Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep290: Episode 290: Incredibly Weird Horror

Episode Date: November 10, 2025

Today’s phenomenal first offering is ''Aura'', an original work by the one and only Richard Saxon, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/RichardSaxon/ Today’s second terrifying tale of the macabre is every part of ‘The Bipolar Express’, an original story by Will Rayne, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/WillRayne/ Today’s closing story is ‘The Stranger in the Background’, an original story by Will Rayne, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/WillRayne/

Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right fortune pick is only available at BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager, Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you,

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. Weirdness fascinates us because it challenges the boundaries of what we believe to be normal. or inexplicable, it stirs a primal curiosity, the need to make sense of the unfamiliar. Weirdness invites us to question reality itself to peek behind the curtain and wonder what else might be hiding there. It's unsettling, yes, but it's also thrilling. A reminder that the world is far stranger and far less predictable than we like to think,

as we shall see in tonight's three 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. And let's begin. My mum's death came unexpectedly during a stressful Christmas season. At the ripe old age of 27, she collapsed in the kitchen from an apparent heart attack, leaving behind this world and her six-year-old son.

I remember her arguing with my grandpa, though, what they discussed was beyond what my young mind could comprehend. Ah, it's that old stuff. They simply responded as I asked. The three of us lived together, my mom, my grandpa and myself, seeing as my father left long before I was born, leaving nothing behind but a note saying he wasn't ready for children, running off and never looking back.

In his absence, Grandpa had stepped in, taking his place as a father figure, well he must have been in his late 70s by the time I was born though none of us knew for certain because he'd always joke about the answer whenever asked but even with his advancing age he never took a day off always working to provide for the family despite the sudden onset of her sickness my mum didn't die immediately they managed to keep her alive for a week in the hospital and they worked around the clock to keep her going

doing the best to figure out what had caused her heart to suddenly give up. She spent the remainder of her life in a coma, and I kept her company for as long as I could. My grandpa would take care of me while we waited for her to pass, making sure I ate, and just sitting by my side as I held my mother's hand, desperately wishing for her to come back to me. On the day of her death, my mother briefly regained consciousness,

only awaking to look deep into my eyes, staring intently into my soul, as if she was letting me know everything would be all right. She reached out her hand, grabbing onto mine tightly, and I felt a surge of energy flowing through my body, one filled with pure love and joy, making the hairs on my arms stand up. During that split second,

our souls merged for the briefest of moments, and something that had existed within my mother was passed over to me and then as quickly as it had begun it faded away and my mother fell silent in her bed an ominous beep filling the room as doctors and nurses rushed to her aid they did what they could to bring her back for a second time but in the end she was a lost cause following her death grandpa took me out for burgers in a milkshake. It was a tradition that had started years prior, when he discovered that pretty much any time I felt sad, it could be remedied, or at least helped with a burger and a strawberry milkshake. Though it was just a minor act of kindness, one that couldn't ease the fact of my mom's death. It brought me a sense of normalcy, briefly taking away the feeling that the world had just ended.

two weeks passed and the funeral had been arranged we didn't have much family to speak of but my mum was a well-like person at work with plenty of friends who showed up to pay their final respects i'd seen a few of them before her boss mr roberts and her best friends but as a kid didn't feel all that comfortable around people who were essentially strangers and it took me a while to get used to them And I stood by Grandpa, holding on to his hand tightly, as different people spoke a few words. I listened intently to the stories they told, and thought about my own favourite memories. Then, as I looked up to see the next speaker take the stand, I saw something surrounding all the guests. It was vague at first, hardly noticeable at all, but as people got closer to me, I noticed a clear outline hanging around them, clinging on to each and every person at the funeral, like an aura radiating out from their bodies, varying in both intensity and emotion. While most were gleaming with strong, brilliant auras, spreading around the church with a sense of hope and joy, others

look darker, feeling more pitiful and empty, as if their life force was simply lacking or spread too thin. Among the weak ones, Mr. Robert stood out with his pitch black aura, his energy paling in comparison to the rest, full of despair and a bizarre feeling of intense agony. He looked miserable since the beginning of the funeral, but until then I'd assumed it to be due to the circumstances. Now I noticed he carried himself in a strange way. Each step he took was a struggle. I turned to my grandpa, who also had a magnificent aura surrounding him. He immediately noticed that something was bothering me and quickly got me out of there without asking any questions.

I wanted to tell him what I'd seen right then and there, but something within me made me keep quiet, as if telling him would be wrong, and that I had to carry the burden on my own. The vision faded as soon as we'd left the funeral, and my grandpa assumed that the mass of people and the somber atmosphere was just too much for me we went home and i thought that would be the end of it until a few days later when i overheard grandpa on the phone mentioning that mr roberts had passed away suddenly and that he'd send flowers since he'd meant a great deal to my mum even at a young age i was able to connect the dots and realised his horrible aura at the funeral meant he had been only a few days away from death years passed and the vision had become little more than a distant childhood memory to be ignored i started school and lived a relatively normal life though a bit of a loner who kept quiet and without a life

large family, I was more or less happy. My grandpa took it upon himself to teach me all the important aspects of life, from cooking, washing, reading and math, to more personal issues such as love and respect. As an avid hunter, he even took me along once, teaching me about gun safety and such. After a couple of sessions, we both realised it wasn't for me, but I appreciated the effort nonetheless. For all intents and purposes, he was my father. Nevertheless, I kept calling him Grandpa, and he never seemed to mind.

The next vision would come to me on the school bus. I sat in my designated seat and listened to music, just doing my best to ignore all the noise around me, as we slowly made our way to class. As I glanced up, I suddenly noticed a second. beautiful aura I'd seen so many years ago, now surrounding all the other kids on the bus, everyone full of hope, unique and magnificent in their own way. Well, everyone except for Lucy. Lucy suffered from leukemia, which at the time I didn't understand the severity of.

My immature brain still not realizing that death could strike anyone at any moment, regardless of age. Her aura was weak, though not rid of all life force. It had definitely diminished to the point where she was standing on death's doorstep. Lucy was sick, and it had been showing for quite some time. Despite her illness, she kept her great attitude and eternal optimism. Though she was more of an introvert, she was well liked, but, well, kids are immature, and since her diagnosis, many had shied away in fear.

of her sickness. Knowing exactly what her aura meant, I decided to sit next to her, just to keep her company while she slowly inched towards the end of her life. We started talking, and to my surprise, we had a lot in common. Daily bus rides together turned into daily lunches, and before long we became good friends. During the following months, we spent pretty much every day together, hanging out after school, watching movies, talking about our hopes and desires. She confessed a lot of her inner secrets during our talks. That death wasn't something she'd been prepared for, and that she was horrified of what came after. Then she told me she'd never kissed anyone before, which at the age of 13 wasn't a big deal. Neither of us had had

any relationship experience, but in her case she feared she would miss out on a lot of important milestones in life. Well, it was through Lucy I learned that with the appropriate amount of focus, I could actually lock in on individual people's aura. Rather than having uncontrolled bouts of my visions, which left me exhausted and confused, I could see each person's aura as I interacted with them. Her aura kept fading. as the disease took its course, but despite the vanishing life force, the quality seemed just slightly better. Rather than the dull energy I'd seen on the bus the first day we spoke, there was a glimmer of joy hidden beneath, and even though I couldn't say for certain,

I'd like to think I made a positive impact. As a birthday came around, I brought a chocolate, flowers, and a dinner invitation, a proper date that had been part of her bucket list for the longest time, and I fully intended to make the best of it. We ate at an Italian restaurant, and with our exquisite tasting food, we naturally ordered pizzas. The dinner was followed by a movie.

Her pick was horror, which, for whatever bizarre reason, had always been her favourite. The movie itself wasn't anything beyond average. As we grew tired and started leaning on each other, I felt truly content with life. I had almost fallen asleep by the time the movie ended, and just as we lifted our tired heads and turned towards each other,

a spark ignited, and we shared our first kiss. It was the purest and genuinely one of the happiest moments in my life. Even when the kiss itself wasn't the best, being her first and mine as well, our friendship had over the course of a year flourished into something deeper one of the most beautiful years of my life only to be immediately followed by one of the worst

Lucy never wanted to die in a hospital in her mind an unexpected death at home would have been better than a drawn-out month in hospice care full of suffering before her body finally gave out We both just turned 14, and I'd come to pick her up for a walk in the snow-filled park during a particularly cold winter. As I arrived, her mother invited me in, explaining that Lucy was getting ready for our date. I knocked on the door, once, twice, and yet she didn't respond.

Having seen her weakening aura for the better part of a year, I quickly spiraled into panic. Without hesitation, I barged in to see her lying on the bed, looking as if she was just sleeping, but her aura had completely vanished. No pulse, no breathing. Lucy had died quickly and peacefully from an embolism, or why she waited for our date. Honestly, it wasn't the death on its own that haunted me the most.

We'd all expected it, and thus made the most of the most the short time we'd had together. What truly tore a hole in my heart was the empty seat on the bus, serving as a constant reminder that Lucy was gone, that I had once again outlived one of the most important people in my life. My grandpa was naturally just as distraught as myself, and, as he'd always done ever since I was a kid, he took me out for burgers and a strawberry milkshake. We talked, and laughed, and I admitted my feelings for Lucy, who'd been my first unofficial girlfriend. Then, just for a moment, with all the emotions brought on by reminiscing, and just mentioning her, gave me another vision. I hadn't intended for it, but I unintentionally

got a glimpse of my grandpa's aura, and I saw that it had rapidly diminished into a bleak, version of its former cell. "'Grandpa, are you feeling all right?' I asked as a reflex. He gave me a peculiar look before answering. "'Of course, kiddo. A bit tired, but I'm as good as ever,' he said, with a smile on his face, but it didn't feel real.

There was something unsettling behind his cheerful facade, as if he knew exactly what I'd seen, but his time on earth was a limited. resolved. Time takes its toll, and there's not a single person in this world strong enough to withstand its ever-present tide. Grandpa's once bright and fantastic aura had turned dull, and his time would soon come. At that point, I still hadn't told anyone about my gift. Not that it would have mattered, as death would always be an inevitable part of life, one people would rather keep as a surprise. Instead, I decided to spend as much time with him as possible, just as I'd done with Lucy.

