Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep243: Episode 243: Whispers of the Dead

Episode Date: May 13, 2025

We open proceedings this evening with ‘Deadly Whispers’ by Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/user/Corpse_Child/ Tonight’s second fabulous tale of terror is ‘I Posted a True Stalker Story Online: My Stalker Read It...’ by Snickeringhaystack, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/user/snickeringhaystack/ Tonight’s third horrifying tale of therapy gone wrong is ‘I’m a Psychotherapist Who Specializes in Unlocking Repressed Memories’ by the wonderfully talented Grotesque Penguin, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  https://www.reddit.com/user/Grotesque-penguin/ Today’s next phenomenal tale of terror is ‘I Went Camping with My Wife… But Now I Can’t Leave the Woods’, an original work by PostMortem33, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-r-ddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s kind permission.  https://www.reddit.com/user/PostMortem33/ Today’s penultimate story is an old school classic ‘The Dead Man of Varley Grange’, an anonymous classic work; a story in the public domain, but recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license:  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Dead_Man_of_Varley_Grange Today’s final tale of the macabre is ‘There Has Been a Secret Invasion: Only I Can See the Reptilians for What They Are!’, an original work by Bear Lair 64, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/BearLair64/ 

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Stories of death terrifies because they force us to confront the one truth we can't escape, our own mortality. They peel back at the illusion of control reminding us how fragile life truly is and how sudden the end can come. Whether it's the fear of the unknown, the pain of loss, or the dread of what, if anything, comes after, tales of death tap into our deepest anxieties. And yet we're drawn to them, compelled by the shadow they cast over the living, as we shall see in tonight's delightful collection of stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language

as one of those descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. So Mad a girl who said she heard dead people whispering to her, telling her to join them. And now I'm hearing them too. By corpse child. I'm insane. Please just tell me I'm insane. Please tell me that I'm a delusional freak who deserves to be locked up. Hell, call me a schizohead or a psychomaniac. Freaking anything, just for the love of God. Tell me this isn't real. As if it is, I... well, I don't know what I'll do. It's been going on for almost two and a half months now.

At least since Jackie dies. Jacqueline, the girl I took under my wing, the girl. I let down and now the source of my torment. We'd met about a month and a half ago and I was still working a dead-end job as a cook for Porky Bros, the old barbecue joint that sat in the middle of downtown where I lived before it closed down last week. I still remember how we met. I was out back taking the smoke, the only one I'd had so far that day, and I'd just about gotten into a fist fight with Rick. One of the waiters who would always particularly dislike me for whatever really.

reason. The guy seemed to amuse himself with trying to crack a bullwhip over my back to hurry up with an order. And of course, when a customer would complain about something being wrong with the food, be it not seasoned enough, or something was still cold, and you could bet your bottom dollar that the son of bitch would be in my ear about it. Well, that time was over the order being three minutes late, even though we were getting slammed with business and I barely had any help, with multiple people calling out. I was already tired from how to having to pull a double, and I've been putting up with his shit for far longer than I should have. I was about to break his face in when Wendell, my buddy and one of the only other cooks working

with me that day, stepped in and told me to go take a smoke. I did so without a single word. So there I was, puffing away at a Marlborough Red, when she approached me for the first time. I could tell she'd been crying and her clothes were torn and raggedy. Hey, can I buy my smoke? she asked, her voice shaking. I looked in the pack, seeing that there was only one left after the one I was smoking. Admittedly, I almost told her no. I'm looking at her, though, I guess at the time I didn't have the heart. Thank you.

She just stood next to me, silently dragging on her smoke. Part of me wanted to ask if she was okay, but at the same time I knew she wasn't. The way she looked said everything, the tattered clothes, the way she was quivering, still in tears, and just how utterly frightened she was. Plus I could also see bruises on her cheekbones and around her mouth. I was heartbroken. I must have somehow shown it too because she soon told me that it... It was nothing.

Just an accident. Accident my ass. She shrunk a bit before taking another drag. She told me that... It was just a misunderstanding. It wouldn't happen again. I was becoming enraged. I wasn't a saint.

but damn it I was raised to believe that no matter what a man does not put his hands on a woman like that I wanted to find and hand this piece of shit his ass on a platter before putting him down like the animal he was what happened why'd he do it I finally managed to ask she shook her head but don't worry about it okay you couldn't get it anyway well I think I get it perfectly well some bastard just beat the hell out of you and you're afraid of getting him in trouble by telling me who he is. Yeah, she scoffed. What are you going to do, her, kick his ass? Why not? At least then I can kick someone's ass today. Well, this made a chuckle. Bad day, huh? Oh, look who's talking. This time we both laughed. My name's Otto, by the way. Jacqueline, she said, her voice sounding

just a little less timid. She flicked a cigarette out before thanking me and turning to leave. Hey, uh, hold up. I shut out my hand to her, stopping her. I pulled out one of the older tickets I crumpled up earlier out of anger and scrawled out my phone number. Call me later, okay? She looked at it and then to me, smiling. You got it.

She then turned and left, and I went back inside to continue torturing myself with the rest of my shift. That night when I finally got home, at 1.45 a.m., having to close a kitchen. I was grabbing a beer from the fridge from my phone buzzed with a text message Hey, it's me, Jacqueline Just wanted to say thanks for talking to me And letting me bum smoke I really made my day better

I smiled Something I hadn't done all day Or all week for that matter I replied that I was glad I made somebody happy today I also texted her that if she wanted to talk about anything But I'd be there After that there was no reply for a while So I decided to proceed with drinking myself to sleep that month

When I woke up the next morning, and by that I really mean about half hour to noon, I found that there were a couple of texts from her waiting for me. The first one was only about three hours after the one I'd sent her. That'd be nice, thank you. The other two were sent only another hour after that one, each only about ten minutes or so apart from each other. Hey, you still up? I'm kind of scared here. Can we talk, please?

My eyes snapped wide when I saw this. I felt my heart dropped. The timestamps for these messages had been from five hours ago when I was asleep. She'd needed me and I wasn't there. Immediately I shot her a text saying I was sorry. I didn't see a message and asked if she was okay. My heart was racing, waiting, praying for a response. Finally, about five minutes later, my phone buzzed with her response.

Hey, it's fine. Everything's okay. Sorry for worrying you. my hurt slowly returned to normal at least she's alive she asked of what had happened and if she was hurt she replied that she was all right and that she was overreacting

though I was relieved that she was okay for now I wasn't convinced that she was just overreacting look I'm no kind of trauma counsellor or psychologist well I wasn't born yesterday either I'd seen before I'd seen friends of mine looking like Jackie did the bruises cuss and black eyes covering them after their pieces of ship boyfriends would come home, usually sloshed, with some wild hair in their asses, and every time they too would try to pass it off with something like, overreacting, or just an accident, or not what it looked like. I decided to ask her if she was open for lunch that afternoon, since I was off work. She replied that she was busy, but that dinner might be an option.

I told her that'd be great, and asked if she'd like me to pick her up. She replied with her address, and I told her I'd see her around 6.30 that evening. After that, I spent the day getting cleaned up and rummaging through my storage unit of an apartment for something nice, or at least something halfway distant, to wear for dinner. I wanted to make an impression. I wanted to see her that good men do still exist and can treat her like a lady, you know? If nothing else, I figured maybe I'd help her feel more secure, and she might open up about what was going on.

About five o'clock that evening, I'd managed to find her. the suit I wore from my brother's wedding, I was putting it through a cycle in the wash. That's when my phone buzzed with a text from Jackie. Hey, um, I know this is awkward, but is there any way you could come get me now? Well, I froze. I just put the suit into the washer and it wouldn't be done for another 20 minutes. I asked her if everything was okay. She replied that she was fine, but really wanted to meet up now. I asked what was going on, but she didn't reply after that. I was flawed. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Part of me wanted to try and press for details.

I was getting a bit nervous with how vague she was being about everything. I wondered what I'd see once I got there. Would she even be alive when I got there? Again, I'd seen shit like this play out before and I wasn't going to just sit by and what she'd happen with Jackie. I started imagining what the boyfriend was like, imagining a six-foot-two griller whose breath reeked perpetually of bud lines. It was with this in mind that I said, oh, fuck the suit. Throw on a t-shirt and jeans,

well, cleanest ones I could find, and hopped in my car. I shot her a text saying I was on my way, as I all but pealed out at the parking lot. Don't me about 50 minutes to find where she lived, having to backtrack once or twice through roads I wasn't really familiar with. The city I lived in was small, sure,

but I didn't exactly get out much, which made it all unfamiliar territory for me. Her house was a small one just off the corner of the downtown area, isolated with only two other houses neighboring it. When I pulled up, I noticed there wasn't a vehicle parked in the driveway. Damn, I'm too late. Fuckers already gone, I thought as I jumped out of the car and made my way to the porch. My hand tightly gripped around the butterfly knife I always kept in my pocket.

It's not exactly a nice neighbor that I living. Jacqueline, I called out, knocking on the door. For about a minute nothing happened. I tried leaning my ear to the door to see if I could hear anything. Nothing. It was when I was texting her, telling her that I was on the porch that I heard the door slowly open. Front door cracked open and my heart stopped when I saw her face. It was worse than the previous day.

Covering almost every inch of her face would cut some fresh bruises alongside the ones from before. My jaw fell open and hung like someone who tied a brick of lead to it. I was horrified, while at the same time I overcome with rage. Now I wanted the bus with six feet in the ground, and I wanted to be the one that dug his grave. What? She stepped out under the porch, quickly shutting the door behind her. She stood there silently, her face chiseled in a state of fear, and her eyes locked onto my feet, seemingly unable to make eye contact with mine. Now in the full light outside I saw one eye was so badly beaten that it was almost swollen shut.

As well as this, there were gashes now across her cheeks, fresh and still trickling with blood. I was speechless. I wasn't sure how to begin. I didn't know whether to demand that she told me who this animal was and where I could find him, or to grab her and hoard her in the tightest bear hug I could manage. In the end, I just stood still, speechless with horror. Finally she broke the silence and asked, shaking, Can we go, please? Almost absently I nodded and stammered.

Where, too? I don't care, she said, her voice breaking. I just need to get out. I gently took her hand and led her into my car and we drove off. I decided against trying to take her out to a restaurant or anything like that, looking the way she did and all. With no other ideas of where to go, asked if she'd like to come back.

with me to my place for dinner she just nodded nervously again that'd be nice yeah i'll have to warn you though not exactly the tidiest i chuckled when i said this i'd been delight in the mood with that it didn't work it doesn't matter it'll be fine she said anxiously still quivering like she was cold i could tell she wasn't in the mood to hear my voice at the moment so the rest of the way to my apartment was spent in silence the whole time her eyes stared about a thousand yards ahead through the windshield while she shook in the passenger seat and we pulled up to my apartment before i could even cut the engine off jackaline was already undoing her seatbelt and opening the door i turned the car off and got out after her i got her to follow me back to my apartment to-da i said awkwardly as i opened the door to reveal my wreck of an apartment home sweet home

at least as sweet as sweet as it can be i saw her a little bit look at me, her eyes still wide and nervous, yet still parting the left corner of her lip up into a shy, half-smile. I threw some of my clutter that was on the couch to the floor beside it, giving her a place to sit down. She stood in the doorway for a second before finally trudging over and sitting down. Would you like a drink? I asked, opening the fridge. I must warn you, oh, I've got her millers.

Well, they're fresh and cold. She smiled weakly again, and replied, no thanks. I grabbed one for myself and made my way to the couch, sitting beside her. For the next five minutes or so, my apartment was so dead silent that you would have been able to hear a pin dropping from the fifth floor above me. She just sat staring at the floor. A couple of times I saw her shaking her hair like she was dizzy or something. I broke the silence by asking her if she'd like to watch something on the TV.

She didn't seem to notice me at first, so I called her name again. or this time her head snapped up to me her face looked lost and afraid at the same time what um want to watch some tv oh yeah yeah that'd be nice i turned it on and started flipping through channels finally i managed to land on an episode of family guy and stop there i asked her if she was cool with that telling her it was one of my favourites well to be honest it wasn't she just shrugged and said she didn't mind By that point it was really starting to eat away at me that she wasn't telling me something. Again, I get it. People in her situation, especially after a particularly bad episode like what she'd been dealt with earlier,

tend not to want to talk about it, but I didn't make things any easier for me. I became especially anxious when I saw her start shaking her head and clutching her temples. Then I started hearing her faintly mutter under her breath. No, no, stop it. I don't want us. Stop. Stop what? I asked nervously, putting my hand on her shoulder. She didn't seem to notice, instead shaking her head more violently and tearing at her hair. Her cloring became violent, pulling at her ears, and I was scared she was about to rip them off.

I realized that she must be having a psychological episode, maybe PTSD or something from getting the hell beat out of her that day. I'm sure of what to do, I grabbed her arms and shouted her name. Jacqueline! Jacqueline! She finally stopped and looked at me again. Her eyes were wide, almost unnaturally so, looking absolutely lost and flooding with tears. Her breathing was heavy. It's okay, I said softly. It's okay, I'm here. I've got you. I didn't really know why I said that. Truth of me, I didn't believe what I said, being just as lost, if not more so, than she was. I guess it was the only thing I knew to say to make her feel better. or at least to keep her from doing serious harm to herself.

Thankfully, it seemed to do as much, because her body immediately relaxed and she then curled into a ball and buried her face into her hands, sobbing. I just froze. What was I supposed to do here? Wanted to hold her, but at the same time I knew that might cause her to freak out again.

The one thing was certain. I definitely wanted to beat the shit out of that boyfriend. I'm sorry, she said through her hands. I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry, I should go. She started to get up from the couch, and I got up to stop her. Back to him? I asked.

She tried to push past me to the door, and I continued to block her. I couldn't let her go back to that. I wasn't even sure I was comfortable leaving her alone at this point. What are you talking about? Your boyfriend? A piece of shit that's done this to you. She shrunk down again, closing her eyes and saying, Look, you don't get it.

My boyfriend didn't do this. I don't have a boyfriend, okay? I live alone. Just please, I need to go home. I was caught off guard by this. If she didn't have a boyfriend or anyone else, then who's been beating her up like this? As much as I wanted to press that question,

I could see that she was desperate to leave. Okay, then at least let me take you home. Please, just so I know you'll be okay. She looked at me and nodded. Sure. We drove in silence, well, silent, except for her constantly mumbling. I said, no, I won't go. I don't want to. Leave me alone. I said nothing, but I can't lie. This was starting to scare me.

