Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep268: Episode 268: Paranormal Investigation Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 21, 2025

Use the promo code SUPERBAD for 10% off your T-shirt! https://dr-creepens-vault.creator-spring.com/listing/the-devil-is-in-the-detail Our opening case of the supernatural is ‘Ghost in the Keys�� by M. D. Norton, read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Ghost_in_the_Keys  Our second case is 'I Know My House is Haunted' by Boe Whiskey, kindly shared with me via my subreddit for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  user/boewhiskey/  We continue today's vid with the case ‘I'm a Night Janitor for a Haunted Elementary School’, an original story by f4c3m3l73r, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  user/f4c3m3l73r  Next up I offer you the case ‘My Friend’s Dead Dad Haunts me’, which is another original work, this time by Mordley, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  user/mordley  Today’s fifth terrifying tale of horror is the case ‘The 5th Rule of Babysitting’, a fabulous original work by Santiagodelmar, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission.  user/Santiagodelmar/  Our penultimate case of the paranormal this evening is ‘The Haunting of Apartment 106’ by Narrow Muscle 9572, again kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission.  user/Narrow_Muscle9572/  r/DrCreepensVault/comments/ybpgxj/the_haunting_of_apartment_106/  We round off our investigations into the paranormal with the case ‘The Traveling Cemetery is in Town’, a wonderful, original work by Scare-in-a-Box, kindly shared directly with me via my subreddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:  user/Scare-in-a-Box/

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Paranormal entities fascinate us because they live in the space between belief and doubt, the known and the unknown. They embody our deepest fears about death, the afterlife, and forces beyond human control, while also offering the thrill of possibility. What if the world is stranger and more mysterious than we dare admit? Ghosts, spirits, and otherworldly beings captivate us not just because they frighten, but because they invite us to imagine hidden beings. dimensions of reality, where every shadow, whisper, or cult draft could hint at something

watching from the beyond, as we shall see at tonight's collection of stories. As ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Case one. Ghost in the Keys. Detective A. Wilson, case file 311-7.com.7.com. 1714, July 2008. New murder investigation today. This is the creepiest thing I've seen in a while. While the putrid smell of the victim's apartment couldn't do it, the state of the victim's body made me throw up in my mouth. It was a mangled mess on the floor, unrecognizable pieces swimming in a pool of deep red blood. This was clearly a homicide. The victim's wallet in his bedroom confirmed his ID.

It appeared as if the victim would try to fight back, suggested by the revolver near the body and the two bullet holes in the wall. The strangest part was that several weeks ago another victim was discovered, mangled in the same fashion as this poor guy. Well, we might have a serial killer on our hands. There was no will in his name, so the few valuable belongings that weren't considered evidence, some furniture, TV, watch, and a piano, I think, were gathered and given to the victim's parents. No DNA, other than the victims, was found on anything. Luckily, we did discover a possible lead. In the blood puddle was what appeared to be the victim's journal.

Blood stains were on most of the pages, making them unreadable. However, it looks like the latest entries remained intact. I'm transcribing the contents here. May 28th, 2008. Summer at last. No more homework studying and finals until September. My final that I took today didn't really go well, but at least it's done. When one ordeal is eliminated, another presents itself.

I wrang out of money, and in order to keep the hellhole of an apartment, I need to find myself a job. I'm going to be able to do that in this ghetto. I don't understand. I thought college helps you find jobs more easily. Well, I hope it's worth it after it's all over. With the economy the way it is, It seems like only scientists, engineers, or other people ruining their college experiences by choosing obscenely hard majors for Latane careers.

Being an artist doesn't seem to cut it. At least I'm away from my parents. While I'm still rotting, at least I'm not rotting with them. They said I won't become anything. I'm doomed for failure and might as well just give up. They said a lot of things. I can quit whenever I want. He just tripped and fell down the stairs.

Well, I need to believe that they were always wrong. I need to believe that my hard work and scholarship that I earned was merely a prelude to my success story. June 4th, 2008. All of this free time is killing me. After applying everywhere for work and getting no reply, I gave up for the summer. The anxiety of possibly losing my apartment is bothersome, but being alone, friendless and lost to my thoughts is just tortuous. Needing to escape, I got my keys and went for a drive in my truck. After about an hour of aimless driving, I investigated a garage cell from a small house in a nearby neighbourhood.

I peruse the selection of wares. Lamps, bedsheets, a dresser, all seemed in decent condition. Or perhaps the owner was moving. Well, I think did catch my eye. In the distance was an upright piano. His brown paint was chipped, but it still retained an aesthetic appeal. I played a couple of notes, slightly out of tune.

I remember taking piano lessons when I was a child, but when addiction overcame my parents, the funding was cut. I thought to myself that purchasing this instrument might provide a distraction from my deleterious thinking. I approached who I assumed to be the proprietor, a man like he was in his 50s, overseeing the sale.

Something around his facial expression stuck with me. I know the face of depression when I see it, and this man had it. The haunting look in his eyes told a story of a life plunging into chaos and all hope becoming lost. Well, it was strange. I asked about the price of the piano.

Well, he offered me it for $30, and I admitted that it was, well, it seemed like a low price or a piano, but the man insisted that he'd sell it to me for that price. Eventually, I accepted the deal, loaded the piano into my truck, and set it up in my living room

with the help of some other residents. I played a few songs that I could remember, but it was evident that my skills had rusted with time. I'll see if I can learn some songs through tutorials on the internet tomorrow. June 5th, 2008. Just when I'd all but given up hope, I received a phone call from the mini-mark today for an interview. It's certainly not my first choice for a job, but beggars can't be choosers.

Since I don't have a nice suit, and decided to go with the outfit that I've been. where when I go to the bars. Unfortunately, that's the best I've got. Spending the rest of the day, practicing the interview in front of the mirror. Hopefully I won't be too nervous tomorrow. June 6, 2008.

Saying the interview went terrible would be an understatement. The manager was a total asshole right from the get-go. I spent all night preparing for the interview, and I thought I was completely ready for anything the interviewer could throw at me. How wrong I was.

The office that I was instructed to go to was a glorified closet. It made my apartment look good and I had to say something. I entered his office and looked around. There wasn't a single decoration on the walls and I noticed slight faults on the ceiling. In front of me was the manager's desk. He sat in a plastic chair that was clearly too small for such a fat man. I approached the desk and the manager welcomed me with a slimy, toothy grin on his face. It was at this moment that I knew I was fucked.

He said in an oily voice, "'Have a seat.' There was a problem with that statement. There wasn't a single chair in the room other than his, and he knew it. In retrospect, I could see why such a self-important narcissist like himself would ask that question. Probably thinks that it would test my ability to think in an uncomfortable situation or something. That's not clever, that's just rude. I answered the question by saying that I prefer to stand.

He asked a few other questions about my job experience. or whatnot. Well, the sad reality is that this would in fact have been my first job, but I couldn't admit that. Instead, I told him that I was an excellent art student and a quick learner. That's the best I could do. Needless to say, there's no way in hell I'm getting a call back. Screw this. I'm going to look back at this entry one day and be able to just feel the anger in the ink. Time to bust out the booze and go to bed. Or pass out, whichever comes first. June 7th, 2008 The weirdest thing happened last night

About a quarter past 3am I swear I heard music coming from the piano in the living room The sound was very faint But it did have the distinct piano tone When I walked into the living room to investigate The music stopped Well that definitely got me spooked June 8th, 2008

I was practicing this afternoon When I struck an A in the higher register No tone was played. I struck the note again, only to be greeted with a thud. I opened the piano and searched the interior to determine if anything was broken. As my eyes scanned toward the trouble area, I was startled and jumped back into the bench. Lodge between the hammer and the string was a large, dead, bleeding rat. Admittedly, this frightened the hell out of me when I saw it.

I've seen rats before, but none were this big. this creature's body was nearly a foot long each tooth was as long as a nail and as sharp as a blade I bet a group of these rats could deck down a dock I took some tongs from my kitchen remove the rat from my piano and tossed it as well as its tongs into the dumpster I wiped off the blood from the piano

to sterilize the hell out of it I guess that explains the noise I heard the other night June 10th 2008 I heard the piano playing again and what followed I'll never forget The music that woke me up was more defined than the last occurrence Last time it was very faint or be it audible This time however not only was the music much more audible

But it was actually music Well I didn't recognise the song but it was a coherent organised piece of music I exited my bedroom and walked into the living room to investigate and the music continued. Astonished and a bit frightened, I turned on the lamp to see what was actually performing. I really had no idea what to expect. My finger shaking.

I flicked the light switch. As the room illuminated, I saw that on the piano bench sat a girl. She was facing the piano until the sudden lighting caused her to turn around or toward me. I felt like I was going to lose it. but something about her presence was strangely calming. No, no, no, she wasn't real.

There's no way. Then what did I see? I don't do any drugs. Deep in my heart I knew what happened wasn't an hallucination. This was no dream. This was real. When she turned around, we locked eyes. I felt that I needed to run away, but I couldn't.

Something about her beauty was. absolutely mesmerizing. She looked slightly younger than me. She had long, silky, smooth black hair that reflected the light just enough to detect a hint of blue. The look on her face when we gazed for the first time was what I could only describe as a combination of fear and sadness. Her sapphire blue eyes radiated a certain element of emptiness that lingered in her soul. She was wearing a short black dress with black high heels. Such attire will be suitable for a piano recital or performance. except hers had more personality to it. After being lost in each other's eyes for what seemed like in eternity, she smiled.

She then got up from the piano bench, walked toward the window, and gazed at the moonlight. I walked over and stood next to her. Finally, after minutes of silence, I asked, Who are you? No reply. She just turned ahead and faced me with a warm smile and then continued staring at the moment. eventually I took her hand and held it I woke up this morning feeling happy for the first time in months this happened I don't care what anyone says June 26th 2008 it's been a while since I've written an

entry in here I've been spending the past several nights with the girl I was always awoken with a different yet equally beautiful piano piece and then meet her in the living room and enjoy each other's company until dawn. She was still silent, but that's okay. I could tell that she listened to every word I said. I'd spent hours talking to her about the troubles of life and such. The facial expressions that she'd reply with made it so that I could always tell what she was thinking.

She continued her beautiful piano playing, and I'd listen as each new sound resonated through my soul. What we had was absolutely perfect, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Although the other night, something out of the ordinary happened. When I went into the living room to see her, she gave me the same sad and fearful look that she'd given me when we first met,

and then just dissipated. It vanished, gone. This exact same scenario repeated for the past few nights. After some serious thinking, I concluded that her spirit is definitely connected to the piano somehow. Tomorrow I plan on going back to the garage sale that I bought it from and asked that strange man about it. June 27, 2008. The visit was a real eye-opener.

I gained so much information in this visit that I'm writing all of it down here while sitting in my truck. First I forget important details. I poured into the driveway where the garage cell used to be. The neighbourhood seemed quiet. Too quiet. I knocked on the door thinking, been no answer because the man had just moved or was lying dead on the floor thankfully he answered the door promptly after an awkward introduction he invited me in for a cup of coffee i entered the small house

well it was reasonably large and seemed rather empty it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks you can see the dust particles floating through the haze i use my smartphone to secretly record the conversation so that i wouldn't miss a single detail We sat down and sipped coffee. When I inquired about the piano, he said that it belonged to his daughter. It was then that I stealthily hit record. Always good. Might not have had many friends, and people might have called her weird or creepy,

but I know Sarah was always good at heart. She just loved that piano of hers. Not it for her as a gift for her 18th birthday. She said that she always wanted to learn how to play piano, so I decided to help her fulfill that dream of hers. I always remember that smile she had when I gave her the piano. One day, though, everything changed. I asked the daughter to see two police officers standing in front of me.