Naturally, he was ecstatic to have me around more, though a bit confused to my new-found, clingy behaviour. How old are you anyway? I asked him during one of our many lunches. I'm a hundred and five, he chuckled, another false number like he always gained. A few nights later, just as I did. fallen over the edge into the realm of dreams, I was abruptly awoken by sounds down in the garage. I carefully peaked out through the window to see our car pull away from the driveway, quickly leaving the street. I snuck down, to find that my grandpa had gone missing. I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. And then I sat nervously in the kitchen, staring out

the window as I awaited his return. Once a couple of hours had passed, I was about ready to call the police, but just as I picked up the phone, he came driving back, parking the car down the street and walking the rest in an attempt at being quiet. As you opened the door, I immediately noticed something that should have been reassuring, but instead it sent a dreadful shiver down my spine. in the brief two hours that he'd been gone his aura had grown stronger not stronger in the sense that the quality had improved or even changed but his actual life force had increased

as if he'd, well, as if he'd gone back several decades in time where were you? I blurted out as he walked past the kitchen oh hey kiddo I didn't realize you were still awake he stuttered. I just went to the pub. I needed time to think. Didn't mean to wake you. Think about what?

Oh, I haven't been feeling myself lately. Just needed to get some thoughts in order. At that point, his mysterious disappearance gave way to a hint of anger. And you were drinking and driving? Just have a beer. I'd never drive impaired. He walked over and hugged me, promising that everything was all right.

Without any further explanation, he said he needed to sleep. Maybe I was naive, and should have dug deeper, but at the time I blindly accepted his explanation, and that was that. A few years passed, my grandpa remained his strong, hard-working self.

I myself had just turned 18 years of age which meant I was legally an adult and had successfully sent out a bunch of college applications to be rejected while I worked part-time. Each year I'd made a tradition out of visiting both my mother's and Lucy's graves on their respective birthdays. I never felt like I'd gotten closure following my mother's death with the doctors failing to explain what had killed her at such a young age.

i put flowers on their graves and spoke to them for an hour hoping they'd found peace on the other side even without being particularly religious it helped me cope with the loss in the meantime it seemed my grandpa had developed a ritual of his own or maybe it was one i just hadn't noticed before over time his aura kept growing weaker and as it did he would disappear for a couple of days at least once a year Blamey either on a business trip or old friends, only to return with an aura as strong as ever. Since I'd learned to control my ability, I'd seen aura's come in all shapes and forms, but never had I seen someone with a fluctuating aura, and with his biannual disappearing acts, I started to grow suspicious. After some contemplation, I decided to follow him. to prepare for the eventual stalking

I kept a close eye on these constantly diminishing aura knowing that once it reached a certain point he'd leave on one of his trips December quickly rolled around and he made the excuse that he had to visit an old friend who had fallen ill earlier in the year with my part-time job I'd finally saved up enough money for a car and in the snowy weather

following him discreetly proved to be an easy enough task. He drove a couple of hours over to the next town and eventually pulled into a street leading to a run-down neighbourhood. I observed him from afar and made sure I'd part my own car on the next street over. I quickly sprinted over to follow him on foot while he waited outside the door to an old house. After what felt like an eternity,

He knocked a second and then a third time. Once the door opened, he was greeted by a man in his late 80s, too frail to keep upright without the support of his cane, and his aura was just as feeble. He took one look at my grandpa, sighed, and invited him inside. When I snuck over to one of the windows, and watched them walk into the kitchen, they sat themselves down around a table without speaking a wall,

word, and the old man poured them both a tall glass of whiskey. While my grandpa didn't touch his drink, the old man instantly chugged his down in one large gold, before snatching the other glass. How'd you find me? The man finally asked. My grandpa responded quietly, inaudible through the window. Now you've come to collect what little life I have left, huh? Oh, so you can keep on a little little.

in for another hundred years, he said, matter-of-factly, without the faintest hint of surprise or fear. Grandpa didn't respond. He just sat quietly and stared at the man. Well, I'm half dead anyway. No point fighting it. Any last wishes, James. How about fuck you?

I should have killed you when I had the chance. The man said, as he chugged his second glass of which, whiskey. He slammed his empty glass down on the table and stared into grandpa's eyes. Get on with it there. After a short moment of intense silence and the two men staring each other down my grandpa reached out his hand, grabbing the old man by his arm. The man instantly froze in place and his angry expression was replaced by one of intense agony. he tried to pull his arm free but his muscles were paralysed by the grip he could do nothing but watch as his own life-force drains fuck you he let out one last time within the span of ten seconds his aura had completely vanished and he fell over dead on the table all the while my grandpa's aura improved ever so slightly

I slumped down on the ground in shock, horrified by what I'd just witnessed, heartbroken by the fact that the only person I'd relied on since the death of my mother was a murderer. As I heard my grandfather opened the door, I quickly ducked out of sight around a corner where I patiently waited for him to leave. Once I heard his car drive away, I darted into the house to the man's aid, frantically trying to call an ambulance, It felt like hours had passed between dialing the number and the ambulance arriving. And be it out of morbid curiosity or the need to figure out how to prevent more deaths, I went searching through the house for answers. The two of them had clearly known each other, and if I was lucky, maybe I could get answers.

His mail read Gordon Lewis, which didn't match what my grandfather had called him, so I figured it could be a fake name. I kept digging, through closets, drawers and wardrobes, desperate to find any information at all before the paramedics arrived. As I rummaged through his bedroom, I noticed a box stuffed under his bed, marked Charles Bishop. I opened the box to find newspaper clippings and several bundles of pictures.

Some of the older, more worn-out photos were sepia-toned, and pictured a middle-aged man holding a ring-necked pheasant he'd hunted, alongside a smiling kid, diligently holding onto a rifle. The date on the photo read January 17, 1939, and the back read, Charles and James Bishop, first hunting session. The pictures were all dated in the late 30s and early 40s, and as I studied them, I realised that the man bore a striking resemblance to my grandfather. i grabbed another bundle that seemed to contain pictures from the seventies and the same man albeit slightly older appeared in most of the photographs it was without an ounce of doubt my grandfather except in the span of the past eighty years he had barely aged

most of the newspaper clippings held stories about mysterious deaths and murders throughout the twentieth century while the rest were just obituaries At the bottom of the box, I pulled out a much newer photograph, one with the date October 10th, 1992. I almost dropped it in shock when I realised, well, that I'd seen the photo before. It was one of our own family pictures, just my mother, my grandfather, and myself as an infant. I quickly shuffled through the photos again to make a basic timeline. The man who had raised me, who I had called Grandpa for the better part of my life, had to be, at the very least, over a century old. As the ambulance arrived with this blaring siren,

I collected some photos from the box and met them at the door. A couple of paramedics barged in while a police officer started questioning me about what I'd seen. At first glance, the murder scene didn't look suspicious at all, just a heart attack that I'd happened to witness. Part of me desperately wanted to tell them about my grandfather, that I'd seen him suck the life out of this poor old man, but I knew that it would more than lightly put me in a psychiatric institution and that if he ever figured out that I had accused him,

he might come after me. So I made my own plan to bring him down. Once I drove home, I snuck in through the garage, which led into a back room where we stored our hunting equipment. I grabbed one of the rifles, figuring that if I were to confront him, I should at least have the chance to defend myself. I quietly made my way into the kitchen

to find my grandfather sipping on a glass of whiskey, visibly distraught. Without letting him notice me, I put the rifle down behind the corner and placed myself in the doorway, a safe distance from him. As he noticed me, he tried to shake off his miserable demeanour and quickly put on a fake smile. "'Hey, kiddo, I didn't see you there. Where have you been?' he said, trying to sound casual.

Speechless, I just threw the bundle of pictures onto the table. He took one glance and immediately recognised them. "'Where'd you find these?' he asked nervously. "'I saw you, with that man.' was all I managed to get out before the words froze in my throat. With the context provided, he didn't need to ask what I meant. He knew he'd been caught red-handed. I followed you today, to that house, where you...

The words froze in my throat. He stood up from his chair, wearing a worried expression on his face as he walked towards me. It's really not what it's. looks like, he started saying. Before he could reach me, I grabbed the rifle and pointed it directly at his chest. Whoa, what are you doing? To stay the fuck away from me. I saw how you killed that man. I shouted on the brink of tears. He started backing away with his hands raised. Please, you don't understand. Just put the gun down. I kept the rifle. I kept the rifle. pointed at him with trembling hands

as he backed into a corner almost falling over I saw the photos I saw how you kill people to stay alive I said he froze in place as I inched closer how many

have you killed no it's not like that they weren't good people I wouldn't whether it was the intense emotion of that moment, or if it was just the next stage in my developing ability, I don't know, but something about his aura changed, as if the hundreds of souls he'd stolen started

to split apart, enough for me to recognize each individual person he'd killed. Hundreds of lives sacrificed, only to give him a few extra years on earth, though the vast majority of them were strangers I didn't know. I recognized the old man he killed, and I saw one that sent shivers down my spine. My mother. I chose them specifically because they heard others. Please, you have to believe me, he begged as I snap back to attention. My mother, you, you killed her. I said with barely a whisper. She threatened to stop me.

I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen. I'm sorry. He tried to approach me again, but I quickly pressed him back. Are you going to kill me? He asked in terror. I thought about it for a moment. A part of me desperately wanted to pull the trigger. to avenge my mother.