I was terrified that at any moment she was going to start trying to tear at her hair or something again. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Then we pulled into her house, before she could bolt out like she could. couldn't get out fast enough, I put her hand out stopping her. Call me again tomorrow morning, okay? Just let me know everything's okay, please? She half-heartedly nodded before getting out of the car. After she'd gone inside her house, I just sat there for a good five or so minutes,

waiting for something to happen. I almost expected to see her in the window, getting hurt, either by herself or someone else, that I was going to have to rush in after. As it happened, all the lights were off, and it was dead. silent. I finally managed to satisfy myself that, for the time being, she was okay and left her house. It's no surprise that on the drive home that night my mind was entrapped by one big question. What the hell was going on with Jacqueline? Why was she hurting herself the way she was? What was causing her to have episodes like she did at my apartment? And something happened

to her, maybe something that somehow scarred her. That would make sense. and that brings up the question of why she wasn't seeking help. Well, is she told anybody? And if not, then why? Of course, all of this was eclipsed by the biggest question. Who the hell was she talking to when she was saying, Stop, I don't want to. The only conclusion I could think of now

was that she might have some sort of schizophrenia or even some dual personality or something like that. Again, I'm an expert on psychology, but based on what I'd seen, That was the only way I could explain what was going on. This, however, made me feel all the more uneasy about leaving her by herself. It was a good thing I was off work the next day, too, because all through that night I was essentially on high alert,

just waiting for her to call or text me, panicking again. In other words, sleep was not an option. What's worse is that my entire time, try as I would otherwise, even downing a few millers, I couldn't take my mind off it to relax. I kept imagining that the next time I saw it'd be in the hospital or worse. All I could do was pray that she'd call the next morning telling me that things were okay. Finally, around 8 a.m., my phone rang.

Out of reflex, I mashed the green button. Hello, Jacqueline. Is everything okay? Yeah, everything's fine. The voice sounded normal. Actually, it almost seemed relaxed. It almost felt like a total 180 from the previous night. Listen, I'm sorry about last night. You probably think I'm nuts, but...

Well, I can't explain. Can we meet up again? Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. We're at what time? In an hour. Down at the park by the pier. Okay, um... You want to bring anything?

Maybe something for her. But she'd hung up before I could finish. I quickly got dressed and got into my car. On the way to the park, I decided to stop by the nearby subway and grab some fruit trucks. The whole time I was wondering if the right thing to do would be to try admitting her to a hospital. I knew she probably wouldn't like the idea, but I couldn't just let her keep hurting herself like this, could I? I hadn't come to any sort of conclusion by the time I pulled up to the park either. I resolved to hear her out first and then go from that.

That way I'd at least have a better understanding of what was going on. I texted her, asking her where she was and where in the park she wanted to meet up. She replied about two seconds later, saying she was at the pier by the lake. Grabbing the sandwiches, I headed into the park and for the lake. When I got there, I saw her sitting on the edge, looking out toward the lake. Hey, um, so I hope you don't mind, but I brought us a bite to... It's beautiful, isn't it? I stopped.

The lake. beautiful isn't it yeah i guess so i slowly approached the rest of the way to her she just sat there still my mother always tells me that the current of a lake would always wash away one strife it was so peaceful you could lose yourself in it um okay i said i'm sure of what i was supposed to say to this i couldn't explain it but something felt off looks like some dormant instinct i six cents you could call it it was telling me that something was up but what

when I reached her I put my hand in her shoulder you hungry I picked her some subs from subway I wasn't sure what you liked so I got you I hear dead people for a moment everything almost seemed to freeze in place

she was still emotionless and the way she said it was like she was accepting some great truth of life I guess a better way of saying it was that she sounded numb or hollow I hear dead people she repeated in that same numb tone they tell me to join them in the end in him

my tongue felt swollen like I'd been punched I'm sorry you hear dead people yes and they tell you to do what now she's quite a again for a moment and I was flawed how was I supposed to respond to that how would you have responded to hearing this they want me to go with them she said

finally blankly go where what do you mean into the end to join with him they've been telling me that he is what waits for us all who you mean like God or something what do you mean by waiting for us all even before she'd answer though i knew deep down the answer was going to be something wrong he doesn't have a name he is all of us he's what we become on the other side he waits to be completed and they need me he needs me to join i could feel a series of chills prickle down my spine hearing this she sounded so relaxed when she said it like all of it seemed so normal to her it all sounded like something a cult member would say and she said it like it was nothing this was scaring the hell out of me now and i was certain of one thing one way or another i had

to find her some kind of help they've been telling me this ever since my mother died last year i always hear her telling me to follow her to the end and join with him i slowly reached out and gently put my hand to her shoulder. Jackie, come on, let's get out of here. We can find someone to... Help me, she asked, interrupting me. Is that what you were going to say? I stayed silent.

She laid out of scoff and said, Look, if you won't believe me, what makes you think anyone else will? I was stumped. I wanted to grab her hand and take her to the nearest hospital. I wanted to tell her things were okay and that the voices weren't real. but I didn't. Instead, I clammed up.

Besides which, she continued, starting to stand up. It's all right. Everything's going to be fine now. I'm darn running. What happened next felt like it was lasting in eternity, despite it only being a couple of minutes. I remember briefly noticing that she had her shoelaces tied together in a ball, joining both feet together. While my brain was busy with wondering about this, as well as trying to take in what I was hearing and trying to figure out how to find some help for her She looked me in the eyes for the first time since I got there and said Thanks for being here now Otto I for a split second saw that her hands were duct taped together

But by the time it fully hit me exactly what she planned to do I'd be too late to stop her in one fluid motion she flung her body backwards and was instantly swallowed by the lake I rushed over and saw that she was almost too far down to sea, only faintly glimpsing her eyes looking back up at me, wide and panicking. I turned back and shouted at a few others walking by to call 911 before diving headfirst into the lake after her. I flailed frantically as hard as possible, pushing myself deeper and deeper after her. It was useless, though.

The lake ran deep, and it got darker, murkier the further down it went. And because of this I couldn't see a thing. I had also never been a good swimmer in the first place. I had to push myself back up for air and go back down again several times, still unable to reach her. Eventually my body grew weak and I couldn't even move my arms and legs anymore. My body then started sinking too and I was forced to take in another mouthful of water, unable to hold my breath any longer.

That's when I finally blacked out, fall into the bottom of the lake along with Jacqueline. I remember coming to on the pier, dizzy, puking and spewing up lake water. Over me it was a paramedic holding a jump bag in an oxygen mask. He's becoming responsive, he shouted to the group on the other side of the pier. You okay, sir? I stared blankly in him, still catching my breath. It took a moment before everything came rushing back to me.

Jackalier, I cried, bolting up. The paramedic stopped me, telling me to calm down. I looked around to see police officers at the edge of the pier begin walking towards me. When they questioned me as to what had happened, I told them the truth as I knew it, but she jumped into the river after telling me that she was hearing voices. I expressed that I also had every intention of trying to help find her.

They seemed to accept this as there was no other evidence, physical or from witnesses, to suggest anything otherwise, and I was free to go home. From their life sort of just went on. It was weird. I of course spent the following couple of weeks losing myself to the bottle every night after work. Finally, it was turned out from Porky Bros. When it got to a point when I wasn't able to really function in the kitchen anymore. I read a week later in the paper that Jackie's body was finally found after being dragged out of the lake.

Eventually, though, I managed to actually sort of move on. I found another job at a much nicer restaurant one that actually paid a bit better and I felt like I could push Jacqueline to the back of my head to a distant memory and that's when I started hearing it though or rather hearing her it happened one night when I'd come home from work

and was about to go to bed when I started hearing her voice calling my name Otto Otto and then I saw her she looked like she did when she was alive actually she looked even better being without the bruises i rubbed my eyes what the hell otto it's me jacclin remember she was smiling when she said it her voice was smooth and calming i closed my eyes shaking my

head when i opened them again she was gone oh come on get a grid man i decided to quickly down a couple of millers before going to bed that night in my sleep though she was there again again. She was standing in front of me, naked, smiling warmly. You're lonely, aren't you, Ardo? It's time. Come join us. Join with him. Before I could ask what she was talking about, as well as how she's there and what she wants with me, I heard a flurry of shrill whispers coming from behind me. Then out of the corner of my eyes, I saw thousands of white streaks rush past, each of them with elongated mouths, screaming simultaneously. Come and join her. I was horrified. I tried to wait myself up, but it was no use. I could only watch as the screaming streaks began swirling around in a vortex motion behind Jacqueline.

Chuckling herself then started descending towards the center, her voice blending chaotically with the rest, enchanting for me to join with him. Upon reaching the center, I could see her and the others start to morph, blending together and molding into the shape of a man. He, it, was tall and dark, like he was made out of the void itself. That four long, gangly arms that stretched out further and further towards me to snatch me and drag me into it. Every part of it was comprised of the screaming faces, as more and more of them continued to conjoin. All around me was a horrific cacophony of their screams.

Join us! The last thing I remember hearing before waking up was Jackie's voice telling me, that it was time to join with him. I almost jumped out of my bed and I didn't go back to sleep again that night. That was almost a month ago now. And every day since I keep seeing them, hearing them, always telling me to join them. Every time I see the thing, him getting closer and closer. I haven't been able to sleep when I can't function during the day either.

I'm always hearing them. I don't know what this thing is or what it'll do when it reaches me in my sleep, but I'm a hundred percent certain that it's something unholy, something horrible. I've been trying pills, but they only last so long before I hear them again. The only hope I have now is that I'm just freaking losing it. Grief is somehow driving me, like it drove Jackie with her mother to see this shit. I beg of you please show me some kind of proof that what I'm seeing isn't real. I'm so freaking scared right now

I can hear them right now God damn it I don't want to go This is an update to a story I posted on a forum Like this about four years ago In fact what happened was a direct result of me posting it I've since taken it down But I need to share what happened to me

Don't worry about that first story You'll find that out as well as I tell this one So let's get started So, a little bit about myself. I'm 41 years old and currently working as a salesman at a retail outlet that specialises in men's business suits. Well, the job makes pretty good money, but with alimony to my ex-wife and child support on top of that, I seem to just barely get by.

I just finished going through the horror of divorce six months before this last incident, and while I'd started drinking again. and looking longingly at sleeping pill bottles and razorplates. I know what you're thinking, but I've always been too much of a coward for that sort of thing. Though I will admit it's always seemed tempting, especially after losing everything like I did. Anyway, as you can imagine, I was feeling pretty low for a few weeks, so I was quite pleasantly surprised when this elegant, beautiful woman,

about my age came into the store and began to show me some interests. she was tall and slim wearing a charcoal jacket and skirt combo her hair discreetly dyed bronze amber had a very unassuming smile not too blemished by laugh-lines or crow's feet i admit i'd noticed her before she approached me i spotted her the moment she entered through the door she seemed kind of familiar but i wasn't going to tell her that that's got to be the most obvious non pick-up pick-up line in the world telling a strange woman when she looks familiar. Anyway, she walked up to me with this coy smile, just showing a glimpse of perfect white teeth and said, You probably think I'm in the wrong store. I gave a little giggle, cleared my throat and said,

Oh, I'm sorry. This is a men's clothing store, obviously. She elaborated. Her eyes were deep brown, almost black, and they were lively and active, looking up into mine. Well, ma'am, I said, we do have some pantsuits and some jackets for ladies if you like me to show you. Mom, she remarked playfully. Do I really look that old to you?

I chuckled nervously, breaking eye contact with her and clearing my throat again. God, I must have seemed like a schoolboy, for Christ's sake. I then told her, not at all, that she didn't look old, but I just wanted to be respectful. A smile widened, a long purple fingernails fidgeting with her purse strap. Well, she said in a soft voice, I'm actually here to find a suit for my son. He wants a tuxedo for prom. I fur at my brow. This was the dead of winter.

Proms aren't usually held until June or late May at the earliest. I know, she said, reading my look. His school is impossible. Well, they want to hold it early so that the students don't get too distracted from their studies. My son's also too busy playing his computer games to go get a suit himself, so, well, he's too embarrassed to come with me, so here I am. I couldn't help but grin eagerly. Just my luck, I thought.

I showed her some of our more popular items. She told me her son's size, and together we found something she thought he'd like. The whole time she sided close to me. I could smell her floral perfume. It was soothing and, I'll admit, I didn't make any attempt to distance myself from her. As I was ringing her up at the cash till, I told her that if anything didn't quite fit,

she could bring it back in and we'd happily have it adjusted to fit her son's measurements. She gave a low, almost inaudible laugh and told me that I probably didn't have to worry about that. There were no other customers in the store then, and the other cashier was on break, so we continued to chat. She asked me what I did in my spare time for fun, and I hesitated, thinking of the rows of empty liquor bottles in my apartment and the sleeping pills next to the bathtub.

Instead of answering her, I jumped at the opportunity and asked her if she'd like to get a drink later that evening. She said nothing, but tilted her head and scanned me with her sexy, roaming eyes. When do you get off work? She muttered softly. at seven the words leapt from my mouth if that's not too late for you no she said her pearly grin flashing at me over supple red lips that's perfect i know a bar around this area i'll be out front to pick you up great i said what's your name again andria "'Andria,' I repeated, extending my hand. "'I'm Andy. Nice to meet you. Naturally.' That seemed to put my nagging feeling of deja vu to rest.

