're all scared they'll be cursed. He spat in the dirt and looked to all of us before letting out a sigh. I saw our feeds from the past two days show that there were at least 20 to 30 fighters at the encampment at one point. it looks empty now.

Matt joined in. Alpha could leave the COP and assist us with the gunship, or we can try and talk those guys in the village into helping us out, but I doubt they will. I joined in next. Pack it up, gents. We're going to get eyes on this place and wipe it out. Gabe rode up his sleeping bag and collected the rest of his gear,

and we followed suit as fast as possible. We packed up all of our gear and stowed it on our small, all-terrain buggies. Just as we were about to leave the village to go recon the area, one of the men from the village came walking over to us. As he got closer, I can make out that it was the lengthy kid guarding the village elder's home. I waved at him and put on a fake smile as he looked at our buggies. All of our gear was alien to the kid. He must have looked like we were from another world. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up.

My father was not lying to you. That place is cursed, but I will show you how to get there safely. He looked over at Gabe with a cautious gaze. You can't go alone. It's dangerous. Let me help you. He slung his mosen over his shoulder and waited for an answer. What do you think, Chief? I mean, if we take him, he turns into a liability,

and on top of that, he's the village elder son. I kicked a small pebble away from the GMV. waiting for the final answer. Gabe thought it over for a minute before scratching his beard, looking over at me with a shitty-eating grin. Yeah, you can work with us. He'll fight with you. Gabe pointed at me and got in the driver's seat of his GMV.

Jack, make sure nothing happens to him. The kid smiled at Tanner as he sat in the back of the GMV right next to me. You can call me Jack. They held out a fist. The kid gave me a confused look before holding up his fist. I bumped it and gave him a quick nod before scanning my sectors. The kid had some spirit. Making this trip would make him a hero back at the village.

It took the better part of the day to get the GMVs halfway to the encampment. The rough terrain and the washed out roads made it hard for us to traverse through the winding countryside. Bravo. Watch your status, over. Our DC arced overcomes, as wind whipped at my face, as we sped up the mountain sides. We found the enemy encampment, we're conducting a quick reconnaissance mission, over. Gabe's staticy voice crackled in my headset before going quiet.

Roger that, Bravo. Keep me posted, out. It seemed like hours before Tanner slowed down the GMV. He killed the engine, and put it in part next to a steep cliff face, off to our right, as the sun was beginning to fall beneath the mountain ridge line, casting a dark shadow on it.

us. We'll move on foot from here. It's not too far away now. Malim spoke up as we got out and stretched our legs. Matt, get an eye in the sky and make sure there's no one around to surprise us. Matt shook his head and tapped away on a tablet in his hands. Cloud coverage is fucking with the thermal imaging. Don't see anything close. We should be clear for a while. He walked over to Gabe and showed him the tablet before putting it back into his bag. Gabe stood quiet for a moment before rallying everyone up. All right, jents. Change my mind on the recon op.

Let's get eyes on and call in the gunship to clear this fucking place. We were ready for a fight, and we were going to get one. Tannerick motion detectors to the GMVs and pulled an old-school M79 grenade launcher from one of the compartments in our vehicle. Just in case we need to really put some of the... down. He winked at me as he joined the rest of the group up towards the mountain path. Charles replaced his 50-car for a smaller calibre MK-14 EBR. It was still a hard-hitting rifle, but it lacked the range and firepower compared to the larger calibre one. The rest of us

had modified M-4s outfitted with suppressors and other equipment to give us an edge on our enemies. We also grabbed our NODs in case we were out longer than expected. Vyper 2-1, this is Outlaw. You available for tasking? Over. Matt whispered as we continued up the path. The sun had gone down and the stars were beginning to fill the sky, and soon it would be completely dark.

Outlaw, this is Viper 2-1. We are on standby. Give us your grid and target, over. He wasted no time giving the Maw position and the position of the enemy encampment as we walked up the mountain. It should be right over this, Malim whispered back. to me, pointing at a cluster of bushes off to our left as we scoured the side of a steep cliff face. We've been walking for almost an hour. I put a finger up to my mouth and signalled him to be

quiet. With an ODs mounted to our helmets and rifles slung against our chests, we pushed on for another hour. Malim slowly manoeuvred up and over a large boulder and then stopped, quickly making himself as small as possible as something flew over our heads. I felt the wind get pushed hard down the neck of my uniform and helmet as the unseen thing flew outwards. Looking up towards the sky, I saw a large winged figure jet towards the adjacent mountaintop before disappearing into the mountainside. What the fuck was that? Tanner mouthed to me as Malim got back up and continued forward towards the encampment,

without speaking aloud, but I could see that his lip was trembling as he muttered something under his breath. A burnt-out fire pit glow brightly in our night vision as we stalked along the outer perimeter of the encampments. Mutilated bodies and weapons, along with multiple spent shell casings, were scattered all over the place as we approached with weapons raised. Our IR lasers bounced over the dead bodies and scared for any targets. A large cave entrance was visible to the left side of the camp. Barrels and sandbags were set up at the sides as well as the Dushka machine gun that had been toppled over. Matt, Tanner and Charles took the right flank as Gabe, Malim and myself took the left.