They said that my daughter was wanted for murder. My sweet daughter wanted for murdering some poor soul. She wasn't home at the time, but the police had a warrant to search the house. In her bedroom, they found a hidden photograph that she took of her victim. A couple of hours later received a phone call from the police department informing me that my daughter was killed while being chased by the police

she fled into a busy street where she was hit by a trunk after I learned the truth about her I just had to get rid of all of stuff I was just so sad confused by and angry I didn't want any trace of her around here so I sold all of her belongings

in the garage sale that's when you bought the piano her father burst into tears there reached into a drawer in the coffee table and pulled out a folder. He handed it to me and explained that it contained photographs and documents pertaining to her case. He added that he intended on burning them, but hasn't done so yet for some reason. I examined the photographs. One picture was a copy of the aforementioned photo that Sarah took of her victim.

I have no idea why her father would keep this around. The victim in the photo was just a pile of mutilated body parts. I put the photo down almost instantly. I couldn't look at it anymore. Next, I picked up the forensic photograph of Sarah after she'd been hit by the truck. At this point, I'm certain that Sarah was indeed the girl I've seen from the piano all these nights.

I'm terrified that I've actually been haunted by a ghost this entire time. This also may realize who I've become, slaving away at something with no physical presence night after night. I don't think I've even left the apartment in weeks. Enough's enough. I can't live like this any longer. I'm destroying that damn piano as soon as I get home. The entry continues at a later time,

as evidenced by a slight change in handwriting and legibility. This could very well be my last message, so while I lay here, I'll provide as much detail as I can. I pray that someone will find this journal, If you are reading this, burn that piano. Do not let it leave your sight without destroying it. I beg you, it's the only way to silence her forever. I entered my apartment after stopping at the hardware store to buy an axe.

When I entered the living room, I heard a high-pitched hum coming from the piano. It was not a sound that a piano made. It sounded similar to the feedback of a malfunctioning microphone. I saw the girl sitting on the bench, facing the piano, away from me. her head pointed downward in an unnatural position. As I approached her, the hum grew unbearably loud. I dropped my axe to put my hands on my ears, which ultimately didn't help. I walked up to her from behind, removed my right hand from my ear and placed it on her shoulder,

and shouted, Stop! Suddenly the humming stopped, and the silence sent a chill down my spine. She then turned her head around to face me. and what I saw will haunt me until I die. I don't even want to write it down here. I fell to the ground. When she turned around to face me, her face wasn't the same as when we first met that night.

Her flesh was decaying and falling off of her face like a corpse. Her once sapphire blue eyes were just two abyssal holes now. Her jaw dropped to an unnatural distance, revealing her rotted mouth. That wasn't what frightened me. the most. What frightened me the most was when she, it, spoke for the first time. His voice was a simultaneous low frequency and high frequency, like when someone uses a computer to disguise their voice on television during an anonymous interview. It said to me, four words that destroyed a part of me, and that damn humming returned louder than ever. I got off the floor as quickly as I could and

careened toward my bedroom and logged the door. After I mustered as much courage as I could afford, I obtained the chest from under my bed that contained my father's revolver. It was still loaded. I know that I'm powerless against a ghost, but I'll try and defend myself nonetheless. I'm almost done.

My hands are shaking. I can't feel my legs as I lay on the floor against my bed. My vision is starting to blur. Oh, that fucking humming. I can hear it coming now. Even if I survive this, I'm saving one bullet for myself. I can't go on any more after this. This is all I can write.

God help me. Case two. I know my house is haunted. I know there are things in my house. Other things, other beings. I'm used to this, actually. It's just part of who I am and what my home is. and has been for as long as I can remember.

They always come and go, usually without much damage. Even the stubborn other things eventually can be dispelled. But the ones that have come to me recently are unlike anything I've dealt with before. I fear there may be the end of me. I'm trying to recall when exactly it began. My days have become blurry, but I'll do my best. I believe the first instance where I noticed signs that these things, these new things had arrived, well, I remember there being small signs.

Things moved around, items disturbed or misplaced, an uneasy feeling of not being alone. Temperature changes, faucets running, floorboards creaking. The typical signs of a haunting, you know. I've become accustomed to them, so they don't frighten me, but they do make me alert. Not everything that passes through my home has always been very friendly. I started becoming alarmed when I noticed wallpaper peeling off of the walls in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I know that over time this can happen, but it was coming off in large strips, and I could hear it being ripped away from the wall.

The sharp tearing sounds startled me as I rested one evening. I followed it to see the decorative damask wallpaper that my grandmother had installed being destroyed. Bits of it were already on the floor and the wall itself looked as if someone had taken a knife to certain parts of it. Edges were lifted up and I watched as they were pulled away from the wall in various strips and pieces. With each tear of the paper I felt my heart being torn.

My grandmother had so meticulously picked that wallpaper out and even asked for my opinion. In the end she had chosen one of the ones that I told her I liked. It was as if this unseen force was just ripping at my memories without consideration. I yelled. I screamed. I pleaded for whatever it was to stop, to leave it alone. It paused for a few moments and I felt the air near me shift. I didn't move, not out of fear, but out of shock.

I still stared at the ripped wallpaper. The things that came into my home had never destroyed something like this. After a few minutes, it began again. I tried desperately to make it stop. I pushed the strips against the wall. I cried, I begged. Nothing worked. I worked myself into such a frenzy until my energy was spent,

and I clasped onto the carpeted floor. Eventually I fell asleep or passed out from exhaustion. When I awoke, an entire wall's worth of wallpaper was in tatters on the floor. The bare wall that had been previously hidden made my heart hurt, and I forced myself to leave the room, dejected and downtrodden. The wallpaper tearing continued in spurts over the next few days, along with the other normal haunting signs I'd mentioned before. I took to entering the room a few times a day and asking for whatever it was there to just stop. I asked what it wanted, how I could appease it. I was always to no avail.

I never received any type of message or sign, and it didn't stop until all of the walls were bare. And it only escalated from there. I was lying on my bed one day when I felt everything shake. I sat up, immediately wondering if it was an earthquake. I was about to climb out of bed when I noticed the edge of my blanket moving. And the foot of my bed, my comfortable duvet was being moved away from the corners and bunched up haphazardly toward the centre. The shaking had stopped for a moment while this happened,

and I knew immediately that it wasn't an earthquake as I'd first suspected. Stop! I yelled. They seemed to do the trick. The blanket stopped moving. The bed, however, began to shake again. I pulled my knees up to my chest and backed up against the headboard, pressing myself against it. A loud scraping sound emanated from the end of the bed and it moved a few inches against the wooden floor.

I gasped and yelled again for it to stop. Please, stop. This is my bedroom. What do you want? I screamed at the seemingly empty room. The bed moved another inch or two before it ceased. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I didn't blink. My duvet was then ripped away from me violently. I grabbed for it as it was thrown to the ground. Fabric slipped against my palm, but my fingers found purchase on the edge of the blanket.

I tugged it back toward me, getting a better grip on it with both hands. The blanket felt slack for a split second. In the end, the other thing that had a hold of it yanked hard, pulling my body along with it. I did my best to stay on the bed, but my shoulders and head were left hanging off the side of the bed. I clenched my fists around the blanket, refusing to release it. There was one more yank, more gentle than the one before, and I fought back with every ounce of strength I had. I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I righted myself back onto the bed.

Before I could sit up, though, I felt a strange sensation on my right shoulder. It was a slight tingle at first, but in a matter of seconds, it felt like my entire shoulder was being grabbed by the devil himself the pain was sharp and fiery burned into my body from one point and spread like shattering glass throughout my entire arm and down my back I held in pain barely felt the bed being shot over more from where I was whatever was in my house it was strong and didn't care about me I don't know how long it lasted the pain and the bed moving felt like hours but i know it couldn't have been that long at some point the pain began to fade slowly i only laid there in agony as it dissipated when it subsided enough and i

found some strength i pushed myself up and saw that my bed was now against a wall and my bedside tables which had flanked each side of the headboard before were now removed and no longer in the room my blanket was mostly on the floor and i saw the saw some scratches on the hardwood floor from the bed being moved. I weakly pulled my blanket back onto the bed and curled up into a tight ball with it wrapped and bunched up all around me. Tears stung my eyes, but none came. I wasn't broken yet, but I was feeling myself beginning to crack. I never dealt with anything this intense.

I know it might not seem like a big deal to you or most, but in the moment, as these things happened to me, it was absolutely terrifying. I had experience with hauntings. I knew what to expect. It isn't like in the movies or books. It's usually more benign. Most people hardly even notice the presence of spirits, because they're so innocuous.

And places like my home that become sort of a way station are usually mostly left alone. They come, stay for a while, and then move on. I don't know why it happens. this way. I can't even begin to try and figure it out, so I'll stop trying a long time ago. All I know is they typically don't stick around. Some have been more persistent, yes, but simple tricks get rid of them. When small things are moved, I put them back. When they fog up the mirrors, I write messages asking them to leave. Even trying to talk with them directly can work.

I even have certain protection symbols and items around the house to try and keep the beings moving along. If one's being stubborn, I can move one of my totems into a central place in the house, and once they encounter it, it aids them in moving on. Or if they came across one of the symbols expertly crafted and positioned in important corners of my home, they realized that this place is protected, and they let go. This new thing, though, had started with destroying my house and attacking me. This had never happened before. It had actually touched me and the pain I felt terrified me to my call. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I began to wonder if this was some sort of demon.

Things kept happening. My days melted together in a mess of pain, terror and destruction. A wall in the foyer was turned to rubble. The stairs were torn apart and blanks of wood littered the floor. Kitchen was completely annihilated as if a bomb had gone off amidst its barriers. along with the damage to the property i began smelling something happened at least half-dozen times and always started the same with a slight burning smell then a shifting cloud would form as the cloud formed and moved itself through the house stretching and contracting and stretching again

the air would increasingly begin to feel heavy and oppressive the scent shifted to something else along with smelling burns. There was something else that I couldn't place my finger on. It lingered and made me feel sick. Made my head swim and my body feel weak. When it was abrasive enough, I'd find out later that I'd passed out. I'd tried everything. I moved totems into various places that would be easily seen,

wrote messages. I yelled, I pleaded, I offered deals, I made sure the symbols were visible. These were all met with harsh retaliation. The totems were ruined, the symbols were carved into, breaking the protection seals, and the messages were ignored. All of my pleas and attempts fell on death or apathetic ears and eyes. Then there was the altercation, an actual interaction that confirmed there was more than one being haunted my house.

I was walking around my home, feeling my heart fall apart in shableness. shatters bit by bit as I surveyed the broken pieces of my life. When I entered what used to be the parlour, there was a new symbol on one of the walls. It felt ominous and dangerous. I approached it hesitantly and saw that the lions were impressed into the surface, as if carved with some sort of tool. The closer I got to it, the worse I began to feel. My vision became muddy and I couldn't focus on anything for too long. My chest felt tight, and my body heavy.

I took a step backward away from it and faltered a bit. I reached out for the couch and it wasn't where it belonged. I fell to the floor and crawled away from the wall. Ah, there you are. I heard a voice from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and up at what had spoken. Still difficult to focus, even with a distance between myself. self and the symbol. All I could see were blurred edges of something clad in or made of black.

I felt animosity pouring from it. Who? I tried asking, but felt too weak to finish. You are unwanted in this place, it said. The voice was male, but I couldn't see any details of the creature. This is my home. I managed to get out as I struggled to stand, using a table to help steady myself. The thing spoke again, but I couldn't understand the words. He reached out toward me, and I bolted, almost tripping over myself. And it barreled after me, knocking over whatever was in its path, chairs, tables, the umbrella

holder, and more ended upturned or shoved aside. Stopped suddenly when I entered the kitchen and felt something growing inside of me. It was a churning hurricane of fear and anger. I wasn't sure which I felt the most, but seeing the kitchen again, forced into this carnage that barely resembled the comforting room it had once been, shifted something inside of me and planted a seed of rouse. I turned on my heels and plant a barrel toward the creature to be the attacker instead of the attacked this time.