I'd never known an Andrea, or met any Andrea's for that matter. But the name was fitting, and I rode each syllable over and over across my tongue, waiting for the hours of my shift to wilt away. By 6.30 we were locking up. Jane, the girl working there, was balancing the cash register while I wrote the day's records in the books. As I wrote down the total debits and credits, I could barely hold on to the pencil. I was so jittery. I know how pathetic this must sound, but it had been a while since I'd been with a woman in any way,

and being older and just divorced, it was hard to build up the confidence to start dating again. By 7 o'clock it was dark out. Jane walked out and waved goodbye as I locked up the front door. At the curb in front of the sidewalk was a small blue station wagon. Not very fancy, but I wasn't going to complain. I looked through the passenger side window and saw Andrea peering out of me, her hooded eyes meeting mine, that slight smile drawn across her face. I got in and immediately noticed how cold it was.

there didn't seem to be any heating at all and the radio wasn't even on strange i thought but maybe she lives close by as she navigated out of the plaza and on to the road i prattled on about the suit i'd sold her and how most customers said they were really happy with it she didn't respond and wasn't smiling any more i didn't think too deep into it though after all she was driving it's important to keep concentration. The only thing that struck me as odd was that she placed her purse on her lap while she was driving. Since I'd had to sell my car after the divorce, I was very pleased

not to have to ride the subway or bus, so I just eased back in my seat and enjoyed it. I think that's the reason that I didn't notice that we've been on the road a long time, despite her telling me there was a bar close by. I knew something was up after she got onto a highway

interchange. I looked at her, very confused. Um, did you say this bar was out of town? I asked. She didn't reply. Her eyes were glued to the road as we cruised up the ramp and onto the interstate. By now I was really getting nervous. I noticed she took her left hand from the steering wheel and began reaching inside her purse. You really don't remember me, she said. Her voice just louder than the country. engine. I giggled a bit, but I didn't find this funny at all. I don't know, I stammered, looking at her. You do look familiar, but I know I've never met in Andrea before. I look down at her lap into her now open purse and felt my heart freeze in my chest. The taped handle held

in her delegate fingers was a snub-nosed revon. I squirmed in my seat, as if I was going to fly out from the window, the seatbelt digging into my neck. What the hell are you doing? I shouted between panted breaths. The garden was now out and pointed out. You probably don't know any, Andrea, she said coldly, her voice empty, vacant. But you might remember Alicia. Alicia Moreto. Probably from the panic I felt staring down the barrel of that gun the name didn't ring any bells and then she looked at me those bedroom eyes now burning like hot colds open the glove box she muttered in a state voice what i asked open the glove box she screamed i shuddered from the sharp change in her voice i did as i was told gingerly i stretched my

shaking hand and pushed the lock button. The compartment door fell open and outspilled what had to be hundreds of pages of paper. They were all lying at my feet. She peered down in a quick glance and instructed me to read the staple pages printed on red paper. I picked them up and immediately recognized what it was. My post of my stalker story to an internet forum for true horror stories. I then figured out who she was. Alicia Moreto, the mentally disturbed girl who'd stalked me at my workplace and at my home years ago when I was in my late teens.

I pleaded with her, and she just hollered at me to read it. Her eyes back on the road, but the revolver still trained on me. I did as she said. It was all there my words. How she'd come into the coffee shop where I worked. How her hair was constantly tangled and greasy. How her clothes were always in tatters. How she always smelled of B.O. and Vaseline.

Oh, it was all there. How'd she come in every morning. How she knew my schedule and when my shift was. How my co-workers had told me that she'd sometimes come in on my days off and ask where I was. Now one night I'd found her waiting for me in my house. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I was trembling, and the printed-up pages fell from my weak hands involuntarily. She peered over at me.

I could see her from the corner of my eyes, and told me to pick up the next set of papers, the one printed on grey pages. I begged her again to just let me go, and she screamed for me to read it. I picked them up, not recognising any of the writing on it. then I realised that these were the comments people had written on my post of the story comments like what a crazy bitch

or I would have been so freaked out by that cow or I'd have still hit it though oh hell or well tears had started streaming down my face by the time I'd realize what this was she had found my story recognized it and had come for me please I said to her choked to her up having read all the comments and realized her purpose. I didn't realize how much it would upset you. I never used your real name. Do you think that that matters? Her voice cracked. It was like

an animal's growl, all the prior sophistication and sensuality gone. I knew. I knew that story was about me. About a time in my life I was ashamed of. She trailed off. It sounded as though she'd gone to sop. I looked at her and her mouth was hung open as if in a silent scream. Her eyes squinting closed. Yes, she too was crying. After a terrifying moment she gave a cough, tossed back her hair and was once again icily composed. I looked close and could just see the smudges of mascara under her eyes. She then told me to reach inside her purse. I of course was not about to do that. I won't shoot you if you do exactly as I say. She then said in a calm but uneven voice. The voice smacked of the psychotic desperation of the girl who'd stalked me those many

years ago. I nodded my head slightly and quickly turned to glance out the window. It was now very dark and a few other cars on the road. Careful not to brush up against the gun, I reached over and put my hand in her purse. Inside, I found what felt like a set of polarites. My skin waxed cold, imagining that these were probably photos of me she'd taken without my knowledge. I pulled them out and looked at them. There weren't pictures of me at all. The first photograph was of a couple standing outside a wedding chapel,

the woman smiling radiantly in a white lace gown. The handsome moustache man next to her wearing a black tuxedo and cover bun. They were close and holding each other's hands. I flipped through to the next photo to see the same couple kissing with their eyes closed, a sun setting above a glimmering ocean

behind them. I flipped through and in the next photograph I saw the woman lying in a hospital bed covered by dark green surgical sheets holding a new born baby. The baby was wrapped in a blanket the husband standing beside them

smiling. I flipped through I saw a photo of the couple with two pre-teen children, sitting on a beach wearing jean shorts and bright coloured shirts, smiling up into the camera's POV. I then realised these photos were of her. This woman named Alicia. She had a family or had a family. Well, what did this have to do with my story? I don't understand, I mumbled. She shot me a look out of the course. of her eye and didn't say anything.

I looked out the window and saw there were no lights on the side of the road. Past the barrier there was nothing but tall trees and bleak wilderness. We were now far, far from any major city or town. I thought about reaching in my coat for my fun, but I knew that if I did, she might have shot me. Then I started wondering why she didn't just kill me already if that's what she intended to do. The minutes felt like hours in that car. The darkness beyond the roadside seemed to stretch for an eternity, like I'd woken up in hell. And finally, after God knows how long, she spoke.

It took me ten years, she said, her voice straining, quavering like that demented girl I remembered. It took me three years to get over you, and another seven to forgive myself. I went to counseling, therapy. Eventually I agreed to take the medication. You see, I suffer from paranoid schizophrenia. It sort of runs in my family, but it didn't appear in me until about five months before I met you. My parents had gotten a divorce. Dr. Walden told me that's likely what triggered my breakdown.

And then I saw you. It's like you were there for me. My psychiatrist says I was using you as a misplaced source of love, love and security. which i felt had been torn away from me by my parents divorce you were always there and always so plight so i mistook your plightness and charm for love and affection at that moment i don't know why but i didn't feel scared any more i just felt gloomy depressed we often call people crazy but when we actually hear the medical terms it becomes a lot less distant she continued so for ten years after you i avoided people i didn't see friends i barely spoke to my parents and i absolutely never went out on dates first because i was still in love with you and then because i was so ashamed ashamed and afraid i would become that super attached psychopath that i had been to you i wanted so many times to contact you and to apologize but my counsellor and dr walton were out of adamant that that would be a bad idea. They said it would cause me to realize. So for ten years

I was alone, hating myself. And then I met David. David was a graduate student in university studying physical geography. He'd approached me first. We met at a bar, or restaurant, actually. My parents had insisted on taking me out for my birthday and he'd asked the waiter to put our bill on his town. She then gave a sorrowful laugh, a tear. falling down her cheek. He barely had enough money to pay for his beer, and he wanted to pay for a whole family's meal, just to speak with me. We started out just as friends, and then with his insistence we became more than that. I loved him and felt so much better. I finally felt well enough to go back to school and complete my degree. We got married shortly after he graduated. He'd been

hired at a consulting firm, so we were mostly stable. I finally forgave myself and forgot all about you. But I never told him. Never. A year into our marriage, we had Aaron, and two years later, Casarra. We were both so happy. I was happy. I got a job as a typist at a law firm.

It wasn't much, but it gave me something to do after the children were old enough to go to school. I liked working there. Everyone was so friendly and helpful. One day, Mark, one of the support staff members in facilities, was showing me this website he often goes to, mostly to look up funny pictures. And he told me about this page that was scary stories and creepy encounters. I immediately recognised what most of the stories were about. I searched all the posts, and he didn't take me long to find one that was familiar. Too familiar.

I knew that it was you who'd posted it. She then stopped and let out a heavy sigh, her moist eyes rolling up and looking long at the car route. It was as though she couldn't believe she was actually telling me this. Her voice had stopped sounding like a nervous psychotic, and more like that of a sobbing, distraught woman. The gloom lingered thick inside the car, over both of us. After that, my paranoia and anxiety spiked, she continued. I tried to fight it by up in the dose of my medicine, but that didn't work pretty soon I just stopped since they only seemed to make me drowsy

She then gave another humorous little laugh as though she caught herself in a lie You know I thought it was because David had seen the post that he left me and why I couldn't even get joint custody of the children But that's not true the truth is seeing your post made me act erratic I started throwing fits fighting with him for no reason, shouting at the children and beating them over things that weren't their fault. I'd stop sleeping at night, believing the next door neighbours were spying on us and plotting to come in and steal everything. It was because of me that David left me, and I acted that way because of your pose. I was now staring out the window. I could make out open fields in the distance,

with the slightest smattering of brush. Where the hell was she taking me? I couldn't forgive myself, she said. I know now that I never will. I gulped and asked. So how did you find me? She smiled maliciously in my direction, amused by my discomfort. Oh, one of the criminal lawyers of my firm. Mike Corson, he has a team of private investigators.

I do paperwork for him, so I forged a memo asking one of the PIs to find your whereabouts. it didn't take long. I knew your full name, where you'd once worked and where you grew up. I was of course surprised you still lived there after all these years.

Her smile was now spiteful and mocking. That and her last comment made me look away, slightly incensed. Of course, when Mike found out about it, I was fired. Misappropriation

of the firm's resources. It didn't help I was already on thin night. for obvious reasons. The road we'd driven on had disintegrated into a rough, jagged path of scrappy concrete. It was as though we'd gone back in time

to when there was nothing but dirt and jungle. I actually started worrying that if we drove any longer that the road would stop or we'd be stranded in desert. I looked at the clock on the dash and the green numbers revealed 12-03. We had been driving for hours.

Another hour passed with nothing, just silence. I started absorbing what she told me, and felt this weight form in the pit of my stomach. I'd caused this. I'd ruined her life. And for what? A little bit of attention on an online forum. Jesus, the episode hadn't been that much for my life, and for God's sake, she was schizophrenic. The whole damn thing now seems sleazy, and

I no longer felt scared. I wasn't frightened at all. I just wanted this to end. By 115, she slowed down the car. We pulled over, parking on a gravel shoulder by a vast, empty field. The car pointed away and perpendicular to the road. When she switched off her headlights, it went all black beyond the windship. My eyes adjusted, I could just make out the black shape of the field. beneath the lighter shade of the starless night sky. We both sat there, not looking at each other, like we'd just fucked for money. She didn't move, didn't stir.

The revolver still trained on me. I'm sorry, I said. My voice was contrite and down. I know what I did was wrong. When I met you, it was at a moment when you were your most voice. vulnerable and it was wrong for me to take advantage. Even years later, she didn't look at me, didn't move, but I knew she'd hurt me. Go ahead, I then said to her, kill me. I deserve to be hurt. I deserve to die. I don't want to live anymore. Just then, she straightened in her seat,

still staring out into the field before us no she said huskily you deserve to feel what i feel every day i then heard the hammer click backward and watched as she opened her perfect mouth and stuck the barrel into it i shouted and lunged towards her but there was a flash and i saw spots my ears were ringing and blocked like i was under water after about a minute my eyes adjusted Then I stared, stupidly surprised, by the sight of the woman's mutilated face resting next to me in the car. The interior was completely splattered with blood. My hand groped endlessly for the door handle, finally finding it, and I fell out onto the pebble ground from the passenger side. Got on my hands and knees and pute my guts in. After I stood up, I dove over and dry heaved for sea. several minutes. From there I

warped the shoulder, not thumbing, not trying to get home, just trying to get as far away from Andrea Alicia as I could. Eventually, my daybreak, someone driving a rusted pickup pulled over and asked me if I needed a lift. Still shaken and exhausted,

I approached his passenger side window. Once I was a foot away from his truck, I saw his face drain pale. his pupils shrink in the sockets and in one hyper movement he grabbed the gearstick put it into drive and sped off I stared at the fleeing vehicle

confused and then I looked down in my clothes I was of course covered with blood I took off my jacket and shirt wipe my face with them and then tossed them continuing the rest of the way in just my undershirt

and slacks about two hours later someone picked me up and drove me as far as the next major city. From there I took a bus home and called in sick to work. About a week after the incident, two detectives came to see me at my home. They asked me about my relationship to the deceased, Alicia Moreto Libman, and I told them the whole story. They informed me that they'd found Google Map printouts of my address and a PI file of my name at the scene. They tried to get me to go downtown with them but I refused and called a lawyer my new lawyer mr Michael

Corson who agreed to represent me pro bono told me there's no chance of a charge of murder being brought against me the evidence of possible foul play is pretty thin my story although incredible makes enough sense and the police are happy to write off her death as a suicide rather than spend endless man hours and O T investigating a homicide Lawton recommended me to a better matrimonial lawyer, and I got my alimony reduced and received more time to see my kids. I also entered A, where I've started to get over my self-destructive thoughts and behaviour. Don't get me wrong. I feel horrible about what happened to Alicia,

and her last words do stick with me. But, I mean, how far does guilt get you? My name is Dr. Elizabeth Hayes. I'm a son. a psychotherapist who specializes in the unlocking of repressed memories. A repressed memory, for those of you who may not know, is a rare psychological phenomenon in which memories or traumatic events may be stored in the unconscious mind and blocked from normal conscious recall. In simple terms, the human mind can sometimes hide away memories of trauma or abuse, giving them the illusion as if the event had never happened.

Some theorists claim this is a defence mechanism developed in the cases of young children who could probably not be able to mentally cope with a trauma from the experience. At first glance this may not seem to be much of a concern. What you can't remember can't hurt you, right? For some people this may be the case, but in others they find themselves responding to mental triggers, smells, sounds or phrases with no prior knowledge as to why of their own prior knowledge. having these experiences. For others, they may unknowingly stumble across the memory in their sleep.

Have you ever had a dream that seemed so vivid and real, yet upon awakening, you think back to it, unable to recall when in your life the scenario happened? What you simply dismissed as a strange dream could have very well been a repressed memory unwittingly stumbled upon in your subconscious. It's weird, I know, but please, there with you. me I find the phenomenon fascinating which is why I chose to specialize in this area of psychology in my studies and practices. Periodically, from time to time, I am visited by patients from all over the country who believe they have experienced this phenomenon. After being referred to me by their therapist who suspects their patients may have repressed memories from

their childhood, it's enough to me to unlock these memories. Only after using social cues and making notes on their reactions to certain smells, sounds and pictures, can I estimate where in their lifetime the repressed memory takes place? This is a slow process that can take up to a year before we even identify the timeframe of this memory. Once the right time frame of the repressed memory is discovered, commonly between the ages of 4 to 12, I bring in what I call the dream screen. A device invented by the National Center for Neural Applications lent me by the University of Illinois.