Unfortunately, I couldn't separate the monster that stood before me from the man that had raised me, a person I still loved and cared for. No, but I am going to call the police, I said as confidently as I could. I picked up the phone to call the police, looking away for a split second. Stop that, my grandfather shouted as he grabbed onto my rifle, trying to stanch it away from me as i tried to get it back i pulled too hard on the trigger accidentally firing off a shot that hit him straight in his chest he let go without speaking another word he fell dead before he even hit the ground following the shot my memory went hazy i vaguely remember dialing the number the paramedics showing up along with the police. They asked me several questions, but in the end it was deemed an accident, and with the

various aliases the police found linked to my grandfather, no charges were pressed against me. He'd lived an extraordinarily long life at the cost of others. Whether most of the people he'd killed deserved it or not, I don't know, but I'm certain he didn't do it to better the world. as for me nothing has been the same following my grandfather's death not only because I've been left alone by everyone I ever loved but because as his life drained from his ancient body our powers merged into one

and while he knew how to control it for me it's something that will always lurk in the background I can no longer stay too close to people because the more time I spend with them the more I passively drain their life force stealing it unwillingly as their aura slowly grows weak maybe I can learn to control it or maybe this is my grandfather's punishment for killing him

whatever the case in a twisted turn of events I've been given the choice between living forever while those around me die a premature death or to fade away alone. I've already made my choice. No one will get hurt because of me, so I will observe from afar, letting people know when their time is near

in the hopes that they'll make the best of what they have left. In the end, it's not the time we're given the manners, but what we do with it that makes life worthwhile. The Bipolar Express by Will Raine Part 1 I wasn't the best-behaved child a parent could hope for. I was selfish, greedy and hostile, basic nightmare kid. I'd pitch fits when I didn't get my way and often make sure to break something my folks

treasure to make my point. Oh, I'd pound on walls, throw things across the room. and even slap or hit my mother or father when they'd feebly attempt to calm me down. My dad had apparently been abused by his father when he was a kid, so he'd always try his best to keep his cool when I raged on. I took advantage of that fact, and made sure to push every single button I could to practically dare him to hit me. Many times he'd just walk away and leave me screaming and raging,

but I considered that a win. Yes, I was far more than a handful, but my parents still loved me, even if I was a monster in the making. It wasn't until that Christmas Eve of 2001 that I learned I was not the centre of the universe, a lesson I most definitely needed to learn. It was during the family gathering on that day before Christmas

that I pitched a legendary fit upon learning the supposed truth about the reality of Santa Claus. I was only ten years old, and were it not for the kind hearts of my folks, I would have spent every single one of those years on the naughty list. That late December threatened to turn even those who still cared me off the deep end. Well, everyone had arrived at our house for the festive meal, and my cousin, Courtney, had been pushing my buttons all day. She was a good three years older than me.

I thought she knew everything that the world had to offer. Being far more experienced and knowledgeable than I, she assured me there was no such person as Father Christmas. The truth I was not ready to hear. She kept pushing and pushing as the day progressed. And finally I just lost it. We're up on the second floor of my childhood home, where my bedroom was located. Over the course of my raging tantrum, I pushed her out of my safe space with every ounce of strength my little arms could must her.

Even after I got her out of my door, I continued thrusting my palms into her back, paying no attention to what lay ahead. She'd already started crying before I gave that final jab that sent her rolling down the stairs. She tumbled against the wall and the railing as her arm. flailed and head bounced from one step to the next the snapping sounds and muffled yelps ended with a thud when she hit the floor below every adult had made it out there before her fall came to her clothes and their shocked and appalled eyes cut from her twisted body to my guilty face I performed some awful acts between my short lifespan before that day but my parents had always attempted to cure my terrible

ways with kindness this would mark the end of such time before the ambulance arrived my father snatched me by the ear and dragged me into my bedroom he screamed at me in a way i did not realize he was capable of i was cry my eyes out while begging for forgiveness but he wouldn't let up he wanted me to cry and he was right i deserved this and worse as his anger grew more intense with every word until he raised a hand up to strike me it wasn't Until then, that his own rage faltered. He just stared at his own hand for a moment, before he dropped it exhaustedly back to his side.

He glared back at me, and I watched the scowl on his face lightened back to a more blank expression, and the tears slowly dripping from his eyes. He shook his head from side to side and turned to leave the room without so much as looking at me before he slammed the door shut. I wouldn't see him again for the remainder of the day. The house fell silent after the paramedic's left with Courtney strapped to a gurney.

I watched out my window to see everyone, including my parents, leave the house to follow the ambulance to the hospital. I was never left alone at home, but clearly nobody could stand to be around me at the moment. Truth be told, I didn't care to be around myself at the time. The hours dragged by while I sat alone in my bedroom, surrounded by all of the toys and video games my behaviour had never earned me. Regardless of my short life, having included an almost endless supply of tanning, and violent mood swings when I didn't get my way, I never really felt bad about the misery

I wrought. I generally only cared that I got what I wanted by the time I was done. This time, however, I didn't feel any level of joy from this. I tried to defend myself in the back of my mind, reasoning that it was completely the thought of my older cousin for pushing my buttons, but I knew she didn't deserve this. Perhaps if she hadn't gotten in my face, I wouldn't have snapped like I had, but her actions did not warrant what I did. Maybe she just ended up with a couple of brutes, and it's not as bad as it sounded, I reasoned with myself, though I could still hear the snapping of her bones ringing in the background of my silent, darkened room.

No matter how hard I worked to evade the guilt that was in pursuit, I couldn't escape it. I can't say I'd ever felt like this before. Even when I broke the big screen television my father took such pride in, I didn't feel bad. regardless of my inadvertently setting fire to the curtains in the living room which very possibly could have burnt the entire house down if my mother's reflexes hadn't been so quick well my conscience still felt clear there was no getting away from this one no matter how much inner arguing I performed Courtney could be dead for all I knew and her blood would be on my hands for hours I just sat there in silence perched on the floor of my room even after the summer

retreated for the night, I didn't move from that same spot. I could have gotten to my feet to at least turn a light on, but I wanted to be in the dark. Any light could run the risk of me seeing my reflection in the window or something. I couldn't look into my own eyes right now. While my brooding continued and the world outside fell still, I became aware of a slight rumbling. I felt so the whole house had begun to tremble slightly. The sensation was growing. The sensation was growing more and more intense by the second, finally inspiring me to break myself free from the carpeted floor for the first time in hours. I ran to my window to look outside after light appeared to beam through, almost as if the sun had shot back up from its dormant state. Well, I could

barely believe what I saw while I pressed my nose to the glass. My child at home was on a very average suburban streets. Most of the houses sported similar designs, with not much variation in colour palettes. The two-lane road with houses on either side of it, just like millions of other neighbourhoods across the country, said road had now been replaced by a train track, with a long and somewhat ancient-looking steam train parked upon it. The smoke billowed from the wide chimney on the front, lining the street in an almost unnatural fog.

As I stared in at this unusual sight, I saw a man in a conductor uniform exiting the train. as soon as he set foot on the snowy grounds he glanced up to meet my gaze while i quickly duck down beneath the window but i'd still feel his eyes on me i lifted my head up to look down at the man once more to find he was still glaring at me he had a kind face with a wide smile and bright eyes he raised his hand and gestured for me to come to him though i was more than a little freaked out something inside me was almost begging me to march out into the cold to see this up close and personal. I grabbed my thickest winter coat, scarf and boots, and ran down the stairs without looking back. I threw the front door to my home wide open, and I just stood there, staring out. I pulled the knit cap from my coat pocket

and poured it snugly onto my head, while the conductor still smiled on, waving his arm to beckon me forward. I stepped out into the thick snow on the ground, while swinging the door shut behind me. The wide-eyed and grinning expression of the man did not falter while I took wide steps, crushing the snow beneath my boot. Are you ready, lad?

The man asked in a deep voice and very proper-sounding English accent. Ready for what? I asked, craning my neck to look into the man's eyes. He was much taller up close than I'd expected when I'd watched him from my second-floor window. He appeared to be straining a little while bending his head down. to look back at me to go to the north pole of course he replied you're not serious i scoffed do you doubt your own eyes child he asked holding his arms out as if to present the train to me like i hadn't noticed it well a man's expression had still not wavered even a little his bright green eyes were so wide that they almost appeared to be cupped on top and bottom without any eyelids, just perfectly

round circles with small pupils in the centre. This perfectly aligned and sparkling white teeth looked almost false and slightly cartoony. Though the face as a whole seemed unthreatening, I became more and more uncomfortable the longer I stared up at it. No, I replied, shaking my head softly. I don't think I should. You just glared down at me were those cue balls for eyes and chicklet teeth, neither blinking or moving in the slightest. I felt my back tense up, and I was unsure if it was due to the frigid cold, or the gaze of the stranger in the dark red train conductor's uniform. I started to back away from the man whose brow had begun to sink a little,

forming a crease above the large and somehow darkening eyes. They'd been a light green before, but as I stepped away from him, they appeared to have grown a much deeper shade, bordering on black. I think I'm going to go back inside now, I said as I continued to back away. We continued our staring contest as I wave my hands around behind my back, hoping to feel my front door approaching soon. The second I felt my fingertips make contact with the reflective brass door-knob, the conductor outstripped his own arm in front of him, still maintaining his unsettling gaze. As I turn the knob, the white-gloved hand shot to warm.

me, growing as it drew closer, until the elongated fingers rat themselves around my entire torso. The grip was so tight, it almost squeezed the breath right out of my lungs, before it rapidly yanked me back to the man. Before I knew it, he was holding me right in front of his face. His unblinking eyes appeared almost the size of my head while he examined my face. He will be boarding this train, young man. Oh, his foul breath hit me like a truck, causing me to cough and gag at the stench. Would you care to climb the steps of your own volition, or shall I carry you like this?

His eyes looked as though they were pulsing while they glared into mine. The horrendous odour that spilled from his mouth still lingered in my nostrils, but that wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as his stare. Oh, I'll walk, I stuttered, in little more than a whisper. The man nodded his head as he gently placed me back onto the ground. My shaky legs threatened to drop me to the concrete, and I briefly considered attempting to flee again. Somehow I knew there'd be a little point in that. I would be boarding this train whether I liked it or not.

The choice was no longer in my hands, if it ever had been in the first place. The lanky conductor lowered his body into a bow while he gestured towards the open door that stood just above the fore, steps. My whole body was trembling while I approached, and then I climbed up into the cab. There was an aged and musty smell that spilled from inside as I crossed through the precipice with the tall, slender man pulling himself up behind me. "'Take any seat you like,' he said, as we paced through the into the passenger car. I glanced across the carriage to see only a handful of other children perched upon the seats of the elegant yet somewhat eerie room.

They all turned to look at me when I entered, and they all wore the same exhausted and timidly fearful expressions. I was a short-haired blonde kid with large circular lens glasses, wearing striped pyjamas in a dark green robe. He appeared to be around twelve or so, if I had to guess. An African-American girl with long braided pigtails who looked to be about the same age as I, dressed in a unicorn nightgown in a thick white coat with a fur-lined collar. A little red-haired girl in a puffy pink coat sat next to a ginger boy who looked maybe a year or two older than her and presumed them to be siblings.

He wore a long, hooded blue coat and appeared to be bordering on tears while he glared back at me. My cabin itself was quite large, far bigger on the inside than I would have thought when I looked from my bedroom window. The ceiling was maybe 15 feet high, with three golden and ornate chandeliers hanging from it. They each held several flickering candles, though they provided little light to the darkly lit cabin.