But just before my hands could make contact, it sidestepped me and yelled out something unintelligible. My body was pulled to the ground as if by some sort of full. I felt in my hands and knees held in place somehow. The room around me spun and my vision went black, as it had before when I smelled that strange scent that made me sick. When I came to, there were more symbols on the walls, and I found that I couldn't leave the kitchen.

I could stand, I could walk around, but I couldn't cross the threshold from the kitchen to the rest of the house. I couldn't explain it. After pacing for a while, I heard distant voices and saw shorthy. shadowy figures from the adjacent room. They were blurry like the other one had been, and I couldn't understand what they were saying. There were two or three of them.

It was difficult to tell, as their forms appeared to shift and meld into one another before separating again and moving around. The voices were strange and sounded too far off for the distance. Please, let me go, I called out weakly. There was no sign of them hearing me or noticing me at all. The other things moved away from my sight, and I was left completely alone. I spent days there, trapped in the kitchen, tortured by the sounds of my house being torn apart.

Occasionally one of the beings would appear in the doorway and say something in its demonic language. It would bring with it the dizzying smell, and when I was weak it touched me, and I felt that scalding pain as I had in my bedroom. I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to take it. Every time it happened, I became weaker and weaker. After, I don't know how many days, I was finally released from my kitchen prison. I don't know if it was on purpose or accident, but I was able to finally move about my home once again.

I am propped here, but at least I can move around. These things still haunt the walls and rooms of my home. I seem to still be intent on tearing the house apart. I don't know how to get rid of them. I fear they might be the end of me. Look, if anyone else has experience with this sort of thing, please help me. I'm at a loss for what else to do,

and I worry that I'm running out of time. But, well, on the plus side, I'd finally figure out how to possess a living human. Case three. I'm a night janitor for a haunted elementary school. I'm a night janitor for an elementary school. My work hours are from 3pm throughout midnight. Sometimes I stay until almost 3 a.m. when there are after-school activities.

I have to help set them up and then clean when they're over. Leave me to clock out at almost dawn sometimes. My designated section was 24 rooms that I have to clean alone. lately it's beginning dark rather early when the clock strikes six the sun begins to descend into the horizon of swaying trees and half-lit homes eventually disappearing around the same time all of the other staff members hurry out of the building leaving me to my work

well i'm going to leave the name of the school and my real name and others real names and the location out of this one because well I just want to keep my identity and the image of the school safe. So, for this story, I'll be Tim. Since I work nights, I always get that paranoia that I'm being watched. I always chorted it up to my mind playing tricks on me since I'm all alone in this building for several hours at a time. But it was right after Halloween when something strange began to occur.

It was that time of the year when trees lose their leaves and take on a skeletal silhouette. Autumn. I started to notice that more and more the students looked as if they were shaken up about something. I was looking at the floor when walking, quiet, anxious, signifying a sort of retreat. Well, this didn't sit well with me.

The students were dismissed at 3.30, so I'm present while they're still in class. I'm a first-time father and cared for these children. Well, I may just just. be a janitor but I'm not some weirdo or heartless guy who just wants a paycheck. These kids were young and needed to feel safe. So I talked with them when I was given the chance. They call me Mr. Tim the vacuum man.

I'm in my twenties, so I'm approachable to a younger crowd. I felt this brought a sense of comfort to them. Rather than being some creepy night janitor who is unwelcoming. I saw a child who was walking down the hall. I was obviously frightened about something, constantly looking over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised. So I asked quietly, Hey, uh, something bothering you, kiddo. He let out a short yell.

Oh, it's okay, it's just me. Is everything all right? I tried to reassure the boy. Oh, hey, Mr. Tim, yeah, I'm okay, he said nervously. Well, you know, if there's something. than bothering you. Don't be afraid to tell me about it. I can probably help you. I'm Mr. Tim, the vacuum man. He laughed and then said, yeah, I know. Okay, well, um, whenever I've used this bathroom, I see this tall man smiling at me. I immediately got the chills. What,

um, is it someone in the school? someone you recognize he replied no i can barely see him he's all black it's like a shadow but i know he's there i know it well this could just have been the child's imagination i mean halloween had just passed so maybe he was just scared from that but all of the other students were behaving rather oddly so maybe this boy was really seeing someone or something stalking him in the bathroom. Yeah, that sounds like it's just your imagination, kiddo. I wouldn't worry about it. Yeah, maybe it's just your mind playing tricks on you since Halloween has just passed.

Try to focus on your schoolwork more, and maybe it'll go away. I tried to calm him. Yeah, I'll try. He spoke softly. All right. off you go then this bothered me was there some pervert hiding in the bathrooms here my mind began to race I couldn't just ignore this information my first thought was to tell the principal when I did her reaction was exactly as I imagined she called the student to

her office and asked the child to explain to her what he told me we did sort of frantically and this made the principle uneasy. The next day she hired a security guard to patrol the hallways. After about a week, the kids still remained anxious, but never spoke of this figure. No one really pried on the matter anyway. We just expected this to be some sort of scare tactic to make this person flee,

if there was anyone there to begin with. It seemed like it worked, so the security guard was dismissed and the staff resumed their cheerful outlook on their jobs instead of being worried about a creep that may have been lurking in the shadows ready to pounce on a helpless child. Well, I'm just glad this wasn't the case. But I remember one particular shift.

My calendar read that there was going to be a Cub Scouts meeting in the media centre at 615 and basketball practice at 6.30. So that meant I'd most likely be here before the break of dawn. At around six, I unlocked one of the front doors for the Cub Scouts counsellor and the coach for the basketball team. Moments passed and the Cub Scouts counselor walked through the doors.

I greeted him, helped him set up and went back to my normal duties. I didn't have to help the coach since the gym had everything he needed for sports. I just had to lock the doors once they were done and refinish the gym floor for all those shoe marks and any trash on the ground. As far as the Cub Scouts meeting, well, it was the same concept. Just had to vacuum around the used area and disfanked any surfaces used along with throwing any trash left behind away. During my normal shift duties, I couldn't help but feel as if I was being watched. I kept telling myself that it could have been a student or parent watching me from a distance,

but I was in a more secluded area of the building away from the after-school activities. This was different. It felt like someone was nearby. You know how you can hear someone coming from around a corner without hearing their footsteps or physically seeing them? It was just like that, only all around me. Once the after-school activities came to an end at around 8, I made sure every person was out of the building and locked the doors. The front doors had windows on them, and it was pitch black outside. Once I finished engaging in the last lock, I couldn't help but notice at all and dark clothes.

man behind me in the reflection when i quickly turn around only to see that no one was there what the hell i thought to myself i sighed and continued on with my duties i started with the gym floor and began buffing the floors this was the job that took the most time so i wanted to get this done first as i finished i turned the machine off and in the distance i could hear muffled scream It was coming from the building. Okay, something isn't right here, I exclaimed. I got all of the equipment into the receiving room and left the floor to dry. I could still hear the faint sounds of screaming.

It was coming from my section and I still had rooms to do. Well, I decided to put on some headphones and listen to music so I could ignore these strange occurrences. I decided to put on classical music as it helped calm. my nerves. I started with Moonlight Sonata, a piece from Beethoven, and then just let my playlist shuffle. When I clean the rooms, I normally just focus on what's in front of me. But tonight, I couldn't help but look around me, as if I were to see the man in a corner somewhere. I tried my best just to ignore it, but when I got to a part of a room located by a window, I felt compelled

to look outside. All I could see was total darkness, pitch, black, not a streetlight, no, dim and distant lights from a home, just darkness. And then the power went out. I was absolutely terrified. What I saw outside will haunt me for the rest of my life. It was the most sinister, elongated face I've ever seen in my entire life. His eyes sunken in but wide and focused, wrinkled skin with a white complexion and the most menacing smile I could ever imagine, complete with what seemed to be over a hundred teeth that looked like needles. I wasted no time and ran out of that building without even clocking out or looking back. I ran outside to my vehicle without looking over my shoulder to see if that thing was following me and when I started my car I drove out of the

parking lot to the left of me in the playground I could see him watching me and he was waving the next day my supervisor was furious as I just left without clocking out or calling security to lock the doors I explained what happened and he fired me one day on my own accord I went to that school, I wanted to warn the principal about what had happened to me. I met with her and I told her to hire an exorcist or get someone to cleanse that school. Well, because there's something evil in there. She replied, Tim, I don't understand what happened.

I told her everything. How this tall man scared the living daylights out of me. How I heard screams, everything. Her mood changed. She seemed uneasy. She had a long breath and began to say, There's something I want to show you. She went to a filing cabinet and opened it.

Sifting through files, she finally pulled out a book. It was a yearbook from 1986. What's that for? I asked. She then flipped through some pages and finally stopped on a page that had pictures with descriptions under them she pointed one out and said here take a look what i saw was a tall man mopping a floor with a smile i will never forget it was the man i saw that night it had to be my god i said while shivering he was the janitor here from 84 to 86 i was told he'd go into the bathroom and spy on the kids smiling at them.

My heart sank and I let out a whimpering cough, trying to clear my throat, which was now gasping for air. What happened to him? I asked. She closed the book, looked at me and said, aside from the spy, he got fired for constantly scaring the children even after Halloween was over. He'd make them scream in terror. Those were the screams I'd heard.

After he got fired, he'd stalk the students. They'd go missing. At first, no one thought anything of it, but a detective brought him in for questioning. He was then arrested, admitted that he kidnapped, raped, and killed 15 students. The detective claimed that he was smiling when he confessed. He was given the death penalty by lethal injection, and it said that he smiled even as he died. gaze four my friends dead dad haunts me so I have a situation well more of an unusual paranormal phenomena than a situation which has me puzzled I'm trying to find out why it's

happening to me and what I can do so please if it seems like I veer off course let me know and I'll get back on track I'll start it from the first in that happened that day. Then I'll go on every day I actually had encounters instead of day by day. I'll start with a dream that I've constantly had since, well, since I could remember. I'm driving in the middle of the night. I'm in the hurry to get somewhere. I don't know why.

All I know is I have to get there. And then, boom. The car in the opposite lane has swerved into my lane, accidentally clipping me into losing control of my vehicle and crashing into a tree. Me not having my seatbelt on means I go flying out of the car and barely missing the tree, but landing on the hard surface of the asphalt. Legs are broken, ribs broken, and impaled into my lungs as I lay there. I'm still alive, but not for long.

I see a figure approach me, and I'm, I muster whatever energy I can to call for help, and everything goes dark. Then I awaken in my room, looking up at my ceiling again, hearing my dad calling for me to go downstairs while my phone alarm was going off. I muster up the energy and shake off the pain that comes with that dream. Shut my phone off and get up. I go downstairs to see my father already having breakfast on the table in his work attire, ready to go. Morning, my father said.

Morning, I replied, while rubbing the sore spots on my body. You know, if you keep sleeping in like this, I'm going to have to attach an alarm clock to your head. Sorry, I don't know what it is. It seems like I just can't get enough sleep. Ah, you're just growing. Just got to always plan around these things, though. Like, I don't know, go to sleep earlier,

or set multiple alarms on your phone, or something. He was right, as always, giving me hindsight and how I should handle things. Though I didn't mind it much because, at the end of the day, they did help, even though some were kind of obvious. We finished breakfast, we did the usual goodbye hug before we went our separate way.

As I'm making my way to school on foot, I see the same three things, basically, landmarks of a sort. I see Benito's tire shop Tom's Burgess and that older gentleman standing by the tree off T-Street He never replies Just gives the glare as I walk past him

His shoes are scuffed Full of holes and covered in mud He doesn't seem to cause any trouble So I don't really feel threatened by him I mean he's been by that tree for years Ever since I began walking this way Also I have about 30 pounds on him so if he does try something, I doubt it would end well for him.