The appropriately nicknamed Dreamscreen is a device that measures brain activity while you sleep. This data can be plugged into an algorithm that reconstruct your memory so that it could be played back in a recording. Subjects are first put into a stage of sleep called Hippon Magoya. This is a semi-lucid stage of sleep that takes place. at the moment between sleep and wakefulness, so that I can communicate with them as I watch their memory unfold on the screen,

live as if I, myself, with a living memory. While walking the subject through the memory for the first time, it's up to me to coax the subject through the entire memory, asking the right questions, pointing out the hidden details, all while making a conscious effort into not leading the subject too much as to incidentally plant false memories into their subconscious.

This is an incredibly delicate procedure and requires absolute concentration on my behalf. Something I've only been able to achieve after years of experience and practice. This entire process can take up to an entire month to complete, but the results are always worth it. Some patients were able to recover memories

they lost years ago and finally be able to come to terms with the past and put years of not knowing to rest. Other times, missing evidence from crimes and horrific injustices such as rape, torture, and child abuse were able to be reported in the court of law so that the victim could finally get the justice they deserve. It is for moments like these that I continue to do what I do. It was only after viewing my most recent subjects results that I ended up having more questions than answers. questions I'd never imagine asking myself.

Questions, in hindsight, even I would much rather be left unanswered. The subject, Hugo, was a 26-year-old male from Eden, New York. He was initially referred to me by his family therapist, after identifying gaps in his memories and recalling a strange, reoccurring dream he had no memories of in his childhood. The subject appeared healthy, both mentally and physically. Aside from the obvious signs of sleep deprivation, he was in great shape for someone his age. During our initial interviews, he was able to record memories from as far back as 1995 when the subject was only two years old. These memories were recorded and replayed to his living relatives and confirmed as being legit.

This is very impressive. and gave me high hopes for this being a quick and easy case. All there was left to do was find the key. I asked the subject if he could recall any forms of abuse during his childhood years, either from the hands of a family member, a friend, or a stranger. No, nothing like that, he replied with a forced smile on his face. Do you ever recall witnessing a traumatic event such as a traumatic accident or a murder-take-old? place. I asked him, curiously.

No, nothing. As long as watching reality, TV doesn't count, he remarked comically. I forced a smile at the bad joke and continued. Tell me about those dreams you've been having. I asked him with

genuine curiosity. His smile was quickly replaced by a look of concern as he unconsciously stole a glance over his shoulder and then back to me. Well, he started. It started happening last year.

He said as he took a casual sip of water from his table and continued. I noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he plays the glass back onto the table. I've been having this dream in a field at the old family farm. How do you know it was that particular location? I asked.

According to your file, you moved several times during your childhood. I'd recognize those blue skies in open farmland anyway, he said. My mother would complain all the time about wanting to move back to the city, but my father claimed that the open country air would do us kids and good. Hmm, what else do you remember? I asked, patiently. I, um, I remember standing in an open field walking towards something. Go on, I coaxed him.

He sat there for a moment in silence, becoming visibly tense. Then, well, things get weird, he said nervously. I'm all of a sudden a dark room I've never seen before, and someone else is there. Do you remember who this person is? I asked him. No, no, I don't, he said. Well, um, if I could be a hundred percent. honest, I don't remember anything else that happened. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as if trying hard to remember.

How old were you when you lived on that family farm? I asked him. Um, nine to ten years old, replied more confidently. I lived with my grandparents at the time. It was only for, well, yeah, it was, um, only for about a year or somewhere. Anything else you can remember about your time there that you think could be related to this dream? I asked. I don't know, the patient admitted. Yeah, that's where my memory begins to get a little foggy. All I know is that hours, even days after having the dream,

I just can't shake this feeling of dread. No matter how much I tried, just can't calm my nerves after that dream. I took a few notes and stood to my feet. Well, I guess the only way we're going to find out is through phase two. I moved the cart over to where the patient was sitting and began to prep the dream screen. After leaning the subject seat back into a prone position, I administered the sedative to ease him into his semi-lucid state. After placing the electrodes to his temple and forehead, I slipped on a pair of headphones to the patient so that I could communicate with him from the observation.

After guiding the patient through verbal cues and building the scenario, I began to see the first sign of images on the screen. The memory started dark at first, but what began to look like an open wheat field came into view. I began to take in the sights, blue skies, white clouds, the sway of the golden wheat blowing in the wind who appeared to be a small country home in the distance. Okay, now tell me, where are you standing right now?

I asked the subject. The farm, the subject mumbled. The one I grew up on. As he spoke, I took in the surroundings as they began to become clearer as the subject began to remember. Now, tell me who else was with you, I brought it. My, um, my friend, no, my cousin, Katie, the subject said. Good, you're doing great, I said encouragingly as a figure appeared walking next to the subject in his memory.

Now describe your cousin. What did she look like? Dirty blonde hair, brown eyes freckles on her nose. The subject said confidently as Katie came into view exactly how he described her. She looked to be around eight years old. Come on, Huey, Kate said excitedly. Can you see it? The old farmhouse, look, we're almost there. Can you tell me about this farmhouse?

I asked the subject. Yeah, it was an old abandoned house built on my grandfather's property. It was built before my family bought the property when you just lived a few acres away from it. He mumbled quietly. Well, Kate and I wanted to check it out. We were planning on making it our new clubhouse. I spotted a small smile on the subject's face

from the window of the observation room as he began to remember. We had a backpack full of stuff. Action figures, comic books, a couple of Snickers bars, he said quietly. We were driven out of our old clubhouse in the hayloft after a family of raccoons moved in. Now, describe the old farmhouse to me. I asked him as the blurry image of the house.

house began to come into contrast. Two stories. Peelind dark blue paint, that's roof, all tire swinging tree out front. He told me. The image now became clear as the far mouse came fully into view, down to every detail he described with you. Come on, Huey, Kate beckoned. Let's see what's inside. As she walked to the front door, the subject's eyes darted to a window on the top floor. The figure quickly moved out of view that appeared to be watching them. Wait, I blurted. Who was that? The subject's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Oh, I don't remember, he said after a long pause. I let it go and then let the subject

continue. Okay now, what happened to you after you went inside of the farmhouse? What did you find inside? lost. Uh, nothing, the subject said slowly. It was cleaned out, no people, no furniture, not even a single scrap of litter. The dream suddenly grew darker as the subject now appeared in a small, dimly lit room. Light pulled out from the creases in between the boarded-up windows. Isn't this great?

Kate said excitedly, we can have camp-outs, we can have picnics, we can have a picnic, we can even invite our friends over it. Her voice was cut off as a low creek sounded from upstairs. What? What was that? Kate said nervously. It's probably another family of recants. I heard Kate say as the subject's eyes trailed to the top of the stairs. Oh, wait, the subject said shakily, who was it? I asked cautiously. No, not who, the subject said with genuine fear in his voice.

It was a... His voice trailed off as a figure appeared from the top of the stairs. I leaned in close, trying my best to make out the figure standing man. Stay with me, I coaxed the subject. Describe what you saw inside of that farmhouse. The subject didn't say anything. His facial features remember. remained taunt, but his lips quivered. My eyes went back to the screen as the humanoid figure

began to warm down the stairs. Huey? Kate's voice said softly and nervously. Who is? The figure suddenly dropped onto all fours and dashed down the stairs with alarming speed. Teeth, the subject shouted. White eyes, pale skin. The figure suddenly stopped. inches away from the subject's face. The heart began to race as the image cleared up, as the subject began to remember. Most of what I could make out of the face of the figure was only what was visible in the small slivers of light

from the boarded-up windows. Pale skin, gleaming white teeth and brown receded gums from a mouth whose lips were pulled so far back they almost appeared to not exist. Its eyes were also rolled so far back that the pupils and irises were not even visible, showing only the whites of its eyes. Its nose was nothing but two slits,

as it breathed heavily only inches away from the little boy's face. The being wore no clothes and appeared to be human, yet showed no discernible signs of gender. For a long time, I watched in complete shock, the figure appeared unmoving. The slits where the nose should have been flaring with every breath. Its teeth began to click as if in curiosity as a movement was spotted from behind the being. Oh, Katie, no! The subject screamed in unison with the child in the dream. Kate stood behind the figure and swung a two by four at the being's head.

The creature spun around with lightning speed, catching in the little little. little girl's wrist in his hands and lashed out with the other, slicing a clean cut into the child's stomach with its clawed hand. Kate fell onto her back, hands covering the open wound and began to whimper, terrified, subdued sobs as the creature slowly crawled on top of her. His face now inches from hers. Leave her alone! The subject screamed once again in unison with his younger self as he made his way forward, arms outstretched as if to push the creature off his cousin.

A creature once again moved with blinding speed, knocking the boy across the room with a mule kick to land roughly against the opposite wall. The creature once again drew its attention back to the young girl lying beneath it. It slowly leaned forward, its mouth only inches away from the young girl's ear. It then stopped and a hissing whisper could be. be heard from the creature's mouth. Kate looked up in confusion as the creature then broke into a sprint, dashing out the open door faster than any living creature I've ever seen move in my entire

line. The screen went dark as an alarm went off in the observation room. The subject began to shake violently as if in a seizure. I ran forward, quickly shut down the machine and removed the electrodes from the subject's head. Katie, not a bit of it. Oh, leave her alone. The subject cried as the trashing became less violent, and he slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Oh, I'll be honest with you. This was not the first time I'd see in this creature while using the dream screen.

The first time I dismissed it as simply a pseudo-memory. Sometimes the subject's subconscious would replace the person who caused a trauma with a childhood fear, like the monster in their closet, or a creature from a horror movie that scared them as a kid, creating a pseudo memory. But the second time I saw it, I knew it was so much more than that. Several times before, I've seen this thing locked deep into a subject's lock memories, as if its appearance itself was so horrifying that the human brain automatically

retracted the memory into the deepest parts of the subject's memories as to keep them from going insane. Each subject completely different, unrelated with no discernible trends or patterns in physical appearance, mental health or age. Do not know who or what this thing is, but I have dedicated my entire career to finding out what it is. Every case only leads to dead ends, but this case was different. Never in any of my past subject's memories have I heard this creature speak. Even in my most recent reports, I did not make out exactly what was said. Earlier this month, I contacted the most recent subject's cousin from this memory, Kate.

After much convincing on my behalf, I talked her into visiting my office in Washington, D.C., to have her memories examined. The now fully grown Kate was also experiencing similar dreams as the most previous subject prior to our first meeting. Her resulting memory once unlocked and parallel to that of her cousins. She also bore an old scar on her stomach in the same place the creature had scratched her in the memory, proving its legitimacy. The only difference between that of Kate's memory was the creature's voice was now clear as dead. I'll never forget the words I heard from Kate's memory. The sound of the creature's hissing voice still fresh in my mind.

What I heard it say to that little girl almost 17 years ago. Stop searching for me, Dr. Hay. I went camping with my wife, but now I can't leave the woods. What was supposed to be a nice night in the woods eventually turned into a nightmare. My wife and I were going to set up our tent and have a lovely time there, surrounded by nature. Oh little did I know. Things would take an unexpected turn. I hadn't seen Christine in two months, because she'd been contracted to restore some historical buildings in South America,

mainly Argentina and Uruguay, so we couldn't have been happier to spend some quality time together. I'm a police officer, and we live in Eli, a small town that's easy to miss in northern Minnesota. near the beautiful Shagawa Lake. We'd started packing, and I was double-checking to see we didn't forget anything. Christine was so excited to go kayaking. She loved doing it on her days off, and she was clearly missing it after all this time away. Ethan, I can't wait. Come on, are you done? Let's go already, she said, the rays of the sun reflecting from her blonde hair.

I missed you so much, Christine. I told her, gently caressing her face. on the way there we stopped at a decrepit gas station to fuel up and buy some diet chips and soda behind the counter there was this odd-looking guy he had a big mole on his nose he was sweating non-stop the cap on his head was soaked and he had a twitching eye that was smaller than the other one on the left side of his face he had a big burn it looked like someone had punished him for something bad he'd done by placing a hot iron on his cheek as we were to be able to be as we'll have to taking a turn to enter the road leading to the woods the scenery changed its color from the monotonous

asphalt gray of the highway to the enchanting green of the lively forest it seemed like time was passing in a different fashion here and the trees looked very old standing tall the test of time we arrived just in time to catch a few more hours of daylight and decided to set up camp by the lake we started unpacking got our tent into place and the kayak was ready to ago and Christine was as happy as a kid watching the ice cream truck on a sunny day. We chilled for another half an hour while listening to the sweet sound of birds singing and waves hitting the shore. After that we took a small hike and we reached an open area filled with green grass and tall trees. Ethan, this is fabulous. Look at this place. The forest looks alive. Let's sit on that mossy ledge

over there just for a bit. Then we can go kayaking. Christine said, absolutely impressed with this place. She looked like she really needed this trip. Yeah, honey, this is great. I'm enjoying it so much. I said, inhaling the fresh air of the woods. The lake was perfect for our adventure. We started paddling and Christine was really enjoying it. But all of a sudden, a sense of dread came over me. I saw some shadows moving behind the trees. I decided to ignore them. They were probably just some animals. We arrived back at camp.

It was around 8pm, so we had another hour to cook dinner and watch the sunset. The view over the lake was fantastic. Christine really enjoyed the food, and before we knew it, night had come. We sat outside the tent on a blanket, watching the starry sky. Everything was exactly as it should be.

Christine was smiling at me, and we were so happy. We even saw a falling star, so we both wished for something. Then we started making love. The blue eyes were lit up with desire. Needless to say, it felt really passionate. The mild breeze made the leaves rustle, and our hearts were beating faster than ever. We then fell asleep in a lover's embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night, all sweaty and thirsty.

Christine was missing. Scared, I started screaming her name. Christine, where are you? Chris! I yelled in desperation. My screams lost in the vastness of the night. Nothing came back. I got dressed quickly, grabbed a flashlight and went to search for my wife. Being a police officer, I never lose my calm in tough situations like these.

but now it was really tough because I love her and she is missing. I ran like crazy for what seemed like hours, but she was nowhere to be found. I didn't know what was going on, so I kept searching and searching. Ultimately, I decided to go back to the tent, just to find it had been ravished like it had been attacked by some wild beast. What's happening here? Hey, is someone there? Christine, where are you? I screamed until my throat was raw. As I was looking around to see if I could find anything, I saw a tree with a wooden pentagram

tied to it and blood dripping. A piece of her nightgown was on the ground. I quickly went to the car to get my gun and start looking for Christine again. I needed to kill whatever was holding her captive. Well, the tires had been slashed and the windows were broken. Fortunately, the gun was well hidden and whatever or whoever had thrashed our tent and car didn't manage to get it. I was running low on battery, so I was really glad to find my extra one lying on the floor. Luckily it wasn't damaged.