As I cleared my sector, one of the fighters lying on the ground near me led out a long, ragged and wet breath, causing me to snap my rifle in his direction. We have a live one over here, I whispered into my mic as I closed in on the dying fighter. The fighter had a very deep gash along his chest and was missing his right arm below the elbow. I kneeled on his left arm and put my hand over his mouth. Quiet, quiet, I whispered. Tears filled the man's eyes as he looked up at me. I could feel his mouth moving under my glove as Doc came over through the brush. Ah, he's a goner. Saw the rest of these guys. Counted at least ten dead fighters. Something's not right here. I looked around the torn-up encampment,

then over to Tanner and the others on the right side of the camp. signaling them to look around for potential threats before Matt began to speak over comms. The gunship has visual on something right in... His voice was cut off by a guttural screech from a few feet in front of us. What the fuck was that? Doc looked over to me as something came tearing through the clusters of bushes and trees. I stood up and started bat-pedaling away from the now-dead fighter at my feet as a thing crashing through the brush emerged by one of the dead fighters by the cave entrance.

What I can only describe as a bat-like creature, with the upper half of a torso hung from its mouth, looked at us with beady black eyes. It crawled on all fours as it eyed us. It had pointed ears and long, jagged claws at the tips of its wings. Without saying a word, I fired three rounds, causing it to drop the body from its mouth and let out a deafening sense. screech, making me clamp my eyes closed and cover my ears.

My heart kicked against my chest and my adrenaline began to burn like fire through my veins. What the fuck was that thing? Matt whispered harshly. It looked like a freaking bat. Charles joined in. All right, lock it up. I'm going to contact Alpha and see what we're doing here. Gabe finally spoke up before another loud screech came from the cave. I did a quick headcount and realized, We were missing one person, Malim. My heart sunk as I counted again.

This time I noticed his rifle near the cave entrance. It was broken against the cave wall and a blood trail led inside. It took the kid. Without thinking I started moving into the cave. What the fuck are you going? Gabe growled, but I ignored him and pushed on. The rest of the guys caught up with me a few seconds later as I stepped over some blood-soaked mattresses without saying a word.

We were going to get the kid back or die trying. As we pushed further into the cave, more signs of fighting became evident. Spent brass and bodies started lining the walls as a chirping sound began to reverberate off them. The cave split off into two different pathways, leaving us dead in our tracks. Fuck, all right, I'll take the left with Madden Charles. I looked back at my teammates and waited for a response. Gabe just shook his head and pointed down the right pathway. We'll take the right.

Keep your fucking eyes peeled and get that kid out of here. Without saying another word, we pushed down the left pathway quickly in hopes of finding Malim. I hope that he was still alive, not just for his sake but for hours. If he died, the last six months of our training and relationship building went down the drain. Jack, it's Gabe. We reached a dead end over here. It looks like an ammo dump. I'll have Tanner rig it for debt. How's it looking on your end?

Before I was able to respond, the quiet sound of sobbing from somewhere in front of us got my attention. The glowing eyes of something pierced out through the dark cave a few feet in front of me. As we moved closer, the sobbing got louder. Malim, Malim, we're here. I whispered before a dark, shadowy figure came flying towards me, slamming into my...

chest and dragging me back across the ground. I screamed out of pure terror as I felt something sharp pierced into my shoulders as I got dragged along the rocky cave floor. Fuck, oh fuck, I craned my neck upwards to see the creature scuttling along the walls. Raising my rifle at an awkward position, I began to pump rounds into its ass and stomach in hopes it would release me and sure enough it did with another deafening screech. The wind was not to take. The wind was not to out of my lungs as it released me from its grip, causing me to slam into the floor. I heard suppressed rifles barking in the distance as rounds impacted around me. The guys must have thought I was dead.

He! Stop fucking shooting at me! I screamed over comms as the faint outlines of three figures made their way towards me. Charles Matt and a wounded malim were at my feet in a matter of seconds helping me stand. Can you walk? Charles checked me over quickly before getting. Gabe's voice finally spoke in my headset. You guys need to get the fuck out of that cave. His always calm and collected voice was now strained and panic-filled.

We're working on it. Jack got hit. Charles strained to say as he helped me walk towards the exit. As we walked, more high-pitched chirping noises began to drown out our voices as he got closer to us with each step. Oh, fuck that. Matt reached onto his vest and produced a fragment. He pulled off the electrical tape around the pin and pratties.

Fuck you. He threw the grenade towards the sounds like a baseball pitcher before running to catch up with us. A moment later, a deafening, erupted from where the frag had landed, causing dust and debris to rain all around us. Dust now filled our vision, limiting us to only a few meters as rocks pelted my helmets. Dust filled my lungs and mouth. making it hard to breathe. We'd been walking for what seemed like hours

before the ambient moonlight shone through a thin layer of dust in front of us. As we exited, Tanner waved us over to the right of the entrance furiously. Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! He squeezed on something in his hand three times, and a moment later we felt the ground trembling beneath our feet as a fireball erupted from the entrance. I have some more demo. I want to seal off this fucking piece.

cave. He wiped the sweat from his face and reached into his bag before another loud screech came from the cave. Fuck that. Let the gunship do it. Matt yelled as he moved away from the entrance and back towards the path we'd taken. Liper 2-1. This is outlaw. Target's been lassoud with the IR laser over. Matt circled his rifle on the cave entrance as the Apache gunship opened up with its 30mm cannons and hellfire rockets. It was quite the spectacle as we watched the rounds and rockets impact under the clear sky. Our IR beacons attached to our helmets flashed brightly, making us look like lightning bugs from the air.

Outlaw, this is Vipa 2-1. We are Winchester. Over. Good luck, boys. With that, the gunship flared off and headed south, leaving us alone. The cool Afghan air rushed through my hair as we travel. bat to the village. I was banged up, but still alive. Malim had suffered some deep lacerations, but was able to be patched up by dogs. His father, the elder, was pissed, but everyone had mad respect for the kid after that incident. We fixed up the village and trained the others in basic fighting and combat medicine the following week before leaving that area for good.

Now I've seen my fair share of crazy shit, but one thing is certain. There is a monster in the mountains of Afghanistan. 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.