I get to school to meet up with my friends, Todd, Sam, who's a girl, by the way, and Luke. All three have been friends since elementary school. And although we're all the same age, I do look three years older than them, I usually have a foot in height over them. Also, I've got facial hair on top of it. They tease me by saying I was held back four years, or that I'm a Sasquatch's son. Both are possible, especially the fact that I don't look a lot like my dad. So we all make our way into school.

I guess I should explain a bit. Well, it's a normal high school, like seen on TV. There are the cliques, such as the jocks, the mean girls, the stoners, emo, the goth, and the nerds. But the difference was, nobody ever had any beef with the other. Sure, there were a couple of bullies here and there, but overall, everyone was pretty decent to each other. Being a freshman, it was still a lot to take in. That and the ridiculous amount of homework you have to do. But things weren't so bad for me.

I was actually accepted to the varsity football team as a middle linebacker. I'm sure it had to do with the fact in my first year I was already outlifting the team and even some of the coaches. Not to do my own horn or anything, but I was already up to four plates on my bench press. And for those who have no idea what that is, it's a little low. over 400 pounds. I never liked this sport, but it was a good way to take out my anger on people, while possibly having a chance to go to a good college for free. Anyways, not the point, sorry for going off course.

The reason I bring that up is that there is a varsity cheerleader that cheers for our games, who? To some reason I cannot stop looking at, but not in that perv way that would make me into a stalker. I just wanted to get to know her. Seems so interesting, I don't know. So, every game we're at together, I turn into my awkward wave, and she smiles and waves back.

Then I go and crush someone's soul on the field while everyone cheers. But this time, she approached me. Hi, Abel, right? She asked. Yeah, although my friends call me Abe, like Lincoln. You know, because I'm so tall. and Abe Lincoln was tall. Right, I get it.

She laughed. I'm Anne. I was thinking maybe sometime we should hang out. Like, go watch a movie or something? Looking down, rubbing my head, still kind of nervous, because she's three years above me after all. Now, don't blame a kid for being nervous,

so I look back up, ready to say yes. When I saw the man from the tree, behind her and pause in shock looking around at the expressions of everyone else to see if they see what i'm seeing but none of them seem to notice him i look forward again and before i can even react he spoke yeah that sounds good we should do a group thing with all of us it'll be a blast i repeated what he said to her word for word she loved that idea and so did my friend Well, because we're freshmen and they all agreed and started making plans and talking to each other. The chat started to become more silent to me because I couldn't get over the fact that I'm seeing this person who I'm convinced is a ghost man.

He used me like a puppet. But as soon as I said those words, he was gone and I was staring at Anne's smiling face and it kind of washed the fear I had away from me. away from me. Later that week we all went to the movies and just like that we were always together. Never as a couple though. I thought about the idea once and the thought made me want to vomit. We had a sleepover once as well with all my friends and hers. Luckily one of her friends, Kate I think. Her parents were out of town for the weekend so we had a little more fun with drinks which almost got one of my friends late until he puked in her her of course, classic Luke.

But it led to me being alone with Anne, while the others tended to Luke and his fountain of vomit that wouldn't seem to end. We sat outside to avoid the smell. I think the alcohol was starting to remove the illness I felt when I thought of Anne as more than a friend. She looked up into the stars above us, with a smile that was so cute. Your dad's okay with you staying over.

here. I wouldn't know. He died before I was born. My mom wouldn't be happy. She knew you were here also. You know, thinking every teener who's wanting to have sex and so on. God, it killed me to ask her to help me get birth control. Look on her face, though, is if I asked her to help me bury a body. She started to laugh, as did I. Sorry to hear you about you, dad. It must be tough, I told her. It's okay. I didn't really know the guy. All I have is pitch is to go off of. But I heard he was a good man and was happy to hear that my mom was pregnant with me. She replied, smiling and looking up to the stars. Oh, anybody will be lucky to have you end up life.

You must have known how you were going to turn out. I mean, Miss UCLA University we're talking about, I answered. She smiled, but didn't say any more. and I had this urge I couldn't help myself I hugged her from the sign and leaned in for a kiss on her cheek shocked she turns to me with a look of confusion

I'm sorry I couldn't help it he just looked so adorable with her I stop in my track as that same man appeared again but this time he wasn't talking he pounced on me holding my throat in a rage

I couldn't shake him off It was like I had an elephant on my chest All and it was go to my side Looking at me while I struggled with this man How could she not see him I thought to myself As I continued to struggle for my life against this psycho He finally spoke again

Not her Anyone but her I nodded in response And just like that he vanished without a tree trace. I gasped for air. As Anne helped me up, seeing there was something wrong with me. Remembering what he said, I broke from her grasp. What the hell did I do? She yelled. Nothing. I'm sorry. Just don't want to be touched is all. I answered. I think the drink's got to me. I need to go home. I got up, and before she could say anything, I walked off.

I don't know what to do. I approach the man whenever he's by the tree, but he doesn't respond. He just stares. Anne's now freaking out behind the fact that I'm freaking out, and we're starting to grow more separate. Which, in my heart's something I don't want, I want to be there for her.

Please someone, give me an idea of what's going on. Case five. The fifth rule of babysitting. Rule 1, the children should be in bed no later than 9. Rule 2, the children must never be left unsupervised. Rule 3, contact us in case of any emergency. Rule 4. Unless stated otherwise, the children are not permitted to eat candy or junk food.

Rule 5. Should you come across a room that shouldn't exist? Do not. That last rule was all it took to dismantle any sense of normality, usually present in a job like babysitting. But this was the list handed to me by the woman who'd hired me, Veronica Delay, matriarch of the esteemed Deli estate. They moved into our small coastal town seven years prior,

a corporate couple leading a large and powerful pharmaceutical company. I'd met her husband, Tom, working as a waitress in the only diner. towards the end of my senior year two years ago. Our little restaurant had shut its doors due to the ongoing pandemic. And when Tom found out about this, he mentioned that he and his wife were looking for a babysitter, as their nanny no longer felt safe working during these times. And so her meeting was set up between Veronica and I.

She was a stern woman, seemingly scrutinizing my very soul with her frosty glare. She let me know that the only reason she was willing to hire a college student is because of how desperate she was. She and Tom had to make frequent trips out of town, even during the lockdown. Thus the strange list of rules fell into my hands, along with the blueprint of the house,

Veronica insisting that I familiarized myself with every nook and cranny. I first arrived at the delay, manner, a gloomy Sunday evening. The sun was just starting to dip below the sea, and the feather clouds spayed across the sky, signaling a coming storm. To say the house was big was an understatement.

The house was a colossal mansion, Gothic Victorian, its dark polished wood and ivory spires thrust towards the sky. It stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, a brick lighthouse standing nearest to the cliff's edge. Tom was waiting for me in the driveway and led me into the estate to introduce me to his kids. Tyler was the oldest at nine,

followed by Jocelyn at six and Amber at four. They all told me this with enthusiasm. Tom looked on at our interactions, bemused, but Veronica seemed almost impatient as she studied her cuticles. They finally left and I was alone with the children. I asked them if they could give me a tour of the house. I knew that there were 12 bedrooms, eight closets, four bathrooms, a library, two offices,

a study, a large kitchen, an expansive series of interconnected attic spaces, a wine-cellar, three living rooms and a basement all spread across three stories. But knowing and seeing are two different things. If I was to be familiar with the house, I'd need to see it in its entirety. Curiosity was another factor. The house was a point of gossip in town, and I'd heard plenty of rumours about why the delays were so secretive about it. The children were eager to show me the place, especially Jocelyn, and she insisted that I see her room first. I found myself jealous of the six-year-old's room. Her closet alone dwarfed my cramped room and dorm, and she had more princess-themed costumes than I had clothes. Let's have a tea party,

she yelled. Ew, no, that's stuff's with girls, Tyler protested. I quieted the two bickering siblings, taking note that Amber was unusually quiet. I told them we'd take turns playing games, but they had to show me all the bedrooms first. They obliged, and with every room I saw, the more I was impressed. Even the uninhabited ones had detailed wood engravings on the sparse, vintage furniture. Dark, glossy wood decorated every corner of the house, and on every wall Victorian lanterns illuminated the corridors and spaces. Even then, the dark would seem to absorb the light, leaving the whole house moody in its atmosphere. The sheer affluence and beauty of the place made my envy deepen, and it was apparent to see why the locals seemed to be distrusting of these people, who, in seven years, had accumulated more wealth than the entire town combined.

The children tired quickly, and by the 12th bedroom they'd shown me that they were anxious to move onto a more stimulating activity. I'd been very observant, and every other room and closet that had been present in the blueprints were accounted for. All that was left were the attics and basements, but even then I doubted I'd find one of these ominous, non-existent rooms the rules had warned me about. After the tour was over, I spent the rest of the night playing video games, having tea parties with the delay children. I even made them real green tea that I'd found in the cupboards. when it was time to put them to sleep it had started raining outside occasionally a flash of lightning

would illuminate the now nearly Stigian house I sat in the library reading a book by dim light when I heard a noise a very sharp and distinct creek as if made by a careless footstep I checked the time and saw that it was 1043 far too late for the children to still be awake I made my way towards a sound

guessing that it was coming from the stairway leading to the bottom floor. I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen on the first floor. Nothing. Thinking that it was just the house settling, I rummished through the fridge until I came across a jar of pickles. I was indulging in the higher quality product when it happened again. They're creaking, but much harsher this time. I swear I caught the sound of wood splintering and tearing at the end of it.

I bolted up the stairs towards the children's room, heart pounding. I nearly flung the doors open to each of their rooms, but every time I found them soundly asleep. What the fuck is going on here? I said to no one in particular. I spent the next few minutes going methodically to each floor, checking each bedroom, but I found each one empty. There was no indication of anything having even disturbed the house.

I counted each bedroom, nothing had changed. Twelve bedrooms, no more or less. I wasn't stupid enough to dare to take a peek in the basement or attics. I'd wait until the delays got home before I even thought about considering it. Exhausted, I checked the time. 11.16. Mr. and Mrs. Deli would be home in a few minutes.

I tried to settle down in one of the luxurious black velvet Victorian chairs. When a tremor shook the veil. very foundations of the house itself. The chandeliers over here clicked and clacked together. An e-spitting shriek of shattering wood echoed throughout the mansion. I sprang back up, ready to call the police when the sound of the front door opening let me know the delays had returned. Well, I ran to warn them that something was wrong with the house. It all came spilling out of me, a single sentence of words tumbling over themselves. Veronica seemed unamused and slightly annoyed.

But Tom smiled at me. I was taken aback by how handsome he looked when the edges of his eyes crinkled. It was just a dead tree falling out back. Yes, the years of stress finally got to it. And this storm was the final push. I'm sorry if it scared you. I'm wanting to pay you extra for your troubles, Tom said.

It's fine. I was just a bit freaked out, I replied. Well, then, it's still raining so I can have Veronica drop you off. thanks is all I said the drive home was awkward and quiet Veronica wouldn't even meet my gaze I wondered if Tom was the one that decided to pursue this frigid woman or if she'd been the one to take the initiative she pursed her lips in a seemingly displeased expression as we reached my driveway and I was about to mutter a

half-hearted thank you when she finally spoke up tomorrow five p.m. sharp. That's all she said before she took off, almost urgently. Talk about an exit. Briefly considered not returning, but the amount that they paid me for a few hours was hard to turn down. Tomorrow I'd be paid more for a long day, so I decided that I'd milk this as long as I could. Not many people were as fortunate to have such a decent source of income. The next day I was at the Delay Manor. In the bright light of the late afternoon, I got a better look at the property. I saw the tree that had supposedly fallen over the night before.

Its frayed and split trunk looked long rotted, and I was unsure if it had truly topped over just the night before. A small orchard sat to the side of the gloomy Victorian building, sharp and angular. It seemed almost angry. Strange that, amongst a serene beauty of the coast's edge, this is how and where the delays decided to build this eerie monument to affluence. I greeted the children and chatted with Tom.