Enraged and dejected, I started going through the woods and every branch seemed to point that I should move forward. The stars above my only guide as I went deeper, not knowing what I would find. I had a branch cracking behind me, turned around quickly, but there was no one there. After that, I had a cry for help. Ethan, hurry up. They have me. Please, hurry! I started following the sound of her voice, until I reached an open area in the woods, where I found what looked like a church.

It was the same area that we'd seen earlier in the day, but how was that possible? Right beside that mossy log, this wooden church appeared. It was painted black with light coming from inside it, while the thick fog was enshrouding it. It was surrounded by a metallic fence, the front gates opened wide, while the hinges were creaking under the light of the moon. The building looked ancient. It was over a thousand years old. It seemed not of this world, and more so it looked evil. It looked like a place where nightmares come to life, and pain was its favourite meal.

I was watching cautiously from behind the trees, and couldn't believe my eyes. Last time I was in this area, there was nothing here. So it must have been built recently. But how and why did it look so old? How was it built so fast? Impossible. Had I been lured here? What was I to find when I snuck in?

I decided to approach this building carefully with small steps. I went to the left side of the building, keeping my grip firm on the gun. I raised my head a little, just to look inside where I saw some sort of a gathering. I noticed hooded people chanting and raising their hands to the ceiling. They had a live lamb placed on a stone. Their leader approached it and began an incantation. Mother Furia, take this offering as a gift from us to you, oh unholy goddess of chaos and destruction.

Protect us and let us live to do your biddy. Then she cut its neck open and blood started painting the altar. She then called one of the people in the group. They both removed the hoods from their heads, and as I looked in despair, not understanding anything at all anymore. I saw my wife talking with the guy from the gas station. I recognised him by the burn on his face. Christine was wearing a crown of branches on her head and some sort of makeup that was dripping

down from her face. On her forehead, a half-moon was painted with the blood of the land. My loving wife began to berate. her followers as my heart shattered into a million pieces she wants human sacrifice and she wants it fast her patience is wearing thin that's why I came here with him you were supposed to catch him while he was sleeping why did you fail why I put something in his drink to make him sleep longer you had one job to do take some man with you go fight him fast go

Now, my wife said, enraged at the utter failure of her men. And then, out of nowhere, I saw my wife floating in mid-air. She was possessed by some unknown entity, probably this fulia goddess. Her eyes rolled back and turned white, as she said in an unholy voice, or throwing the dead lamb against a wall, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I need to eat, bring him to me. Then she quickly came back to her senses, as my skin prickled with horror. My time with a force had taught me to be strong in situations like this, so I kept my composure.

I heard a cracking behind me. As I turned I saw one of the cultists trying to attack me. I blocked him, punched him in the face, and choked him, eventually killing him. Then I dragged the body back to the woods, stole his clothes, so I could do that. dress up like one of them. My battery's running low. Reception's pretty bad but I can't make any phone calls from here so I'm hiding behind a tree thinking of what I should do next. Now that I can't leave the woods I must find out what's happening and who my wife really is. Part two. Nightmares exist in reality too and I know it because I'm living in one right now.

I've been hiding in a hole under a tree with this dead guy lying beside me but I managed to keep my composure. It started raining so I needed to take shelter somewhere. I stole the clothes off of the guy I killed and wanted to go inside and search the church, although I knew it was dangerous, but well I had to take my chances. Time stands still here, it seems because it's been night for the past 24 hours. I saw the trees hunching over the church like they were drawn to it as it started transforming. It seemed alive.

It even grew four towers, each on every extremity. This is a place of evil, of ill will. I can feel it in my gut. The obsidian towers looked like they were guarding the evil inside, watching carefully for any trespasses. Their goddess was hungry and in need of a sacriacet. Well, I'll sacrifice them all right. I remember thinking to myself. Being a cop has you dealing with tough situations, but not with anything like this, not when it involves a supernatural.

My plan was to take them down one by one, as I only counted ten hooded figures inside the church. And then, of course, there's my wife. But I didn't want to think of anything of that sort. My Glock's mag had 17 bullets in it, so it should have been enough. I never miss a shot, and I always aim for the head. They were leaving the church. As I saw them splitting into three groups, I noticed that one of them was coming towards me. I quickly took the dead guy, who I had dressed in my clothes,

and put him on the trail and waited to see if they'd fall for it. They had flashlights, and as they approached, one of them yelled, there's something lying on the ground they all came quickly and as they rotated the body face up another one said wait but but this is they turned as they heard me stepping on a branch while sneaking up behind them and i slowly whispered hey you fox say goodbye like i said i never miss three headshots seven more to go when i am He wished that the last one standing was the guy from the gas station, so I could question and rough him up a bit before putting a bullet in his head. They must have heard the shots, so I decided to go hide under the tree again.

And I waited, silently, watching and hearing everything around and above me, as the second group came to see what had happened. It came from there, get your gun, Anthony, the voice said as one set of footsteps started running frantically. I had a door creaking open and then closing. I let them pass me and then I slowly emerge from under the tree. I think I saw him run that way. I said while they turned around and before they even got a chance to see who I was, I dropped them all. Poor Anthony forgot to put bullets inside the chamber, which was a pity. Or an extra gun would have been useful. Okay, four more lunatics to go. I took all the bodies and piled them under the tree. As I was moving towards the

church, I had a crack to my right. And then a cultist asked me, hey, I heard gunshots. Are you all right? Did you find him? This man, she's starting to get impatient. She needs food, otherwise she can't leave the black church, he said to me, fear breathing from his mouth. Yep, I found him. You're talking to it. I replied while turning to face him and noticing that there were two of them standing one next to the other. Don't make a move. This thing is loaded.

As they both collapsed to the ground. I heard another one yelling behind me and as I turned he hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat. An immense wave of pain passed through me and I fell to the ground. I saw the guy getting ready to hit me once more. But I avoided the bat as he hit the soil beside me. I drew my gun and put three bullets in his chest.

As I looked at his face, I saw that this was not the guy from the gas station. Blood started staining his clothes. He was gasping for what was the last breath of his life. I wanted to find gas station guy quickly before entering the church. I decided to take another look around, and I saw that a shack had appeared, just a few feet away from it.

I went inside only to find dead rabbits, hogs, birds, snakes and other small insects lying on a wooden table. The walls were filled with sickles, machetes and very sharp knives. They were probably using them for hunting and gutting the animals. Probably they were done the same to me if they caught me sleeping. I heard someone coming. But before I could reach my gun, I heard him say, you killed them but you forgot about me take your gun from the holster and place it on the ground and turn towards me slowly the man said oh i finally had him where i wanted all right take it slow you got me look look i'm putting it down

i said as i was checking the table for a sharp knife i could use to slit his throat as i turned around i could see his face was now burned on the right side as well. Damn, you're one ugly son of a bitch, I said again, making fun of him. I wanted him to lose his nerve, so I could attack him. Mother shot me in the shoulder, and I yard in pain as I saw him grinning from his yellow, ugly teeth. Bastard, why did you do that? I asked him again, the pain becoming unbearable, and the blood would not stop flowing. I got this second burn because of you, you son of a bitch,

because you didn't stay asleep so we could get you. Mother Furia punished me. She always punishes us when we fail a task. But I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, you won't be. Wait until she finds out you killed all her followers. Oh boy. At least she'll be well fed.

She'll decorate the walls of her church with your blood. the burnt guy said still pointing the gun at me not entirely sure if he pop another bullied in me i then asked him about my wife and he told me that she's been furious devoted follower since her childhood all the women her family were things were going pretty good up until i decided to start this fuss he said she ate men from christine's family as she did with her father grandfather and probably that's how she survives it's a sacrifice they have to make it's been like this for hundreds of years when there's no more men to eat from one family furia takes the form of the last leader moves on to fight another one and then another one and so on i was the last man in my family and so i had to

stop her if not she'd go on and destroy another family and should be doing this forever I have to kill this guy and then Christine, well, if fury doesn't kill me first. Strong wind came howling in the shack, and as the man turned, I took my chance and severed his hand with a machete. As he started screaming, I slid his throat and watched him die right before my eyes, gurgling on his blood. As his hand landed on the ground, the gun came off and luckily enough the bullet flew right by my ear you you'll die a horrible death he said as he fell to the ground his blood quickly absorbed by the

soil meaning that furia was feeding i took a knife and decided to take the bullet out because it didn't go through the pain was excruciating but i managed to get it cleaned up i took his gun only to see one bullet remaining so i got the gunpowder out and cauterized the wound my survival instinct to save my life i got my garden and decided to go inside furious church the full moon in the sky became a half-bloody moon i figured that meant evil was rising silently i opened a side door and the view inside was grotesque the walls were decorated with dead animals pinned to the walls with nails as if someone got angry when failing the taxidermy exam Strange drawings were depicted on the walls, showing a female figure eating the flesh

of men and painting her face with their blood. The last part of the ritual showed antlers growing from Furia's temples. She was floating in the air, her eyes all white, and branches were embracing her as blood was dripping down from her mouth. On her forehead her half-moon was depicted. This means that when I first saw Christine floating in the air, I saw one of Furious forms and the thought of seeing her final one chilled me to the bone. I only have five more bullets in the chamber.

I decided to go and look for her, and I saw a small hatch leading to the basement. I took the stairs down, and at the other end of the room, I saw Christine praying and silently chanting to one of Furia's wooden statues. The final step creaked, and as Christine turned, she saw my face and led out a shriek. She started running towards me, so I quickly went back upstairs, closed the hatch, and now I'm hiding behind a wooden bench. I hear Christine breaking the hatch door. Ethan, my love, come out, please, I need to eat, she's saying, oblivious of the life we had before.

Except, of course, that's not Christine anymore. Part three. My heart was pounding at that moment. yet somehow I managed to say lucid amid all this insanity. I knew then very well what I had to do with her. Christine or Furia needed to be killed. My mind and soul were inundated with pain and sorrow at the thought, because I was absolutely certain that I will never understand what's happened here, nor will I ever receive any

sort of explanation. She started screaming my name obsessively, but I could hear Furia taking over her. as Christine's voice was changing, emanating sounds from beyond this plane of existence. The voice sounded like it was letting out all the agony, despair and inconsolable grief of all the men she'd devoured throughout time. Ethan, if you don't come out right this instant, you will suffer a slow and violent death. The distorting sound of her voice filling the room inside the church. fine so be it i will devour you she went on ravenous i started gnashing my teeth as the wretchedness inside took over what little love i had for the woman who was once my wife but christine wasn't there

anymore furia had taken over her completely throwing the wooden benches all over the place while searching for me i tucked the pierceal behind my back and got out before she would have gotten to me. Okay, I'm coming out. I give up. I can't win this fight anyway. I said, trying to stall her a bit and think about my next move. This was a fight for my own life now.

It was either her or me. It was survival of the fittest. She was laughing uncontrollably as if it was a single most ardent pleasure of her life. Her appearance was monstrous. She looked exactly like she was depicted on the walls. Her eyes were all white, antlers were coming out from her temples, twigs and branches were embracing her. The half-moon on her forehead was carved into her skin, blood falling down her cheeks and painting them to look like rivers on a man. There you are, my love.

Now I want you to play hard to get with me a little, okay? She said, probably enjoying the thrill of the hunt and adrenaline running. and adrenaline rush that you feel when you shoot and kill the prey. Then I noticed the animals on the walls starting freeing themselves and falling down. They came to life and squirming, they started rising up. Their mutilated bodies, eyes dangling from their sockets and flesh hanging from their bones, were an absolute horror to behold. I squished a possum with my foot, blood and gut sticking on my boot.

I then decided to take a piece of loose wooden plank that was sitting behind one of the benches and proceeded to kill them one by one. The last animal standing was a wolf. Its lower jaw was missing, the tongue was dangling in the air, and saliva was dropping on the floor. It charged me, but when it tried to jump, I hid it so hard that I decapitated it. Nathan, it's all fun and games, but my hunger is growing stronger. So, come here, she said, floating in the air as she came to me, trying to grab me. I moved to the side and hit her with the plank.

Christine, this is not you. Stop it, please. I said, still trying to cling on to whatever was left inside. Christine is gone forever. Come here. Don't make this harder than it has to be, she yelled. I started running towards the exit, but she placed herself in front of the door. I was trapped, so I had to find something else to escape from there alive.

Then I wanted to go towards the hatchdoth, but to no avail she was faster than me. But she was also more and more erratic and enraged. Her hunger was making her do irrational things. She started throwing the benches everywhere. She even raised the dead animals and threw them on me. leaving me covered in animal guts and blood. Then she smacked me so hard out of nowhere that she threw me across the room into a wall.

I started coughing. My eye was cut and bleeding. She came towards me again. I need to eat. I'm hungry, she said as she grabbed my throat, choking me. Please, stop, please stop. You're killing me, Christine. I begged as a final plea.

hoping maybe, just maybe, things could work out after all and we could go back home to live our happy life together. She then started sinking her teeth into my already damaged shoulder, blood painting her lips a bright shade of red. I watched her with tears in my eyes. Before she could even get to bite my throat and kill me, I slowly took the gun from behind my back and shot her in the stomach. What did you do? she said coughing up blood and looking at me with teary eyes her own blood was mending with mine you killed me she said

but now in christine's voice as she gave her final breath i took her lifeless body and placed it on the grass outside the church and watched her lying there as if she was finally freed from her demons there was one more thing that needed to be done i remember back to the shed and took a canister of gas, soaked the church in gasoline and set it ablaze. A purple incandescent flame took over the church and while it was burning bright it let out screams of agony. I went back to stay with Christine, looking at the burning church and contemplating my past life, knowing things will never be the same and not knowing if I will fully recover. As the fire was slowly extinguished, I saw the side of the side of the side of the

rising up in the sky a brand new day was upon me I placed the gun under my chin and closed my eyes contemplating if I should use the last bullet in the chamber I was about to pull the trigger I heard a voice from the distance Ethan put it down it's not worth it man put it down please we'll figure this out the voice said gravely trying to save me I open my eyes and turned to see my colleague and two other police officers pointing their guns at me as i put the gun down he said to me good job Ethan can you please run me through what the hell happened here so I can understand why you killed her she was running a cult gym I killed them all 11 one of them's in the

shed behind the church and I stuffed the other ones in a hole under the tree over there I said replying to his question as best I could She was in league with these crazy people, and they tried feeding me to their goddess. I said, realizing that this sounded like utter madness. Ethan, there's no church, and there's no shed. Just that dead char guy lying on the ground. He said, looking at me like I was crazy. Did you burn something over there?