Shimmering, yet slightly tattered tinsel drooped from them in no particular pattern or design. Each red velvet-lined row of seats had a large arch window to the side, with delicate filigree borders. The carpeted floor was the same colour as the chairs, but it was lined in yellows and greens, while speckled with a variety of muddy stains. Still, as classy as the place looked, there was something about it that felt ancient and ghostly. This seemed a place in which the dead would gather to travel from one plane to the next, not one that would carry small and terrified children to the wonders of Santa's workshop. As my trembling legs led me to the closest seat, I had little doubt that we were not bound for any place fantastical and inspiring.

Given the fact I'd very possibly killed my older cousin. This journey was not to reward me. the sour expressions etched onto the faces of my travelling companions led me to believe we were all on the same page we would be facing punishment for our ill deeds this night something i could not deny that i deserved bar two we all sat in silence while the tall thin man made his way to the front of the cabin before sliding the door open and leaving our sight occasionally one kid would glance at a before, cutting their eyes back to the world that was now swiftly moving beside us. The train made little noise as it traversed the tracks that seemed invisible to the occasional bystander or driver behind the wheel of one car or another.

It felt like we were just passed right through any obstacle that may drift in front of the speeding rail car, as though we existed now in a separate plane of existence. I briefly considered the notion that I died and was now being transported to whatever realm awaited me in the afterlife, but it was more of a fleet of. thought, mixed with a grain of denial. As I stared out the window to see the row of houses give way to a snowy and empty expanse, I became aware of the sweat that had begun to drip from my brow. I realized it was almost suffocatingly hot in here.

I thought it may be best to remove my thick winter coat. As I leaned forward to slide the padded fabric down my shoulders, the cute little pigtail girl from across me cleared her throat loudly to catch my attention. she shook her head violently whispering don't why not i asked it's so hot in here one of the jinges echoed from up front what the hell i asked darting my eyes between the other occupants of the train car sh sh came from all directions now and the girl across me still shook her head wildly as i continue to pull off my coat. You guys are being dumb, I said, shaking my own head, pulling my left arm free from my jacket. Suddenly the door, the front slid to the side, revealing the still-smiling

face of the conductor behind it. Instantly all of the other children turned their gaze away from me to look down at their own laps or out of the windows. I sat in place with my right arm still in my coat, staring at the tall man as he strolled in wide strides towards me. He stopped when he got next to the seat I sat in, before turning to face me with his head tilted to one side. We just stared at each other for a moment before he said, Here we only have one rule. I felt my heart begin to race

while the wide, round eyes darkened once more. Never, ever, let them cool. I slowly pulled my coat back up my left arm and pulled it shut in front of me. As I continued my staring contest with the grinning man, he held his right hand up beside his face, snapping his fingers. Seconds later, another man came speeding through the door, pushing a cart which held a tall picture in a single filthy mark.

It took me a second to notice that the one who pushed the tray appeared to have absolutely no features upon his face. It was like a blank sheet of flesh, with two small holes for eyes. no mouth or nose or ears The stained green and white-striped shirt he wore Hung to his knees With eerily thin, pale legs protruding from beneath I only refer to him as

Well, him, because the proportions and mannerisms were somewhat masculine Otherwise there was little way of telling what he actually was The blank-faced man stopped with the cart Right beside the conductor Who reached for the picture with his eyes still fixed on me He poured dark and steaming liquid into the cup without spilling a single drop, despite his gaze not shifting from mine. He laid the pitcher down and snatched up the cup, holding it out towards me.

I reached out with my trembling hand and grabbed the mug, expecting it to burn my fingers, but surprisingly didn't even feel warm. Drink! I raised the cup to my mouth, and instantly recoiled when the steam billowing from cold. the fluid within felt as though it would burn my upper lip. "'It's too hot,' I whined, lowering the cup back down. "'One rule. But—' I tensed up from head to toe while tears began to stream down my face.

There was no way I could pour this scolding drink into my mouth. I knew it would burn me from the inside out. The slender arms reached out to me again, one wrapping its thin fingers around the hand which held the mug and the other clutching onto the top of my head. He forced the cup up to my mouth while pulling my head backwards. Never. The rim hit my lower lip, immediately and excruciatingly fusing the tender skin with the ceramic.

Ever! The thumb of the hand which gripped my head tightly extended and lowered to push my bottom jaw open. Let them! I was struggling to break free from his grasp, and though he only helped me by the head and hand, I could barely move my body. Cool! He tipped the bubbling beverage into my open mouth,

spilling the burning liquid across the skin of my face, as much as down my throat. I screamed out, horrified by the immense pain I'd never before imagined. I felt blisters form on the outside of my mouth. as well as the inside of my gaping orifice. It was like fire was erupting from within me, as though it were melting my insides, tearing holds in the inner lining of my esophagus and stomach.

My flesh bubbled and popped, while my guts churned against the unbearable suffering. As the final drops fell from the cup into my gullet, I felt the dark fluid begin to leak from holes it had formed in my neck and torso. I was only vaguely aware of the hands, let go of my head, hand, hand, and while I coughed up thick blood onto my coat. As the conductor gingerly placed the mug back onto the rolling trolley, after tearing it away from the lip which had bonded to it, he ushered the blank-faced man out of the room.

My body was spasming and twitching, or the holes in my flesh sealed themselves back shut. The bubbling skin on my face became still and soft once more, and the horrendous agony subsided. I turned to face the tall man again, to see him studying me, tilting his head from side to side like a curious dog. I just stared back at him, still trembling from the shock of the events that had just transpired. He turned on the spot before walking back to the front of the cabin and out of the door, sliding it shut behind him. Though my wounds had all closed and my flesh showed no signs of the torment it had just suffered,

my clothes were still damped from the liquid which had been. poured inside and through me. I'd never felt more pain than the occasional scrape knee or elbow before this day. Perhaps some bruises from a fall from my clumsy twin left feet from time to time,

but nothing even close to what I'd just experienced. I was still shaking all over, and none of the other kids would even acknowledge me. They tried to warn me, I couldn't deny that. But they already experienced this themselves,

I wondered. How long had the others been on board this train, before I arrived. Would any of us ever escape this wretched thing? My head was in chaos as I turned to face the window again, to watch the world beyond these walls travel rapidly away as we thundered forwards. There had to be a way out, even if it meant leaping from the train and onto the snowy ground outside. Perhaps it would be thick enough to break my fall. I'm sure I wouldn't make it unscathed, but what hell awaited us if we reached

our destination. I had to try and communicate with my cellmates, so to speak. I can't say that I was in a rush to break any more rules, but according to the conductor, they only had the one. Snow-covered fields were all that surrounded the speeding train, as I gazed through the glass, which was heavily frosted on the outside. My body was still trembling, though it was still unsufferably hot in the train car I shared with these other silent children. Every now and then, I could where I saw movement within the white mounds of earth outside, though it was dark outside, the full moon shone down through a cloudless sky, which may have just been causing me to see things as we sped past the landscape on the other side of the window.

Regardless of how peaceful yet strangely unsettling in my surroundings appeared, I was terrified of what awaited us when the train reached its destination. With the torment I'd already endured, surely what was still to come would be far worse. I felt my eyes welling up again as the hopelessness of it all struck me like a hammer to the jaw. About my head, whispering prayers under my breath to make it through this in one piece. I'd been an awful and conniving little brat my whole life, or ten years of it. Perhaps I had no right to ask for forgiveness with the awful things I'd done only hours before I found myself on this journey to hell.

"'Hey!' I heard a whispered voice call from my left. I turned to see the little girl across the aisle, smiling at me. "'Hi,' I replied softly. I had meant to speak a little louder, but it seemed I was no longer capable of anything more than a whisper. Maybe I had sustained some lasting damage after all. She smiled at me with something remorseful in her eyes. It was as if she felt guilty for what I just endured, but even as much of a shitty human being as I was

I knew she'd try to help me I was just too damn pig-headed to listen I'm so sorry you had to go through that she cut her stare away from me as she spoke with a slight crack in her voice it's not your fault I said attempting to smile as much as I was able we just stared at each other for a moment

she was a pretty girl with beautiful big brown eyes but she looked very tired though I couldn't tell if it was exhaustion from this experience or just the fact that it was sometime after midnight by this point. I was still very young and hadn't really taken the time to appreciate the opposite sex just yet, but I felt myself quite taken with her, which caused my face to flush

and cut my eyes away from her in embarrassment. I'm Sophie, she whispered. I couldn't tell if she was keeping her voice low in hopes of avoiding alerting our host, or if she maybe had been forced to ingest the acid-like converse. concoction herself. Mikey, I replied, still feeling incredibly shy. Well, you shut the hell up, the boy in the round glasses caught out in an aggravated whisper.

You're going to get us all in trouble if you don't stop. His neck was craned round the edge of his seat to look at me, and his brow formed a scow not unlike the one my father had shown me earlier that day. It annoyed me that he was seemingly only directing his rage at me when I was, I wasn't alone in the conversation I was having, but I could still understand where he was coming from. God knows what the other members of this small group had gone through before I bought it. I just nodded at the angry kid before giving Zolfi a guilty smile and a shrug. The boy turned back to face away from me again, while I still gazed at the little girl on the seat

beside mine. We locked eyes for a few moments, and I was surprised the experience didn't make me feel more uncomfortable. There was something peaceful about her, which helped my scattered mind regain a more composed state. That was, however, before the door slid open again. Tickets, please, the conductor said as he strolled up to the red-haired kids up front. I don't have a ticket, sir, the boy replied, stammering to get the words out. I beg to differ, young man. The tall man said that he snatched the right hand of the child up. The boy yelped when the man whipped a large ticket puncher out of his pocket, and in one quick motion he slid the kid's hand into the device

and punched a hole right through the centre of his palm. He cried out in pain as blood spurted from the wound onto his shirt, and tears spilled down his face. The little girl beside him tried to struggle against the thin man in the dark red suit when he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, but he was far stronger than she was. As much as she fought to pull her hand away from him, he still managed to poke a fresh hole into her flesh,

just as he had with her brother. I tensed up and began hyperventilating as I watched the blood trickle onto the carpet, while the conductor made his way to the kid with the round glasses, leaving the two still sobbing behind him. Another scream echoed through the cabin after the third ticket was punched, and I found myself shaking violently as the man paced back towards me.