He and Veronica wouldn't be back until 11. I watched them drive away and spent the next hour or so playing outside with the kids. Tyler and Jocelyn were playing with some sticks, but Amber preferred to sit next to me and doodle on some scrap paper. I tried to start a conversation with the girl, but she was either incredibly shy or her vocabulary was limited as she never said more than two words to me at a time. I was trying to get some information about the house.

but when she seemed like she wasn't going to reply, I turned to the other two. Jocelyn seemed uncomfortable and dodged my questions. Tyler, however, seemed eager to talk. Mom says the house is old, and old houses come with old responsibilities. He said, matter of fact, what does that mean? Mom says it just means not to mess with things that are weird. Like what? Do you have any examples? The 13th room.

"'In are only twelve rooms, Tyler. "'How's that possible? "'I don't know, but Mum says that if I ever see it, "'never to open it. "'Dad says mum's just stressed. "'I tried to fish more information out of him, "'but nothing was adding up, "'and he became irritated by my constant questioning.

"'I decided not to push him further on this for now, "'and instead I took the kids indoors for a snack. "'After they'd eaten, Jocelyn seemed to be full of energy and was begging for another tea party, but Tyler wasn't having any of it. It was Amber who suggested a game of hide and seek. She pronounced it in a meek voices. I seek.

Jocelyn and Tyler seemed interested, so I told them only to hide in the house, and that would be it. I gave them two minutes to hide, and I heard their little footsteps echo throughout the house and had a general idea of where they'd gone to hide. I found Jocelyn first. she'd thrown herself inside the mountain of stuffed animals in her room.

She helped me find Tyler, who'd wedged himself inside a kitchen cabinet. Amber was far more challenging to locate. She seemed to be the most outcast among the trio. Tyler suggested that she was hiding in the library, and Jocelyn said that she could be stowed away in Tom's office. Both places came up empty, and I was starting to get a little worried. I called out her name a few times but received no note. reply. I began searching methodically from room to room. Tyler and Jocelyn were trying to whisper

something to each other, and I was only able to catch the tail end of it. The 13th room. The phrase brought a spike of panic throughout my body, and I was about to start questioning the children when Jocelyn started angrily scolding Tyler. Amber knows not to look in those rooms, she said in a barely contained whisper. But she always wants to. She sits outside of them, even though Mom says that's dangerous. Yeoed Tyler. Keep your voice down, stupid.

Cindy, did you hear her? She's calling me names. Okay, okay, settle down, you two. So, um, there is a 13th room. Tyler and Jocelyn looked at each other briefly, contemplating what to do, before Tyler turned to face me and speak. um sometimes

where i don't know it changes i furrowed my brow at this answer vaguely aware of jocelyn's growing discomforts what the children and veronica were suggesting was insane a phantom extra room that changes its location maybe veronica was suffering from some kind of delusions and she'd drawn her children into her madness

What if Tom was unable to do anything, but, well, stick around? Show me where they tend to appear. Both children looked at each other in shock, but reluctantly agreed. They led me to the basement, a dusty spider-web infested place. I could see that a part of it was converted into a sort of living room. Within it sat an entire vintage furniture set, and a box TV sat near the middle. The rest of it was storage, shelves and boxes, beautiful. on filled to the brim with old heirlooms and knick-knacks.

I picked up a small picture frame of what appeared to be a young Veronica. I guess she was about eight when the picture was taken. I'd noticed that while Tom liked to pack his offices full of eye-catching antiques, Veronica's office was minimalistic and sparse. I figured that Tom was responsible for the interior design of the house, and Veronica only barely decorated her spaces, packing the rest of it down here. I had the morbid thought that maybe the way Tom had built the house and how he decorated it drove her to some kind of madness slowly over the course of years.

Or perhaps I'm jumping to conclusions, but it seemed as if Veronica liked houses minimalistic and orderly. What if she started seeing disorder after being forced to live in a home that, while not messy, was packed with commodities from corner to corner? The Phantom 13th Room, a delusion of her tired mind. One last thing to haunt her. Well, I guess if someone like Marie Condo was forced to live like this, she too might go bad, she's not here, Jocelyn says. Well, I've been so distracted in my armchair psychoanalysis of Veronica that I completely forgotten about the missing four-year-olds. I took a cursory glance around and called out her name, but was met with no reply. I asked the children where the next lightly place was for this 13th room.

They took me to the third floor and down a small winding corridor that had a little pull-down ladder leading to an attic. I yanked the ladder down and made my way up it, telling the children to stay put. As I entered the room, I pulled out my phone's flashlight and shone it around. My heart stopped as it landed on a hunched figure. I thought that maybe someone had thrown a sheet over some furniture, but the more I looked at it, the more it seemed to be moving. It had the subtle motions of breathing. I called her Amber's name,

and the figure jerked ever so slightly. From the position and angle, I guessed it was Amber, and I reached out ready to pull off the sheet when Tyler and Justin called out from below. We found her. My heart thundered in quick, painful palpitations. My hand still locked in mid-reach,

fingertips inches away from the cloth-draped figure. My mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what to do. Dare I pull back the sheet and see what lies beneath, or do I turn back round, leave and pretend nothing happened, and live out the rest of my life telling myself it was just my nerves. The thing jerked again, and this time my fingers brushed against the fabric. In a panic, I grabbed hold with the sheet, and with as much force as I could muster, I yanked it back. A cloud of dust was launched into the air

and obscured my phone's light for a few moments, moments that stretched out in agonizing anxiety. As the dust settled, I could finally see the form that lay beneath the sheet, a raccoon, a fat one that sat atop, an old side table. It was eating a rat, its teeth tearing into it. It stopped its feast as soon as I'd interrupted it, And we both leap back.

I stumbled and fell painfully on my ass, and nearly out of the attic. The giant thing dashed towards the back of the attic where a ventilation window had its blinds half open. The raccoon stuffed itself through them and scurried off onto the roof. Mother! I said in a half-whispers.

I got back up and ran to the window to close its blinds. I made my way back down the attic, deciding to pick up the dead half-eaten rat later. What happened? asked Jocelyn. I won, Amber said timidly. There was a raccoon up there. It was huge.

Oh, that's Mr. Stripes, piped up, Tyler. You named it. Well, I did. Mom says she likes him because animals know not to go near the bad things. Bad things? Like what? I won.

Amber spoke up a little louder. Or the 13th room. right. Tell me about it. Your mother already mentioned it to me before. Jocelyn and Tyler looked at each other again while Amber continued to state that she had won. Well, they've always been in here, ever since Dad had their house built. Rooms just appear and disappear. We've never been inside one. And we're just supposed to ignore them, they said. Is there one now? A 13th room. That's where you found Amber right. Yeah. Show it to me, please. I won't tell your mum.

Fine, but you have to promise that you won't go inside. I won, Amber said a fourth time. It led me to one of the closets on the third floor, and upon opening it, I saw that it was a spacious chamber with racks and cubbies for clothing. Strangest of all was the door at the other end. It was almost comically out of place, a faded mossy green, paint-chipped and peeling. A rusted 43 sat at its centre And its doorknob seemed so ancient

That I was sure it would crumble in my hands If I tried turning it Tyler told me that they'd found Amber kneeling in front of it And only after they'd informed her that she'd won our game Was she willing to leave? I wanted to reach out to it and touch the door But even at a distance I could feel a dangerous aura radiating from it

I didn't know why But a pervasive feeling of violation invaded my invaded my very being and settled into the pit of my stomach. I turned away from it and told the kids to get going. Whatever was beyond the door, I wasn't interested in exposing the children to its malevolence. Since Amber had won, I let her pick out our next activity, and she told me she just wanted me to draw with her. Tyler, of course, said it would be boring,

and Jocelyn wanted to have a fashion show, but after some convincing I got her to join us. Tyler sat in the same room with us playing video games and the rest of the day was spent casually a few sibling arguments here and there but the delayed children were surprisingly well behaved I wondered who was the parent most responsible for their discipline and settled that it must have been Veronica

by nine o'clock I was eager to put the children to bed I then waited another 30 minutes to make sure that they were asleep before I took action throughout the entire day ever since I'd seen it that door was on my mind balanced and a razor-thin wire

I walked with a combination of excitement and dread towards that closet the one that held the hidden 13th room a new theory had formed in my head secret rooms that must be it when the house was built there must have been the addition

of multiple secret rooms not listed on the blueprints and Veronica must have fabricated this elaborate lie to keep her children and me away from them. Phantom rooms, what a ridiculous concept. Whatever she was hiding, whatever the reason for all this insanity,

if it endangered the children or, most importantly, Tom, I'd find it. When I reached the closet door, I flung it open, all too eager, and in one quick motion flicked on the lights.

The door was gone. No, no, no! I pleased. it. I rushed to the end of the closet and threw myself at the wall. I felt that there was nothing there, that there was never anything there. I let out a string of expletives and seriously questioned if I was starting to lose it. But the children, they'd seen it too. But what if they were also in on Veronica's tricks? Yes, that had to be it. They were all in on it, conspiring against Tom and me.

I stumbled out of the closet and fell in a heap on the floor. I lay there for several minutes wondering what I should do next, how I should confront Veronica. My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar creek. I sat up, straining to locate the source of the noise, another snap, and I was starting to home in on its location. Another sound, this time sharp splintering, like the sound I'd heard last night.

I lunged down the two flights of stairs in record time towards the marble kitchen and there it stood like a monolith mocking me it shouldn't have been there couldn't have been there the burgundy and gold door that was now embedded into a wall next to the pantry was an impossibility my mind was starting to split apart into little fragments I had been inside this kitchen at least half a dozen times today and the door was never there.

So why now? Veronica, it had to be her. Somehow she was behind this. I just knew it. I wanted to leave. I should have left. But I needed to know if this door was real, if it led somewhere.

I reached out and placed my hand on the doorknob. A sharp chill shot through me the second I came into contact with it. As I turned the door knob, the chill turned into deep anxiety. society. Something vile awaited just beyond this threshold. But I had to know. For me, for Tom. I flung the door open and saw what was behind it. Another impossibility. Although the delay manner was massive, the space that lay beyond dwarfed the estate ten times over at least.

I was looking down at a ravine, reaching deep into the unfathomable depths. The only thing bridging down into it was a spiraling staircase that must have run on for several miles. Further down the spiral were narrow suspended bridges that were at least 300 feet in length and closed the gap from one side to the other. Doors lined the staircase in tight corridors that had more branching doorways and hallways. The suspended bridges linked the hall to other far-flung regions of the ravine. It was all a maddening tangoes. of architectural disaster as the aesthetic change from area to area with no apparent pattern.

Some sections were industrial and lined with concrete and pipes. In contrast, others were vaguely Gothic and had frescoes and statues that belonged amongst the most famed of cathedrals. Lights dangled in an assortment of uncountable varieties, lanterns, candles and light bulbs, and suspended orbs of energy. For the area to have this many of the area to have this many, light sources and for it still to have darkened crevices where light could not reach was a testament to its size. In depth alone it was deeper than any man-made structure could ever hope to be,

and to explore one of the branching labyrinthian corridors would surely be an exhaustive endeavour. Christ! I whispered. There was a sort of whimsy that had been awakened by the sight of something that was still unexplored. as I was about to take a step inside, fear blossomed from inside me. The air around me changed, became thick and suffocating, and I looked down deeper into the recess to see what could be behind it. The horrid, snaking being was rising from the depths,

its cold black skin stark against the many twinkling lights. It seemed humanoid at first glance, but then I saw it was a long, wormish thing, Along the size of its body, appendages writhed in the air as this thing rolled its body and limbs like some nightmarish centipede. It was somehow suspended in mid-air, as if it was swimming through space. As it drew nearer, the lights gave me a clear image. It had the head and torso of a human, but the rest of it was a long, grotesque, undulating tube of darkness. Human arms were the squirming limbs I'd seen earlier. They reached eagerly towards my direction.