He asked me, pointing to where the church used to be. It burned down. That's why it's not there. You can only see the ashes, I said to him. It was something evil, Jim. I think not of this world, and it possessed Christine. Her family's been worshipping this Fourier goddess for God knows how many generations. He then gave me a blanket to warm myself and told me,

It's been a tough night, Jim. Thanks for coming. Why'd you come so fast? I asked him with an expressionless face. What do you mean one night, buddy? you've been gone a week that's why we have the search party here come on let's get you fixed you're bleeding and you're in shock he said trying to be as helpful and respectful as he could be so that's probably why the sun never came up i was trapped in some sort of place where time was nonexistent i remember thinking to

myself after they called an ambulance and took the bodies out of the hole i took them to the camping site and told the whole story from start to finish I went to the hospital for three days and now I'm home recovering. I've been placed under medical supervision for 60 days, but at least I'll be fine, and I stopped Fourier from ever doing harm again. I still miss Christine sometimes. But given that we lived in a house of life,

I'm sure that I'll get to get on with my life and be happy again. One day. Hello, Jack. Where are you off to? going down to the governor's place for Christmas. Jack Darren Toos, in my old regiment, stood drawing on his do-skin gloves upon the 23rd of December the year before last.

He was equipped in a long ulster and top hat, and a handsome, already loaded with a gun-case and portmanteau, stood awaiting him. He had a tall, strong figure, a fair, fresh-looking face and the merriest blue eyes in the world. He had a cigarette between his lips. and late as was the season of the year I was a flower in his buttonhole when did I ever see handsome Jackdarent and he didn't look well-dressed and well-fed and jaunty as I

ran up the steps of the club he turned round and laughed merrily my dear fellow do I look the sort of man to be victimized at a family Christmas meeting do you know the kind of business they have at home three maiden aunts and a bachelor uncle my eldest brother and his insipid wife or my sister's six noisy children at dinner church twice a day and snap-dragging between the services no thank you i have a great affection for my old parents but you don't catch me going in for that sort of national festival you irreverent ruffian i replied laughing ah if you were a married man "'If I were a married man,' replied Captain Darrant with something that was almost a sigh, and then, lowering his voice, he said hurriedly, "'how is Miss Lester, Fred?'

"'My sister's quite well, thank you,' answered with becoming gravity, and it was not without a spice of malice that I added, "'She's been going to a great many balls and enjoying herself very much.' Captain Darren looked profoundly miserable. I don't see how a poor fellow in a marching regiment, a younger son too, with nothing in the future to look to, is ever to marry nowadays. He said almost savagely,

when girls too are used to so much luxury and extravagance that they can't live without it. Matrimony is at a deadlock in this century, Fred, chiefly owing to the price of butcher's meat and bonnets. In fifty years' time it will become extinct. and the country will be depopulated. But I must be awful, man, or I shall miss my train. You've never told me where you're going to, Jen.

Oh, I'm going to stay with Old Henderson in Westonshire. He's taken a furnished house with some first-rate pheasant shooting for a year. There are seven of us going, all bachelors and all kindred spirits. We shall shoot all day and smoke half the night. Oh, think what you have lost, old fellow. by becoming a benedict. Hmm. In Westernshire, is it?

I inquired. Whereabouts is this place? What's the name of it? For I'm a Westernshire man by birth myself, and I know every place in the county. Oh, it's a tumble-down sort of old house, I believe. Answered Jack carelessly. Gables and twisted chimneys outside and uncomfortable spindle-leg furniture inside.

You know the sort of thing. But the shooting. his capital, Henderson says, and we must put up with our quarters. He's taken his French cook down and plenty of liquor, so I have no doubt we shan't starve. Well, but what's the name of it? I persisted with a growing interest in the subject. Let me see. Referring to a letter he pulled out of his pocket. Oh, here it is. Varly Grange. Vali Grange. Vali Grange. I repeated agust Why it's not been inhabited for years?

I believe not answered Jack unconcernedly The shooting has been let separately But Henderson took a fancy to the house too And thought it would do for him Furniture and all just as it is My dear Fred What are you looking so solemnly at me for

Jack Let me entreat of you not to go to this place I said laying my hands on his arm not go why lester you must be mad why an earth shouldn't i go there there are stories uncomfortable things said of that house i hadn't the moral courage to say it's haunted and i felt myself how weakened childish was my attempt to deter him from his intended visits only i knew all about Farley Grange. I think handsome Jack Durant thought privately that I was slightly out of my senses, for I'm sure I looked unaccountably upset and dismayed by the mention of the name of the house

that Mr. Henderson had taken. I dare say it's cold and draughty and infested with rats and mice, he said laughingly, and I have no doubt the creature comforts will not be equal to Queen's Gates. But I stand plush to go now, and I must be off this very minute, so I have no time, all fellow to inquire into the meaning of your sensational warning. Goodbye and well, and remember me to the ladies. He ran down the steps and jumped into the handsome. Write me if you have time, I cried out after him, but I don't think he heard me in the rattle of the departing cat.

He nodded and smiled at me and was swiftly whirled out of sight. As for me, I walked slowly back to my comfortable house in Queens Gates. There was my wife, presiding at the little five-o-clock tea-table, now too fat, pink and white little children tumbling about upon the hearthrug amongst dolls and bricks, and too utterly spoilt and overfed pugs. Oh, and my sister Bella, who between ourselves, was the prettiest as well as the dearest girl in all London, sitting on the floor in a handsome brown velvet gown,

resigning herself gracefully to be trampled upon by the dogs and to have her hair poured by the babies. Why, Fred, you look as if you've heard bad news, said my wife, looking up anxiously as I entered. Oh, I don't know that I've heard anything bad. I've just seen Jack Darant off for Christmas, I said, turning instinctively towards my sister. He was a poor man and a younger son, and, of course, a very bad match for the beautiful Miss Lester. But for all that, I had an inkling that Bella was not quite indifferent to her brother's friend. Oh, says that hypocrite, shall I give you a cup of tea, fret? It is wonderful how women can control their faces and pretend not to care a straw when they hear the name of their lover mentioned.

And I think Bella overdid it. She looks so supremely indifferent. Where on earth do you suppose he's going to stay, Bella? Who? Oh, Captain Durant. How should I possibly know where he's going? Archie-Pet, please don't poke the doll's head quite down Ponto's throat. I know he'll bite it off if you do.

This last observation was addressed to my son and heir. Well, I think you'll be very surprised when you're here. He's going to Westonshire to stay at Varley Grange. What? No doubt about her interest in the subject now. Miss Lester turned as white as her collar and sprang to her feet impetuously, scattering dogs, babies and toys in all directions away from her skirts as she rose. You can't mean it, Fred.

Farley Grange, why, it hasn't been inhabited for ten years. Oh, and the last time, do you remember those poor people who took it? What a terrible story it has! She shuddered. Well, it is taken now, I said, by a man I know called Henderson, a bachelor. He's asked down a party of men for a week's shooting, and Jack Darant is one of them. For heaven's sake, prevent him from going, cried Bella, clasping her hands. My dear, he's gone.

Oh, then write to him, the telegraph, tell him to come back, she urged breathlessly. I'm afraid it's no use. I said gravely. He would not come back. He wouldn't believe me. He would think I was mad. Did you tell him anything? She asked faintly.

No, I had not time. I did say a word or two, but he began to laugh. Yes, that's how it always is, she said distractedly. People laugh and poo-poo the whole thing. Then they go there and see for themselves, and it's too late. she was thoroughly upset when she left the room my wife turned to me in astonishment not being a westernshire woman she was not well up on the traditions of that venerable county what on earth does it all mean fred she asked me in amazement what's the matter with bella why is she so distressed that captain durent is going to stay in that particular house well it's said to be haunted and you don't mean to say you believe you in such rubbish fret interrupted my wife sternly with a slight glance of apprehension at our firstborn who needless to say stood by all eyes and ears drinking in every word of the conversation of his elders

never know what to believe or what i don't believe i answered gravely all i can say is that there are very singular traditions about that house that a great many credible witnesses have seen a very strange thing there, and that a great many disasters have happened to the persons who've seen it. What's been seen, friends? Pray tell me the story. Wait, I think I'll send the children away. My wife rang the bell for the nurse, and as soon as the little ones had been taken from the room, she turned to me again. I don't believe in ghosts for any such rubbish one bit, but I shouldn't like to hear your story. Well, the story's vague in. I answered. In the old days, Varley Grange belonged to the ancient family of Varley, now completely

extinct. There was, some hundred years ago, a daughter, fame for her beauty and her fascination. She wanted to marry a poor, penniless squire, loved her devotedly. Her brother, Dennis Varley, the new owner of Varley Grange, refused his consent and shut his sister up in the nunnery that used to stand outside his park gates, a few ruins of it left still. The poor nun broke her vows and ran away into the night with her lover. But her brother pursued her,

and brought her back with him. The lover escaped, but the Lord of Varley murdered his sister under his own roof, swearing that no siren of his race should live to disgrace and dishonour his ancient name. Ever since that day, Dennis Vali's spirit cannot rest in its grave. He wanders about the old house at night-time,

and those who have seen him are numberless. Now and then the pale, shadowy form of a nun flits across the old hall, or along the gloomy passages, and when both strange shapes are seen thus together, misfortune and illness, and even death, be sure to pursue the luckless man who's seen them with remorseless cruelty. "'Why wonder you believe in such rubbish?' says my wife at the conclusion of my tale.

"'I shrugged my shoulders and answer nothing for—' "'But who are so obstinate as those who persist in disbelieving everything that they cannot understand. "'It was a little more than a week later that, "'walking by myself along Palmaal one afternoon, "'I suddenly came upon Jack Darren walking towards me. "'Hello, Jack. Back again? "'Why, man, how odd you look?' There was a change in the man that I was instantly aware of.

His frank, careless face, now looked clouded and anxious, and the merry smile was missing from his handsome countenance. "'Come into the club, Fred,' he said, taking me by the arm. "'I have something to say to you.' He drew me into a corner of the club's smoking-room. "'You were quite right. I wish to heaven I'd never gone to that house. You mean, have you seen anything?

I inquired eagerly. I have seen everything, he answered with a shudder. They say one dies within a year. Oh, my dear fellow, don't be so upset about it, I interrupted. I was quite distressed to see how thoroughly the man had altered. Let me tell you about it, friend. He drew his chair close to mine and told me his story, pretty nearly in the following words. You remember the day I went down. You kept me talking at the club door, and I had to race to catch the train. However, I just did it.

I found the other fellows all waiting for me. There was Charlie Wells, the two Halfords, old Colonel Riddell. He was such a crack shot. Two fellows in the guards, both pretty fair. A man called him. Thompson, a barrister, Owen Henderson and myself, eight of us in all. We had a remarkably lively journey down, as you may imagine, and reached Varley Grange in the highest possible spirits. And we all slept like tops at night. The next day we were out from eleven till dusk among the coverts, and a better day shooting I never enjoyed in the whole course of my life. The birds literally swarmed. We bagged a hundred and thirty brace. We were all pretty well tired when we got home and did full justice to a very good dinner and first-class Perrier-Juay. After

dinner we adjourned to the hall to smoke. This hall is quite the feature of the house. It's dark and bright, paddled halfway out with somber old oak and vaunted with heavy carved oak rafters. At the farther end runs a gallery, into which open the door of my bedroom, and shut off from the rest of the passages by a swing door at either end. Well, all we fellows sat up there smoking and drinking brandy and soda, and jarring, you know, as men always do when they're together, about sport of all kinds, hunting and shooting and salmon fishing. And I assure you, not one of us had a thought in her heads beyond relating some wonderful incident to a long shot, or big fence by which we could each cat the last speaker's experiences we were just I

recollect listening to a long story of the old colonels about his experiences among Bisons in Kashmir when suddenly one of us I can't remember who it was gave a sort of shout and started to his feet pointing up to the gallery behind us we all turned around and there I give you my word of honor Lester stood a man leaning over the rain of the gallery, staring down upon us. We all saw him, every one of us. Eight of us, remember. He stood there for ten seconds, looking down with horrible, glittering eyes at us.

He had a long, tawny beard in his hands that were crossed together before him were nothing but skin and bone. But it was his face that was so unspeakable. dreadful. It was livid, the face of a dead man. How was he dressed? I could not see. He wore some kind of black cloak over his shoulders, I think, but the lower part of his figure was hidden behind the railings. Well, he all stood perfectly speechlessful, as I said, about ten seconds. And then the figure moved, backing slowly into the door of the room behind him, which stood open. It was the door of my bedroom.

As soon as he disappeared, our senses seemed to return to us. There was a general rush for the staircase, and as you may imagine, there was not a corner of the house that was left unsearched. My bedroom especially was ransacked in every part of it. But all in vain, there was not the slightest trace to be found of any living being. You may suppose that not one of us slept that night. We lighted every candle and lamp we could lay hands upon and sat up till daylight, but nothing more was seen. The next morning at breakfast, Henderson, who seemed very much annoyed by the whole thing,

begged us not to speak of it anymore. He said that he'd been told before he'd taken the house that it was supposed to be haunted, but not being a believer in such childish follies, he would pay a little attention to the rumor. He did not, however, want it talked about because of the servants who would be so easily frightened. He was quite certain, he said, that the figure we'd seen last night

must have been somebody dressed up to practice a trick upon us, and he recommended us all to bring our guns down loaded after dinner, but meanwhile to forget the startling apparition as far as we could. We, of course, readily agreed to do as he wished, although I do not think that one of us imagine for a moment that any amount of dressing up would be able to stimulate the awful countenance that we all had seen so plainly.