Ticket, please. Still reeling from the burning liquid being forced down my gullet, I knew it would be a terrible idea to refuse the man's demands. So I offered my trembling hand while biting down and preparing for what was to come. Well, if nothing else, it was quick. Truth be told, the pain wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. I still screamed out, but it wasn't from the pain as much as the sound of the metal prong chewing through my tissue. I can't say I'd ever seen that much blood pour out of me before, though.

Sure, the holes which had only recently formed in my throat and gut mixed scarlet streams with the brown liquid as it oozed out from within me, but this was just thick, dark crimson that leaked from me now. It didn't stop flowing as quickly as my previous injuries either. the conductor still glared at me while I cut my gushing right hand in my left he almost appeared disappointed that I wasn't making as much of a fuss as the other kids who still whined and sobbed I turned my gaze to meet the little girl across the aisle trying to mentally signify to her that it wasn't all that bad strangely she showed no signs of fear or apprehension

she just smiled back at me with something in her eyes I couldn't quite decipher what are you looking at child the grinning man asked before i cut my eyes back to meet his i replied quite confused by the question as i found it quite obvious who i was looking at what are you looking at there was an impatience to his voice regardless of the fact that he spoke almost mockingly slowly what before i could finish my single word reply he He swatted the back of his hand at the side of my face. Well, this hurt considerably more than the hole in my hand. I couldn't tell if my spinning head was due to the impact or the blood loss,

as my palm still oozed onto my pants. The girl! I replied with tears streaming down my swelling face. And for the first time, I watched the wide smile falter. The conductor's expression appeared to melt into an almost human form, before he turned slowly to face the girl sitting across from me. He stood staring at her for what felt like minutes, before he quickly turned on the spot and sped back through the door at the front of the cabin.

When the door slammed shut, I looked back over at the cute little girl who quickly cut her eyes away from me. What just happened? I asked. Truly mind-boggled over the fact that the man appeared to not even know she was there. That's complicated. she replied with a shrug how come

nothing had made any sort of sense since this whole nightmare began but this was something I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around well she said still refusing to allow our eyes to meet the thing is she was cut off by the sliding door

opening again with the conductor practically sprinting through it towards us I press my back against the window bracing myself for whatever was about to happen, while the little girl jumped out of her seat and into the aisle. She just glared at the man with her hands bawled into fists as he charged in her. His movements were fast, so much faster than my eyes could even register. In an instant, he tackled the girl, rolled onto the floor and back up onto his feet with his arms wrapped around her. She was struggling against him, but he held her far too tightly as he headed out the door

behind where I sat, slamming it closed behind him. Will stared at the sealed door with our collective mouths hanging slack and wide. The kids at the front of the car were murmuring back and forth, clearly attempting to puzzle together what had just transpired. Before I was even aware of what I was doing, I took off towards the back door. As I pulled it open and headed through, I heard the other kids yelling at me to come back, but I felt suddenly filled with more purpose than I was. I ever knew myself to be capable. I charged through the door of the next train car,

then the following one, still finding no trace of the two were just passed through. All three cars that were behind the one I'd fled from showed no evidence that they'd ever been occupied. While I stared off the back of the train, taking in the vast, empty landscape in our wake. I knew what I had to do. Clearly they'd not fled backwards,

leaving only one logical direction. As he'd not carried her back through the doorway he entered, I had to deduce they'd gone up onto the roof of the train. I sprinted back through the cars until I reached the doorway to the one I'd left. Though my hand still violently trembled, I reached for the ladder which led to the roof with my still bleeding hand. I had no idea what I'd do if I caught up to the conductor, but I had to at least attempt to save the little girl from whatever he'd planned for her.

I'd never put anyone's needs before my own, my entire life. Perhaps it was the guilt I still felt her for what I'd done to my cousin that drove me to attempt a likely ill-fated rescue. I knew I would likely not survive this, but there was something about that girl.

I had to save her, no matter the cost. Part 3. The strong wind was freezing when I reached the snow-covered roof, which honestly felt quite remarkable at first. given the stifling heat inside. Still, it didn't take long for the cold to feel as though it was biting right through me.

The chill aggravated my still leaking hand, though the blood flow had slowed considerably. As I paced on, I found it difficult to even hold myself upright, let alone push my body onward, but I knew I had to. The first several steps required far more effort than I'd hoped, leaving me unsure if I'd even be capable of completing my self-appointed mission. Perhaps it was the guilt I still felt over what I'd done to my cousin that inspired me to continue to force one foot in front of the other. But I dreaded to think what the cute little pigtail girl was enduring while I trudged through the thick snow. Once I got into a rhythm, I managed to quicken my pace, but only slightly. Pushing against the strong and icy wind, combined with the high strides I was having to take to break each step free from the snow,

made swift progress out of the question, but it was progress nonetheless. I could barely see four feet in front of me, let alone whatever distance I would have to traverse before reaching a battle I was sure to lose, but I wouldn't let that stop me. I plundered on with purpose, and with every single successful step, I was more and more driven by that. I had no way of telling how much time had passed by as I left from train car to train car. The first jump was the hardest and the most terrifying, but not unlike those initial hesitant footfalls, every leap was less scary than the last. By the time I saw a faint light ahead of me, I'd successfully cleared six boxcars.

As I drew closer to the light, I could see it flickered like fire, though it appeared to float several feet above the roof. You should not be up here, little boy. A voice even deep than mad of the conductor spoke. I felt my bladder attempt to give way as though. the shimmering light moved closer to me, revealing what appeared to be an incredibly tall person with an ancient-looking fire-lantern for her head. It wore a long, brown, snow-speckled coat, which came down to feet that were buried in the snow. Its long arms hung just past,

where I presumed its knees to be, as it stared down at me, well, as much as a lamp can stare, I suppose. Still, I could feel it glaring at me, causing that same discomfort, the conductor's wide-eyed gaze had caused. I have to get by, I said, doing my best impersonation of someone with actual confidence in their words. Without another word, its long arms reached over towards me. I ducked down and rolled through the snow, managing to avoid its grasp. But this did not get me any closer to my goal.

It swiped at me with the right arm, following with another swing from its left. Fortunately, the thing did not move quickly, and I found myself able to dodge. It just continued to swat at me while I tumbled and leapt around the elongated limbs, while attempting to locate any way of getting past. Finally, I noticed a split in the long coat, where the buttons ended just above the presumed knees. As both arms reached out for me again, I jumped forwards into the open section of the trench coat. The legs I now crouched between look thin and frail, so before the bony hounds, which were attempting to reach me through the opening,

grabbed me, I kicked at the left foot which stood in thick snow to my right. Even with my small and weak stature, it didn't take much force to cause the tall creature to stumble. As the leg I kicked slid to the side of the roof of the train, the other came crashing down on me. Before it could pummel me to the ground, I rolled out through the curtain-light back of the long coat. Once I was clear, I turned around to see arms and legs flailing as the lamp-headed thing stumbled. board off the speeding train. I saw nothing more than a quick flash of light, followed by a thin line of smoke rising from where I assume it made contact with the ground.

With my heart still hammering, I stood up on my trembling legs and started back on the path in the hopes of tracking my quarry before whatever the conductor had planned for the little girl occurred. Though I feared I would run into another of whatever that thing with the flickering head was, I didn't run into any more obstacles, until I reached the front of the train.

The carriage is ended with only a long trolley filled with coal, and the engine just ahead of it. Just as I started to gather up enough courage to leap into the rough and jagged coal, I found myself nearly paralysed with fear when a familiar voice

spoke from behind me. And where do you think you're going? The conductor spoke directly into my ear. I spun in place to see his wide eyes and grinning face only inches from mine. He stood in place, leaning over at the waist

to gaze directly at me. I was... I could barely form anything close to actual words while we stared at one another. Well, speak up, boy. His darkened eyes formed that unsettling scowl once more. The girl, I asked in a little more than a stuttered whisper.

Ejected, I'm afraid. Would you like to join? join her. We stared at each other for a moment. I was terrified that I was about to be launched from this very spot, only to crash down to the ground around us. I couldn't help but wonder if this would be a better option to whatever hell he had in store for me if I were to be permitted to remain on board. I didn't think so, he said, wrapping his fingers around my face and lifting me from the snowy roof. I brace myself in preparation for being tossed like a rag doll, but he didn't throw me over the side. He just stomped in wide strides

with me hanging from my head from his outstretched arm. He stepped forward, crossing the carriage is much faster than my tiny legs had. Though I wouldn't say I was particularly comfortable, dangling like a fleshy Christmas ornament by the face, I was beginning to feel secure that my punishment may not be overly severe this time. But naturally, I got far too far ahead of myself. hmm he said stopping in place he glanced back into my eyes one of which was covered by his large palm it's quite cool out here isn't it with those words my heart began to race again one rule the words echoed from the back of my mind i hadn't broken the law of the train by climbing out of my seat not when i cross through the other cars nor when i tipped my attacker off the side. Stepping out into the cold night air in the first place, however, that's where I crossed the line.

The smile on the conductor's face practically extended to his ears as the malice formed on his brow once more. He tilted his head to the side, studying what he could see of my face through his fingers. He reached his other hand up and snapped his fingers again, causing the hand which helped me to burst into flames. The pain was immediate. and unbearable.

I screamed out as my skin bubbled, popped, and dripped onto my shoulder, while fluids leaked down the conductor's arm. I could feel my flesh peeling away in thin sheets, while my eyeballs popped and oozed from their sockets. As the tall man paced on, I lost all track of the passage of time, existing only in the insufferable agony of my melting head. Somewhere along the line, I must have blacked out. It wasn't until my body was tossed onto the body.

the hard floor of the cabin behind the one which still held the other terrified children that I became aware once more. As soon as my regrown eyes opened, I grabbed up my face to find that everything felt intact again, though I remembered every single excruciating second before I passed out. Should I strap you down, or will you behave? he asked, glaring down at me with his hands behind his back. I just nodded, unable to make my voice work, hoping he'd to understand which part of his question I was agreeing to. I grabbed onto the armrest of the chair closest to me and heaved myself up from the floor.