Before it could ascend further, a shriek tore out from my throat, shocking me out of my entrancment. Scramming out of this other-worldly recess, I slammed the door shut. I stood in terror, gazing at the door, daring it to open and let out the humanoid sent-to-be demon that it contained. Hours passed, and nothing happened. regardless I was still in a state of shock.

The familiar sound of Tom's Buick pulling in caused my head to snap towards it. When I turned back to look at the door, it was gone, and I'd expected that would be the case. I was curt in my greetings and departure from the delay manner that night. Tom seemed disappointed by my urgency to leave, and if Veronica suspected that I'd broken her most sternly expressed rule, She didn't show it. She maintained that everlasting, icy indifference.

I ran all the way home and threw myself on my bed. I was exhausted, but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. Well, that was last night. I know that when Tom caused me to return in the following days, I will return with newfound curiosity. I know when the next phantom room appears, I won't hesitate to open it. There's something beneath the earth at the delay manner.

Something's hidden behind multiple layers of deceit and willful ignorance. I want to get to the bottom of it, to see that surrealist underscape once more, and to know why the fifth rule exists. It's been five days since I last set foot in a room that shouldn't exist. Five days since the delays, I'd last asked me to babysit at their accursed estate. For those five days, dread shadowed me, a deep anxiety of being exposed. I'd violated their most important role, so the relief that flooded me when I was called to work today was immense. When he arrived at the delay manner, I was greeted with little fanfare. Veronica's familiar scrutiny gave nothing away.

As soon as she and Tom left, I set my plan in motion. I pulled out a small box I'd stuffed in my backpack and held it out, listening for any response. I went throughout the house, holding the box in front of me, repeating this in every room, hoping to elicit some response of some kind. The kids followed me, occasionally asking what I was doing. I sat down, mentally exhausted after nothing had come to fruition, and finally acknowledged the delay children. The phantom rooms were the only things on my mind as I spent the next few hours performing tedious tasks. It wasn't until after the sun had started setting when I heard a panic squeak come from the box. I rose to attention and listened for any familiar sounds.

What was that? asked Tyler. I shushed him as I finally heard it. The creaking and splintering of wood, the sound of a new door forcing itself into existence. I ran towards the noise as the squeaks morphed into short shrieks. The children followed after me, barraging me with a series of questions. When I was in a corridor in the third room, I opened the box and pulled out the pet store mouse I brought and held it by its tail. I dangled the now whaling thing as I made strides towards the area that elicited the

most fear from it. I stopped in front of a narrow corridor that had formed near the corner of a wall. It stretched into an area that should have been a spatial impossibility. By all accounts, the corridor went beyond the outermost walls of the house, and would have to be suspended in mid-air, and yet its end was a sleek wooden door, intricate patterns decorating its borders. I dropped the now hysterical mouse, and it scurried away,

running past a screaming Jocelyn and a stunned Tyler. "'Sindy, what's going on?' asked Jocelyn. when I turned to face them their faces contorted in fear at the sight of the now exposed passage and door from behind them Amber stepped out and made her way to my side and peered at the door curiously have you ever gone inside

I asked the quiet girl she shook her head but gave me a look that said that she wanted to she moved closer to the door and ran a handle along the polished surface I reached out and placed a hand on the doorknob ignoring the sharp sting of rising anxiety. Jocelyn and Tyler pleaded with me not to open it,

but I had to know. I tugged the door open slowly, Tyler and Jocelyn flinching as I did. Inside was a room completely different to the one I'd been inside a few days prior. Now it led to some kind of brick-lined interior. Winding paths sneaked out in every direction. Some curved upwards,

towards the walls and an unseen ceiling. What is that? Jocelyn asked. I don't know. Want to find out? Tyler's eyes lit up. A sense of adventure blossoming inside the boy. Amp was already moving closer to the threshold.

Jocelyn was the last one to join. Her hesitance was betrayed by a step. The promise that this would never make it to their parents' ears was made without a single word being spoken. The inside of the room was dark and dusty, a strange unease hung in the air, so thick it was nearly palpable. I'd prop the entrance door open with a chair. Should I see the dark centipid creature from my last visit, I would be able to escape quickly with the children. Walking deeper into the room, I saw it was illuminated by the dim glow of overhead chandeliers.

They were bound together in an intricate web of tarnished silver chains. They made up a giant suspended mass, an artificial sun long dead. The dim light it gave off did little to illuminate the space directly beneath it. The rest of the room was bathed in darkness. I poured out a flashlight from my backpack and shone it around. The room was big enough that the light didn't hit any of the other three walls and instead dissipated into the empty space. We moved as a group on one of the paths until it transitioned into a stairway

twisting up into an angle that should have been impossible to trek. Amber was the one to run up it. She slipped away from my grasp and ascended. I yelled after her, but as she climbed up a staircase that spiraled upside down, I was stunned into silence. Somehow Amber was standing upright on an inverted staircase, ignoring the laws of gravity that should have sent her plummeting back down. I extended my arms up towards her,

as she was now above our heads. How is she doing that? asked Jocelyn. I don't know, I answered. Tyler gawked at me as I grabbed the quiet girl and pulled her back down. There was a resistance like a force binding her to the steps. With a tug she broke free and she fell into my arms. I turned around to look at the door leading back to the delay manner, the promise of normality filtering in as light.

and decided that it was time to leave. I grabbed hold of Jocelyn with my free hand and held amber in the other. Follow me, was all I said to Tyler. No one protested as I reached the door and ushered the children through. I turned back to look into the strange world contained within this phantom room. From a corner void of light, a pair of iridescent white eyes stared back at me. They moved towards me in a jerking motion, as if walking on withered and unstable legs.

As it stood at the edge of the chandeliers' dim spotlights, I saw that it was a small, black, impish creature, the size and shape of amber. Its eyes now seem more like eye spots, intended to ward off predators instead of functioning as ocular organs. Its head cocked as if it were observing us, as it took another step closer, I slammed the door shut. I said nothing to the children, and instead we spent the rest of the day without mentioning what we'd just done.

It was late afternoon, evening fast approaching, when I finally broke the silence that had fallen between us. Is there anything more you can tell me about it? I asked. No, not much. I don't think mum's ever gone inside one, Tyler answered. What about Tom? No, Dad's never really even talked about them. I'm sure he knows. I mean, he's the one that had the house built, cut in Jocelyn. Has anything ever come out of them? Have you ever heard anything from the other side? No, just the creaking when they show up. But never anything after, answered Jocelyn.

Okay, don't tell your parents about today and stay away from the doors. I think they're dangerous. The two older children both nodded in agreement. Amber was quiet as usual, but through her body language she communicated an eagerness. A cool coastal breeze tickled, exposed skin. The creamy orange rays of a setting sun did little to warm me. I shivered, not because of the encroaching cold, but instead the goosebumps forming on my skin were brought on by thoughts of the phantom rooms. It wasn't until the sun dipped behind the cresting ocean waves when I brought the children in.

an hour later they were in bed, falling asleep with little complaints. I wandered over to Tom's office, standing in front of the door I wondered if it was worth intruding. I briefly considered searching through Veronica's office to see if I could find anything revealing a hidden truth about the insanity contained within these walls. But a different force was tugging me towards Tom's working space. I stepped into the cluttered office and searched through unorganized files and books. nothing drew my interest until I found a photo out when buried in a stack of papers I quickly skimmed through it I saw pictures of Tyler as a smiling and mischievous baby of a fussy jocelyn and an eerily stone-faced newborn Amber I saw a photo of Veronica on her wedding day a gorgeous white dress wrapped around the defined curvature of her body

she wore a smile so faint it was nearly imperceivable the plasterable the plastered film over the photo crinkled under the force of my grip, and I forced myself to move on. The photo of a younger Tom cradling a baby Tyler caused my heart to skip a beat. A sharp, stubble jaw and dough-eye stained baby blue was all it took. My free hand had subconsciously found its way to my pant zipper, and I anxiously fidgeted with it. I remember the night he'd done the same, pressed up against me his warmth, freezing me in place, and the Through the intensity of our breaths, we communicated a shared desire. How long ago since we'd last indulged?

A little under a year? Well, when he'd first asked me about replacing his nanny, all I could think about were those shitty books marketed to suburban mums, the ones you find in grocery stores, half-naked men plastered on the covers, and big bolded words like taboo and forbidden selling quotes. I thought I would be living out of fantasy like the ones described in those books. How foolish.

I'd barely seen Tom since I'd started here, and the times I had, he didn't have that lustful gaze that he'd borne into me just a year prior. But now, seeing his face almost a decade younger, I could almost feel his heat, his breath, his touch. My fingertips were running along the hem of my jeans, a few dipping past when I heard that all too familiar sound, the infernal splinter of wood. God damn it, I hissed.

Flushed with a different kind of heat, I stormed towards the sound. Just what the hell was going on in this house? Well, I decided then and there that I would get to the bottom of it, know what role everyone was playing, and if Veronica was behind it, I would ruin her. I hated her, and so did Tom. He told me enough times during those sweaty, restless nights, how out of love he was with her. Well, maybe if I could just get her out of the picture, Tom would look at me the way he used to.

I could stay here in her place just as soon as this shit had settled down. Oh, I'd love to be the one to wipe that smart bitch look off her face. I found the door to the ever-changing 13th room in a cellar beneath the first floor. I normally would have hesitated going down into it, but in the spur of the moment I flung the ebony wood door open without a second thought. The inside was humid this time, the scent of concrete and tar emanating from it. Still, I was unaffected as I ran inside, flashlight out and scanning the area ahead. The door had opened into a dark urban landscape, cracked concrete and roads as far as the eye could see. I guessed it was night though

No moon or stars were visible Battered streetlights were spread into seemingly random intervals And very few of them actually functioned Even then all they gave off was a weak ambient glow What the hell I ran further down the street Trying to find anything of note

But it was all so disorienting Streets branched out in wild zigzagging patterns And often intersected Causing multiple buildings to fuse together into tall, misshapen sentinels. There was no sign of human life here, no cars, no shoes dangling from electrical wire, none of the stores were even marked with any identifiers. I turned around and decided to walk back, the glow of a door still in the distance. Taking my first step towards it, I felt a searing pain jolt through me, originating from my right shoulder.

I panicked and grabbed onto something slimy and caustic. It wiggled in my hands and left a burning sensation. I tossed it to the ground and shone my light on it. I was greeted by a fat, dark, purple slug. It writhed towards me as I heard the wet squelch of something drop from the sky and land inches from my foot. I dove under an awning as I heard more of those wet plops. I shone my flashlight around to reveal more of the slug, snail falling from the sky. A few burned through the plastic above and splattered around me.

I started sprinting towards the door, trying to avoid the rain of toxic slugs. I peeped behind me to see that I was being pursued by some giant black cloud that hung low in the sky. It had to be the one producing the slugs. Thick wisps of black vapour curled and engulfed the streetlights as it moved towards me. A giant, iridescent green eye bloom from its centre. and set its gaze on me. It picked up speed as its slug drizzle turned into a downpour,

the corrosive rain nipping at my heels. I felt two more red-hot drops land on my neck and ankle respectively before I flung myself out of the door in one last desperate attempt to outpace the black cloud. I rolled into an upright position and pivoted to slam the door shut before it could pour into the house and consume us all. The sound of the door ended up. echo throughout the house. I barely heard it over the thundering of my own heart. My chest ached with exhaustion and my skin was left with a sharp searing pain where the slugs had landed and left chemical

bones. I searched around quickly to make sure I hadn't brought any into this world by accident. I let myself collapse after finding none. I spent the rest of the night treating my injuries and trying to calm my nerves. To hell with this house. whatever the rooms were they always contained horrors there was no denying it now an evil lurked here built into the very foundations of the house somehow this house had become linked to the malice of another world more worlds i decided then and there that i would wipe my hands clean of this i sat around in ill-contained unease waiting for the delays to arrive when they finally did i tried to leave as quickly as possible planning to quit later over text. But Tom caught me by the wrist. I tried twisting away from him, but he held firm.