It would have taken a hair or an Arthur Cecil, though the theatrical applicant is known only to those two talented actors to have made up that face that was literally that of a corpse. Such a person could not be amongst us actually in the house without our knowledge. Well, we had another good day shooting, and by degrees the fresh air and exercise and the excitement of the sport obliterated the impression of what we'd seen in some measure from the minds of most of us. That evening we all appeared in the hall after dinner with our loaded guns beside us. But, although we sat up till the small hours and not frequently up at the gallery at the end of the hall, nothing at all disturbed us that night. Two nights thus went by and nothing further was seen of the hall.

the gentleman with the tawny beard. What with the good company, the good cheer and the pheasants, we'd pretty well forgotten all about him. We were sitting as usual upon the third night, with our pipes and our cigars. A pleasant glow from the bright wood fire in the great chimney lighted up the old hall and a shed of genial warmth about us, when suddenly it seemed to me as if there came a cold breath, chill of air behind me, such as one feels when going down into some damp, cold vault or cellar. A strong shiver shook me from head to foot. Before I even saw it, I knew that it was there. It leant over the railing of the gallery and looked down at us all, just as it had done before. There was no change in the attitude, or alteration in the fixed,

malignant glare in those stony lifeless eyes, no movement in the white and bloodless features. Below, amongst the eight of us gathered there, there arose a panic of terror. Eight strong, healthy, well-educated 19th century Englishmen, and yet I am not ashamed to say that we were paralysed with fear. Then one, more quickly recovering his senses than the rest, caught at his gun that leant against the wide chimney corner and fired. The hall was filled with smoke, but as it cleared away, every one of us could see the figure of our supernatural visitant slowly backing, as he done on the previous occasion into the chamber behind him, with something like a sardonic smile of scornful derision upon his horrible

death-like face. The next morning, it is a singular and remarkable fact that four out of the the eight of us received by the morning post, so they stated, letters of importance which called them up to town by the very first train. One man's mother was ill, another had to consult his lawyer, whilst pressing engagements to which they could assign no definite name, called away the other two. They were left in the house that day, but four of us. Wells, Bob Hartford, our host, and myself. A sort of dogged determination not to be worsted by a scare of this kind kept us still there.

The morning light brought a return of common sense and natural courage to us. We could manage to laugh over last night's terrace whilst discussing our bacon and kidneys and hot coffee over the late breakfast in the pleasant morning room, with the sunshine streaming cheerily in through the diamond-pained windows. It must be a delusion of our bed-bring. brains, said one. Our host Champagne, suggested another. A well-organized hoax, opined a third. Oh, I will tell you what we'll do, said our host. Now that those other fellows have gone, and I suppose we don't any of us believe much in those elaborate family reasons which have

so unaccountably summoned them away, we four will sit up regularly at night, for night after night and watch this thing whatever it may be i do not believe in ghosts however this morning i have taken the trouble to go out before breakfast to see the rector of the parish an old gentleman who's well up in all the traditions of the neighborhood and i've learned from him the whole of the supposed story of our friend of the tawny beard which if you will i will relate to you Henderson then proceeded to tell us the tradition concerning the Dennis Varley who murdered his sister, the nun, a story which I will not repeat to you, Lester, as I see you know it already. The clergyman had furthermore told him that the figure of the murdered nun was almost sometimes

seen in the same gallery, but this was a very rare occurrence. When both the murderer and his victim are seen together, terrible misfortunes are sure to assail the unfortunate living man who sees them. And if the nun's face is revealed, death within the year is the doom of the ill-fated person who has seen it. Of course, concluded our host, I consider all these stories to be absolutely childish. At the same time, I cannot help thinking that some human agency,

probably a gang of thieves or housebreakers, is at work, and that we shall probably be able to unearth an organized system of villainy by which the rogues, presuming on the credulity of the persons who've inhabited the place, have been able to plant themselves securely among some secret passages and hidden rooms in the house, and have carried on their depredations undiscovered and unsuspected. Now, will all of you help me to unravel this mystery? We all promise readily to do so. It is astonishing how brave we felt at eleven o'clock in the morning.

What an amount of pluck and courage each man professed. himself to be endued with how lightly we jested about the old boy with the beard and what jokes we cracked about the murdered nun oh she'd show her face offner if she was good-looking no fear of her looking at bob harford he was too ugly well it was jack darren who was the showman of the party she'd be sure to make straight for him if she could he was always run after by the women and so on till we were all laughing loudly and heartily of our own witticisms. Well, that was 11 o'clock in the morning. At 11 o'clock at night we could have given a very different report of ourselves.

At 11 o'clock at night each man took up his appointed post in Solomon, somewhat depressed silence. The plan of our campaign had been carefully organized by our host. Each man was posted separately, with about 30 yards between them. so that no optical illusion, such as an effect of firelight upon the oak panelling, nor any reflection from the circular mirror above the chimney-piece, should be able to deceive more than one of us. Our host fixed himself in the very centre of the hall, facing the gallery at the end. Wells took up his position half-way up the shore, straight flight of steps.

Harford was at the top of the stairs upon the gallery itself. I was opposite to him at the further end. In this manner, whenever the figure, ghost or burglar, should appear, it must necessarily be between two of us, and be seen from both the right and the left side. We were prepared to believe that one amongst us might be deceived by his senses or by his imagination, but it was clear that two persons could not see the same object from a different point of view and be simultaneously deluded by any effect of light or any optical hallucination.

Each man was provided with a loaded revolver, a brandy and soda, and a sufficient stock of pipes or cigars to last him through the night. We took up our positions at eleven o'clock exactly, and waited. At first we were all four very silent and, as I've said before, slightly depressed. But as the hour wore away and nothing was seen or heard, we began to talk to each other. however, was rather a difficulty. To begin with, we had to shout. Well, at least we in the gallery had to shout to Henderson, down in the hall. And though Harford and Wells could converse quite comfortably, I, not being able to see the latter at all from my end of the gallery, had to pass my remarks

to him second-hand through Harford, who amused himself in misstating every intelligent remark that I entrusted him with, added to which natural impediments to the flow of the soul, the elements thought fit to create such a hullabaloo without that conversation was rendered still further a work of difficulty i never remember such a night in all my life the rain came down in torrents the wind howled and shriek wildly amongst the tall chimneys and the bare elm trees without every now and then there was a lull and then again and again a long sobbing moan came swirling round and round the house for all the world like the cry of a human being in agony. It was a night to make one shudder and thank heaven for a roof over one's head. We all sat on our separate posts an hour after hour, listening to the wind and talking at intervals. But as the time wore on insensibly, we became less and less talkative, and a sort of depression crept over us all.

At last we relapsed into a profound silence. Then suddenly it came upon us that chill blast of air, like a breath from a Charnel house, that we had experienced before, and almost simultaneously a hoarse cry broke from Henderson in the body of the hall below, and from Wells halfway up the stairs. Half a dengue sprang to our feet, and we saw it too. The dead man was slowly coming up the stairs. He passed silently up with a sort of still, gliding motion, within a few inches of poor wells, who shrank back, white with terror, against the wall.

Henderson rushed wildly up the staircase in pursuit, whilst half at an eye, up on the gallery, fell instinctively back at his approach. He passed between us. We saw the glitter of his sightless eyes, the shrivelled skin upon his withered face, the mouth that fell away like the mouth of a corpse beneath his tawny beard we felt the cold death-like blast that came with him and the sickening horror of his terrible presence oh can I ever forget it with a strong shudder Jack Durant buried his face in his hands and seemed too much overcome for some minutes to be able to proceed

My dear fellow, are you sure? I said in an awestruck whisper. He lifted his head. Forgive me, Lester. The whole business has shaken my nerves so thoroughly that have not been able to yet get over it. But I have not yet told you the worst. Good heavens, is there worse? I ejaculated. He nodded. No sooner, he continued, had this awful creature past us, and Harford clutched at my arm and pointed to the farther end of the gallery. Look! he cried hoarsely. The nun! There coming towards us from the opposite direction was the veiled figure of the nun.

There were the long, flowing black and white garments, the gleam of the crucifix at her neck, the jangle of her rosary beads from her waist. but a face was hidden a sort of desperation sees me with a violent effort over myself I went towards this fresh apparition it must be a hoax I said to myself and there was a half-formed intention in my mind of wrenching aside the flowing draperies and of seeing for myself who and what it was I strode towards the figure I stood within half a yard of it

The nun raised her head slowly, and Lester, I saw her face. There was a moment's silence. What was it like, Jack? I asked him presently. He shook his head. That I can never tell to any living creature. Was it so horrible? He nodded assent, shuddering. And what happened next?

I believe I fainted. At all events I remembered nothing further. They made me go to the vicarage next day. I was so knocked over by it all. I was quite ill. I could not have stayed in the house. I stopped there all yesterday and I got up to town this morning. I wish to heaven I had taken your advice old man and never gone to that horrible house. I wish you had Jack. I wish you had. I answered fervently. Do you know that I shall die within the year? He asked me, presently.

I tried to poo-poo it. My dear fellow, don't take the thing so seriously as all that. Whatever may be the meaning of these horrible apparitions, there can be nothing but an old wife's fable in that saying. Why on earth should you die? You, of all people, a good strong fellow with a constitution of and you don't look much like dying for all that I shall die I cannot tell you why I'm so certain but I know that it will be so he answered in a low voice some terrible

misfortune will happen to Harford the other two never saw her it is he and I who were doomed a year has passed away our summer fashionable society rang for a week or more with the tale of poor Bob Hafer's misfortune. The girl whom he was engaged to and to whom he was devotedly attached, young, beautiful and wealthy, ran away on the eve of her wedding day with a drinking, swindling villain who'd been turned out of ever so many clubs and tabooed for ages by every respectable man in town who had nothing but a handsome face in a fascinating manner to recommend him, and who by dint of these had succeeded in gaining complete ascendancy over the fickle heart of poor Bob's lovely fiancet.

As to Harford, he sold out and went off to the backwoods of Canada, and has never been heard of since. And what off Jack Durant, poor handsome Jack, with his tall figure and his bright happy face, and the merry blue eyes that had wild Bella Lester's heart away. Alas, far away in southern Africa, Poor Jack Darant lies in an unknown grave, slain by Azulu Asegai on the fatal plain of Isandula. And Bella goes about clad in sable garments, heavy-eyed and stricken with sore grief, A widow in heart, if not in name. Perspective is reality for the perceiver.

Is reality simply what we perceive through our five senses? What happens to those who perceive things? that are just beyond the periphery of physical senses. What does one do if he finds himself alone in reality? The only one to perceive a lurking threat. I was getting desperate. The alien lizard people invasion was in full swing. They moved among us in disguise and very few humans could detect them.

Fortunately I could see through their disguises, especially when they touched their noses to adjust their masks. I'm not really sure how that technology works. that technology worked, but when they touched their faces, especially near their noses, I could see through the disguises for a moment. I knew that they were here to prey upon humans. To them, we were nothing but meat. I suppose I should explain why I have this ability. I'm from a wealthy family and my father was what in the Washington, D.C. area, they called a Beltway Bandit. These were government contractors, especially military contractors. My parents were older when I came along.

Dad was 63 and mom was 40. I had everything growing up, yet most called me trouble. I was part of the early generation medication kids who grew up with drugs to help us focus and remain attentive. ADHD was the latest excuse for bad behavior. When I was a kid, well, I was certainly capable of that. I acted out often and violently. I was preparing for what would come. My parents took me to doctors and counselors of every description until by the time I was 10 years old, the medicine cabinet in my bathroom remained constantly full. I even dragged me to church twice a week, but nothing could change what I saw, what I knew. The medications worked at the against my knowledge for a while. They made me feel sluggish, then I quit taking them and

return to my rambunctious ways. No school would keep me for long, no matter how much my parents spent, so I had private tutors and, of course, my well-educated parents to provide my education. I was the heir to a small fortune, and a prestigious family name, so my parents remained desperate to get me on track, all the while pretending nothing was wrong with it. me. He added some therapy suggested by my dad's military friends. They rented a martial arts instructor to teach me discipline. When I turned 14, they bought me a home gym and had it installed in the garage. Before long, I was a lethal weapon and everyone around me feared when I stopped taking my medication and had an episode. Well, I was just preparing for the invasion. I'd seen signs

of it all my life, and now as an adult, I was a little. I was a little. I was just preparing for the invasion. I was just preparing for the invasion. I was prepared to act. Finally, they could see what I knew from eaves dropping on my father's conversations. People tend to ignore crazy people, even when they are in the same room, that the military had developed special technology to detect things that most could not see. I suspect that they had a special division to deal with the threats that had begun to come to my attention. The lizard people. Not really lizards. I just can't think of what else to call them. They're certainly not humans. They had no hair and delicate scales covered their faces.

They had ridges over each eye, and each eye was yellow or green with vertical pupils and in dictating membranes. They appeared husky and muscular, with long arms and thick legs. When they spoke, their tongues were forked, and the inside of their mouths were white and contained savage fangs. Their scales were basically green, but iridescent and gleaming. They could disguise themselves as humans, usually large, tall humans. They even covered up their hissing manner speaking and their awful carnivore stench. They definitely possessed tech beyond ours to hide so well in plain sight. They had a very rare natural ability to see through their subterfuges,

but my special talents were inhibited by the medications I took. I knew that no one else seemed capable of detecting the creatures, so I had to remain clear-headed and look out for everyone else. Perhaps Dad's military connections had a way to see them, since I'd noticed even more black helicopters around the D.C. skies than usual. Perhaps other groups, clandesting groups, whatever means to assist. In any case, it was up to me to sound the alarm and save the world. I didn't want to start with my father's friends.

I assumed they were already working to stop the invasion. I decided that a secret organization that I had to know and be willing to help was the Freemasons. My dad was one, and he and I had visited the Big Lodge in Alexandria, Virginia, not far from our home in Fairfax. I formed a plan. I had to make a scene to gather attention and alert not only the Freemasons, but the local authorities and the public. I would need weapons and protection. There was a store across from the lodge that sold specialty items. I could get what I needed from them,

then unless the Freemasons and the black helicopter unit are aid me. I taught my mother into driving me down to Alexandria to spend the afternoon. She thought I was medicated and readily agreed. I knew that my birth had taken a toll on her health and vitality. To give birth to such a special man must have drained her. She took opportunities when I was behaving

the way she and therapists thought I should to let me wander through society in hopes that I'd learn normal behaviors. Poor mum. I didn't want a deceiver, but I had to save her and my dad, along with the rest of the planet from these monstrous invaders. I went to the store window and peered in to see if they had what I needed. I knew that firearms wouldn't do. The aliens had technology that protected them.

I needed cold steel. They did. I found a loose piece of concrete curbing. People are always running over the curbs at intersections. I used it to break the window of the store and take two items from the display. A horned helmet, like a fantasy Viking, and a basket-hilted sword like they carried at the Scottish Games events I had attended in the area.