I planted down into the seat which the conductor returned a nod. He then spun in place, stepped through the door before gently sliding it shut. As soon as he was out of sight, I fell into wailing sobs before curling up into the fetal position on the chair. Hours seemed to trickle by,

as I lay across the seats, trying my hardest to fall asleep to escape this nightmare. Every time I closed my eyes, it was as though I saw myself from the outside, watching my face melt away. I also could invade the guilt I was feeling from being unable to save the little girl who was apparently thrown from the train. I couldn't figure out why the conductor had gotten so angry at her, nor why he appeared unaware of her even being there in the first place. Of course, nothing had made any sense since I'd boarded this hell on wheel. After giving up on my attempts to sleep, I sat back upright in my seat to look out the window at the world beyond the glass. I no longer saw the same snowy landscape, but an unnerving lack of anything.

It wasn't like the night sky had grown so dark, hiding the world behind its blankets. No, it was just nothingness. Though the train still felt as though it was speeding along the metal tracks, I saw no evidence of any road through the seemingly endless void. I was almost hypnotising to look upon, though my mind could not make any rational sense of it. The longer I gazed through the glass,

the more the emptiness mesmerized me. Did he hurt you? The voice practically caused me to leap from my skin as I sat, zoned out in front of the window. I slowly turn my body around to see Sophie, once more perched on the sea. to cross from me. Is it really you?

I asked, pressing my back against the glass, fearing this was some sort of trick being played on me. Thank you. She got her eyes down to the floor, for trying to rescue me. He said he ejected you. I still wasn't ready to believe this wasn't some sort of cruel trick. Well, he tried.

I thought I was done for, but I managed to grab onto the railing before I hit the ground. She still wouldn't meet my eyes, which only made me less willing to believe what she was saying. I just continued to stare at her. I couldn't even begin to fathom the odds of her claims being possible, even though I was just a child. Santa Claus? Yeah, of course he was real, regardless of what my cousin thought. Scooby-Doo?

Obviously based on true events. I'm sure he couldn't really talk, but they have to exaggerate things for TV. A young girl being tossed from a spirit. beating train in the middle of an icy cold expanse, luckily wrapping her fingers around a metal railing, saving herself from certain doom, unlikely at best. I swear I'm telling the truth, she pleaded, finally locking eyes with me while sliding off her seat across the aisle towards me. I still pushed my body against the glass, terrified of the possibilities of what actually stood before me dressed up as a little girl. That was

until she sat beside me and placed her warm hand on the side of my face. There was something about her touch that caused my heart to regulate for the first time since stepping into this god-forsaken train. I hadn't even realized I was trembling this whole time until my skin stopped shivering. My back relaxed and my body almost drooped exhaustively from the weight of all the pain and anguish I'd suffered fading away into the background. Before I knew it, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close to me. I laid my head on her shoulder and cried harder than I had in years, even more than

after the conductor left me alone in this carriage. I wailed from the lingering guilt of the actions that led me here, along with so many others that only now become clear. Yes, I was just a small child. It's easy to claim that I didn't know any better, but I did. Somewhere in the deepest pits of my mind, I knew what a spoiled and selfish little bastard I was, and, for the first time ever, I wanted to change. I saw flashes of the exhausted looks on my parents' faces when I would lose it in public or around others. I heard the sounds of my mother sobbing when I pushed her way too far so many times. In that very moment, as I spilled a seemingly endless river of tears into Zofi's coat, I swore I would make things right,

if I was ever able to return to my home again. part four truth be told i could have sat there for hours content in the arms of someone i'd never laid eyes on before this day but like every other fleeting fancy on this voyage of the damned it was to be short-lived i didn't even hear the door slide back open before the bellowing voice of the no longer smiling conductor rage from the front of the cab how did you you get back here in an instant sophie pulled away from me and left the seat to stand in the center of the aisle glaring up at the tall man in the dark red suit just as she had before she didn't even appear frightened while they waged a staring battle that sent shivers at the length of my spine while forming goosebumps across my skin you've overstepped your bounds abigore the little girl said in a voice strong and proud.

This train his mind, Sophie, you have no jurisdiction here. His voice sounded sinister as it moaned the words filled with sheer hatred. As the conductor slowly paced towards her, a long and jagged blade manifested in his hand which reflected the dim lights of the cabin across the walls. While the pigtow little girls stood her ground, as David facing the Hulk in Goliath, I found myself filled with a purpose I'd never felt before. Though it was similar to what struck me when he first pulled her from the seat in the other carriage,

that urged no need to protect her, while this was far more intense. His child was special, she was sacred. I'd never performed a selfless act my entire life, well, all ten years of it anyway, and it was time for me to take my stand. My own fear practically melted away the instant I saw the man reach his sword high above his head to strike her down,

while she bowed her head seemingly accepting her fate. As the scene played out before me in almost slow motion, I jumped from my seat, pushing Sophie away from the approaching man. Run, I said, offering a sincere smile to the girl who now stared at me with tears welling in her eyes. I stood in place, blocking her from the sword which sliced down through the air to split me in two. I close my eyes, feeling content in the knowledge that her face would be the last thing I would ever see.

An awful, self-consumed brat dies, so that a brave and wonderful little girl can live. Yeah, and that's a fair trait. I felt proud of my actions, a feeling I'd never before known. If you could make one wish, what would it be? I couldn't make out where that voice was coming from. I couldn't figure out where I was, for that matter. I had no body, not one that I could see or feel anyway. I could see, but everything was shielded by an intense bright light.

I think it was my street, though it was hard to tell. Was it my street? Who exactly am I? It was as though everything was hidden in plain sight, behind a translucent curtain of sorts. So, what would you wish for? Anything at all? I asked through non-existent lips,

within reason, of course. I knew that, Royce. I'd heard it only recently. She was familiar to me, but how? Where was I before I was here? It has to be something personal, something unique to you and your life. What do you mean?

I was growing a vague awareness of who I was, but what was it that I desired? Some ask for riches, others for fame. "'Hm, it could be nice,' I replied. "'Is that what I really wanted, though? "'There are those that wish for beauty. "'You could grow to be the most handsome of men. "'Well, attractive people do tend to have more doors open to them than others.

"'Perhaps I could have it all, money, fame, looks— "'No, no, that's not what I ate for. "'I had a wish not too long ago. "'You could have a life many ways. envy. I could, couldn't I? No, that's not what I wanted. Not like this, anyway. Can I go back? The question presented itself before I even understood what I was asking for. Back? I did something, didn't I? I did something bad. What was it?

I, uh, I want to change something that happened. Yesterday. Was it yesterday? It wasn't so long ago, was it? When is now, for that matter? Is that what you'd wish for? You could have it all, you know. No, I made a mistake. I want to take it back. Can I wish for that? Oh, please, let me change this one thing. Let me set things right. I think I remember now. It was bad. I was bad. One more chance. That's all I want. perhaps she can you know

sound is not real right you're ten years old now you're way too old for that baby shit oh she was poking me in the chest giggling after every sentence I hated it when she acted like this so what if I still wanted to believe what's it to her anyway

oh the more she pushed and prodded the more I could feel my face flush if she was going to act this way she shouldn't even be in my bedroom. "'Stop it!' I screamed, pushing her back with every ounce of my strength after she jabbed me in the chest again. Her eyes widened, and her lower lip quivered

as she looked into my infuriated red face. Just as I readied myself to push her again, something struck me. Deja vu, no, no, I remember this. There's something else, that scar in the centre of my hand. Suddenly, a veil lifted before my eyes. Memories spilled back into my mind as though they poured from a jug. My scowl softened, my face cooled.

I looked up into the eyes of my older cousin, and suddenly felt a stab of guilt. "'What the hell?' Courtney cried out as I wrapped my arms around her. "'I'm so sorry,' I said, while my eyes welled up. "'You're so damn weird!' she said, pushing me away before running down the stairs. I stood alone in my bedroom, watching her swiftly move out of my sight, descending the stairs the proper way, as she should have been permitted to do the first time. I turn my gaze back to the interior of my room,

glancing at all of my wonderful belongings. More toys and games than the average kid could hope for, lazily scattered around my spacious bedroom. items purchased with love, which I showed as little respect for as those who bought them for me. I practically sprinted down the steps into the dining room, to where my parents stood surrounded by family and friends. I could tell my father tensed up as soon as I entered the room. No doubt he was prepared for yet another day of my whining, bitching and moaning.

The look on his face was almost comical when I ran toward him to give him a big hug. He and my mother shared a shocked stare While I extended my arms around her too You are um Okay kiddo He asked reluctantly While placing his hand on the top of my head I just looked up at my folks with tears

Still trickling down my face I'm so sorry for everything I promise I'm gonna try to be better I love you both so much They stared down at me and back at each other Completely lost for words Things changed dramatically in the weeks that followed that Christmas Eve. I lived through twice.

It took a while for my family to accept that I'd actually changed my ways, but before long I was closer to my mum and dad than I'd ever been. Even Courtney became almost like a sister to me. Well, she was a few years older than I. She only lived a few blocks away. She babysit me for free when my folks would enjoy the occasional nightouts. Another thing they were hard-pressed to achieve when I was still a screeching, fit-pitching, little brown.

as no one would have any desire to take care of me in their absence. Before memories of my experience on the train took some time to reform in the back of my mind, but the lessons I learned have stayed with me to this day. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the other children I shared that train car with. Perhaps they had their own trials to endure before they be set free. I can only hope they succeeded as I did. On occasion I allow myself to wonder if the entire experience, had only been in my head, but the small circular scar that still remains on the palm and back of my

hand will suggest that was not the case. Some years back I married and fathered a child, a boy who's almost as prone to tantrums as I was at his age. My wife and I are trying everything we can, though little seems to have any effect. Well, maybe this is my karma for being such an insufferable little shit before I found a better way to live. Though my experience, almost 20 years ago now, still causes me to jerk awake from a graphic and horrific nightmare from time to time. I'm grateful for that hellish trip. My son's 10 years old now, the same age I was when my outlook changed for the better. I can't deny there's a little voice in the back of my head that secretly hopes the train arrives for him this Christmas Eve. Does that

make me a bad parent. The stranger in the background by Will Raine. We all have our pet peeves. These little things that get under our skin and bring in the irrational sort of irritation. They may seem perfectly common occurrences to one person or another,

and we can't always describe exactly why these happenings cause such annoyance. To the onlooker, it can just be an average facet of human nature, or a trivial occurrence at best. For me, one very normal act that almost instantly causes me to tense up is when someone, innocently enough, thrusts their phone in my face. It almost feels like suffocating, being frozen in place while I'm forced to watch whatever video or humorous image they think is so important that I stop whatever I may be doing to stare at their device. I know this is nothing out of the ordinary, and I'm sure I've put others in similarly awkward situations.