Is there something wrong? You look scared after death. It's nothing. I just want to go home. I need to work on a project that's due soon. I lied. Okay, but if anything's wrong, just know I'm here if you need to talk.

Tom said it in as calm a voice as possible. But his eyes were frenzied. What his eyes said were, Keep your hysteria to a minimum. I don't want my wife knowing that I fucked a girl almost 20 years younger than me. Typical. Covering his own ass. I let him know with my glare that I would keep out dirty secret between us.

My eyes shifted beyond him to meet Veronica's indifference. I broke away and turned to leave, wondering how much she really knew about Tom and me and about the house. Though she gave nothing away, I had a gut-wrenching feeling that she knew on some level the sins committed around and against her.

Maybe she knew from the start what I'd done knew about Tom, breaking the Fifth Rule about so much more than she let on. I don't really have anyone else to blame for that but myself, and Tom. He was the one that has spoken so sweetly to me, postured himself in the most appealing of ways.

That creep had waited until I was just old enough to make his move. How long and how many times had he played his games? I wonder how long until we faced the consequences of what he did. But regardless, I don't plan on letting Veronica have the last life. I'll take her down with me if I have to. A dark thought emerged from within me at that moment. If I could have eliminated Veronica by now, I would have. I wondered if she was the one to have set this all up

with some kind of twisted, cruel form of punishment. Would this end when I was gone for good? Did I even have the strength or will to give up? I hate to admit it, but I still ache for him. Well, I ran home sobbing. I stopped by the time I was inside, but had begun crying again as I lay in my bed. I cried for so much,

for the sins I committed, for the father I'd lost, for the pity I'd wallowed in. I cried because I knew that this wasn't the end. Somehow I knew that I'd be dragged back into the delay-stakes, back into the strange worlds within the 13th room. I fear that if it calls once more, through the timber of shattering words, I just might answer its call. Case six. The haunting of apartment won.

The haunting of apartment 106. Sometimes I hear it scuttling in the shadows or behind the walls. I rarely witness it, but when I do, it's always a blur that disappears into the shadows, and it never happens when I expect it to. I know I sat off my rocker, but there's a monster that lives in my apartment. I first heard its calls five days ago. The same day my sister, her husband and their daughter came up. over to visit before they left for a vacation. It was the middle of the night

when the sound rose from the darkness, freezing my blood. Its calls sounded like an orchestra of string instruments being played by guerrillas with a propensity for causing as much pain as possible. Well, that was the first in a long series of nights that seemed

to never end. The next morning when I got up, I found my chair was torn and the stuffing was partially dragged out. I was physically attacked by this monster the following night while sleeping. The monster plunged its fangs and talons into my feet, attempting to shred my flesh from its bones. I wanted to go to a hospital to have it looked at, but, well, I'm afraid of what they might tell me. What if it gave me some kind of disease when it

scratched and bit me? After two days without sleep, my mind was playing tricks on me. I think the beast enjoys chaos. Returning home, I sometimes find my clothes torn and laying on the floor. or the remains of a digested meal. We even knocked over the urn of great grandma and scattered the ashes. I decided to ask around for help and thankfully found people online. Unfortunately, since I'd not seen this beast and couldn't give a description, they couldn't tell me exactly what I'd need, but they did recommend that I buy books of wards and rituals.

In a new age shop I loaded up with everything from charms to Christian crosses in the silver and gold variety, since one may work better than the other. I didn't expect to buy as much as I did that day, but the weight of all, the charms around my neck, is a small price to pay for safety. People online also recommended that I purchase incense and sage to purge this beast.

After performing all the rituals, all the rituals I could, and surrounding my bed with salt, I finally felt comfortable enough to sleep. As soon as my head hit the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the rest of the way. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out of it. I don't know how long I was out of it, but when I woke up, it was dark. That isn't what woke me, though.

There was something laying on top of my hip. His tail was twitching back and forth, slapping my leg, but I was too afraid to move. When my alarm clock went off, the beast ran away. It was the first time I was thankful for having an alarm clock, if I'm being honest. When I went to the kitchen, I saw. saw some more of the creature's destruction. This time it decided to tear apart a throw pillow.

I'm not the kind of person who likes to tell people if I need help, so I didn't tell my friends or family about this, even though I knew that if I did, they'd offer me a spare bedroom or a couch. Each day I go without sleep, it's as if the shadows get darker and larger. I'm not sure if I'm going crazy or not. Well, even as I think this, I wonder,

did I just see that beast? Some people online told me about the origin of Halloween and how people would place offerings of milk out for ghosts and goblins to calm them. They recommended that I do the same thing. I set a small bowl of milk out and ran out to buy offerings of meat at the store. When I returned, I saw that the milk had been drunk, so I put out a piece of bologna. I looked away for only a moment, but when I look back the meat was gone.

But these offerings are only a band-aid. I need to identify this monster if I am to have any chance of being free of it. The following night my blood ran cold when I heard the monster in the walls between my bed and my neighbour's apartment. On the other side of the wall is an old woman who lives all by herself. I should have got up and run to her rescue, but at that moment I was a coward and didn't do anything except cover my head and drowned out of the same. with tuneless humming. I re-armed all the traps I'd set up the next morning

and cried because of how useless these traps are and how helpless I feel. It's at this point where I get more glances of the creature. A tuft of hair here, a tail there. Seeing all this, I wish I was never born. God, I can't do this for much longer.

I'm not a religious person and I was reluctant to ask a priest for help. However, at this point, I have no other option. He said the church no longer does exorcisms, that demons are a way to explain the evils in the world, and not to be taken literally. When I insist that I'm living with some sort of entity, he recommends prayer.

Well, I caused a bit of a scene when he said this, and I stormed off. My friend started to notice how much I've changed and how am isolating myself, so when they reached out to me, I told them everything was fine because I don't want to bother them with my burden. As I speak to one of them, I take my time bringing up the possibility of borrowing his gun so I could go duck hunting.

Thankfully, he believed me. I don't like being dishonest, but I don't see another way out of this situation. If the table was reversed and he were to tell me about a monster, God, I wouldn't believe him. That night I didn't try to sleep. I sat in my bed with the loaded weapon and waited for the monster to show itself At the moment it rears its ugly head I was going to end its life or die trying hours past I think I might have nodded off with a gun in my lap

I wake up suddenly and raise the gun to the door where I thought the beast might appear I cocked the gun putting a shell in the chamber while at the same time ejecting the one I forgot was already in there I was a pan the gun left and right, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I look for any movement. After a few moments, I see the wards on the floor made out of salt, and they've been spread all over.

I really shouldn't be surprised. The wars offered me no help, and yet, why should I expect things to be different now? Feeling pressure on my bladder, I dread getting out of bed when it's dark. Under the bed, the monster could wait for me. to put my foot on the floor. God, I feel like a child all over again, scared of the dark, scared of monsters. In truth, I'm afraid of everything.

After a silent prayer, I jump off the bed, and as soon as my foot touches the ground, I sprint to the bathroom and shut the door. Unfortunately, I didn't bring the gun with me. Deciding to sit on the cold toilet instead of standing up to urinate, I consider sleeping here with the door shut. Before I know it, I'm asleep once again.

I woke up to the sound of loud and rapid scratching. In that tiny gap between the door and the floor, I see a white claw reaching out towards me. Needle-like claws extended and excitedly scrape the floor as if it's trying to pull the door, and me towards it's waiting more. A moment later the claw turns and reaches towards the door knob. Well, I'm thankful I'm already on the toilet because I scream like a child and because, well, I don't remember the last time I ate. I faint. When I wake up, it's to the sound of my phone ringing on the other side of the door. As soon as I build up enough courage, I burst through the bathroom door and sprint to my bed where the phone and the gun lay. Instead of grabbing the gun, I look at my phone. Four voicemails and six missed calls, all of which are from my boss.

He said that I was fired in the last voicemail. Well, this should upset me more than it does, but how could it lose a job compared to living with some kind of demon? Forcing myself to eat, I open the fridge and the smell of old, spoiled food breaks me. I cry harder than I ever have in my life. God, babies don't cry this much. The anticipation of being attacked was almost worse than actually being attacked. so I shout, challenging the beast to reveal itself as my knuckles turn white around the gun. I position a chair in the corner so I can see more of my house and I wait for the monster.

Outside I hear people going about their day. I hear birds chirp, car start, and in the distance I hear a school bell ring indicating that the students are about to go home. God, everyone else gets to feel normal. so again I cry there was a moment I thought I heard a woman screaming in the hallway outside

but it ended up being one of those happy screams so I cry yet again the only time I move from that chair is when I go to turn on the lights just before it gets dark after all I need to see the monster

in order to shoot it if the monster survives the blast it would kill me if that's the case at least this nightmare will be over, and I'd finally be able to sleep. Waying the pros and cons of living, as well as the gun in my hand, I made a decision and put the barrel of the gun in my mouth. Slowly, I apply pressure to the trigger,

knowing that at any time this thing will go off and my suffering would be over. I think about the poor bastard who'd have to clean this mess for a second, but quickly set that thought aside. As soon as I shoot, that would not be my problem. I had more pressure to the trigger with the business end of the gun in my mouth. My lips tightened on the barrel, and I cry more, my finger not easing the tension on the trigger, and that was when the phone rang.

I pulled the barrel out of my mouth on the third ring to see who's calling me. Wiping tears from my eyes to pick up the phone, and see it's my sister who's just come back from her very. vacation. She's the one person who could talk me off of this cliff. Hello? I answer as calmly as I can muster. Hey, I'm coming over. Be there in five minutes, she says. What? Why? I asked, surprised. I'm picking up my cat today. Thanks for watching it while we were gone. Case seven. The traveling cemetery is in town. The first stars began to twinkle through the precipitating twilight, blinking through a fuchsia sky that sank into murky lilac and wine hues while the brimming moon guarded its sky.

Checking the hands on the clock of his yellow dashboard, the traveller could see he wouldn't be making it tonight. Endless stretches of dusty horizon lay between him and his destination, sandy particles hanging in the air like moonlit mist. He gripped the rubber of the steering wheel and huffed out. a disapproving sigh. With eyes dreary from the road, he scanned the skyline before him for any sign of civilization, anywhere to lay his head for the night

before continuing in the morning. Far in the distance, he made out tiny, twiggy fences surrounding sprawling fields and little villas thrown together from adobe, as if they'd grown from the soil itself. He wouldn't be likely to find anywhere else along the roads that night, so providing they had room for him,

he would have to do. It might even make a welcome change from the dilapidated budget motels he was used to. The traveller slowed his car to a crawl as he entered the village, cranny his neck to see out of the windows. There were no signs on the clay walls, nor hanging from the logs that made up the skeleton of their structure. Not even in the single glazed antiquated windows nestled within the bone-dry wooden frames with their sun-bleached netted lace curbs. Instead, he saw eyes peering back at him with a mixture of both intrigue and distrust, drapes twitching as shadowed fingers grasped them to draw them back just far enough to gaze out. A withered old man sat on a three-legged stool,

his hands on his lap and his back against one of the worm-ridden posts of his home, watching the traveller's car inch past and kick up dust through the droopy skin of his eyelids. He made a left turn into the village side, center. A small fountain and pool beneath it lay dry and dusty, presumably for years, and more adobe houses circled around it. A small number of weeds crept up through the soil, parched but hardy, barely swaying in the wheezing breeze. He found a place to park in an empty space on the road in front of a house and shoved open the door of his car, the half-rusted metal hinge groaning beneath its weight, and took a step out into the dusty hamlet.