It was too hot for further armour, but the helmet and hand protection would do perfectly. All I had to do now was spot and kill a lizard. person. Once they were down, their disguises would fail and everyone else would see. I took up a position near the lodge entrance and looked around. Out over the harbour, I saw two black helicopters. I had allies. I raised the sword in salute to my valiant comrades and called out to the Freemasons, who was surely a raid just inside the doorway.

To me! Rally, to me, we must stop the invaders and take back our planet. our planet. They frantically searched among the passers-by, but there were no lizard people. Perhaps they knew to avoid the lodge. I'd made a tactical error. I realized it as two Alexandria Police Department units arrived and officers stepped out and drew their firearms. I knew that the lizards had infiltrated the various and numerous law enforcement agencies in the area, but the most officers were still human. These two were, so I cooperating. There was a lizard creature working at the jail, but I couldn't get to him. I was only able to stare hatred at him through the windows of myself.

Oh, we were in so much trouble as a species. The lizards had won this round. There could not have been anyone else with my abilities, and I was once again medicated and under the care of a psychiatrist, a lizard person in disguise. I knew she was, but I had to remain calm. around her, and they'd realize I could detect them. Then I'd be a special target.

Maybe I was happy. I played the game and took my medication for a few months. Eventually, I was able to avoid or spit up the doses. It became quite clever at this game. I worked out intently and focused on my martial arts training. I was on my sixth instructor, but I had learned from each before. I each in turn declared that I was not learning discipline or focus. only destruction.

Only I knew how positive an assessment that was. The lizard people deserved destruction. I was confined to home until I'd behaved long enough to lull my parents once again. They were always dependable and loyal. I knew they would eventually let me roam again. And yet this time, they did not. No matter how well I behaved or how much I pleaded,

they would not let me go out on my own. Perhaps the lizard people had gotten to them, made threats. Surely the aliens had infiltrated the government, maybe even the military and dad's friends. Perhaps Dad was unsure of who was who. I could offer to detect the lizards for him, but Dad had become distant with me as I'd entered my late teens and early twenties.

Likely he wanted to protect me, but I was the one who needed to save him, and everyone else. i used the time to develop a new tactical plan perhaps i didn't need to slay a lizard perhaps i could simply kill their disguise mechanisms well i'd have to study in some place less frequented by respectable people i'd go after dark i'd figured out that the lizard people did not like bright sunshine this time i would not wear armour but dress lightly and be ready to flee my only weapons would be my fists and my training was strongly built from weightlifting, and I knew I could deliver potent strikes that would destroy the technology of the alien predators.

I found my moment, when Dad was sick and in the hospital. I went to visit him since he was in grave condition. It was late autumn, and the light faded quickly. It was cold, but I dressed lightly to be able to run. I went to my room, and on the way, told the cleaning lady and my nurse that I didn't feel good and was going to bed early. They looked relieved of the blind fools. I slipped out on my window into the cool evening.

Now my folks had always ensured that I had some cash on me, so I knew I could follow through with my plan. It was time to get revenge on those murderous savages. I took the train into Arlington. I knew that if anyone noticed I was missing, that they'd first look at the mall in Fairfax, and then at the harbour in Alexandria. my two favourite hangouts, but I'd rarely visited Arlington and certainly not the bar scene.

I took the train, one of the best features of the metro region. I noted no lizard people in my car, but there had been a couple at the station. They were getting off the train as I got on, so I didn't have time to simply start with them. It was post-rush hour, but still prior to 9pm, so there'd be plenty of happy-hour guests where I was going. I first went to Courthouse Square, but the crowd was light and there were no nightclubs in sight. I got back on the train and returned to the previous stop. There was nothing much at all around the area,

I began to fear that I'd have to go into Georgetown to find the venue I needed. And I saw a young man, tall and slender with a high and tight military haircut, a soldier and a human. I asked him if there was a bar, a nightclub in the area, and he directed me to a small place down the road a few blocks, a neighborhood bar, whiteies or blackies or something like that. It didn't matter because when I arrived it was busy. Perfect.

I set up my hunting stand near a group that was playing darts and drinking heavily. And glowed at the patrons around me and looked intently for a lizard to slip his or her disguise. A big fellow in the group playing darts stood to take his turn. he was certainly large enough and there just a very second toss he scratched his nose and for a moment i could see that he was indeed an alien lizard man he threw his last dart and the electronic panel flashed to indicate he'd hit his target and that's when i stepped up and hit my own target his nose when i stepped up he looked confused my face was full of fury and I struck before he understood what was happening. He reacted quickly and his friends all leapt up to help, but I ran. I ran quickly because I knew that they would not chase

me. I'd destroyed his disguise mechanism. They would see what he truly was and this would be my initial triumph. He'd finally won a battle and struck a blow for humanity. I ran for a full block before I paused to look back at the entrance. I saw that a few people had emerged from the bar and looked in my direction for the man who had just saved them. One of the bigger men, likely another lizard man still in disguise,

yelled toward them. I didn't hear what he said, nor did I care. I just had to unveil more of these creatures. I had to get to the train station and head into Georgetown. I'd definitely cause a stir there when others could finally see what I saw. I made it to the metro entrance, but I saw that a couple of men, no, males, lizard men, had followed me. I was about to run down the stairway to board the train when an Arlington Police Department unit pulled up to the curb.

Two officers exited and told me to stop. I did as they told them. One of them, the driver, was a large older man. I wasn't sure what he was, so I bided my time and remained quiet. if i exposed an officer as a lizard they would definitely get the attention i needed to expose them and save the world the human officers would never stand for it i waited in the back of a car handcuffed and for the moment defenceless i saw the officers speak to the two men and they were clearly talking about me i recognised one as the lizard man i'd struck oh no i thought he was able to repair his disguise and likely just killed all the wicked witnesses at that bar? The older officer instructed the young, slightly built officer, to call for another unit to transport me to jail while they interviewed the witnesses at the bar. Shortly afterward another police car arrived, and the large older officer spoke to the even larger but younger transport officer, clearly about me, but quietly enough that I couldn't hear.

The big officer escorted me to his car and we headed toward the jail. I suspected that both he and the older officer might be lizard men, but I wasn't sure yet, since many officers were largely built. And then it happened. He sneezed a couple of times and was about to do so again when he grabbed his nose to stifle the third expulsion. His hand had slipped, and I'd found my new target. I determined to remain silent until I'd exposed him. I knew that when humans spoke, the lizard aliens could read our thoughts. I did my best to keep my features neutral, to suppress the image of rage that I felt towards this monster.

At the jail, the sheriff's deputies did some paperwork, took my fingerprints and photographed me, and put me in a cell to await the magistrate on duty. When the lizard officer came to the cell to escort me to the magistrate, I was elated. I would expose him in front of a court official, and everyone would know. I tried to hide my excitement

as we entered the small hearing room in the booking area. There was a desk, and behind it sat a large woman with a prominent nose. As we entered the room, I noted in horror that she wiped her nose with a tissue.

For that fraction of a moment, her features shifted. Another lizard. I was shaken, and for a moment I was unsure what to do. I waited and formulated. my plan. Surely the deputies in the booking area will come to my aid once I destroyed the disguises on these two. I hadn't planned on taking two at a time. Apparently, while my mind was occupied,

the magistrate had spoken to me, asked a question. The big lizard officer leaned in and said, Wake up, buddy, the magistrate needs your answer. And that's when I struck. I smashed his jaw and pushed him toward the inner wall. And then tried to leap across the desk and do the same to the lizard magistrate. Unfortunately, the lizard officer was too quick. He grabbed me around the waist and tackled me to the floor.

I knew I was in trouble. So I went limp. I knew that the lizard aliens preferred prey that would fight to the last. They had to play with their food like big reptilian cats. The deputies entered the room and put handcuffs on me once again.

They took me through a door, away from the magistrate's room, and the lizards. I wanted to tell them. I wanted to scream, but the deputies didn't seem to care that the lizard officer was exposed. Must have been in league with the beast. Traitors to humanity. Oh, this conspiracy ran deep in deep. Surely they served the aliens to save their own sorry lives. Perhaps they've been promised some reward, but they didn't understand the lizard people.

they would never honour an agreement with what they considered cattle. The deputies put me in an open area and removed the handcuffs. They told me to remain in the area and pointed out to phone in case I wanted to make a call for someone to come and bail me out of jail. I just sat and stared. It was likely a trap to catch my poor parents. Poor, sick dad and worried mum. Sat quietly and contemplated my next move.

Then the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I had that sickening feeling of a monster creeping up on its prey, a feeling emanating from behind me. I noticed a fat, dark-complected man sitting in the chair behind me and off to one side. I didn't have to see his disguise slip. I knew what he was. Oh, my anger rose up and I stood, turned and punched him hard in the forehead.

His disguise shattered. and I ran in triumph into one of the open cells along the back wall. I'd let the deputy as handle their buddy. The two deputies arose and approached the seating again. The fat man wailed that I'd hit him. The deputy saw the danger as they walked past him and towards me. Oh, this was bad. The entire force of both departments was working with the lizard aliens.

They simply closed the cell door and ensured that the lock engaged. And then one of them caught over the intake nurse, and the other made a phone call. I was left to my own devices. Pace for a while. I sat on the bare metal bunk. I stood at the door. I squatted in the front of the door. I glared hatred at everyone I saw.

Traitors each and everyone. My plan had failed once again. I should definitely have spoken with Dad's friends or the Freemasons, enlisted some trusted allies before I enacted my plan. god i was learning this the hard way eventually another burly deputy a sergeant by the two stripes on his sleeves came in and looked through the windows at me he spoke to the deputies and then took a seat at a computer and began to time at first he reminded me of a bear but then sure enough he rubbed his nose for a moment and there was the tell-tale iridescent sheen to his features oh just for a flash two of the deputies left the area and took an elevator somewhere only the sergeant and a female deputy remained this was my last chance to prove what these things were while i was glaring at the monster aliens i noted that there were cameras all over the area perhaps so on in the organization was still loyal to our species i tapped on the window and the sergeant looked up at me he approached and asked what i wanted

i told him that i wanted to call my family and this cell had no phone he opened the door and stepped back out of reach he told me to walk to the cell at the end of the row since it had a phone he started to tell me how to dial out and that's when i swam i hid his mouth but he saw it coming and at the last second rolled back i was already prepared and had turned to run when i felt his fist clipped my left jaw i saw sparks from a moment but then i ran only to realize that i was in jail i had nowhere to go i reached the walls between the cells and the big sergeant was on top of me he pushed me up against the wall as i shook in terror his talons were exposed the razor-sharp claws paused to strike and slice me to rins i broke out in a cold sweat the female deputy had arrived to help but as i remained limp the big lizard There simply placed me in a solid hole. About that, Tyne, the female deputy sprayed us both with pepper spray. I'd stung, but I think most of it hit the lizard sergeant. He dragged me over to the cell where he'd been taking me

and pushed me onto the mattress of the metal bunk. He had my arm locked out straight and twisted so that I was helpless. I looked at the cell walls, and they faded away, and I saw approaching an army of lizard ebbler. aliens, slavering and flexing their talents. Everything was a blur for a while, and the next thing I knew, I was in a different cell. This one only had a hole in the floor for a toilet and a mattress, not even a blanket. I used the hole to urinate, then took up a stance by the big window in the metal door.

It was dark in the area, the way the lizard's light is. I remained alert until I could see that sunlight had begun to appear through, through the windows of the other cells that lie in the block. During the night the deputy and nurse on duty had watched me closely. They left a cup of water on the fold-down slot on my door. Shortly the lights came on and a new crew took over from the night shift. A nice doctor with a thick accent of some kind spoke to me. He asked if I was on any medications and whether I was under treatment. I remained silent. I would wait for the video and simple word of mouth to spread worked. Maybe my plan had worked after all. I was once again on the hunt in my stand,

waiting for the enemy to reveal itself. Several minutes after the doctor left, the new nurse came over to see me. The new deputy loomed behind her and warned her not to get too close to the slots. By now I could tell which of the staff members were lizards, even if they didn't touch their faces. Oh, something had changed. My powers had grown. she spoke i stared and said nothing she tried again and again i stared this was no new game for me she leaned down to the slot perhaps she thought i hadn't heard oh maybe she wanted to sniff me before she attempted to feast on my flesh honey you need to eat some breakfast and take your medicine it'll make you sick if you don't eat well i saw through her smile i saw her fangs see her fangs her vertically slit pupils. She was trying to trick me.

I reached through the slots and grabbed her collar and pulled her to walk my fist of vengeance. Then I stepped back and put up my hands in surrender. Later that morning, the deputies took me back to the magistrate's office. There was a man on duty, a slight elderly fellow. He spoke directly and atonily at me. He was clearly human

and likely a forlorn prisoner of the lizard alien. Then the deputies walked me through a Sally Port and into the magistrate's lobby where my dad's attorney and my mum's driver awaited. I was soon drugged and rendered impotent, once again dragged before doctors and therapists and preachers. I watched TV at every opportunity, hoping for news of a human uprising. None came, and I began to despair. Between the lack of news and the medications, I became despondent. The doctors told me that, regardless of what I saw, the lizard aliens were not real,

and I was not to act when I saw them. I told them that I would not act, and I meant it. I no longer saw the point in trying to reveal, much less defeat the invaders. The war was lost. Humanity would be devoured. A few months later I attended court. All of the lizard creatures I had exposed or tried to expose testified.

My doctors testified. My father had died around the time I'd returned home on bail. I thought that my mother blamed me. It was the lizards. She sat in the courtroom and stared at the floor in despair. If only she knew what I'd done, she'd have died from fright. When I was called, I told the truth. It was all I had left.

Our family attorney asked me about the medications, and I, glassy-eyed and nearly drooling, told him that I've been taking them and taken them before the triumph. I told him and the courtroom that I believe that the lizard aliens were real and a clear and present danger to humanity. I also told him that I intended to follow my doctor's instructions and avoid acting on what I knew. It was a bench trial,

and the judge sentenced me to three months in central state for evaluation and treatment. Central State Mental Detention Facility was for dangerously insane people with violent tendencies. Oh, the conspiracy continued. I knew that I would go there and they would try to recruit me or kill me. I felt I'd given up, but this was the first time the state had taken control of me. My father's influence had saved me several times before, but not this time. The aliens had me.

Oh, the stakes were now much higher. Perhaps others at Central State also had the power to see the lizard people. Perhaps I could find allies, enlist their aid. Perhaps the war wasn't over after all. 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