The thing is, I was recently forced to watch something that's brought me far more suffering than the claustrophobic discomfort I would normally endure. More often than not, when I have a phone rammed in front of my face, I just zone out and take the time to daydream a bit. Sure, I'll give the token laugh when the wielder of the device chuckles and looks at me in anticipation of shared levity, but it's all a show.

Believe me, I'm not actively trying to be rude or anything. It's just a charade that I put on to satisfy my attacker's harmless intent. It's especially frustrating if I'm already in the process of enjoying my chosen entertainment on my own phone. It's like, hey, I see you doing your own thing, but wouldn't you much rather watch this shit? I'm sure I sound like a super-silly as prude or something of the like. Perhaps you'll feel the need to show others this text on your screen, to share the opinion of my narcissistic foolishness, but, well, they likely won't be as into it as you are.

I may be getting carried away with trying to describe my annoyance with this newfound habit that many have grown over the last decade. Who knows? I could be the only one who feels this way. It's not one of those things you can really ask your friends about

without setting the stage for a degree of defensiveness, especially if you're asking the very people who put you in that position. By the way, my apologies for my abundant rant. My awkward bitching and moaning is not what this is about. It started about a month or so ago. One of my associates at work

was on his daily tour of showing off his endless collection of epic fails videos to anyone he came across. He's an incredibly friendly guy named Jamie who wouldn't heard of fly if it landed on his glasses and did the macarena in front of whatever eye it landed over.

He's the sort of person that nobody wants to be rude or mean to just because he's truly, genuinely a decent individual. So he finally circled my way with intent etched into his face I'd already roared my eyes in inner protest as soon as he started on his almost daily walk-through

I secretly wished I had some work that immediately required my attention Nobody in the room was particularly busy that day So the chuckling Jamie thrust his device in front of my eyes Barely squeezing out the words Oh, you got to see this, in between his giggles his enthusiastic body was practically wrapped around me and I barely had any room to move

when I just settled myself into a vague attempt to daydream for the next four minutes and 36 seconds worth of recommended streaming shenanigans somewhere in between my planning out what I needed to pick up at the grocery store and the boy straddling the railing of the public staircase after falling off his skateboard I started to notice an unusual recurrence

among the anthologised clips. You're familiar with these kind of videos, right? Several minutes of different scenes of idiots falling off of bikes or dancing on tables that break beneath them. There's usually that token girl who's attempting to pole dance in the living room and predictably tips the pole over and crashes to the floor. You may even get the kid tossing the baseball into dear old daddy's cahones. There's really never an abundance of diversity in them.

But I can't deny they can be a mutual. amusing at times. Even though a few of these clips took place indoors, the majority of them were outside, some in the fields, others in backyards. The kid who slid his boys down the railing appeared to be in the city streets, but I began to notice that in every clip the same man stood in the background. He seemed quite out of place in his black pinstripe suits. It was maybe three or four sizes too small for him. He also wore a wide-brimmed top hat, and his face was tilted down, so I couldn't see any of his features. He just stood there, in the background, with both hands holding onto the cane he propped himself up upon. He was no taller or shorter than anywhere else. His torso seemed short and stumpy compared to the length of his limbs. His hands appeared thin and bony, but that could have been an illusion caused by the sleeves that stopped short about halfway down his slender forearms. It seemed as though nobody else paid any attention to the man in the shrunken suit.

Perhaps they were merely distracted by the events taking place before them. I asked Jamie if he could send me the link to the video, which caused his eyes to light up. I briefly thought that I may have made a grave mistake in the request, as he would surely take this as evidence that I look forward to viewing many more videos of his choosing. Still, I felt the need to watch this series of clips again. paying more attention from the beginning. It would be later that night before I got a chance to review the link as my supervisor demanded we stash our devices and get back to work.

He was a frantic and worrisome man. He'd rarely leave his office, but on the occasion he allowed himself to slip through its door. It was generally to vocalize disappointment in his worthless staff. When we were used to his rants, and we'd only greet his words with minor acknowledgement. I'd almost forgotten about the video. video link by the time I arrived home that evening, I settled in to watch the streaming show I'd been

binging the last few days. I wasn't until I mindlessly checked my phone for activity that I noticed the icon indicating that I had an unread message that it came back to me. I tapped my thumb on the link and viewed the video in full for the first time. As I'd suspected, the unusually dressed man was in every clip. I even noticed him lurking outside the windows in the indoor scenes. I watched a handful of some of the other videos on the same channel and no others had the special guest star Well, none of the others I viewed anyway The channel had several hundred videos

And I wasn't about to sit through them all The one Jamie had sent me was the most recent post from the channel So perhaps it was just some sort of one-off gimmick With the intent of gathering new subscribers When he arrived at my job the following day Jamie caught up with me and asked about the link he'd sent "'Hey, was it funny the second time?' he asked enthusiastically. "'I've watched it like four times, and it just keeps getting funnier,' he continued.

"'Not wanting to let him down or disappoint him in any way. "'I just replied, good stuff, with a smile. "'What's the deal with the guy in the suit, though?' I asked, nonchalantly. "'James, he just looked confused. "'You know, the guy in the short suit, in the background in all the clips. I reaffirmed. "'See some sort of gimmick character in these things?' I asked. "'My associate were a confused expression while he shrugged before replying—'

"'Who?' "'Ashemingly just paid attention to the focal events of the scenes. "'I put my phone out to show him who I was talking about. "'I'm sorry, man. "'Don't see who you're talking about,' Jamie said, "'after I pointed my finger directly at the man who was clearly standing in the background. He's right here, I insisted, tapping my index finger on the screen of my device where the image of the man clearly stood. I was inadvertently pausing and unpausing the video with every jab of my forefinger,

and it was frustrating me that he refused to acknowledge the guy in the tiny suit. You're fucking with me right, Jamie said with a smirk, nodding his head. A good one, he finished, giving me a slap across the shoulder before walking off in the direction. of some of his closer group of work friends. Had he really not seen him, I wondered. Maybe he was just fucking with me. I was a little dumbfounded, but attempted to shrug it off

as a poor attempt at humour on my associate's behalf. The video was still playing on my phone while I stood there perplexed by this situation. I looked down at the screen and hovered my finger above it, fully intending to turn off the playback. That was until I noticed the position of the man, whose grey socks were revealed by his short, pinstripe pants.

I had changed. He still stood alone and unmoving, but he now held his cane in one hand, and his head was slightly more raised. I could now see the unsettlingly wide smile that reached across the lower half of his face. I still couldn't make out his eyes, but a long and pointed nose peaked out from beneath the brim of the top hat,

almost overshaddering that eerie grin. The altered stance of the man, combined with the fact that Jamie claimed not to have seen him, began to make me feel quite uncomfortable and a little anxious. Over the remainder of my workday, I showed the anthology of fails to a handful of my other associates. A few attempted to brush it off, as Jamie had already shown them the same video the previous day. I succeeded in convincing a couple of other people to glance at the screen with me for a few moments, but they also claimed to be unable to see the man in the background. Either this was some sort of elaborate setup by Jamie, perhaps to pay me back for showing

little interest in his video recommendations, or it was something far more strange. Jamie never was the sort of poor pranks, and many thought very highly of the guy. Honestly, I had always considered him to be a genuinely good person myself. Still, it made no rational sense that I was the only one who could see this particular aspect of the video. The last time I watched the video It had over 2 million views So it's not like it was some sort of

Fly Under the Radar Clip Show It stands to reason that if I'd seen the man Someone else had too Well I'd spend the next few days Searching the internet for answers Sure there were plenty of stories of men in suits Performing ominous acts But mostly works of fictional fan theories

To publish media I found plenty of articles talking about the men in black who withheld knowledge of otherworldly beings from the public, and I'm sure we've all seen the stories of the tall, pale and faceless man in the black suit. My search was leading absolutely nowhere, and I had become steadily more aggravated by the situation. My last-ditch effort was to attempt to contact the people who ran the channel the video was posted on. It took some delving to find a way to get in touch with them, but I managed to find their Facebook page, finally. I wasn't entirely sure how to approach the subject without sounding like

somewhat of a madman, so I typed out and deleted the message several times before feeling comfortable enough to send it. I stared at the words on my computer screen for a while, before eventually tapping the send icon, and this is what my message read. Hi, I've been watching your channel for a while and just wanted to touch base with you guys about something. I was wondering who the man in the short black suit is. He appears in the background of every clip in your most recent video and he seems somewhat out of place. I was curious if he was someone who works with you guys or if all of the clips could have taken place in the same area. I apologize if this is crossing any lines or anything. I'm a student at a film school and I thought he could make an interesting

character for a project I'm working on. Thank you in advance for any information you could share with me. I was sure the film student thing was a huge crock of shit, but I didn't want to come off like some sort of idiot fanboy full of conspiracy theories and the like. I wasn't sure if they'd reply,

as channels like these are surely swamped with more messages than they can handle. Unfortunately, reaching out to them was the only idea I had left. I imagined that the best I could hope for was some sort of half-ass reply some weeks later, just something to acknowledge my message

and thank me for being a subscriber or something similarly dismissive. I was incredibly surprised when my message received a reply within an hour of my sending it. First of all, thanks for being a subscriber. It means a lot to us when our fans reach out to us. We strive to make our appreciation know. That being said, whatever you do, do not keep watching the video. We made several attempts to pull it from our channel. but it appeared to contain some sort of virus that will not allow us to do so.

The individual you referred to was not hired by us in any way, nor was he present at any of the event shown in the clips. I sincerely apologise that you're one of the few who are able to see him, but I highly recommend that you pursue this no further. We appreciate your support and value our subscribers. It's heavily recommended that you do not watch this video again. I can't say this reply helped my confusion by all of this in the slightest, but it did give me something.

I wasn't the only person who could see the man in the shrunken suit. The warning that I was given to not watch the recording again only served to make me even more curious. I'm sure they had good reason to recommend against it, but it's just a video. I can't imagine another viewing could lead to anything substantially bad, and after all my curiosity had taken me this far. I couldn't just walk away from it now that I had affirmation that what I'd seen was real.