Slowly turning to survey his surroundings, he shook his legs one by one and swept back what was left of his greying hair before reaching for the inside pocket of his corduroy jacket to retrieve his packet of cigarettes. Glancing around, he removed one from the packet and pushed it between his purse lips and swapped it for his lighter, cupping a hand around the end to protect the flame from the wind. Now he scanned the windows again, drawing lazily from the end of his cigarette and exhalesceding, from his nostrils. There was no clear indication of a place for him to stay, and the logos didn't seem too tolerant of his presence. The back of his car was filled with boxes and bundles containing all of the value to his life, tokens and trinkets to remind him of the things

in his life he'd once let go. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it before strolling down towards the main road on which he drove, still turning his neck to survey the scene before him. He reached the end of the road and glanced left and right. Slowly he raised the cigarette back to his mouth and poured on it once more. The embers growing to light his face before dying down to a subtle glow again. The ramshackle wooden door of one of the houses opposite clattered open and caught its attention. From the candlelit darkness within, the figure of a woman appeared. As she emerged into what light remained, he caught a better look of her, clad in a blood-soaked linen apron with the carcass of a chicken in one hand and a cleaver in the other.

He could make her crinkled skin and sagging jails, her sunken eyes and drooping neck. She raised her head as she made eye contact with him in an upwards nod, inviting him over. Curious, he made his way over the road, checking both ways before crossing. There was no traffic, nor would there be any that night. his upbringing in the city was ingrained into his being even here outsider why do you come here she smiled her voice was filled more with curiosity than enmity but her question caught the traveller off guard i'm on my way to attend a convention he wasn't even sure if she knew what a convention was this place was so far removed from what he would consider to be society that She may not be familiar with the turtle. She just smiled back at him,

drinking deep of his brown eyes and scrutinizing the man that stood before her through them. Um, where am I? The traveller asked, genuinely lost. Not that it mattered where he was. He knew he was on the right road, but he hadn't taken the time to familiarize himself with every little town on the map.

You're here, she cackled. What for you? few rotten yellow teeth remained in her mouth, hung delicately in her gums. She motioned to the houses around her. You're here, she repeated happily. The traveller was unnerved slightly and took cautious glances at the cleaver trapped between her calloused fingers. If she was making a joke, I wasn't landing with him. That's good, but where is here? He responded. She shook her head and exhaled deeply. Outsider,

do you know what day to day is? The traveller simply responded with a silent shake of his head. Today, it's harvest day. The fields were full of corn, wheat, and they did look right for harvesting with their golden hues.

How they grew anything out here in the clay-laden soil was a mystery to him, but he'd seen it with his own eyes. That said, it was a little late in the day, to be harvesting anything. The day is already over. You mean to harvest at night?

He responded. She tutted at him, shaking her head. She turned around slowly, waddling inside. He waited, but she turned her head back around and waved him in, the chicken in her hand shaking about loosely. With a flick, he loosed the cigarette butt to the ground. He made his way inside, crouching his way through the doorframe.

Links of preserved meats hung from the wall alongside dried flowers with faded family photos of people long gone. Wooden beams lay inches from the traveller's head and the strange woman put down the chicken near a pile of chopped meat along with a cleaver. A slender stairway with wooden steps worn into curves by years of abuse lay off the main room

with another room hiding in the back. Come! she said her tone more serious this time her voice almost a whisper in the distance a bell struck softened by the distance she seemed to pick up her pace at this pushing open the wooden door to the next room with renewed haste inside a simple coffin lay atop a stand within which a young girl lay a crown of pretty blue wildflowers atop her head with closed eyes she rested peacefully her lips almost in a smile. The traveller had many questions.

How had she died? Who was she? And why the lady was showing him this just as a start. Once again, the bell called out. The strange woman leaned over the coffin and stared down with heavy eyes, reaching out a hand to the girl's face and caressing it softly. A sullen look washed over her drooping eyes and her lips pursed together as she shook her head.

It didn't take long for her to move away, her hand to her face, unable to take the sight of her dead relative. One final time the bell rang out. Moments later there was a knock at the door. The woman spurred into life, still with a serious look about her countenance, rushing as best she could to greet the people waiting outside. Two men, one with a moustache, one clean shaved but wearing a hat, made their way inside. They bowed their heads before the coffin and raised it, moving out of the front door and into the streets. Unsure of if he should follow, the traveller stood by the door and watched. From the adobe houses, the people of the village emerged, house by house, each carrying candles and joining a great procession to accompany the dead.

There were only two caskets in total, but for a small village such as this, two was more than enough. "'Harvest Day,' the lady repeated, taking his hand in hers. He felt uncomfortable but didn't wish to offend her by snatching it away, especially given the circumstances. Together they joined the procession, following the twitching candlelight through the streets and towards the fields that shimmered in the moonlight. The crowd stopped at the wooden fences around the fields,

while the paw-bearers sat the caskets down deep in the middle of the fields before returning to join their neighbours. All was silent, save for a few weeping women and the whooshing wind blowing through the crops. The traveller looked on, wondering why they'd chosen not to bury their dead. Why, in this field so full of life, would they leave their dead out in the open, soon to be baked under the blistering sun?

Not wishing to disrespect their local customs, he held his tongue. Still gripping his hand, the strange lady tightened her hold around his fingers. And for a time, nothing happened. The crowd just looked on, waiting as the last flecks of colour in the sky died off into darkness, leaving a sheet of stars across the heavens. Abruptly, from the distant edge of the rolling fields, long stalks of wheat began to shuffle aside.

A few of the villagers noticed and started to murmur among themselves, pointing and nudging one another. All eyes were fixed on the movement as whatever made its way through the fields grew closer and closer a bit by bit. It moved slowly but steadily, hedging ever closer towards the caskets until it reached a stop.

Through the darkness, the traveller could see what looked like a stone block with two white heads bobbing around in the sea of wheat. One casket rose above its surface and vanished within the block. and then the other. He didn't know what to make of this. Stealing corpses?

Well, he had to know more. Who are those people? He asked the woman, not turning his head away from the action. She looked up at him with a look of relief in her eyes. Who were those people? She corrected him. He thought to ask more questions, but quickly realized he wouldn't be getting any answers from her.

He needed to know. what was going on with this strange town, and a resolve possessed him. He was going to find out for himself. Snapping free of the woman's grip, he climbed over the rickety wooden fence and began to wade through the tall stalks towards the coffins, elbowing his way through and stomping down the plants as he went. He poured another cigarette from his pocket and lit it, holding it between his teeth as he pressed on. Finally, he reached a little clearing where the coffins had been. The crops had been pressed down by something heavy, pushed aside into a loose path of broken plums.

He wouldn't easily be able to find his way back from here, but he quickly pressed on. Stomping in rhythm, his arms swung quickly as he raced to catch up with whatever it was he was chasing, and he soon came across it. A simple wooden cart with two large wheels, one person pulling from the front and one pushing from behind. inside lay a huge block of stone

within which the two coffins had been nestled in the misty darkness he could make out their white heads but was quickly startled by the rest of their bodies his heart sank and his stomach churned at the sight of milky white bone dry as the wood of the houses in the village these weren't just people

but skeletons brought into animation by some unseen force part of him wanted to run to find his way back to the car and drive off to the nearest place that he could consider normal for a second he glanced back as he considered it but decided he had come too far already the thought crossed his mind that he might be going mad but the traveller pressed on to catch up with the skeletons as they forced their way deeper into the field

hey he called out to them against his better instincts It had no effect and they simply continued along their way. Breaking into a jog, he managed to catch up and walked alongside them, attempting to make his presence known. You can't just take those people. They have to be buried, he called. Again, he got no reply. He repeated efforts to stop them, even going as far as to pull them back, but they moved with such constant force that no matter his strength, they would not be budged. The traveller resigned himself to following them, observing them, at least until they reached their destination.

What seemed to be hours passed by, but the fields remained unrelenting. He was sure that no stretch of farmland could be that vast, but they should have reached the other side by now, but all he could do was follow. Eventually the living bones started taking turns through the seemingly endless crops, what seemed to him to be completely arbitrary lefts and rights to which he paid no notice. Finally the crops began to recede, thinging out and revealing colossal stone walls behind them that towered above him. Within each block of stone was space for a number of coffins, all of which were filled. As the three of them made their way through the soaring maze of burial blocks, they passed more skeletal workers, busying themselves arranging and rearranging

the blocks, moving the coffins, toiling at tasks that seemed to serve no purpose intelligible to the traveller. At last, the skeleton stopped. A gap in a wall needed to be filled, and so they dropped the cart and began sliding out their block with the utmost care before raising it up atop another. He thought the way it might crush them and instinctively jerked into action to help, but he reminded himself just to observe. He lit another side of the same. He lit another side of the smoke and puffed away as he watched, puzzled. Once the workers had placed the block, he took a moment to reflect on the girl that he'd seen laying there in the coffin and took the opportunity to scan the rest of them. He assumed that they were all full,

or at least had been at one point. One of the two skeletons he'd followed in, took control of the cart and began to pull it away while the other walked off in the opposite direction. They made no contact with one another, only seeking to go about their business. This was his first inkling that he was well and truly lost. Thinking quickly, he decided to hop in the back of the cart and let the skeleton take him for a ride. Hopefully, he thought, he'd arrive back in the village field. He rested his head back on his hands, as he stared up at the stars through the puffs of smoke on his breath, between the towering blocks of stone and coffins.

It had been long enough now that he'd grown tired, his eyes drooped and his whole. body felt heavy. And a groan from his stomach reminded him that he needed to leave this forsaken place. "'Hey, um, excuse me, skeleton?' he spoke up again, only to be ignored. He called out to a few more of the walking bones that passed, but none of them answered his call. The cart stopped moving in a crossroads of the grey blocks, and the skeleton at its helm walked away, blending in with the rest the workers as they scurried about their business. Before he knew it, he'd lost track of the one he'd been following. Dredd finally caught up with him, and a tingle ran through his spine, swelling through every fibre of his muscle, and fizzed up to his skin, sending the hairs on his body

standing on end. He stared down all four paths, his skeletons clattered around him, one knocking him over without even noticing he was there. Help, he asked them, glancing from face to bony face as they glided expressionlessly past him. Help, he called again, louder, hoping that anyone would hear him. Getting to his feet, he fought away tears, trembling as he decided to clabber his way atop the stone cues. Using what little strength he had left, he made his way up and stared around, trying to get his bearings. before him the maze stretched on beyond the darkness through mist and haze in every direction as he plotted a path the blocks continued to move the maze shifting and twisting before his eyes exasperated he lay down atop the blocks and stared back up into the stars

before closing his eyes to formulate a plan by the time he opened his eyes it was morning he took a long look out around the misty horizon and spied in the distance a sea of shimmering weak through the haze. It was a long way out still. So far it might take him all day to walk, but at least he had a direction in mind. Scambling his way down the blocks, he managed to catch a lift on another cart, jumping out as soon as it changed direction away from where he was headed. His eyes could no longer focus, and his feet burned, but he still pressed on. making his way through the shifting blocks and avoiding the stampeding skeletons he finally found himself stepping into the fields the crops thickening around him followed by a skeleton with a cart

he wasn't out of the woods yet but at least he was out of that place the sun had started to set but he knew he must press on quickly at least until he found a road a town a house a farm anything he needed food water nicotine a living person He didn't look back, focusing solely on reaching the end of the field. For what seemed like forever, he pushed aside storks and forged his way onwards, filled with a renewed vigour as hope fueled him. Once more the stars twinkled above him, but he knew what he must do. He stopped upon reaching a small clearing where the wheat had been pressed down by a long wooden box that lay before him.

He stared down at it, early moonlight shimmering on the metal, decorations hammered into it. A coffin. He reached his hands down to the brass handles and cautiously lifted it up from one side. He hadn't realized he was still being followed by the skeleton, but it took the other side. And together they lifted it into the empty recess within the stone block. He stared out above the surface of the sea and finally glimps the village there, little wisps of smoke puffing from chimneys in the distance. He turned to the cart and lifted it, the other skeleton pushing from behind. They had to get back to work.

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.