Perhaps I'd watch it just one more time. I actually moved this time. He wasn't just standing in the background anymore, but began progressively moving towards the foreground. He slowly approached the boy who straddled the railing. He began to raise the window of the room the failed pole darts had crashed to the floor in. He even trudged across the man. mud in the direction of the guy who flipped his dirt bike. Every clip showed the man steadily

walking closer to the central character in each short scene. He wouldn't reach the victim of the failure by the time each clip closed and another began, but I couldn't out wonder what would happen when he did. Should I watch it again? I wondered. Not today, not yet. I tried to reply to the Facebook message to inquire as to why I shouldn't re-watch the footage. I would not hear back from them this time, but I think I expected that. To be honest, the way the man in the small suit moved made me feel quite uncomfortable. His movements didn't flow the same way that the rest of the footage did, and there was a jerkiness to his actions, almost similar to the way people moved in the old silent movies. It was a strange sort of graininess and unusual texture to his

appearance, too, something I hadn't noticed before. It could be that he was somewhat poorly superimposed into the clips. Perhaps his appearance was similar in nature to those images that could test levels of colour blindness, where only certain people could see the number hidden in the dots. My theorising settled my curiosity enough, for the time being, so I tried not to think about this bizarre subject matter any more. Having pushed the image as far into the back room of the storage facility in my head, I decided it would be best to drop the matter altogether.

I had already spent way too much valuable time dwelling on this unusual. subject, I plan to just get back to some semblance of normality. Well, that's what I told myself anyway. Over the following days, no matter how much I worked to keep myself distracted, my mind kept wandering back to that man in the video. I'd absolutely pick up my phone from time to time and find myself when to click on the link that my associate had sent me. Finally, I made the decision to remove temptation and just delete the message.

Similarly to what was inferred in the Facebook message from the channel that posted the blasted video, I seemed unable to delete the damn thing. It was spin with a little in-progress icon for a time, but ultimately it would not remove it from my device. This served to allow me even more, as I'd already spent way more time than I should have dwelling on this ridiculous thing. I made one final attempt to delete the chat box entirely, when the video just started playing, seemingly of its own volition.

I didn't even tap the link, only the message box itself. This should not of course the damn thing to activate. Feebly attempted to close the video, and when that didn't work, I attempted to shut down my phone, to no avail. Finally I said to hell with it as frustration began to flood my face with warm blood. I vigorously slid off the back panel and removed my battery before slamming the device face down onto the table. I let out a grateful sigh in recognition of my assured success.

I had no reason to believe this would fail to stick a fork in the unyielding determination of the seemingly cursed video. That was until I heard the sound of the ambient background music from the clip, which is still found a way to begin its playback. I flipped the phone back over to face me, and, sure enough, the kid was sliding his junk down the railing again, before my eyes. I was stunned. How the hell could this be happening when the battery was lying on the desk

a good foot away from the phone? I watched in horror as the man in the tight-fitting and wrinkle suit took exaggerated steps in long, jerky strides towards the kid on the railing. He looked like a cartoon character comically creeping up on his prey, as though a freshly lit stick of dynamite

would soon be whipped out from behind his back pocket. The boy stayed per seposed, on the railing as everything but the approaching man appeared to have become frozen. The timestamp on the clip had stopped at 43 seconds. Well, I couldn't look away. The man in the small pinstripe suit finally reached the boy on the public stairway banister. He reached his hands out and wrapped his long and bony fingers around the kid's legs before turning his head up to look into the camera, right into my eyes, or so it felt.

This smile widened way more than a human face was capable of And his abnormally large, round eyes lit up with a blow He pulled down on the legs of the straddling teenager And the body split in two around the railing Thick dark blood sprayed across the screen While he separated one side of the body from the other The background music gave way to the slushing and splatting sounds Of the kids' insides cascading onto the concrete floor

The screen went black And the phone lay lifeless on the table Once more My hands were shaking violently And I let out a heavy and trembling breath I didn't even realize that I've been holding my airflow This whole time And I felt lightheaded and dizzy

I felt my throat clenched around the lumps That threatened to push upwards and out of my mouth What the fuck? I said out loud My whole body quaking beneath my skin I was afraid to even touch my mouth phone. I was terrified that if my hand so much is lightly brushed up against it, the next clip would begin to play out before me. I'd ready to think what havoc the man in the pinstripe

suit would do next. I stood up to put myself on legs that felt like gelatin wrapped around a weakened skeletal structure, composed of little more than toothpicks. I backed up from the dark screen that stared blankly at the ceiling as if it would leap towards me with malicious intent at any moment. I ran out of my apartment and headed straight for the stairs. The idea of standing still in the elevator with nothing to occupy my erratic thoughts, but the grotesque display of maniacal violence and gore I'd witnessed was the last thing I needed right now. I sped towards the door, while my mind raced significantly faster than my still gelatinous legs. My spinning head was mostly checked out and otherwise occupied during my exit,

and I clumsily tripped over the threshold of the door to my apartment building. I planted my face onto the crowded, concrete pavement that ran alongside the complex, to the great delight of many onlookers. Though I was momentarily dazed, and I felt a rush of fresh blood trickled down from my brow, I got to my feet and made a humble bow to the crowd. Perhaps I could save the tiniest sliver of my dignity. Sometime later that day, I arrived back at my home after visiting a local department store to purchase a brand new and never before touched a cell phone.

I may seem a little over the top, but I grabbed my old device with some grilling tongs while keeping it extended out in front of me. I slowly walked in the direction of my small fireplace, and I released my grip on the item I now consider to be cursed and filled with sinister intent. I squirted lighter fluid across the nail crack screen and dropped it a lip match upon it. It went up in a blaze and became a melted lump of plastic and electronic shrapnel within minutes. I let out a long sigh and returned to the bag my new device sat in.

Over the next four hours I went through all of the obligatory set-up steps and updated my contacts, leaving Jamie's number off the list. Over the next few days, I still found my... myself somewhat nervous when I allowed my eyes to glance at my new device. Once another week had passed by, my life appeared to have returned to its normal and uneventful routines. No more dwelling on strange videos or the mysterious guest stars they may or may not contain. I did find my entire body tense up when Jamie made his occasional tour of the office with

his phone outstretched with pride. Before I could give him the opportunity to jam his screen in front of my face, I fled for the safety of the bathroom. I did to avoid any more uncomfortable viewings if I could. Luckily, my associate had finished his sweep by the time I returned to my desk, and the day played out like many

others before it. Well, I only wish that I'd not turned on the TV when I got home that evening. Greg Fillmore, a popular skateboarder whose videos have inspired many across streaming platforms, died late last night.

The newscaster read aloud from the teleprompter. The details of the incident that took his life of being withheld from the public at this time. Witnesses have described the freak accident as horrific, and some were reported to have fainted at the site. Though I already had little doubt as to the identity of the unfortunate victim, I still became dizzy and lightheaded when the image of the boy who'd straddled the railing came on the screen. He was older than he was in the anthology of fails I'd viewed, but he was definitely the same person. I sat there, slack-jawed, in front of the television as they progressed to the next topic of the day.

Could this bizarre video montage of slips and falls really have led to the real-life death of an innocent kid? My thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing vibration of my newly acquired phone. I idle-mindedly reached for the device while still staring at the TV screen. The newscaster droned on with whatever information she was prompted to relay. But I still felt haunted by the events that had played out the previous segment. I click the button on the side of my phone and swipe my thumb across the screen to allow my home screen to be displayed. Rather than break my gaze away from the flat screen in front of me,

I raised the device in my hand to meet my eyes. I tapped my thumb on the icon that indicated a new message. I felt my back stiffen when I looked upon the text that revealed an unknown number had attached a video link. Without even clicking on the link, I closed the application and set my phone back down onto my old and weathered wooden coffee table. I knew what would happen if I made any attempt to delete the message. I refused to allow it the opportunity to replay the video I never wanted to watch again. I traded to think what the man in the shrunken, pinstriped suit had planned for the unsuccessful pole dancer.

She was the feature of the clip that followed the boy that straddled the railing. I stared at the device laying face down on the table for some time. I wasn't until I heard the sounds of the video taking it upon itself to start its playback without my consent, and I whipped the phone back from the table and slung it into the fireplace. I heard the screen crack and split only inches from where the dry glob of melted plastic of its predecessor still lay. I repeated the procedure I performed on my old phone, and I listened on as the small speaker strained and popped before. giving way to nothing more than the crackling sounds of fire.

Well, it had been many years since I'd lived without the company of my glossy black phone. I'd find myself reaching into my pocket from time to time, only to find loose lint or occasional spare change waiting. It felt similar to how I imagined phantom lind syndrome would be, when my empsom mind would command my hand to thumb through random websites that were once no further away than the tip of my finger. this was just muscle memory that my subconscious still felt the need to pursue I'd never taken the time to realize how often I would reach for the blasted thing how many hours of otherwise boring time that could easily be filled by my easy access to the worldwide web it took some time adjusting to getting used to life without the internet

at my fingertips but it was far better than the alternative I'd still flee the room when Jamie would approach with his enthusiastic chuckles holding his phone out as if it were the Olympic torch It had been several weeks since I'd abandoned life with a smartphone And I refused to watch the news anymore Out of fear of seeing familiar faces Having faced a brutal and painful death

I had little doubt that Whether I watched the videos any more or not That the strange man in the top hat still found his victims I still felt the weight of this, but most days I could just add it to the long list of other atrocities of this world that I would never have to bear witness to. My life got back into a routine,

and for some time I no longer reached for the phantom device that used to lay snugly in my pocket. My brief moment of peace would be short-lived, unfortunately. When I was so involved in my work one day, I didn't notice my approaching colleague. It was only days ago, after I'd already begun to write down the events that led me here, when I found Jamie's phone thrust in front of my face for the last time.

You're famous, he exclaimed, laughing out loud while brandishing his device proudly in front of my eyes. The video that played out before me had already progressed to its midway point before he held it out to me. I watched with my mouth agape as I saw familiar events play out from a far removed perspective than the one that I remember them to have occurred. The view from the side of the crowded sidewalk showed me the footage of myself, clumsily exiting my apartment building. My feet met the threshold of the door, and I toppled to the ground while the audience roared with laughter.

As I got to my feet to take a bow, I noticed an arm propped on the ledge of the open window of a taxi that was parked on the side of the road. The long, thin wrist that led to the bony and pale fingers was protruding from a short, black, pinstrived sleeve. 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 from, 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. I don't know.